The Desolate Garden

by Daniel Kemp

  The day of the funeral was a farcical day, in my mind, because of what happened. One moment there were people passing the coffin, wiping their eyes the next, there was father in his red tunic, jodhpurs and spurs, taking the stirrup cup and leading the hunt! Elliot was Hunt Master, following all the other Patersons in that country sport, and the hunt had been arranged and so, I was told, Maudlin would have insisted on him taking part. How, I wondered, did they know that was what he would have wanted to happen, or was it them that wanted their own enjoyment? At the age I was, it was extremely confusing, but I never worried about it. I just put it down to grown-ups and how they knew everything!

  I remembered plenty of mourners being unrecognisable to me, but on mention of the photograph of my mother's that I had found, showing Judith's father, her face brightened. It then dulled as I informed her that I had not brought it with me. She altered tack, and tried a different direction.

  “Do you recall George there that day, Harry?”

  “Of course I do. He was my mentor, or sort-of guardian. I don't really know how to describe our relationship…the age difference never seemed to bother him, and I was happy around him. He gave me confidence to try things, that on my own, I would never have attempted, silly things like climbing higher in a tree. Having him around felt like he would catch me if I fell.”

  “Did you notice, or rather can you remember, how he reacted at the funeral? Was he more upset than others, or not moved by it all?”

  “He reacted the same as most of the other men there kept a stiff upper lip, I suppose. Although I was thinking of this today, and I do remember asking him about his future now that Maudlin had died. I'm not sure why I expected him to go, but I did. It wasn't that Maudlin favoured him above me, but I sensed something when 'The Old Man' saw us together.”

  “Did Maudlin see you two more often than, say, Phillip, or your father?”

  “Yes, he did, but both of those were in London more often than in Harrogate.”

  “Hmm. What was it that George said when you asked if he was leaving the household?”

  “He said that not only would he look after me and my brother Maurice who really he had little to do with, as he was only one or two then and Edward had not been born, but he would become my father's personal secretary, which I thought only women became.”

  “Did he say anything else, like why? Or, anything about himself? I guess you never knew where he came from, or why he was brought into family? After all, none of you were short of governesses or tutors, were you? And I doubt your father would have countenanced your tree climbing, had he known,” she asked, in a motherly way.

  “No, that's true. I never knew that part of his life, nor have I ever asked. He was just there one day, and that was that. I did, however, learn that he had an aunt living near Radlett, not far from the Borehamwood film studios in Hertfordshire. Funnily enough I asked him today how she was.”

  “So this aunt must have been spoken about often, then, for you to remember her, and ask after her wellbeing?”

  “I wouldn't say that. It was well-known that George would visit her sometimes, taking food hampers from Fortnum's with him.”

  “Why hampers? Couldn't he have taken food parcels from your kitchen? Seems an expensive indulgence. Didn't you ever question this?”

  “I suppose it was, but why is that so surprising? There was an account at Fortnum's, so why not use it? Everyone in our household was treated as family.”

  “All the Paterson staff run up bills there, then? Use the Harrods' account to buy their underwear, do they?” A look of astonishment had replaced the motherly concern. I sensed I was being accused of something; whether it was of being simple, or more serious than that, I wasn't sure.

  “One more thing, Harry, while we are on the subject. You said that the money stopped disappearing in 1970, the year you were born. That would be the same year that George appeared…I have got that right, haven't I?” I looked away as I realised just how silly and stupid I had been, accepting things on face value. Now, I questioned Maudlin and Phillip's motives for those trips to the Home Counties which he referred to when taking George away from me, and driven off with Geoffrey the chauffeur. “Pure coincidence, do you think? Or, maybe, a repayment of a debt?” She poignantly added.

  There was a long silence, in which we were both thinking of answers to that absorbing question; and again it was Judith who raised yet more, none of which were easy to rebut.

  Chapter Nineteen: Gooseberry Bush

  Paulo's letter, carried by the nineteen-year-old pregnant Tanya, caused Maudlin to take stock of himself. He was sixty-four years of age when she arrived at his door and still playing the field, happily oblivious to its consequences. Parenthood had been confined to the marital home, apart from his indiscretion with Andrea in Northern Spain. He had, always, taken precautions of one kind or another; including the recommendations of abortions on three occasions, none of which had moved him spiritually, nor led to a change of nature. He was not a religious person but sometimes, when he had nothing more pressing to consider, he sought the same insurance of eternal life that affects others concerned more in the material world.

  Andrea was a churchgoing Catholic, and had Romario christened into the faith before his first birthday. The option of ending their child's life was not even discussed between the two. There was no alternative open to Maudlin other than to face up to his obligations, or so it seemed, and confront the conformity of his English life. Fortunately, another door was about to open.

  A war was coming, and if Andrea could be persuaded to take his advice and follow her relatives to Russia then all reputations and consciences could be saved, and recriminations avoided. His son's continued existence, and the awareness of his own, had disturbed his world. The news of Andrea's death had resettled it, bringing regret, but also relief on the discovery of Paulo's ambitions. He had no wish to pursue his patrimony. He instead wished to further himself within his adopted society, and had asked for help in this pursuit.

