Read Online The Ambassador by Edwina Currie - Free Book Online Page B

babies before, and had tended to dismiss them as waking fantasies. But this baby had been beautiful: to begin with, at least. Fat and gurgly, with a toothless, gummy pink mouth and bright clear eyes. It had lifted its arms to her and gurgled, begging to be cuddled.
    But as she had bent to kiss it, the baby had changed. The skin had broken and cracked, like old parchment. The eyes had filmed over; the mouth had become slack, with jagged teeth that brought up weals on its thin lips. The little hand, formerly so plump and innocent, had twisted into a set of claws. The child had become a monster.
    With a sob Lisa fixing herself back into the pillows, face down. What had awakened her had no reality; it had stemmed from what used to be called a nightmare. It was solely her imagination. Such a thing had never happened. Nor could it, not these days.
    Never.

Chapter Four
    Strether was settling in. He was becoming used to European manners, so much less effusive than Stateside, to the diminished size of helpings on his plate, to the ever-present security cameras, and to paperwork which, despite modern technology, threatened daily to overwhelm him. He suspected that it was provided to keep him busy, and thus trapped where his staff could contain him. It succeeded too well.
    Yet the polite young employees at the embassy, all American nationals, were delightful. He wished he might get to know them a little better. Most were of an age to be the sons and daughters he had never had, and he felt comfortable with them. In a crisis they could be useful. He sensed that he could trust them absolutely, a feeling evinced by no European he had met so far.
    As the staffer put the coffee tray on his desk Strether looked up and smiled. ‘Yes, Matt?’
    Matt Brewer, Harvard and Princeton, Rhodes Scholar and college football star, was the same height as his chief but around twenty-five years younger and much fitter. Strether had instantly liked the youthful career officer with the trim American crew-cut, the jutting jaw and earnest manner.
    ‘Sir, I just wondered. It’s Friday. Some of the Chancery guys have tickets for the games this afternoon at White City. We were thinking. Would you like to join us?’
    Strether grinned. ‘That’s kind of you.’ He indicated the folders. ‘I don’t need much excuse. Shifting paper mountains was never my favourite occupation.’
    ‘In that case, sir … Well, you’ve not seen much of the city yet, have you? I was planning before the match to visit the Portobello Road mall. The travel shop there has great offers. And I have to make our monthly trip to the recycling centre.’
    ‘Sure. So what time are you leaving?’
    ‘About eleven, sir.’
    Strether checked the digital timepiece. ‘Fine. Meet you downstairs in half an hour.’
     
    It was a balmy day. In the square outside trees were heavy with leaf and in full bloom, with drifts of pink blossom in the gutters. The temperature was already 25°C. Overhead a ’copter bus whirred, spanking smart in its red Virgin livery. A fastjet vapour trail described a feathery arc in the sky. Above the electric hum of traffic, songbirds were chirruping loudly. A flock of rooks, disturbed by a tooting horn, rose angrily from the treetops, then, grumbling and squawking, flapped back on to their shambolic nests.
    A woman teetered by in a tightly cut tunic and hot pants with a befrizzed dog on a lead. As the animal moved to relieve itself, she nudged it to the pavement’s edge with her toe. Beneath its haunches the dog drain opened automatically. Before it closed again the animal’s backside was sprayed with a mildly antiseptic deodorant. The dog wagged its tail, wriggled its bottom and, with its mistress, trotted on.
    Strether stood on the embassy steps. ‘Take the car or public transport?’
    ‘Let’s take the tube,’ Matt answered. He held a carrier bag in which rustled bulky foil-wrapped packages. ‘They prefer it here – when in Rome. You’ll have many