The call came sooner than expected.
Harry was just getting up next morning when the phone rang unexpectedly, putting him off his stroke as he was shaving and he cut himself, cursing at the interruption. Hastily dabbing at his face he picked up the receiver, wondering who was ringing at this hour.
Glancing at his watch, he frowned. It was still only eight o’clock. ‘Hello,’ he said cautiously, ‘who’s that?’
‘Alastair Brown here. Sorry to ring so early, but something’s cropped up unexpectedly that’s affected my plans for putting on that variety act I was talking about.’
‘You mean it’s cancelled?’ asked Harry, detecting a note of anxiety at the other end.
‘Good Heavens, no. Nothing like that,’ he was assured hastily. ‘We can’t wait to get it on the road.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘Not
