Paving the New Road Read Online Free Page A

I presume,” Clyde muttered.
    Rowland smiled. “That’s not his priority, but it’d be helpful, I should think.”
    “So when do we sail?” Edna asked sweetly.
    “We? No …”
    “We’re coming, Rowly,” Clyde said in a way that made Rowland realise that the matter had been discussed. He should have known that at least one of them would have been eavesdropping.
    “But don’t tell Rosie,” Clyde added sheepishly. “She won’t understand.”
    “She won’t need to,” Rowland said firmly. Rosalina Martinelli was Clyde’s sweetheart. “I’m not dragging you all with me. It’s too dangerous.”
    “Exactly.” Milton flicked a cinder off his lapel. “You’re walking into God knows what and you can’t trust Hardy or his fascist cronies. Us, you can trust … We’re not letting you go alone, mate.”
    “Look, I appreciate …” Rowland started.
    “Tell Hardy that we know all about his little plan.” Milton fished a pewter flask from his jacket. “Sending us with you is the only way to ensure we keep quiet.”
    “It’ll be dangerous …”
    “More so if there’s no one watching your back, Rowly.”
    Rowland met Milton’s eye. “Germany is hostile to people like you right now, Milt.”
    Milton smiled. “The Germans have never liked poets, you know … it’s not really a poetic language—too many slurping noises.”
    Despite himself, Rowland laughed. “Goethe might disagree.”
    Edna put her hand on his knee. “You can’t go on your own, Rowly.”
    “I’m not a child, Ed.”
    “Neither was Mr. Bothwell, I expect. He might be alive if he’d taken someone with him.” Edna stood suddenly and poked at her firepit with a stick. “When do we sail?”
    Rowland sighed. “Not sailing. As it turns out, Hardy wants me in Germany as soon as possible. A boat is too slow … I’m flying.”
    “You’re what?”
    Rowland grinned, unable to disguise his enthusiasm for that part of Hardy’s plan. Obviously his friends had stopped eavesdropping before Hardy gave him these particular details. “Hardy’s managed to convince Kingsford Smith to take a passenger to Europe.”
    “Kingsford Smith! You can’t be serious.”
    Clyde laughed. “No wonder you agreed to go. Well, Smithy will just have to take four passengers.”
    “I don’t know …”
    Clyde pressed his shoulder. “Look, Rowly, we understand why you have to go. We’re not going to try to talk you out of it … but face it, mate, Hardy’s using you.” He moved to take the place Edna had vacated. He spoke calmly, sensibly, in a way that was very typical of Clyde. “You tell the good Senator that you’re not going without insurance, without us. If he wants you to go, he’ll make it work.”

    Rowland dressed hastily, checking his watch as he knotted his tie. It was nearly three in the afternoon. He might have time for breakfast before Hardy arrived.
    He had slept late. The residents of Woodlands House had spent most of the previous night keeping watch over Edna’s pit fire and continuing to argue over who exactly would be going to Germany. In the early hours of the morning Rowland had been worn down by either cogent argument or fatigue … he wasn’t sure which. He wondered how Hardy would take the news that Rowland Sinclair was taking a Communist painter, a Jewish poet and an unpredictable sculptress to Germany. Admittedly, he was rather looking forward to the Senator’s reaction.
    Mary Brown was answering the door just as he hurtled down the staircase. Inwardly, Rowland cursed—Hardy was early.
    But it wasn’t Charles Hardy.
    Briefly, Rowland was startled, though he knew he should have expected this.
    Wilfred Sinclair entered. Silently he removed his hat and handed it to Mary, who all but curtseyed. His blue eyes were livid. They glared at Rowland over the gold-framed rims of his bifocals.
    Rowland was taller than his brother, but he had never felt so in Wilfred’s presence. Wilfred Sinclair had a stature that was much more than