A Spy in the Family

by Alec Waugh

  ‘I suppose they wouldn’t.’ Myra paused. ‘All this stuff about rubber. What do you make of that?’

  ‘It doesn’t attract me. Does it you?’

  ‘I can’t see how it could.’

  ‘Anyhow we’d better see what Grantie has to show us.’

  The Bamboo Club was halfway down Greek Street. It had a bright sign outside announcing ‘Members Only’.

  ‘I don’t suppose that means anything,’ said Kitty.

  The club was on the first floor. The front door was not locked. It consisted of a single L-shaped room at one end of which was a bar. It was rather dark. A radio was playing. The walls were decorated with travel posters. In the L of the room were a number of tables. It did not look as though any solid food was served at them. A section of the L had been converted into booths. Two of the tables were occupied; there were three people at the bar; ten in all of mixed sexes and mixed colour. They seemed reasonably tidy. It was not a tough spot. Myra and Kitty walked up to the bar. The barman looked as though he were half Indian.

  ‘You ladies members? I not see you here before.’

  ‘No, we’re not members.’

  ‘You want become members? Five shillings each a week.’

  ‘We’ve come to see Grantie.’

  ‘That’s who you is seeing.’

  ‘We’ve got a card from Frank.’

  Myra handed across the slip of paper.

  Grantie put on his spectacles and examined it. ‘That sure is Frankie’s handwriting. Now what can Grantie do for two nice friends of Frankie?’

  ‘What we had to ask you was a little private.’

  ‘It was. Well, there’s a quiet table over there. What’ll you have to drink? I’ll make you honorary members for one day, as friends of Frankie. What did you say you’d have? Two Cherry Heerings. That’ll be ten shillings each and the tip’s included. You take them to that table. I’ll join you in a minute.’

  The table was relatively out of earshot, provided that one did not raise one’s voice.

  ‘This is not the atmosphere in which your uncle was brought up,’ was Myra’s comment.

  ‘I’ll say it isn’t.’

  They looked about them. So this was vice in the world’s swinging city. Grantie joined them. The point about us here,’ he said. ‘It’s where things begin. No funny business on the premises. We keep the law. We’re a proper club: registered. We can serve drinks eight hours a day. We serve them from noon till eight. Members can get a drink in the afternoon when the pubs and restaurants are closed. Very useful for some people. Now how can I help you?’

  Myra and Kitty looked at one another. It’s up to her, isn’t it, Myra thought. But Kitty remained silent. Oh well then, since I brought her here. ‘We’re concerned about our husbands,’ Myra said. ‘We want to show them something new. We feel that they’re getting in a rut. Now what would you suggest?’

  ‘Most anything. You pay the price. You tell me what you want; I find it.’

  He looked from the one to the other, interrogatively. Myra and Kitty exchanged a glance. Each knew exactly what was in the other’s mind. They rose to their feet.

  ‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Myra said. ‘I now know where we are. You know who we are; we know who you are. If we call and say “Kitty and Myra,” you’ll take care of us. What we want is something that will make our husbands think the world is a somewhat different place.’

  Grantie broke into a loud guffaw. ‘I get you now. I see exactly what you want. You let me know. I fix it.’

  Myra and Kitty blinked as they came out into the bright clean air. ‘What about a coffee?’ Myra asked.

  ‘That is precisely what I feel like.’

  The Coventry Street Corner House was only a five minutes’ walk away. They both ordered chocolate sundaes as well as coffee. ‘Why don’t we come to this kind of place more often?’ Kitty said.

  ‘Why don’t we? They say that the Cheese and Grill is fabulous.’

  They sat in silence. Then Myra spoke. ‘That’s not what we’re looking for.’

  ‘Most certainly it isn’t.’

