The Episode at Toledo

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The Episode at Toledo Page 22

by Ann Bridge


  ‘Commander Mansfield will know far better than I do who ought to be invited to the luncheon,’ Hetta said.

  ‘I s’pose so,’ Nell said doubtfully. ‘And then I don’t know whether we hadn’t better have that at the Castellana-Hilton.’

  ‘Why not at home?’

  ‘Oh, it’s all so difficult now! Luis used to fix everything, and make suggestions about dishes and wine and flowers, but this new chauffeur is no manner of use! He can’t even speak English. And he doesn’t seem to care to help in the house.’ She was almost tearful.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Hetta said.

  ‘It was so funny of him, going off like that, without saying a word! I thought he was so fond of us,’ Nell went on. ‘I know I was of him; he was such a help. And Walter won’t even try to get him back!—he just shuts up when I talk about it, and says he believes he’s left the country, and that it’s no good asking about him.’ She did now sniff, and dab at her eyes. ‘You don’t know why he cleared off, do you?’ she asked suddenly, peering intently at her friend.

  Oh, Nell and her questions! Poor Hetta groaned inwardly.

  ‘But Nell, how could I? I was in the clinic when he left—don’t you remember?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I know—but you were there when the car crashed. I thought maybe you might know something.’

  ‘No, I cannot help you about that,’ Hetta said firmly. She got up. ‘I haven’t given you a drink,’ she said—‘How careless of me? Sherry, or a Martini?’

  ‘A Martini, please.’ As her hostess mixed the cocktails—‘Luis made such marvellous Martinis!’ Mrs. Parrott lamented.

  ‘There!’ Hetta said, handing her a glass. ‘Now, would you like to ring up Commander Mansfield, and see if he can come to see you this afternoon? For the luncheon, at least, the invitations ought to go out as soon as possible.’

  Nell agreed to do this, and secured the Commander for five o’clock. ‘But you’ll come along too, won’t you, so we can all plan it together?’

  ‘No, Nell, I shall not be able to come today—I am sorry.’

  ‘Oh darling! Why ever not?’

  ‘I shall have to rest—yesterday was a long drive, and in any case I often try to rest now in the afternoons, for the sake of the baby.’

  ‘But you’ll come to the luncheon? And the cocktail-party?’

  ‘If Richard is free, and Commander Mansfield thinks we ought to be included in the luncheon, I am sure we shall be delighted to come—for the cocktail, yes, for my part.’ She almost said ‘If I am here,’ but remembered in time not to refer to leaving Madrid. For that, at least, she and Richard must agree on a suitable story.

  ‘I’m sure Mansfield will think you ought to come to the luncheon,’ Nell said—‘Anyway I want you! How will I manage alone?’ She was rather upset by Hetta’s formal tone.

  ‘You might ask Luzia Ericeira to come and help you—she is with us again.’

  ‘Well, she’s nice, and she knows lots of people—but it’s not the same thing as having you. I know who will be pleased to see her,’ Nell said, perking up a little, and looking arch.

  ‘Who is that?’

  ‘Ellington—he’s coming with Mr. Everitt; well a few days before, I believe. He’ll be here for the whole visit.’

  ‘Oh, I am glad—I like him so much,’ Hetta said. ‘He, also, will be a great help to you. By the way, Luzia is now engaged to be married,’ she added to check the archness in good time.

  ‘Is she? Who to?’

  ‘A young Englishman—Lord Heriot’s son.’

  ‘Poor Ellington!’ Nell said, with a little laugh. ‘He liked her a lot.’ And presently she took her departure, rather to Hetta’s relief.

  Richard came home to luncheon. In spite of a busy morning, catching up with his backlog of work, he had found time to get on to the travel agents, and secure passages for his party on a Highland Line boat, sailing from Vigo for Tilbury in a little over a fortnight.

  ‘Yes, it’s a good line,’ he said. ‘Very comfortable boats. I’ve taken a berth for Speranza too—I can always cancel that when I send tomorrow to collect the tickets, if you don’t want her.’

  Hetta pondered.

  ‘I wonder if I shall need her,’ she said at last. ‘I am accustomed to doing things for myself—at least I used to be! And in Scotland, in the country, I suppose there will not be much going out; here, it is useful to have a maid, because one’s clothes must be pressed so often. And she might be homesick, in a strange country. What do you think?’ she asked Luzia.

