Free The Bad Samaritan by Robert Barnard

Scarborough—I told you about him.”
    â€œGood Lord, the Yugoslav boy? What’s he doing here?”
    â€œHe says he’s in trouble.”
    Paul nodded again, and went in and introduced himself. Rosemary felt herself blessed in having so unflappable and unsuspicious a husband. Stanko was looking less drawn and lean now, and she thought Paul was liking him already.
    â€œWell, what’s the trouble, then, Stanko?” Paul asked, when they had all sat down.
    Stanko put the bowl with fruit and cream in it down on the table in front of him and sat with his hands in his lap.
    â€œI get the sack,” he said.
    â€œIs that so terrible?” asked Paul. “Surely there must be lots of jobs in seaside places at the moment, with the summer season coming up.”
    Stanko nodded.
    â€œIs true. But Mrs Blundell she say the police is getting very strict. Always before I have—what do you say?—been a jump in front of them.” He gave Paul a shy, conspiratorial glance from lowered eyes. “You see, I have always heard when they have started to make enquiries—in Whitby, at Robin Hood Bay and so on—so I get out before they come. But Mrs Blundell says they are making a . . . a drive she calls it, in all the seaside towns, in the smaller restaurants and hotels.”
    Paul had not stiffened up his easy stance in his chair.
    â€œWhat you’re saying is you’ve no work permit.”
    â€œNo. I got passport, but I not got work permit.”
    There was silence in the room for a moment. Neither Stankonor Rosemary was looking at Paul, but Rosemary’s heart was in her mouth, wondering what he was going to say next.
    â€œI wish we had more contacts in the hotel or restaurant trade.”
    Rosemary blamed herself for doubting him. Of course he would take the humane decision. He always had in the past. It could only have been a slight twinge of guilt on her part that had made her doubt he would this time.
    â€œThere’s no one in the congregation that springs to mind,” she said, keeping the relief out of her voice.
    â€œIt’s something we’d better think about tomorrow,” said Paul, who could take snap decisions when necessary but tried to avoid them. “There’s no problem about a bed, is there?”
    â€œNo—Mark’s is still made up from his visit while I was away. If you can put up with it tonight I can change it tomorrow, Stanko.”
    â€œNo, no—you go to no trouble. Is fine.”
    â€œI think,” said Paul slowly, “it will be best if you lie fairly low while you’re here. A clergyman is not exactly in the public eye, but he is observed by his congregation. Someone they don’t know—and an obvious foreigner, as you are—coming to see me would cause no comment, but someone coming and going and obviously living here might.”
    â€œThat’s true,” said Rosemary, who knew all too well parish habits of mind. “What we really need to find is a job with some kind of living accommodation thrown in.”
    â€œA room, a shared room—anything!” said Stanko. “If the police catch me they send me straight back to Gorazde—anyway to Bosnia. Back to fighting and being bombed. You understand, Rosemary, I can’t go back there. I’d rather die!”
    Paul touched his arm.
    â€œYes, we do understand, both of us. We’ll do what we can, but we need to think carefully first. You really do think the police inLeeds are likely to be less active in hunting down illegal immigrants than those on the coast?”
    Stanko nodded quickly. He had obviously thought about it.
    â€œI think so. I hope so. Is in London and the seaside towns we mostly work, and in London is only in the small, not very nice hotels. I think they will not look very hard in Leeds.”
    â€œYou have contacts with others?”
    He nodded hesitantly.
    â€œWith a few. Is my countrymen, you