  ‘We’re between two groups. Though we’re twenty-four and over, we belong to the pre-Pill generation. It’s all different now. Our fathers, or maybe our grandfathers, had their special problems. They were worried about V.D. It made sex a problem for them. Penicillin settled that. Young men today aren’t worried there, though perhaps they should be. And the girl’s problem is cured by contraception. They don’t need to worry any more about getting babies—that lies within their control, unless they’re Catholics, and are young Catholics bothering? In a way it’s easy for a young man today. He finds a girl in his own class. It’s only people like ourselves who want something special who find that it isn’t there for them.’

  Myra paused, then chuckled. ‘Hamburg. That’s what we should try. Take our men to Hamburg.’

  8

  Myra had taken advantage of Victor’s absence to enjoy the kind of supper that was only possible in her own house, when she was alone. Two ample dry martinis on the rocks accompanied an open-faced smoked-salmon sandwich; then she scrambled herself some eggs, and washed them down with a large white coffee. It was a warm night. She was wearing a light, quilted housecoat over her pyjamas. She had curled herself into the corner of the sofa. That afternoon at the tube-station bookstall she had found a Maigret that she had not read. She was looking forward to a quiet, restorative evening. How lucky to have a husband who dined out at least one night a week.

  There was a tap on the door. ‘Yes.’ Anna was standing in the doorway.

  ‘I’ve come to say goodbye,’ she said. She was wearing a pair of black beach trousers and a tight-fitting yellow sweater, long-sleeved with a rolled neck. She closed the door behind her. She stood looking down at Myra. Myra stood up. They were six feet apart. There was a smile on Anna’s lips, a soft look of invitation in her eyes. It was for Myra a moment of complete revelation. She had no doubt of what was happening, no self-questioning. Slowly, without a word said, they stepped towards each other, into each other’s arms.

  It was a long, deliberate kiss. Anna’s hand under the quilted jacket moved slowly over Myra’s back; then they drew apart. There was no fumbling with the other’s clothes. Each knew what was in the other’s mind. They met as equals. Each undressed herself, without impatient haste. They had all the night before them. A minute and they were in each other’s arms again, among the cushions. ‘It’ll be better on the floor,’ said Anna.

  It was the only thing they said for a long, long while. The floor was covered with a deep warm rug that had been hand-woven in Morocco; it was soft beneath them, giving them the resistant support they needed. It was a fever, a phantasy of changing positions; of lingering, wandering caresses; of breasts sweeping against breasts, of penetrative tongues and fingers. At one moment with feet beside the other’s head, their legs were crossed like two pairs of scissors; with their hands clasped, they pulled on one another, rotating themselves against each other. Another moment and they had swung into reverse, their knees drawn close under their chins. Lying on their right sides, Myra’s left foot pressed against Anna’s shoulder blade; Anna, her left leg drawn under Myra’s, pressed her foot under Myra’s arm; her left hand, from beneath her leg, was clasped around the small of Myra’s back. Myra’s own left hand was curved between Anna’s thighs. Their breasts were held apart by a confusion of knees and elbows, but each was completely, intimately exposed to the other’s darting tongue.

  Myra, her hands now joined, drew Anna closer and closer to her, subduing her to the same mounting rhythm to which she was herself subdued. She had not believed two people could be so completely equals, no question of seduction or of being seduced: two people meeting in, being joined by, an equal need for one another. Then once more they were face to face, drinking each other’s kisses, their breasts stroking one another’s, till at last the sequence of broken sighs sank to a quiet breathing.

  They lay in silence. Then Ann
a spoke. ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘Tell you about whom?’

  ‘The woman that you met in Malta.’

  ‘She was a German.’

  ‘It’s always best with a foreigner, the first time.’

  ‘You don’t seem to have practised that yourself.’

  ‘You mean with Lena?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Perhaps Swedes are different. Yes, I think we are. We’re very tolerant about that kind of thing.’

  ‘You knew as soon as I came back.’

  Anna laughed. ‘How did you know I knew?’

  ‘From the way you looked at me. It was a shock.’

  ‘Not an unpleasant one.’

  ‘I didn’t say it was. But it was a shock. I wondered if I was so obvious to everyone.’

