by Peter Rimmer
“Will they give me free rein?”
“Of course not. That’s why you are so highly paid, to get at the facts without anyone at first being aware. I was going to send you to Berlin but one of our friends said the German government won’t let you in, a fact we told the Russians to get you your invitation to Moscow. Even in the polite world of journalism you have to play one off against the other. In politics they call that diplomacy or some other highfalutin word.”
“Alone?”
“Take Gordon Stark. Those buildings that look like onions make a wonderful photograph. If you take your passports to the Russian Embassy I’m assured they’ll give you visas.”
“Do we fly?”
“Don’t be silly. You go by train. That way you can see what’s going on in the rest of Europe before the whole place blows up. The French are being arrogant as usual, the Swiss are playing it close to the chest and the Poles think the sun shines out of our arse for some daft reason.”
“I met a Pole last night.”
“Do you know, Wakefield, that sounds quite funny. Go and tell Stark. Then bugger off to see the Russians. If you leave as soon as possible the Russian countryside won’t have frozen over. No wonder we British have never had our eye on Russia. Enjoy yourselves. By all reports, apart from the vodka, it stinks now everyone is meant to live the same. They all call each other comrade, a man according to his needs. That should be fun. All equal together my foot. Man really does have ways of pulling the wool over the common man’s eyes so when he opens them properly again he’s been screwed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What for?”
“The opportunity. Never been to Russia.”
“Just make sure you come back this time. The Russian Secret Police are said to be as bad as the Germans, and this time I doubt Mr Brigandshaw has any of his usual influence in Russia. You can try and persuade your friend Smythe to go as well and give each other that nice feeling of false security. But only if he writes for the American press this time, of course. We don’t want him stealing our thunder in England.”
“What a shame. Last night he found a new girlfriend. Poor chap never stood a chance. Janet thinks after being snubbed by Genevieve he’ll never find a wife.”
“Ah, the famous Genevieve. My son watched her last film and said she’s the sexiest woman alive. I wouldn’t know. Far too old for that. If I suggested sex to Hazel she’d laugh in my face. Get it while you can, Wakefield, store up the memories. You’ll need them. Do you know, a friend of mine said in the pub last night that if you find your ultimate woman and put a penny in a bottle for every time you have sex with the love of your life and afterwards, for the rest of your natural life, take a penny out of the bottle for each time you get it the bottle will never be empty. He was drunk of course. My wife thinks sex is somehow dirty. Beneath a woman with high moral standards. They do say you only get the truth from babes and drunks. What do you think, Wakefield?”
“Janet and I are fine. We would have filled up the second bottle by now.”
“Must have married the wrong woman. She was so enticing before we married.”
“Never judge a book by its cover.”
“Shut up, Wakefield.”
“Jealousy, sir, is a bad state of being.”
“I think I’ll find myself a mistress.”
“Much better idea. There’s always someone for everyone whatever the age. I’ll take a taxi with Gordon to the Russian Embassy right now.”
“Where do I meet a woman?”
“They’re all over the place, Mr Glass. William last night did not know what hit him. When we all went out to dinner he was miserable, dour, finding fault at every turn. When he phoned me just now he was chirping like a bird in spring.”
“I need a woman.”
“Don’t we all? Just don’t get caught by Mrs Glass. She frightens the holy crap out of me if you don’t my saying so, sir, and she’s only to me my boss’s wife.”
“Discretion. Be discreet in Moscow.”
“How long does it take to get to Moscow by train?”
“I have no idea… A mistress. I’ll have to think about that.”
“They say in times of war, everyone is a lot more free and easy with their affection. Trying to spread and receive seed before it is too late. To compensate for all the dead soldiers. I don’t think Darwin explained it that way but it’s all part of evolution. The survival of the species.”
“They’ll be more dead civilians this time than soldiers from your report of Bomber Command. Drop enough incendiary bombs and a whole city goes up in flames… So you think if war breaks out all the young women will be handing it out as a patriotic duty? There’s always some good in the bad, Wakefield.”
Mr Glass, smiling and humming some kind of tune, left the door open when he left Horatio’s office. Horatio thought Mr Glass looked ten years younger. Even the idea was enough to make him straighten up his back.
“There’s always a trick or two in an old dog,” he sighed, picking up the phone and putting it down again, deciding it was probably easier to go to look for Gordon Stark himself. “Moscow,” he said savouring the flavour of the word.
5
The only available seats to New York, refuelling at the Azores, was for the following week. When Janusz Kowalski telephoned Harry Brigandshaw giving William Smythe’s name as his introduction, he was invited to Hastings Court for the weekend.
“My friend I came to see in London is studying interior design.”
“Bring him along. At the weekend, my wife says the more, the merrier, Count Kowalski. And I do remember sending you a message through William. Any pilot trained by the Polish Air Force would be welcomed by the RAF were the Germans to overrun Poland. We have a way of accommodating our colonies. In the event of war, we will even have a Rhodesian squadron in the RAF, the country where I grew up.”
