Читать книгу The Crooked Olive Branch - Frederick Munn - Страница 31

Chapter 23

After a restless night Peter changed from being ambivalent about his plan, to being totally committed. Whether or not this change of heart was about helping Hal was another matter.

Whatever he had imagined the Immigration office to be, this was not it. Both his and Sir George’s plans were now defunct. He was ‘funnelled’ along with many others and shown straight from the ferry control into what appeared to be an adapted storage warehouse.

Canvas screens, identified by large capital letters, were placed throughout the length and breadth. Each unit was manned by one officer and tannoy broadcasts making regular announcements giving a number and a capital letter.

At the far end were several collapsible tables. These were manned by customs and police officers. Each screen was identified by these capitals.

At the far end of the warehouse, two armed military policemen presented a less than welcoming picture.

The presence of genteel ladies offering help and advice plus duplicated leaflets of contact addresses and telephone numbers, did little to lift the atmosphere.

The whole scene gave the impression of haste and improvisation.

Hal, trying to control his nerves, was making notes and taking photographs.

Peg made yet another attempt to make Mim look presentable.

All of which served to transfer tension to the little girl. She accepted all Peg’s attentions like a rag doll.

They were given a number then asked to wait on the wooden benches until called. There was not enough seating for all who waited. Applicants were either standing or seated on the floor. The four of them had to wait for vacancies on the wooden forms in order to sit.

Tensions increased as they witnessed a distressing rejection and several referrals.

Hal controlled his anxiety by using his position as a reporter. He engaged with one of the lady helpers.

“What is happening? It seems they are blocking everyone, letting no one through.”

“Standard procedure, sir for applicants with questionable papers or no papers. It doesn’t mean they are being rejected. Its been like this for months and getting worse.”

Hal was shocked, ‘All these people without papers?’ he thought looking round the hall.

His head was hurting. All he could think was that getting Mim through was hopeless.

Mim was being distracted by Peg. She had almost reverted to her former happy self, playing games.

Interview sections were anything but private. Although they couldn’t hear, they were able to sense what was happening in many sites. Some officers appeared to be kind and helpful, others stern, obdurate and clinical. Refusals and referrals were common. Most accepted with resignation with few protests or tears.

All interviews were carried out in ‘open tragic theatre.’

How long had passed Hal did not know.

Peter shook him out of his thoughts.

“Come on my friend we’ve been called.” Peter whispered.

This was not planning out as Peter had hoped. It was worse than he had feared.

All the rehearsed interviews he had conducted in his imagination evaporated.

“Good day Mr. Barnes and Miriam is it?”

The immigration officer smiled at the little girl. Neither answered.

“And you are?” he asked looking at Hal.

“Henry Steading, sir, Eastern Coast Press Associates. U.S. of A. May I have your permission to stay?” Hal presented his press card.

The officer looking down at his papers did not even look up.

“On what grounds?”

“As an observer.”

The officer then turned his attention to Peg.

“And you Madame?”

“Margaret Firth, temporary nanny to Miriam Kessler.” Peg was clearly used to the scene.

“U.K. citizen?” the officer asked. Peg nodded and handed over her passport which she had ready. The officer examined it and made some notes before speaking again.

“Miss Firth, please stay with your charge.” He paused. “Mr. Steading please leave.”

“Why?” Hal exclaimed.

“You are not required.” Again, the officer did not even look up.

Peter, secretly pleased with this response, mouthed. “Leave this with me, Hal.”

The officer continued to look at his papers and make notes.

Hal moved outside the screen, out of sight but not earshot.

The officer continued to read and make notes. “Miriam has no papers,” he said looking up and asking, “Her parents were arrested, why?”

“Officer, I think you know. An official in your position and experience must know.

It is the same reason that we are seeking asylum for a three-year- old who would also have been arrested but for the intervention of some very brave people.”

The officer made no further comment. Looking down he continued to read through the application.

Peg, sensing a growing anger, touched Peter’s arm and put her finger to her lips.

Eventually the officer looked up and addressed Peter.

“You, Peter Richard Barnes, are the applicant on behalf of Miriam. How come you are involved in this application?”

