The Great Cleanup - стр. 3
“I can't go on! Even if you were to kill me, I just can't…”
Catching his breath, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping sweat off his forehead. Meanwhile, the gypsy gazed at another policeman, a uniformed man with an officer's badge. As if following an order, he handed his machine gun to the man with a sergeant's badge, glimpsed at Anna with a green eye and, throwing his arms open, started a sailor's jig. He obviously had quite some experience at this. His was a fine smooth dance, and he even had enough breath to sing along:
“Sometimes we're bound for Liverpool,
Sometimes we're bound for Spain,
Heave away, me jollies, heave away!
But now you're never coming back,
We're bound for the county jail
Heave away me jolly boys, we're all bound away!”
The other policemen, standing by and not dancing, joined in the gloomy chorus:
“But now you're never coming back,
We're bound for the county jail
Heave away me jolly boys, we're all bound away!”
Finally the sergeant could not stand still. He handed the guns to his elderly comrade in civvies and started jumping and stomping his feet in a meek imitation of a tap dance.
The gypsy openly smiled as she watched the brave couple of dancers. The policeman in civvies, having regained his breath, smiled too. The gypsy noticed this, frowned and harshly clapped her hands once. The man in civvies immediately put the guns down in a corner of the room and stood at attention, his back perfectly straight. The other policeman, the moustached officer, put his hands down on the elderly man's shoulders, and then the sergeant with a youthful fluff on his face also placed his hands on the shoulders of the officer. They froze in perfect formation, as if awaiting the next command. And it shortly came. The gypsy started clapping a new rhythm, and the three obediently moved their legs to it, bending their knees, throwing their feet up and out to the sides. The policemen's new groovy dance looked like a bunny hop or lambada; they kept jumping, sometimes to the back or sides, but more to the front, in the general direction of the exit:
“Ta-da-da, la-la-la!”
The three guardians of the peace were smiling joyfully, their eyes full of satisfaction and merriment. As she looked upon the dancing guests, Anna felt an overwhelming desire to join them, putting her own hands on the third policeman's shoulders and, with them, fervently throwing her own legs up and out to the sides, jump, jump, jump:
“Ta-da-da, la-la-la!”
She made a step towards the merry men, but heard the gypsy's voice, ordering:
“Take a clean shawl and put everything into it.”
With no hesitation Anna shuffled to the wardrobe, but before she could get anything out of it, the sound of loud laughter snapped her back to her senses. The three policemen were now roaring, hooting, cackling in one voice. As they stood in the exit, no longer holding each other but firmly blocking the door, they were wiping tears of laughter off their faces.
Finally, the elder man in civilian clothing caught his breath again and gave the gypsy a patronizing look.
“Hey, you – Rada, Magdalene, Cookie Monstress, Adeline of the Western Seas and what not… You really thought we were taken in with tricks? We've seen loads of your brothers and sisters in our long and hard service lives. Stretch out your hands!” Then he nodded to the sergeant, “Work away”.