“I do not know this place.”
“Nobody does. South of the Congo. North of South Africa.”
“I’ll look for it on the map.”
“Catch the train from Waterloo to Leatherhead and phone this number. My chauffeur will come and pick you up. Likely with a bunch of children. They get bored. A Polish count will send them into rhapsodies, particularly Beth.”
“My friend is a woman.”
“Beth is nearly fourteen.”
“We are only engaged though. Truthfully, I am more engaged than Ingrid.”
“You will each have a room to yourselves.”
“You are most kind. Ingrid is from Poland and no good at English.”
“Can she ride a horse?”
“Like the wind.”
Only when Harry put down the phone did he remember Beth was now away at boarding school which was just as well. The young madam had the same eye for making men do her bidding as her mother. The same looks. The same power to break young men’s hearts when she grew a few more years, Harry thought, not sure which was worse: a plain daughter or a girl that turned every boy’s head.
Late in the afternoon, using the excuse of telling Tina they had a fully-fledged Polish count staying the weekend, Harry asked Tina to go for a walk with the dogs. None of the children were anywhere to be seen.
“It’s a lovely evening for a stroll in the woods. Soon, winter will make walking less pleasant. I have a surprise visitor this weekend. Put on your walking shoes and I’ll call the dogs.”
“What are you up to, Harry?”
“Wait and see. His name is Count Kowalski. Polish Air Force Reserves.”
“It’s always business.”
“That’s exactly what I have to tell you about. I have to go to America. Then Rhodesia through Cape Town where I will look at our new house you don’t want to visit. If war does break out I won’t have the money to maintain Hastings Court at full staff. Many will be called up. Mary Ross in the village has said she’ll work at the Goblin factory and won’t be available for the manor. They make vacuum cleaners at present but that will change.”
“How do I run the house without servants? Every single thing in this house is out of the ark. We don’t even have central heating. Coal scuttles to every room. Cleaning out the fires in the morning. Vacuum cleaners! We don’t even have one, let alone an American washing machine. The house will grind to a halt. Why are you suddenly going to America?”
“To get out some of my money. You can’t just transfer money at will, except to the colonies. There will be ways Sir Jacob Rosenzweig will know about. I don’t want my English money all in one place. You have to think ahead the whole time to hold onto money, Tina. You can’t just stand still or you’ll end up with a rude shock.”
“That’s your job, Harry. Everyone I talk to says a war will never happen. That we learnt our lesson from the last one. I am not taking the children to live in Africa so don’t get any ideas. I’d prefer to take my chances at home than go and live in the jungle.”
“You will if the Germans start bombing London. Anyway, Rhodesia is not in the jungle. It’s the bush. There aren’t so many trees among the waving long grasses that there were in the Congo.”
“We don’t live in London.”
“They’ll be flying right over our heads, there and back. Bombers that haven’t dropped their bomb load on the target will do so on the way back to lighten the aircraft to get home. Do you prefer the idea of living in an air-raid shelter with your children? Why don’t you come with us to South Africa and Elephant Walk?”
“Who’s us, Harry?”
“Tinus. We want to finalise the dam.”
“Isn’t he in London looking for a job?”
“Interviews. He’s not sure what he wants.”
“If war does come he’ll go into the Air Force to join his schoolfriend from Cape Town, André Cloete.”
“Why I want him in Rhodesia for a few months if he doesn’t take a job right away.”
“Even this place is quiet in the week. Imagine that farm in Rhodesia.”
“I do, Tina. Every day of my life.”
“What about the Air Ministry?”
“You and the children will be safe.”
“So you’ll stay. You don’t even have a proper job.”
“I just don’t accept a salary. Anyway, more than half would go in income tax. At the top, we pay sixteen shillings in the pound. On Elephant Walk we don’t need money. The farm feeds itself. And you won’t run out of servants. Even if a world war collapses every economy and makes paper money worthless.”
“Why should our money stop here?”
“It won’t most probably without a total meltdown across the world. There just won’t be anything to buy. Hastings Court will have to go into full production as a farm, which isn’t your style. The food will be distributed by the government. However many eggs we produce we will only be allowed to eat our ration.”
“Let me go and get my shoes…” Returning with her walking shoes, she asked, “How big is the air-raid shelter you talk about?”
“The size of two cars.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’ll show you the plans in my study when we come back from our walk. We’ll have to make the blocks of concrete on site.”
“Now you frighten me, Harry. What’s this to do with this Polish count?”
“When Hitler overruns Poland we want their pilots to get out before they’re captured and come over here to join the RAF. We’re short of pilots. In war, an air force is always short of pilots.”
“There are the dogs with Frank. Why do they always bark at Frank?”
“They don’t like him. He kicks them when I’m not looking.”
“You just don’t like Frank.”
“I try not to show it, Tina. To treat him the same as my four. I’m going to see Robert St Clair in New York. Have you seen Barnaby recently?”
