Closed Circle

by Robert Goddard

  ‘But are you to be his wife, Diana? I gather your father won’t hear of it.’

  ‘He doesn’t understand how love can transform a person’s character. Or perhaps he’s forgotten. It’s sixteen years since Mama died and … But you don’t want to hear my family history. Papa knows I love Max, but he can’t bring himself to believe Max loves me for my own sake.’ We turned into Hans Crescent. ‘We have to convince him he’s wrong.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘I mean you, of course. If you will.’

  ‘How can I do such a thing?’

  ‘By explaining that Max has confounded all your expectations.’

  ‘He certainly has.’

  ‘By explaining, as his friend, that what he feels for me has changed him, that what you and Papa agreed is simply … irrelevant.’ With a toss of the head, she lightly disposed, as only an heiress could, of the small matter of two thousand pounds. Her hair, where the sunlight struck it beneath the brim of her straw hat, was a golden brown flecked with something close to red. Her eyes sparkled with confidence as she looked up at me. And trust seemed magically to be offered, there on the pavement, outside the world’s greatest emporium, wherein almost everything else was available – and none of it was free. ‘He’ll believe you, Guy, because you and he speak the same language.’

  ‘Which isn’t the language of love?’

  She blushed and looked away. ‘I don’t mean to offend you. I don’t even mean to inconvenience you, as apparently I have done by falling in love with your friend.’

  ‘It’s not a question of—’

  The old soldier loomed suddenly up in front of us, rattling his tin. Diana gave him half a crown, shaming me into fishing a few pennies from my pocket. I disguised them beneath my hand as I dropped them into the tin. She looked back at him over her shoulder as we proceeded. ‘Another victim,’ she murmured. ‘There are so many. We owe them at least a job, don’t you think?’

  ‘Since you ask, no, I don’t.’

  To my surprise, she smiled at me. ‘So like Max, with this show of heartlessness. But it’s not what you really feel, is it?’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘How did Max come to be shot in Macedonia? He says it was an accident.’

  ‘So it was, after a fashion.’

  ‘What fashion?’

  We reached the Brompton Road and began to traverse the main façade of the shop. I debated whether to tell her, then decided I might as well. If Max could be candid, so could I. ‘A private called Hopkins went berserk. Driven mad by mosquitoes and boredom. Max and I tried to disarm him and he fired his rifle. The bullet struck Max a glancing blow on the head. It wasn’t intentional. Hopkins wouldn’t have hurt a fly. That’s why we both said the rifle had gone off accidentally. Saved Hopkins from the firing squad, though not a lengthy stay in the glass-house. Max reckoned it was the least he could do in the circumstances. The wound got him sent home and invalided out before the war was over. The rest of us were stuck there till long after the Armistice.’

  ‘You make a joke of it, but you didn’t need to do it, did you? You didn’t need to take pity on Private Hopkins.’

  ‘I suppose not, but—’

  ‘And Max still suffers from headaches because of that, doesn’t he? He’s been in pain lately, I know. I’ve seen it in his face. Arguing with my father’s probably made it worse.’

  ‘All right.’ I pulled up. ‘I’ll speak to your father.’ It was still, I firmly told myself, the only practical course to follow. Let Max and Diana believe I was acting altruistically if they wished. The truth was otherwise. And any comparison with a show of humanity in Macedonia thirteen years before was false. ‘I’ll try to change his mind for you. For both of you.’

  ‘It’s all I ask. Oh, bless you, Guy.’ She suddenly leant up to kiss me. The touch of her lips against mine was as disarming as it was delightful. But it did not fool me. Not for a moment. ‘You’re a true friend.’

  ‘Diana—’

  ‘I must go now. Aunt Vita will be expecting me. See Papa as soon as you can. And remember, Max and I are relying on you. Our hopes will be with you.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  It was too late. Already, she had turned and slipped away through the door held open for her, her patterned dress vanishing in the shadowy interior of the shop. I sighed and started along the road towards the Bunch of Grapes, where Max was waiting for me. According to Diana, their hopes went with me. In which case they were in good keeping – so far as I was concerned.

  The offices of Charnwood Investments occupied the top floor of an imposing building otherwise given over to an insurance company halfway along Cornhill’s southern side. Charnwood’s harpyian secretary consented to allot me twenty minutes in the great man’s hectic schedule at three o’clock the following afternoon and I took good care to ensure I was not late.

  Charnwood was drinking tea when I arrived, with lemon. There was no sign of milk or sugar, far less a biscuit, and he did not offer me a cup. There was a noticeably brisker air to him than I recalled, a hint of impatience as he waved me to a chair and addressed the matter between us without preamble.

  ‘I take it Mr Wingate has seen reason and sent you here to conclude our agreement.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. He—’

  ‘Wearied me with protestations of love for my daughter last week-end. Surely he is not still persisting in his claim to have no financial motive?’

  ‘He is. And I believe him.’

  ‘You surprise me, Mr Horton.’

  ‘Max has surprised me. But there’s no doubt he loves Diana quite genuinely – and she him. He may have begun as a fortune-hunter, but your daughter has transformed him into an adoring suitor.’

  Charnwood let out a mirthless laugh. ‘What poppycock!’

  ‘So I thought at first. But they’ve convinced me otherwise.’