  Money would do the job, Maudlin reasoned. It always did even in the case of unwanted lives. That's what would propel his embarrassment up and away into the red skies above the Soviet Union, especially if espionage was his chosen path. Remember the 'Cairo Gang,' he told himself.

  Maudlin's conversion to humanity was not instant, nor was it painless, and not only in a financial sense. It entailed his continuance at 'Annie's' until his death, never trusting his legitimate heir, Phillip, to all the knowledge of Paulo's significance. He rejected the country squire role that had been his intention to live in his latter years for the one of patron and subscriber to his Russian protégé, who had excited his imagination.

  His first enthusiasm was driven by self-preservation. He had no wish of Paulo divulging his name and connection to any official of any colour, as he was aware of the possibility of pressure being put upon him to keep his secret hidden. His continued support, and recommendation as to GCHQ expansion, came after Tanya's appearance at Eton Square and the full recognition of both Paulo's potential and his own weakness and ineptitude in handling the situation during the war years. He should never have sent those bonds, he now realised.

  He could not disclose Paulo to his associates in the SIS how could he? Hi there, I've got a son in the red zone who wants to spy for us, any good to you? What had happened the last time he had handed over the cognisance of undercover informants? That had brought on that cynical, yet deserved, comment about the mistrust of friendships, so he decided to run him himself. He won't get anywhere…how can he? He'll probably get caught before he can even start. I'll make the effort. I suppose I owe him that much, at least, the jaundiced 'Old Man' told himself.

  He agreed to Tanya's defection, never really believing that it would happen, and was more shaken than surprised when she announced that she carried his grandchild. Not even the selfish minded Maudlin could now turn her away, although it did cross his mind.

  He concealed the real reason for her arrival from the
staff by shrouding it under a cover of secrecy, conveying the impression to his housekeeper that it was something the Government wanted to keep out of common knowledge, with all the intrigue and confusion over the Crabb incident going on. During her first night under his roof he considered having her driven somewhere far away and just abandoned, with no money, and left to fend for herself. He wisely reconsidered, realising that his plan would not work, even allowing for her lack of English, as she knew his address and would only return, bringing down Paulo's anger upon his house. He could do one thing and only one; to continue in the ways of the surreptitious plans of his Russian son.

  Tanya stayed the one night in London, leaving early next morning for Holyhead, with Maudlin in the lead. She then, obediently, went onto Whitecliffe, north of Dublin, and the site of a Carmelite Convent where she was tutored in the rudiments of the English language in the six and a half months before she gave birth to a healthy baby son.

  She had just turned twenty years of age when George was born. Often she was alone and overwhelmed, with only Maudlin to call on in times of agitation, and his appreciation of garbled Russian mixed with pidgin English was not the highest achievement in his life. Between the English Lord and the peasant girl from Lithuania, the name of George was settled on.

  Tanya knew the depiction of her countries patron saint slaying the dragon that Maudlin drew. As for him, he calculated that the coincidence of that name with his bank, would be too obvious for anyone to recognise or question. He visited her every other weekend, staying nearby for at least two nights on each occasion until, eventually, her education had reached an acceptable, everyday, level. She could then be reintroduced into England; near, yet far enough away, from London and Harrogate so as not to cause any undue awkwardness.

  Maudlin bought the house in the chestnut tree-lined Gower Avenue, Radlett, using 'Annie's' money, and set about making a history for Tanya and his grandson. He knew about the creation of false identities, as it was something he had practised and had experienced, whilst in Ireland.

  He visited cemeteries, gathering names of the deceased females of the same age as Tanya, then researched those names, matching places of birth and living relatives from electoral rolls, until they met his own requirements of anonymity and excuses for her broken tongue. From the cemetery at Brenchley Gardens, in the far-off suburb of New Cross, he got what he was looking for: a nineteen-year-old Estonian girl with the name of Loti Martins, rescued from the advancing German army in 1940, with British citizenship and no surviving parents. It was a more than suitable new identity for his daughter-in-law, Tanya Korovin.

  As with everything within Maudlin's grasp, he fitted the story to the circumstances. He applied for a copy of the birth certificate at St. Catherine's House in the Aldwych, and then a passport with Tanya's photo attached from Clive House, with no problems encountered, Tanya adopted her new identity and moved into Radlett, unchallenged.

  Nothing Maudlin did was ever random. Everything had a reason and a purpose and, most of all, these suited Maudlin first, and others second. There was an emigre, an escapee from the Bolshevik revolution with a story of a distant relationship to the Romanov Royal family name, whom Maudlin had been introduced to by a mutual friend from Boodles as a possible investor at the bank. He lived at nearby Elstree and had money invested in a new commercial television company. Maudlin had put him in touch with the executives of the enterprise, and advised his financial commitment to them.

  “It's the coming thing, old boy. Auntie won't have it all their own way for long. There will be more channels on the box soon not just a BBC monopoly. There's money to be made in commercial television. Get in quick man and you'll make a mint!”