This being an anticipated question Peter was ready with a prepared answer.

Handing over the note from Helga he replied. “Acceptance of my responsibilities. I am a long-standing friend of the family.”

Peter was careful not to mention which family. He read the note without comment. The officer returned to the forms and made some notes then pressed a switch.

A middle-aged woman entered from behind the screen.

“All done, Reggie?”

The officer handed over a form.

“Six-month temp, rubber stamp confirmation I expect. The rest is down to you.”

Peter, unsure what was happening, was about to ask when the woman who was reading the form spoke.

“You wish to adopt Miriam Kessler?”

Peter nodded but before he could speak the woman continued.

“We’ll take account of that Mr. Barnes. We will need a contact address.”

Peter guessed that she was a children’s officer.

That she was preparing to take charge of Mim. They were probably about to lose control of the situation.

Peter, about to be relieved of his responsibilities, at least for now, replied with the St. Mary address. “You can contact us at Greensleeves, The Green, St. Mary Upperford, Hampshire, care of Sir George Bridge Thompson.”

The mention of Sir George caused both the officer and the woman to look up sharply.

In a flash of inspiration Peter added, “He will be at his desk in Whitehall now should you wish to call him.”

He searched through his mind for a more convincing argument.

Hal appeared by his friend’s side. Mim shook free from Peg and ran to him to be picked up. This Hal did at once, preparing to fight for her.

The woman looked from Peter to Hal and back to Peter seemingly unable to comprehend what was happening.

“Whitehall, did you say Whitehall?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

The woman thought for a moment before turning to the officer.

“What do you think Reggie?”

The officer shrugged. “Your baby, literally. She is cleared as far as we are concerned.”

The woman, clearly shocked by this reply, for a split second lost all semblance of authority. Peter was watching for clues as to whether they were to be allowed to keep Miriam or whether she was to become a ward of the local authority.

The children’s officer made her decision.

“I think this case needs to be considered by my manager. Please come with me.”

Mim clung to Hal with her face buried into his shoulder sucking hard on her thumb.

Hal clung to her with equal intensity. He was almost incapable of breathing let alone speaking. The shock of realising that the children’s officer was about to take Mim away had hit hard.

Peter, doing his best to hold on to her, was Hal’s only hope.

Peg, aware, was content to let things ride. At the same time, she was gasping for a fag.

She realising that lighting up would not give a good impression and refrained.

They followed the children’s officer out of the hall and across the road towards an office building, the permanent offices of Immigration Control.

Peg suggested to Peter that she wasn’t needed and could wait outside.

“No Peg, please stay with us.”

Peter’s reply persuaded Peg that she was really needed.

They were shown into an elegant, carpeted office tastefully furnished with an arranged bunch of flowers in the open-hearth unlit fireplace. It could have passed for an upper middle class, drawing room.

Behind a mahogany desk sat a middle-aged man in a pin-striped suit.

Behind him, in the corner, the obligatory bowler hat and furled umbrella on a wooden hat stand.

The contrast with the immigration reception hall could not have been more pointed.

Coffee and two telephone calls later the friends found themselves once more outside the offices. Peter, a temporary visa for Miriam in his pocket, waited for a taxi to take them to the railway station. He was still confused as to how this could have happened.

Hal was still in shock and yet to recover.

Mim, aware instinctively of the import of the last thirty minutes, still clung to him.

Peter was some place between triumph and resentment of the power that Sir George and his colleagues wielded, had now to think what the next move was.

Peg leaned back on the wall outside and lit a fag and blew an enormous smoke ring which hung long enough in the calm October afternoon air to be noticed.

She followed this with a huge, loud, prolonged, “Phewwww!”

“Who would have believed this just one hour ago, fellas? We made it! Or rather you did Peter. I reckon you’re a genius.”

She took an enormous drag on her cigarette and blew another even bigger smoke ring.

Peter basking in the warmth of this comment found his voice.

“You will stay with us, come home with us please Peg, as Mim’s nanny of course.”

Peg took another drag, replying through a blue haze as she shook head.

“Sorry Peter, I can’t.”