  ‘Oh no, only to someone like myself.’

  ‘What about Lena?’

  ‘I didn’t discuss it with her, but I shouldn’t think so. It’s not in her blood, as it is in mine; as I believe it is in yours.’

  ‘So you think that, do you?’

  Anna nodded. ‘I used to wonder about you. I felt that you’d really like women in this way but that you’d never been, do you know the phrase we use, “brought out”?’

  ‘I know that phrase.’

  ‘I was very tempted. But I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t dare to risk it.’

  ‘Did you think that I’d have sacked you?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘If I’d guessed wrong, it would have been very awkward—between us two I mean. And then there’d have been Lena. Her feelings would have been hurt if we had had to leave, because of you and me. And even so, suppose I’d not guessed wrong, suppose that I had been able to play that German woman’s role with you. It wouldn’t have been easy, not with Lena here. You’d have resented her. She’d have been puzzled. I’d have had to lie to her. She’d probably have found out. It would have been a mess. But I was tempted. Particularly after you came back from Malta, and I knew.’

  ‘Did you want to then, all that much?’

  ‘Alskling, you’re such an innocent. That’s one of the things that makes you very special.’

  She raised herself on her elbows. She looked down at Myra. She lowered her head and brushed her lips softly over hers, moving them away, along her cheek, taking the lobe of her ear between her teeth, biting at it softly, sliding the tip of her tongue into the shell-like crevices; at the same time her hand slid downwards over Myra’s body, her fingertips began their slow, tantalising, lingering caress.

  It was the moment in love-making that Myra loved the most, when after an interval in love play, passion became resurgent. For a moment she regretted the difference between this moment and those others, when with Victor she had become conscious suddenly of his renewed, his palpably renewed interest in her. In a sense there was something here incomplete. Mentally she shrugged. In everything there was always something missing. And there was so much extra here. I need both, she thought. Once again, she turned into Anna’s arms.

  Later, once again, the sighs had sunk to an even breathing. Once again Anna was whispering softly to her, ‘I knew that you’d be wonderful. I had no idea that you would be so wonderful. If I had known, I don’t think that I’d have been able to resist you all this time. Do you know what I first thought when I learned that Lena would have to go? I thought, This gives me my chance with Myra.’

  ‘It was luck Lena having this night away.’

  ‘Do you really think that it was luck? I fixed it. I knew that your husband was going to be at Oxford. So I suggested to those friends of Lena’s that they ask her for that night. That would leave us alone together. It’s going to be a night we’ll never be forgetting, never. I’ve so often thought, have you? No, I guess you haven’t; you’re younger than I am, and a woman who likes men isn’t promiscuous in the way that a woman who likes women is. I’ve so often thought, it may not be after the first night, it may be after the third or second—’

  ‘Maugham makes one of his characters in The Razor’s Edge say that the second night is the one that counts.’

  ‘I wouldn’t contradict the maestro, but I have thought often at the very start of an affair, If only it could stop here. We’ve had the best that we can ever give each other. We’ve touched the heights. It can only be a repetition after this. And to repeat is to diminish. But one can’t stop there, because of the other person, because of oneself, because you live in the same village, the same town, you have to go on seeing one another, and because you do, you have to go on making love to one another. That’s why we’re so lucky in this, you and I. We’ll have this one long night, to say all we’ll never have an opportunity to say again, to reveal each final secret, to leave no caress unused, no curiosity unsatisfied. That is what fate has given us. It is something that fate does not give so often.’

  The night was only a third spent when she said that. As she had prophesied, so it was. They talked and they made love and then they talked. As the night advanced, the air grew cool. Myra shut the window. She brought in a coverlet from the bedroom. In the intervals of love-making, they would lie on their backs, cushions under their necks, their hands crossed under their heads.

  ‘Who brought you out?’ Myra asked.

  Anna laughed. ‘I guess I brought myself out. I seemed to know from the beginning the kind of person that I was.’