  Feydor had done just that, and his newfound friend's prophecies had come true. He needed a housekeeper, owed Maudlin a big favour, preferred younger girls to older women, and missed the grandson he had been forced to leave back in Russia who had died in Kiev. He also had a soft, solicitous side, that counterbalanced the harsh aggressive Russian morality against single mothers from the Motherland with no evidence of pure unsullied backgrounds.

  What better than a compassionate, presentable, fellow dissident to fill that vacant role, while sacrificing her own life and welfare for a lost brother's child? This is how Maudlin phrased his petition, adding as a stimulus, “She's as Jewish as yourself.” Tanya was briefed, and left in no doubt as to the importance of living that story for George's lifetime. She paid homage at the local synagogue and became Auntie Loti to both Feydor and George, and remained so, until this day.

  Chapter Twenty: Lucky Heather

  'Lucky at cards, unlucky in love' is a metaphor that could be applied to both Maudlin and his son Paulo, although their form of gambling was not confined to the wager of money. Their principle speculation lay elsewhere; in the interference and risk to other's welfare and lives. Maudlin's lifelong search for his version of love had brought many conquests, but none had fulfilled his heart as much as the discovery of a fellow devotee to the enrichment of English wellbeing. As for the focus of this love, his son, his desires for emotional satisfaction were second to that of ambition and power.

  Paulo was ambivalent towards love, as his upbringing had taught him that the reliance on women for his personal welfare was a mistake. He had thought Andrea had been weak in not pressing her claims on his father, of not somehow using his influence and money to secure a better life for herself, and him, in Russia. This reticence and humility had cost her life, it would not cost his, he vowed. Where she was meek, he would be assertive, and where she was effacing and subservient in her relationship with Maudlin, he would become conspicuous in his father's life and taste the riches that were rightfully his. Not however, through begging or simple paternal recognition.

  There was no lasting resentment felt by Paulo in regard to his mother nor his father. He had, it's true, berated his mother on several topics, including her choice of Russia as their refuge, but his admiration of her acceptance of hardship without complaint had overcome his petulance and indignation. Where Maudlin was concerned, there was empathy and endorsement. His father had status and that could not be threatened for a mere love affair, no matter what the outcome. He would do the same if the roles had been reversed he reasoned, and when eventually the circumstances regarding Andrea's failing health proved too much, his prophecy came true.

  His indifference to Tanya was palpable to everyone from the very beginning. There was no attraction either sexually or intellectually, no physical or spiritual magnetism…until one night.

  There was nothing to distinguish her from most girls of the same age in Leningrad at that time in both their lives. She was sixteen, five years Paulo's junior, when he first used her in the nursing and everyday needs of his mother. She was shabby and uneducated, malnourished and grubby all things he could take care of, had he had a mind to, but he did not. Initially, he used her simply because she was available and his money had bought her parents. He was growing into the role of manipulating and affecting people surrounding himself, a life he excelled at. Then, when he was ingratiating himself within the corridors of the KGB, he found it more acceptable to be accompanied by a female companion than to be alone, and allow questions to be raised as to one's suitability and sexuality to be amongst the ranks of upstanding men.

  Such things had happened during Stalin's last days, when excuses were being found to sort the hammers from the sickles, so as to dispose of those who stood out as different from the norm. Or, more correctly, the ones perceived by the most influential as standing out from the accepted and normal.

  He began to groom Tanya; not only in corporeal ways, but aesthetically as well. Make-up and hairstyling were procured, and a new pair of spectacles stamped with the opposing 'C's' denoting the French fashion house of Chanel magically appeared. The black market was resourced to provide the clothing that not only Tanya would need, but also every other officer's mistress or wife would need, in order to wear to the upper echelons of the elite Communis
t Party Members' private meetings.

  She did not pass unnoticed at these parties, and it was not only men who commended her appearance; women, too, applauded her elegant attire. Soon, Paulo came to hear of the compliments coming his and her way. He was, amongst many other things, a narcissistic man, wrapped up in his own self-importance and consumed by selfishness. As such, he considered Tanya to be his property; to be complimented, or not, by only him. The jealous rage he felt was not aimed at those who had admired Tanya they would help him on his travels, of course. No, it was aimed at Tanya…a much easier target to hit.

  “Who is that woman you're with, Sergeyovitch? What a find! When you tire of her, pass her on to us, there's a good comrade!” She had a 'great those, great these, great everything,' apparently, but her looks went unnoticed by Paulo, until commented upon by his lecherous friends. That was when the, previously unnoticed, lust within himself began to grow. In later life, this Byzantium man would argue with himself that it was the death of his mother, only a few months before, that had confused his mind and driven him to that moment of madness. As to the truth of the situation…only he could answer, as only he knew what made him think of it.

  They were walking through Nevskiy Park one autumn night, on the way to the communal apartment block that they still shared, after leaving Comrade Olgaovitch's party. They were dressed in the regulation grey topcoats, hiding his finery and her slender figure, clad in a revealing white blouse and a thigh-hugging short black skirt, teamed with knee-length boots made in West Germany. He suddenly pushed her on to the grass snapping, as he did so, a heel off those expensive boots, as Tanya fell awkwardly, catching her foot in the cobbles of the path.