  ‘I should take her,’ that young person said, unhesitatingly. ‘I do not see why she should be lonely; she and Élise are great friends, and if Élise should get influenza or something, Speranza could look after the child. Richenda adores her!’

  ‘There is something in that,’ Richard said. ‘Yes, I should take her, Hetta.’

  ‘Also one hears that there are not so many servants in England today,’ Luzia pursued. ‘Mrs. Reeder may be very glad of an extra maid. Would she like to go?’

  ‘I did not ask her yet—but I expect so. Half the maids in Spain seem to want to go to England now!’

  ‘Very well, that’s settled.’

  ‘Yes, but now we must settle something else, Richard. When I tell Speranza that we go to England, in ten minutes the whole household will know it—and in two hours more, half Madrid! We must give some reason.’

  ‘I know—H.E. and I were talking about that this morning. Crafty old boy, he’d got it all worked out!’

  ‘What?’ both girls asked.

  ‘Physio-therapy for your wrist! Particularly good in England, and needs prolonged treatment, two or three times a week, for ages.’

  ‘But my wrist is nearly all right.’

  ‘Yes, only people here needn’t know that. Back you go into your sling, my girl!—everyone knows you broke your wrist, in a car-crash that can be talked about as much as you like. And it hasn’t got quite right, and a renowned Portuguese Dr. has urged this course. No need to go into details; just stick to your story, and everyone will believe it.’

  Luzia began to laugh; Hetta frowned a little.

  ‘But Nell saw me this morning, without the sling.’

  ‘Well when she sees you with one, you can just tell her you took it off for half an hour. How did you get on with her, by the way?’

  Hetta related what had passed.

  ‘Quite right to turn her over to Mansfield—he’s the proper person to deal with her invitations, of course.’

  ‘But I said that perhaps Luzia would help her with the cocktail-party. Do you mind?’ she asked her guest.

  ‘Oh, this I can easily do—and for you, willingly.’

  ‘Thank you. But Richard, besides my wrist, she asked about my head.’

  ‘Bother the woman! What did you say?’

  ‘That I stumbled, and fell against something with a sharp edge, and cut it. It was all I could think of, to a sudden question.’

  ‘Well that will do all right—I’ll tell H.E. We four are the only ones who know otherwise, except Ainsworth; and I’m seeing him this afternoon, so I’ll alert him. I ought to have thought of that before. Had she anything else to say, besides these moans about Luis?’

  ‘Only that Ellington comes back for this American’s visit.’

  ‘Good. That’s a nice boy—he’ll be a help to poor Nell, and to Mansfield too.’

  Hetta thought that Luzia looked a little disconcerted at the mention of Lieutenant Ellington’s name. When Richard had gone the girl said to her—‘This is certain, that Ellington comes?’

  ‘Yes. And Luzia, I told Nell of your engagement—I thought it might be wise to do this. I hope you do not mind?’

  ‘No. I am glad that you did.’ She gave a brief laugh. ‘It will save putting the announcement in the newspapers!’

  ‘Everyone will see your ring, and ask questions, in any case.’

  ‘Yes. You are perfectly right.’

  When Richard saw Ainsworth later that afternoon he
began by telling him at once about the plan for Scotland.

  ‘Well, I don’t imagine it’s necessary now, but I understand how you feel,’ the Intelligence man said. ‘It has been very tough for her. By the way, I passed on to Day everything you told me about what she’d done in Portugal—getting that priest over, who produced all the dope about El Lobo, and doing it with a hole in her head! He’s tremendously impressed, and so are his people in Washington—and grateful too. They’d have been on tenterhooks all through Everitt’s visit if that cell hadn’t been cleared up. Major Day would like to come and call on her one day, and thank her personally.’

  ‘That’s very nice of him, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I’d really rather she wasn’t reminded of any of it,’ Richard said. ‘That’s one reason why I want to get her away. Can you stand him off? She has got her hands rather full, actually, with her packing, and settling which servants to disband, and farewell calls, and so on.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Ainsworth said, rather doubtfully. ‘I think it’s more than just Day—I gather Washington would like some official recognition of what she’s done to be expressed.’

