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

"Plate tectonics, Fox. Weren't you listening when your precious Charles
explained why all this was happening? All having to do with movement of
the Earth's crust, and such."
"To plate tectonics," said Mr. Fox. He raised his glass to hide his
embarrassment. He had in fact heard the words, but had assumed they had to
do with plans to protect the household treasures at Buckingham Palace.
Mr. Fox never bought the papers, but the next morning he slowed down to
read the headlines as he passed the news stalls. King Charles's picture
was on all the front pages, looking confidently into the future.
ENGLAND UNDERWAY AT 2.9 KNOTS; SCOTLAND, WALES
COMING ALONG PEACEFULLY;
CHARLES FIRM AT 'HELM' OF UNITED KINGDOM
read the Daily Alarm. The Economist took a less sanguine view:
CHUNNEL COMPLETION DELAYED;
EEC CALLS EMERGENCY MEETING
Although Northern Ireland was legally and without question part of the
United Kingdom, the BBC explained that night, it was for some inexplicable
reason apparently remaining with Ireland. The King urged his subjects in
Belfast and Londonderry not to panic; arrangements were being made for the
evacuation of all who wished it.
The King's address seemed to have a calming effect over the next few days.
The streets of Brighton grew quiet once again. The Esplanade and the
Boardwalk still saw a few video crews, which kept the fish and chips
stalls busy; but they bought no souvenirs, and the gift shops all closed
again one by one.
"Woof," said Anthony, delighted to find the boys back on the cricket
ground with their kites. "Things are getting back to normal," said Mr.
Fox. But were they really? The smudge on the eastern horizon was Brittany,
according to the newsmen on the telly; next would be the open sea. One
shuddered to think of it. Fortunately, there was familiarity and warmth at
Mrs. Oldenshield's, where Lizzie was avoiding the Eustace family lawyer,
Mr. Camperdown, by retreating to her castle in Ayr. Lord Fawn (urged on by
his family) was insisting he couldn't marry her unless she gave up the
diamonds. Lizzie's answer was to carry the diamonds with her to Scotland
in a strongbox. Later that week, Mr. Fox saw the African again. There was
a crowd on the old West Pier, and even though it was beginning to rain,
Mr. Fox walked out to the end, where a boat was unloading. It was a sleek
hydrofoil, with the Royal Family's crest upon its bow. Two video crews
were filming, as sailors in slickers passed an old lady in a wheelchair
from the boat to the pier. She was handed an umbrella and a tiny white
dog. The handsome young captain of the hydrofoil waved his braided hat as
he gunned the motors and pulled away from the pier; the crowd cried
"hurrah" as the boat rose on its spidery legs and blasted off into the
rain.
"Woof," said Anthony. No one else paid any attention to the old lady,
sitting in the wheelchair with a wet, shivering dog on her lap. She had
fallen asleep (or perhaps even died!) and dropped her umbrella.
Fortunately it wasn't raining. "That would be the young Prince of Wales,"
said a familiar voice to Mr. Fox's left. It was the African. According to
him (and he seemed to know such things) the Channel Islands, and most of