“Stay as little or as long as you wish.” Peter persisted, mindful of his promise to Andre but forgetting the complications which would arrive via Pamela.

Peg looked at each one in turn as she spoke.

“Peter, Hal, Mim, I love you all and I love what you are doing but I must return to Paris.”

“Why?” they asked.

“Whatever you think of me you would be wrong. It would be wrong of me to accept.

Thanks for your trust but sorry, you are wrong. Please let me go.”

Without waiting for an answer Peg embraced each one in turn then lit another cigarette from the stub. Blowing each one a kiss through the customary haze, she turned and headed back towards the ferry terminal.

Peter started after her. Hal caught hold of his arm.

“Let her go, Pete.”

Peter looked at him. A week ago, faced with the same situation, Hal would have been running after her.

Peter was pleased that she had not accepted his offer because of problems it might have thrown up, and also pleased to have honoured his pledge.

The taxi arrived at that moment to take them to the station.

Still in shock they climbed in mindful that they still needed to face the next episode of this drama.

Neither spoke during the journey to the railway station.

The wait for the next train to London was even more difficult.

Both remained acutely aware of the sea change in their relationship and Peter unsure of why he had embarked on his scheme or how it would play out.

Hal was concerned and equally unsure about what was to happen; just how much he was in control of events, if at all.

The arrival of the train broke the spell, to the relief of all.

Hal picked up the little girl leaving Peter to collect his luggage plus the small, all-important attaché case, which had never left his side. Other matters occupied Peter’s mind.

“Sorry Pete, I was not thinking.” Hal popped Mim on to the seat and returned to help his friend with the luggage.

“Do you realise Pete we escaped the attention of the Customs?”

The awkwardness in their relationship was obvious. He tried to lighten the atmosphere.

Peter’s mind however was now on other matters. He didn’t answer at once.

Mim, who was kneeling on the seat looking out of the window managed to amaze Peter and Hal by speaking in almost perfect English.

“Train, another train,” she said pointing as it pulled in alongside.

Peter and Hal looked at each other. “How the hell!” Hal exclaimed.

Peter interrupted sharply. “Watch it Hal, she is picking everything up.”

Hal was rebuked and angry. Was Peter letting him know that Mim was his responsibility? Predictably, Hal’s natural good manners came to his rescue.

The growing rift between them, the feeling that he was being subtly being cut away from Mim, contrasted sharply with his realisation that without Peter’s help the little girl would already be a ward of the local children’s services.

“But where?” Hal asked spreading his hands, thinking how Mim could possibly learn so quickly.

“She is merely repeating what we are saying.” Peter’s answer was clipped and curt.

“But Pete, she clearly knows what is meant.”

“Yes, I suppose that is spooky,” Peter reluctantly offered, dismissing Hal’s subsequent attempts to make conversation in a manner learned from, or inherited from his father.

It was a habit that Hal was familiar with and one which Peter exhibited when concentrating.

Peter was now faced with the responsibility of the little girl, it seemed almost on a whim. He needed time to think.

He had only the adoption plan to fall back on. This without the agreement of Pen or his father. His knowledge of Sir George’s involvement or intentions were confined to a few instructions over the telephone yesterday. He could only guess what the thetelephone discussions were between Sir George and then Sir George’s Home Office colleague and the immigration manager.

Then he had to deal with his father.

Hal tried again to lighten the atmosphere, saying, “Did you see that manager’s face when Sir George rang him back?”

Peter didn’t answer so Hal persisted.

“Then when the Home Office rang him, we could almost see him bowing.”

Hal’s voice fell away as he realised that Peter was not listening.

Silence became the norm as they both retreated into their thoughts.

The journey to London and from London to Fernborough remained difficult for both.

Peter ‘escaped’ between trains to make telephone calls to Pen. Then he retreated once more into his thoughts and plans.

Hal interacted with Mim while trying to subdue his fears which included Peter’s unhealthy attachment to the little girl’s attaché case.

The journey across London, then across to Fernborough seemed to take forever.

It was some relief when a taxi dropping off a passenger, accepted the fare to St. Mary.

Following a third and last telephone call to Pen, they set off on the last mile.