  ‘Oh well then, let them give her the Purple Heart, and have done with it!’ Atherley exploded. ‘She’s got a perfectly good wound! Oh, by the way,’ he went on, as Ainsworth laughed, ‘the cover-story for her head is that she tripped and fell against something, and cut her forehead open—not very convincing, but Mrs. Parrott put her on the spot before we’d thought anything up, so that’s what she said; and now we must stick to it.’

  ‘I should think that’s good enough.’

  ‘And as for her going home, a big Portuguese shot has said that to get her wrist really put right she must have physiotherapy for it for several months, and that’s better done in England than here.’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ Ainsworth said, with genuine concern. Richard laughed.

  ‘Nonsense! Her wrist’s practically cured already; she never saw any high-powered Portuguese at all, just a rather good man in Oporto. That’s merely the “Authorised Version”, Ainsworth.’

  ‘Oh, I get you. Right, I’ll remember.’ he paused. ‘Do you think I could see her, just for a few minutes? It’s only to tell her about that poor woman near Pamplona,’ he added hastily.

  ‘Yes—I’m sure she’d like that very much. Could you look in for a drink before lunch tomorrow? You can? Fine.’

  Chapter 15

  When Ainsworth arrived at the Atherley’s flat next day he found Hetta alone; Richard had not yet got back. He looked, rather furtively, at the strapping on her forehead, but made no reference to it.

  ‘I am so glad to see you,’ Mrs. Atherley said. ‘It is kind of you to come.’ After giving him a drink—‘Now, tell me about this poor woman. I was most thankful when I heard that you had been to see her.’

  ‘I was glad I did, myself, when I got there,’ Ainsworth said simply. ‘She’d been terribly anxious about the boy, hearing nothing for so long; in a way I think she almost expected it—well, some bad news, anyhow.’ He paused. ‘These Spanish peasants have such a frightening dignity,’ he went on. ‘I turn up, a total stranger, to tell her that her only son is dead, and she thanks me for coming.’

  ‘Poor creature!’

  ‘Yes. It was an inspired idea, sending the lock of hair,’ Ainsworth pursued. ‘She only broke down when I opened the letter, and gave her that—she kissed it, and then she kissed my hand: I was so very glad you’d thought of it.’

  ‘I did not—it was the Condesa Ericeira.’

  ‘Well, it was absolutely the right thing. She asked me to thank “The Lady”, anyhow.’

  ‘I will tell her—I am sorry that she is out just now. But Mr. Ainsworth, did you tell her how her son came to die? I mean, that he killed himself?’

  ‘Well no—I rather slid over that. I said that he had attacked someone, and been arrested, and got wounded, and died later. I concentrated more on his having had a priest, and one who spoke his own language. She didn’t seem surprised, or even very curious—as I said, I think she expected it. Spaniards do expect Communists who attack people to die,’ Ainsworth added flatly.

  ‘Has she anything to live on?’ Hetta enquired.

  ‘I asked the priest about that. Precious little, I gathered—a couple of goats and a few fowls, and a small plot of land; the Cura said the boy used to send her something occasionally after he left. In fact—I don’t know if I did right—but I had seen in Father Martinez’ notes that her son had asked particularly that his Mother should be “looked after”, so I left some money with the priest, for him to give her a little once a week.’

  ‘Will that be all right? Will he really give it to her, I mean?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he will—he struck me as being an excellent man. I had to be a bit careful about it; it wouldn’t do for the idea to get round that anyone official subvented the families of Communist assassins!’ Ainsworth said, with a wry grin—‘and the priest, at least, must have tumbled to the fact that I was connected with officialdom, or I shouldn’t have been in possession of the facts. So I told him that the money came from the Portuguese lady who signed the letter and sent the hair.’

  ‘Very right—excellent.’ She asked how much Ainsworth had given, opened her purse, and repaid him at once. ‘Now “officialdom” is guiltless,’ she said, with a smile.

  ‘Thank you very much, Mrs. Atherley. You needn’t really have bothered, but that does put me in the clear.’

  ‘How long will that last her?’ Hetta wanted to know

  ‘The Cura thought two or three months.’

  ‘Could we send her some more, through him?’

