Chapters (41)
‘Good afternoon, Director,’ he said. ‘The day has dawned. The hour has struck. I think we find ourselves all prepared, do we not? No snags, I hope, while I was playing golf this morning? Jolly good. I think we might toddle along to the Conference Room for our little natter with the Heads of Departments.’
Chiddingfold inclined his head, and they toddled, Nunn filled once again with pious satisfaction that the power which descended to him from Chiddingfold was miraculously valid even when used over Chiddingfold himself.
The Heads of Departments were assembled in the Conference Room waiting for them, sitting stiffly in their best clothes. Riddle had had her hair set in an extraordinary permanent wave which made her face look as though it were an unfortunate and slapdash afterthought. Mrs. Plushkov kept rehearsing an inward smile to herself, unaware that each time she did so a ghost of the mental image appeared about her lips in the real world. Goldwasser kept clearing his throat. It was half past two.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Chiddingfold, smiling shyly. He lowered his great body into the chair at the head of the table, settled his head upon his hands, and fell into a profound silence.
Nunn had drawn from his pocket a slim volume entitled Prayers for the Rugby Field.
‘O Lord,’ prayed Nunn commandingly.
‘Oh, Jesus!’ cried Riddle involuntarily.
‘O Lord,’ repeated Nunn, ‘go with us hence on to the hard disputed field. Direct our feet into Thy ways when we kick for touch. Be with us in the scrum. Abandon us not in the line-out. Dwell in our collar-bones and protect our knee-caps. Grant that when we are tackled and fall, we fall into Thy gentle and ever-present Hand.
‘O Lord, be in the ball. Fly into our hands, and be quickly heeled. Be not knocked on, O Lord, nor passed forward.
‘O Lord, remember Thou our enemies. Be merciful to them in their weakness, and save them from too grievous injury. Comfort them in their defeat.
‘Amen.’
The Heads of Departments mumbled agnostically, their eyes open sufficiently wide to save their consciences, but lowered enough not to upset the sensibilities of their neighbours. Nunn looked at his watch.
‘I don’t know whether you’d like to add a word, Director,’ he said, ‘before we go to action stations?’
Chiddingfold just perceptibly inclined his head and rose to his feet.
‘Thank you,’ he said. He smiled his tiny, ambiguous smile, and making his great corpus as inconspicuous as possible, left the room. The Heads of Departments rose uncertainly and began to follow him, looking at their watches. Nunn towered above them on his charger, with Harfleur burning behind him, smiling beneficently down on them and saying ‘Jolly good’ vaguely as averted faces cringed by.
‘Oh,’ he added nonchalantly, as the last few backs went through the door. ‘Goldwasser!’
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