"Bisson, Terry - England Underway" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bisson Terry)

so many in novels did. Indeed, in real life as well. That evening on the
telly there was panic in Belfast as the headlands of Scotland slid by,
south. Were the Loyalists to be left behind? Everyone was waiting to hear
from the King, who was closeted with his advisors.
The next morning, there was a letter on the little table in the downstairs
hallway at the Pig & Thistle. Mr. Fox knew as soon as he saw the letter
that it was the fifth of the month. His niece, Emily, always mailed her
letters from America on the first, and they always arrived on the morning
of the fifth.
Mr. Fox opened it, as always, just after tea at Mrs. Oldenshield's. He
read the ending first, as always, to make sure there were no surprises.
"Wish you could see your great niece before she's grown," Emily wrote; she
wrote the same thing every month. When her mother, Mr. Fox's sister,
Clare, had visited after moving to America, it had been his niece she had
wanted him to meet. Emily had taken up the same refrain since her mother's
death. "Your great niece will be a young lady soon," she wrote, as if this
were somehow Mr. Fox's doing. His only regret was that Emily, in asking
him to come to America when her mother died, had asked him to do the one
thing he couldn't even contemplate; and so he had been unable to grant her
even the courtesy of a refusal. He read all the way back to the opening
("Dear Uncle Anthony") then folded the letter very small; and put it into
the box with the others when he got back to his room that evening.
The bar seemed crowded when he came downstairs at nine. The King, in a
brown suit with a green and gold tie, was on the telly, sitting in front
of a clock in a BBC studio. Even Harrison, never one for royalty, set
aside the glasses he was polishing and listened while Charles confirmed
that England was, indeed, underway. His words made it official, and there
was a polite "hip, hip, hooray" from the three men (two of them strangers)
at the end of the bar. The King and his advisors weren't exactly sure when
England would arrive, nor, for that matter, where it was going. Scotland
and Wales were, of course, coming right along. Parliament would announce
time zone adjustments as necessary. While His Majesty was aware that there
was cause for concern about Northern Ireland and the Isle of Man, there
was as yet no cause for alarm.
His Majesty, King Charles, spoke for almost half an hour, but Mr. Fox
missed much of what he said. His eye had been caught by the date under the
clock on the wall behind the King's head. It was the fourth of the month,
not the fifth; his niece's letter had arrived a day early! This, even more
than the funny waves or the King's speech, seemed to announce that the
world was changing. Mr. Fox had a sudden, but not unpleasant, feeling
almost of dizziness. After it had passed, and the bar had cleared out, he
suggested to Harrison, as he always did at closing time: "Perhaps you'll
join me in a whisky"; and as always, Harrison replied, "Don't mind if I
do."
He poured two Bells'. Mr. Fox had noticed that when other patrons "bought"
Harrison a drink, and the barkeep passed his hand across the bottle and
pocketed the tab, the whisky was Bushmills. It was only with Mr. Fox, at
closing, that he actually took a drink, and then it was always scotch.
"To your King," said Harrison. "And to plate tectonics."
"Beg your pardon?"