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.’There was a history essay entitled ‘The Decline of the British Empire’, written in a sprawling adolescent hand.I read it through.The boy, obviously under this teacher’s guidance, had enumerated ten reasons for the collapse of British power in the 1930s and 1940s.These ranged from racist policies towards the Boers in South Africa and the Muslims in India to the enlightened support for freedom fighters provided by the Mexican government in areas under British control.Aztec armies had been ‘invited’ into these regions by nationalist movements to supplant the hated British rule.‘If you ask me,’ Cynthia was saying, ‘it’s a load of old twaddle.They’re indoctrinating him, making out we were rubbish and them like knights on white chargers.That’s not what I learnt in school.’One of my assistants came up and asked her if she wanted a cup of tea.‘Please,’ she said eagerly.‘Milk and two sugars.’It was hot in the crowded hall, and there were plenty of people still waiting their turn.The central office of the Aid Centre was located in the complex but we had set up a clinic in a defunct cinema near Marble Arch.I visited it twice a week, sitting at a long table on the stage with various advisers and helpers while our petitioners occupied the stalls.Chicomeztli had also set up a soup kitchen in the foyer, and this attracted the most crowds, passers-by often walking in simply to avail themselves of the free fare provided by such commercial outfits as MexTaco, obviously as a public-relations exercise.On most accounts I felt compromised and ineffectual at the clinic.More people came during my visits, many simply to gawp or talk with ‘a Royal’, relatively few with serious complaints.In addition, security was always very tight when I was present, armed guards and private detectives creating an atmosphere of tension and suspicion by searching people before they were allowed near me.None of my protests had any effect, Extepan insisting that it was essential I be protected from lunatics or zealots.It was plain to me that my attempts to have a normal dialogue with the citizens of the country would be frustrated either by the security forces or by the people themselves.I was a prisoner of my status.This, however, was a real and serious complaint by a woman who was not prepared to let her awe of me get the better of her.It was not the first example of Aztec interference in the school curriculum I had encountered, the general thrust of the new history syllabus apparently being to eliminate any sort of criticism of their role in world affairs.‘Even the teachers reckon it’s rubbish,’ Cynthia was saying, ‘but they have to do as they’re told.I don’t think it’s right.’‘I agree,’ I said, reaching for my pen and notepad.Perhaps you can give me full details, including your name and the address of your son’s school.’But before she could speak, all the sounds in the hall were drowned by a huge explosion outside.The stalls swiftly emptied as people hurried towards the exit.Escorted by my guards and murmuring my apologies to Cynthia, I followed them.It was the Excelsior Hotel at the end of Piccadilly that was ablaze.One half of its baroque façade had collapsed, and people were screaming and fleeing in disorder from the smoke and flames.Policemen and Aztec soldiers were vainly attempting to marshal the surging crowds as traffic began to pile up on both sides of the street.The Excelsior was a favourite haunt of visiting Aztecs and had recently undergone a refurbishment to suit their tastes, steam-baths and, doubtless, auianime having been installed there.But as the air filled with the sound of fire engine and ambulance sirens, it was shoppers and hotel staff whom I saw being carried dead or maimed from the carnage.I rushed across and did what I could to help.This mostly entailed giving orders to my escort to help with crowd control or stretcher-bearing while I myself was continually kept away from the more gruesome aspects of the carnage.A princess of the realm cannot be allowed to bloody her hands and muck in with the common folk, even if all her instincts tell her she must.I managed to arrange for the less seriously wounded to be temporarily housed in the cinema, and I was allowed to linger among the wreckage and blood until the press had arrived and taken suitable photographs of me at the scene.Then I was hurriedly shepherded to safety.As my Rolls was driven away, I glimpsed Cynthia, standing alone and bewildered in the middle of the rubble-strewn street, her son’s exercise book still clutched in her hand.At breakfast the following morning, Bevan put a batch of newspapers down in front of me.My photograph was on the front page of all the tabloids, and there were headlines such as KATE AT THE CARNAGE, PRINCESS OF PERIL, CATHERINE THE GREAT!‘This is embarrassing,’ I said, scanning the lurid stories accompanying the pictures.‘You’re the heroine of the hour,’ Bevan remarked drily.‘I didn’t do anything much.They wouldn’t let me.’‘You mean to say you didn’t single-handedly save the day?’I ignored his sarcasm, my attention already drawn by the weightier reports in the broadsheets.‘What’s this?’ I remarked.‘They’re claiming the Excelsior was destroyed by a Russian missile.’‘Know different, do you?’Bevan was slurping a mug of tea and leafing through the News Chronicle.‘It was a bomb, Bevan, I’m sure it was.The whole frontage of the hotel had caved in, but I couldn’t see any damage to the roof.A missile would have hit it from the top, surely?’‘Sounds reasonable.’‘Then why pretend otherwise?’He turned a page.‘It would suit them, wouldn’t it? Make the Russians into everybody’s enemies, not just theirs.’I switched on the television.Here the story was even more elaborate [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]