  ‘Oh, easily, I should imagine, provided your husband can find some go-between. It might not be advisable to send it too directly.’

  ‘I know who will see to it,’ Hetta said.

  ‘Who is that?’

  ‘A Portuguese Monsignore—Subercaseaux.’

  ‘Oh, him! Yes, he’ll fix it like a shot.’

  ‘You know him?’ Hetta asked, surprised.

  ‘Of him, yes. He’s in close touch with Spanish Intelligence; he tipped off the Special Police about all this recent business in Portugal at one point. Oh by the way,’ Ainsworth said—‘Talking of the Special Police, I managed to arrange that they should not go and see the poor woman. I explained that I had been myself, and made all the necessary enquiries; and as it was we who had put them on to El Lobo and his pals they were willing to leave it at that—they more or less had to be.’

  ‘What has happened to El Lobo and those who worked with him? Are they in prison?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the Hungarians from the earlier time, what about them? I know that Luis, the chauffeur, was deported.’

  ‘Yes, because he had American papers; it was easy to arrange that with the authorities in the States. But I think the others are in jug here; the ones who were to have carried out the actual ambush, I mean.’ He checked himself. Atherley had said he did not want his wife to see Major Day for fear she should be reminded of “any of it”, and here he was talking about the Toledo ambush itself!

  But Hetta went on with her questions. Her conscience was at work again; she was in a way responsible, and she wanted to know exactly what she was responsible for. At last she had got a member of British Intelligence to herself, and she was determined to make the most of the opportunity. How long would the Hungarians be kept in prison? And those two—the dead boy’s companions—who had been caught in Portugal?

  Ainsworth was thoroughly embarrassed.

  ‘Well the ones in Portugal were quite small beer,’ he began, ‘and not very efficient…’ Again he checked himself.

  ‘No—they were sent to liquidate me, and failed to do it!’ Hetta said, brightly. ‘But how long will they be kept in prison?’

  Ainsworth thought only of getting off the hook, at that moment.

  ‘Well really, Mrs. Atherley, I can’t tell you exactly. Major Day knows much more about this than I do
; the whole business has been handled by the Spanish Security Police, and naturally they show up to the Americans, because it’s an American whose safety has been at stake, both times—here in Spain, I mean,’ he added hastily.

  Hetta managed not to smile.

  ‘Major Day is in American Intelligence?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, he’s their man here.’

  ‘Oh, I wish I could see him! I do so much want to know more about this.’

  ‘Well in fact he wanted to see you,’ Ainsworth began. ‘Only—’ oh damn, this was getting worse and worse!

  ‘Only what?’

  ‘I think your husband thought you would be too busy,’ he said lamely.

  ‘For this I am certainly not too busy. Will you tell him that I should very much like to see him?’

  Ainsworth tried to stall.

  ‘Perhaps your husband could let him know,’ he suggested.

  Ah, and perhaps he wouldn’t, Hetta thought to herself. Obviously Richard, for some reason, was trying to prevent her from seeing Major Day—and she was not going to be prevented, if she could help it.

  ‘Oh, I am sure he could,’ she said easily. ‘I will ask him to ring him up, if you will just give me his telephone number—it will not be in the directory, of course,’ she added smiling, ‘but you, I am sure, know it; you need to.’

  ‘I’m not sure that the Major would care to have it written down,’ the wretched Ainsworth said, wriggling desperately on his tormentor’s hook.

  ‘But naturally not! I shall do nothing of the sort. I have an excellent memory,’ the pretty tormentor said, still smiling.

  Ainsworth had to give way, of course; and in the course of this conversation he had come to the conclusion that any fears Atherley might entertain for his wife’s health or nerves, as a result of recalling her recent experiences, were completely unfounded. She was as cool and determined a customer as he had ever come across! He gave her the number, and left as soon as he could. If she did see the Major, and Atherley was vexed, it would be just too bad, he said to himself as he drove back to his office.

  Hetta telephoned the moment he had left the room, and caught Day just as he was going out to lunch; he was obviously surprised, but also pleased, at being invited to come and have tea with the British Counsellor’s wife. ‘Then at 5.30? That suits you? For me it is a good time. Au revoir.’ She rang off abruptly as Richard walked in.

 

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