  ‘But surely the first time, wasn’t it with an older woman?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but there wasn’t any seduction on her part. It was one of those holiday camps. I was a junior Guide. She was a Guide leader. She was four years older, but the moment I saw her, at the very first reception, I knew. Our eyes met. I thought, this is it. When I came out from supper, she was waiting outside the tent. We didn’t say a word. We went for a walk into the woods. And that was that.’

  ‘But when you yourself, when you’ve brought girls out, that’s different, isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course, as it was with you and that German woman. If she’d made a pass at you your first evening, you’d have had a fit. It took me a long time to get the idea into Lena’s head. But as I said, she isn’t really my type at all. Sooner or later she’ll see the man who’s right for her. Then she’ll go to him.’

  ‘Will you be very sad?’

  Anna shrugged. ‘It’s happened before. It’s what I’ve known from the start would happen with her. I’m on my guard. Live in the moment.’ Again they turned to one another.

  It was Myra who first resumed their talk. ‘You say that Lena will find some man. Isn’t there a chance that you yourself might find a man?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘Not a man that I’d give up a woman for.’

  ‘You told me that the kind of man you liked isn’t the kind of man who’d make a good father for your children.’

  ‘That’s so.’

  ‘What kind of man would he be?’

  ‘What kind of man would you expect him to be?’

  ‘Well—’ Myra hesitated, and Anna caught her up.

  ‘I think I can tell you the kind of man that you’d expect. Because I’m masculine, he’d be feminine. That he’d be a fairy, in fact, who’d be vaguely bisexual. And that isn’t paternal timber. Is that what you had in mind?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘You couldn’t be more wrong. The kind I like is excessively masculine, over-masculine. He’s brought up under rigid discipline. He’s spartan. Usually he’s a northern type; a Prussian or a Finn, a Swede, someone who’s on a ship for long periods of time, who rather despises women. Because he is virile, powerfully masculine, he doesn’t suppress the sex side of his nature. He expresses it with men, as soldiers in the Foreign Legion or prisoners sent to Devil’s Island do. At the same time it is really faute de mieux. He has acquired these tastes because no others were available. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t find women attractive in their way and in their place; the trouble is that he only likes doing with women the things that he has got into the habit of doing with young me
n.’

  ‘And that is the kind of man to whom you find yourself attracted?’

  ‘That’s so.’

  ‘How did you find this out about yourself?’

  ‘The first man who attracted me was like that.’

  ‘What kind of a man was he?’

  ‘He was a German. He’d been in submarines in the war.’

  ‘Was that why you said I’d been lucky to meet a German woman?’

  ‘If one has a kink, it’s easier with a foreigner. One has no class distinctions. One’s not afraid of being looked down upon. Something strange is justified by foreignness. I once heard a Frenchman say that English men and women, living on an island, had breathed the same air so long that they had become like brothers and sisters to each other. All strangeness gone.’

  And it needed a German woman, Myra thought, to introduce that note for her, so that Victor and she became alive for one another. ‘But wasn’t it,’ she asked, ‘a shock for you at first? You couldn’t have known he was like that.’

  ‘A surprise, but not a shock. I was surprised with myself for being attracted. I thought I knew myself so well. You mayn’t believe it but I was a virgin.’

  ‘Are you still?’

  ‘Heavens no. I had to try the other thing, as an experiment. I didn’t like it much.’

  ‘But with this other man, how did he explain?’

  ‘He didn’t explain. He started to do things I’d not expected.’

  ‘And did you like those things?’

  ‘Not at first. But most tastes can be acquired. And the fact that he was different in that way made me feel that it was all right for me. I didn’t want to be like everybody else. Being different in those ways gives me a sense of superiority. What may be good enough for the rest of the world isn’t good enough for me.’

  ‘You’re putting ideas into my head,’ said Myra.

  Anna laughed. Once again her fingertips were moving gently, persuasively between Myra’s thighs. ‘Not only into your head, I notice.’