“No, why should I?”
“You can’t shop all the time when you go up to London.”
“Oh yes I can. Anyway, Barnaby lives in his own world surrounded by young girls. He’s said by his total disinterest he will never take any interest in Frank. That Frank must never know Barnaby is his father. Don’t let’s go through all that again, Harry. It’s boring.”
“People change their minds, Tina. I think you will about South Africa and the house in Bishopscourt when war breaks out. Do you ever hear from Albert in Johannesburg?”
“Haven’t heard from Brother Bert in years. Never comes home. When Dad said he didn’t want his money, Bert took umbrage.”
“Your father prefers working for his money.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll get the dogs.”
Mentioning Frank and his wife’s infidelity was never a good idea if he wanted peace in his home. Harry was never sure which was worse for Tina: Barnaby’s rejection of Frank or Barnaby’s rejection of Tina. The aristocratic Barnaby had dismissed the idea of marrying the daughter of the stationmaster at Corfe Castle railway station, preferring to keep Tina as his mistress, as she had been when Harry first took interest in her, getting her pregnant with Anthony.
“You want to walk with us, Frank?” said Harry, trying to make amends.
“No thanks, Dad. The Alsatians always bare their teeth at me. The old Spaniels never do that.”
“Don’t kick Maxwell and he won’t try and bite you.”
Harry ruffled the boy’s hair and watched Frank go off to look at his rabbits. If war did break out, rabbit stew would become a delicacy. Like so many parts of life, it wasn’t the boy’s fault who had fathered him. So long as he was alive and healthy he was the same as the rest of them. There were even some nice parts in Barnaby St Clair’s nature, Harry tried to remember. In a tight corner he would rather have Barnaby around than some of his so-called friends. Barnaby’s trouble was women. Once it had been money. Now at the start of his middle age he had too much of it.
Whistling up the dogs whilst waiting for Tina, Harry wondered how different his life would have been if Barnaby’s sister Lucinda had not been killed when pregnant with their child. Anthony, Beth, Dorian and Kim would not be alive, which was a strange thing to think about. The chances of life for all of them were so slim, a mathematician would never produce an equation to show a person’s likelihood of ever coming into the world. And all for such a short time, he had always thought when looking up at the night sky in Africa showing him the limitless universe.
She was coming out of the house to cross the lawn towards him, her mere presence what some would say was the result of an accident, their meeting on the SS Corfe Castle when both of them were going out to Africa. Whether it was an accident, he had never been quite sure. Anyway, there she was walking across the lawn, the mother of his four children, none of whom he would have swapped for the world. Maybe one day, Frank would go to Barnaby. Life took strange turns on its way to the grave. “Shut up, Harry, you’re getting morbid,” he castigated himself.
Putting out his hand, Harry took Tina’s, something he had not done for some time. The pigeons were calling into the still evening from the trees all around Hastings Court. The air was scented with flowers. Insects went about their business while the flowers were still open to them during the last of the day. Small white clouds stood motionless, the way clouds were in the sky in Rhodesia, making the pang of missing Elephant Walk a sudden and physical feeling. Silly of him, he thought. What could be wrong with what he had? A rare evening of summer in England in the home of his ancestors who had fought their own way through life to give him this wonderful one, any mistake of theirs eliminating him in the chain of life, making him never happen. Trying to imagine the world without himself was impossible. Nothing was there. Nothing had ever been there. Without him being alive the world could never had existed… Better to forget Barnaby, and Mervyn Braithwaite who had shot Lucinda to get back at him for something that had never happened. Better to enjoy what they had and let the future take care of itself.
“Those dogs do so love a walk,” she said, her small hand in his
. “Why don’t they ever go on their own?”
“They think we might not be here when they come back. No, going for a walk with someone you love is far more fun than going alone.”
“I love the dogs too. Do you think dogs love humans the way we love each other? You can’t just ask them. Are we all right, Harry?”
“I just worry about all of us the whole time. Never stop. If I ever did I’m convinced there would be a catastrophe. I always have to be there. To be one jump ahead of events. Outthinking the problems for you and the five children.”
“I was talking about you and me.”
“So was I, in a roundabout way. Men have to look at life further than the home. You look after our home and I’ll look after the family outside of the home. We’re luckier than most. Always count your blessings rather than want what can’t be had without tearing others apart. That’s why Barnaby keeps away. You can’t have us both, Tina, and neither can he. You’ll take your memories of growing up close to Barnaby as a child to your grave. And your growing up together to become adults and lovers. He didn’t want to get married. Probably never will, now. Some men are like that. They don’t need other people. Happy with their own company. The thought of growing old alone a pleasure, not a threat. Too often we only look the same from the outside. You can never tell what’s in the back of another person’s mind. Often, the less complicated a mind, the happier the person. Barnaby is selfish, Tina. Always was from the time I met him as a teenager while I was up at Oxford with Robert.”
