Rule Britannia by Daphne du Maurier Read Free Book Online

on the Stock Exchange and they immediately fell in value. I’ve never gone by him since.”
    “But that was years ago.”
    “I don’t care. His judgment’s unsound.”
    They went together into the music room. It was called the music room because of the piano which nobody ever played, but it was also Mad’s favorite room, which she kept filled with flowers even if it was nothing but dried hydrangea heads. There were also photographs of herself dotted about the room, in various roles, which Emma secretly thought was rather conceited, but perhaps when you were old you liked to be reminded of your young days when you were famous.
    “I’ll tell you one thing,” said Mad, as she threw one of Joe’s carefully sawn logs onto the fire. “I have the feeling that your Pa knew something was in the wind.”
    “How do you mean?” asked Emma.
    “When he telephoned a few nights ago it was rather odd. I meant to tell you at the time, and then I forgot. He kept on saying he wanted you and me to go up to London for a few days and stay at the flat with him, there were a lot of things to discuss, and when I suggested he come down here instead he said it was difficult, and he was—well, I can only say cagey. I told him it was out of the question, you and I couldn’t possibly leave Dottie all alone to cope with the boys, especially over the half term, and he said, ‘Damn Dottie and the boys. Well, I hope you don’t regret it.’ Don’t regret it… That’s the odd thing. Then he rang off.”
    Emma considered the matter. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Pa does get fussed from time to time. Thinks you do too much. And you know he’s always been bored with the boys, that’s why he comes down so seldom.”
    The helicopters were passing backwards and forwards again. One was much lower than its fellows, and its roar made further speech impossible.
    “Look,” said Mad, or rather shouted, “I do believe it’s going to land.”
    The helicopter had come in low over the plowed field, and had now skirted the hedge and was hovering above the grazing field which adjoined the garden and ran parallel with the drive. It came lower, lower, hovering like a hawk, blades whirring, the noise deafening, and then slowly, very slowly, descended and landed in the center of the field. The blades rotated for a few moments, then ceased. The door of the helicopter opened and six or seven men got out.
    “They’re coming here,” said Emma.
    Two of the soldiers began walking across the field towards the drive. The rest remained by the helicopter. The two men climbed over the wire and crossed the lawn towards the gate. Emma glanced nervously at her grandmother. At least she hadn’t got her peaked cap on, so she didn’t look too much like Mao Tse-tung. Actually, with her white hair brushed upwards like that she looked rather good. Formidable, in fact. On the other hand, it might have been better if she had been dressed to suit her near-eighty years, perhaps in a sensible skirt, and worn a soft cardigan around her shoulders, preferably pale blue, instead of that Robin Hood jerkin with leather sleeves.
    “What are we going to do?” asked Emma.
    “Play it by ear,” said Mad.
    They advanced together to the steps before the front door, as they had done that morning, and the two soldiers passed through the gate and walked up the path. “Officers,” murmured Mad under her breath, “you can always tell.” The soldiers, officers, whatever, came to a halt and saluted. One had what Emma imagined to be a typical soldier’s face, long, rather lantern-jawed, his hair beginning to go gray under his service cap. His companion was younger, round-faced, with smiling blue eyes. Emma found it natural that he should look at her rather than at her grandmother. It was the elder man who spoke.
    “Colonel Cheeseman, ma’am,” he said, “U.S. Marines. This is Lieutenant Sherman.”
    Mad did not attempt to acknowledge the introduction, or to give her