4 Death at the Happiness Club by Cecilia Peartree Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn't wearing her pyjamas today.
    She got to her feet with an effort of will-power and went to see who it was.
    A man in a grey suit stood on the doorstep.
    'Mrs MacPherson?'
    'That's me,' she said, trying out a smile. He didn't respond to that. He must be an official of some kind. She didn't know whether to hope he was from the CIA or not. Surely the CIA owed her something in return for the long years when she had virtually lived undercover with Pearson, going where he went, making homes for him in various countries, not all as welcoming as Scotland.
    'I'm from the UK immigration service,' he said, shattering her hopes of compensation from the CIA for her trouble, although she knew that possibility had only ever existed in her own mind. He held up an identity badge that seemed to be authentic. At least, it was bent out of shape and had a large coffee stain at one end as if it had been in use for a while. 'I believe you've had a letter from us.'
    'Yes,' said Maisie Sue, who was almost incapable of lying to the authorities. Except about taxes, of course, but lying about taxes was practically a national obsession where she came from. 'But I wasn't sure if I was meant to - '
    'May I come into the house for a few moments?' he said very politely, if over-formally in a very British way.
    She caught herself wondering if he was married. Come on, Maisie Sue, she told herself firmly, this is getting to be pathetic!
    'Please sit down,' she said to him in the living-room. She could be over-formal too. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'
    'No, thank you.'
    'Pancakes and maple syrup?'
    He shook his head and made a note in the little reporter's notebook he had taken out of a briefcase. He would probably report that she had made an attempt to bribe him.
    'Have you read the letter?' he asked.
    'I guess so. But -'
    'Then you'll understand that we have no choice but to act in cases where a visa is no longer valid.'
    Maisie Sue didn't understand any such thing, but she wasn't about to get into an argument with him at this stage.
    'How long have I got before you act?'
    He blinked. Perhaps he wasn't used to getting such direct questions. Well, he was dealing with an American now. None of this British pussyfooting around. Get straight to the point. Cut through all the layers of subtlety.
    'Um - it's hard to put an exact timescale on the process,' he said. 'Most people in your situation arrange to leave voluntarily before we - er - take action.'
    'I see,' said Maisie Sue.
    'It can take up to six months, depending on the circumstances,' he said.
    'Six months?'
    'Give or take a couple of months. Are there any special circumstances? Family in the UK? Caring responsibilities?'
    Maisie Sue wished she had had the foresight to adopt a child, or indeed a grandmother. Or even a dog might have done.
    He left her with a booklet entitled 'Facing Deportation - it might not be as bad as you think'. She sat down heavily on the chair in the hallway, holding the booklet on her lap but not reading it. She had known all this for a while, but having an actual person come round and spell it out to her was still very sobering.
    She was just blinking back tears when a voice spoke from the kitchen doorway.
    'That was all just bravado on his part. There are lots of ways round it. Don't worry, we'll sort something out.'
    'Amaryllis! How in the world did you get in?'
    Amaryllis advanced from the kitchen into the hall. She looked as sleek and dangerous as a cheetah.
    'I wouldn't mind some pancakes and maple syrup,' she said. 'Let's go and sit in the kitchen.'
    An hour later, they were still in the kitchen, and Maisie Sue had made another batch of pancakes.
    'So there's absolutely no chance that you can invent a special machine for making quilts, or start a quilting business employing ten or more people?' said Amaryllis, summing up their conversation so far. 'And there isn't actually a threat to your life if you return to the States?''
    'Not as far as I know,' said Maisie Sue,