  ‘And now you hope to convince me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is two thousand not enough for you? Are you holding out for more, perhaps? I should not, if I were you. The time is not ripe. Haven’t you read the newspapers? The party leaders are being recalled from their holidays. The bankers are in emergency session. Rumours are abroad in Threadneedle Street that the Bank of England will soon be unable to meet its commitments. What will your two thousand pounds be worth then? My advice to you is to take it while you still can and convert it into dollars at the earliest possible opportunity.’

  ‘If only I could. Unhappily, Max is no longer interested in money.’

  ‘But you are?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Very well.’ Charnwood rose from his chair and moved to the window behind him, where he gazed out towards the Royal Exchange and drummed the fingers of one hand on the cast-iron radiator beneath the sill. ‘Tell the reformed Mr Wingate that I have as much faith in his honesty as I have in the gold standard: precisely none. I shall instruct my daughter to consider their engagement ended. I shall forbid her to have any further dealings with him. And I shall take whatever steps may be necessary to ensure that she obeys me.’

  This sounded as bad as it possibly could. Desperately, I tried to temporize. ‘Mr Charnwood, perhaps I haven’t explained clearly enough—’

  ‘Oh, but you have!’ He swung round from the window. ‘You want to be sensible but your friend doesn’t. Isn’t that how it is?’

  ‘I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘And you calculate that your only hope of reward is to act as broker for his marriage to my daughter.’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘But you’re making a mistake. You’re failing to see matters from your own point of view. Look here.’ He plucked a silver five-shilling piece from his waistcoat pocket and laid it on the desk before me. ‘What shape is this coin?’

  ‘What shape?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, it’s a circle.’

  ‘Quite so. But now?’ He gathered it up in his hand, then held it out towards me, flat between his forefinger and th
umb. All I could see from my position was its milled rim. ‘What shape now, Mr Horton?’

  ‘Er …’

  ‘Forget it’s a coin. Simply describe what you see.’

  I shrugged. ‘A straight line.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Smiling, he balanced the coin on the polished surface of the desk, flicked it into a spin and watched it rotating with evident satisfaction. ‘So, a circle and a straight line may be the same thing, depending on your point of view.’

  ‘I don’t quite—’

  ‘My daughter and your friend are looking to you for help. Well, so am I.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Diana’s … infatuation … may prove stronger than her devotion to me. She and Mr Wingate may seek to present me with a fait accompli, hoping my objections will be overcome once they are married. They would be wrong, of course. I would cut them off …’ The coin rattled to rest on the desk. ‘Without so much as a five-shilling piece between them.’ He looked straight at me. ‘Be under no illusion, Mr Horton. I would pauperize my daughter – and your friend with her – if I had to.’

  ‘I’m not sure such a prospect would deter them.’

  ‘Neither am I. Which is why I’m looking to you for help. I shall take Diana abroad at the end of the month, safely out of Mr Wingate’s reach. Until then, there exists this danger I have spoken of. If I had warning of their plans, prior notice so to speak, I could pre-empt them, of course. As their confidant, you could give me such warning.’

  ‘I could?’

  ‘And, if you did, there would be a reward. Your share of what you would have been paid already but for your friend’s obstinacy.’ He picked up the coin from the desk and slipped it back into his waistcoat pocket. ‘One thousand pounds, Mr Horton. A fair price?’

  ‘It sounds more like thirty pieces of silver.’

  ‘It’s four thousand pieces, actually. And you don’t strike me as the remorseful type. Besides, penury would soon shatter your friend’s illusion of love. And my daughter’s. You’d be doing them both a favour. Their circle would be your straight line. With a thousand pounds at the end of it.’

  He understood me as well as I understood myself, perhaps better. What he had said made perfect sense. Even that last little concession to my vestigial conscience was finely judged. I rose slowly from my chair. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I said softly. ‘Very seriously.’

  Max was downcast at the news of Charnwood’s intransigence. But he derived some comfort from what, with my encouragement, he perceived to be a change of heart on my part. ‘You don’t think I should give up, then?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a difficult decision,’ I replied, with a frown of resignation. ‘But sometimes love must be given its head. Clearly, this is one of those times.’ Not, of course, if I had anything to do with it. But poor besotted Max was in no state to hear the truth. I had no choice but to lie, as much for his benefit as for mine. One of us had to think of pounds, shillings and pence even if the other was temporarily blinded to their importance. Our only remaining hope of profit from this enterprise lay in what Charnwood had offered me for betraying Max and Diana’s plans. It was therefore incumbent upon me to ensure they had some plans to betray. One day, I did not doubt, my friend would thank me for what I was doing. But that day seemed likely to be a long way off. Meanwhile, there was nothing for it but bare-faced duplicity. ‘Just don’t let Diana slip away from you now I’ve made this sacrifice,’ I said with a smile. ‘She’s too good to lose.’

  ‘Don’t think I don’t know it.’ He chewed pensively at his thumbnail. ‘But she wants to please him so much. I … I just don’t know what she’ll do.’

  ‘When will you next see her?’

  ‘Tomorrow, near Dorking. We agreed to meet for tea at Burford Bridge. It’s an hotel at the foot of Box Hill – a safe distance from the house.’ He thought for a moment, then said: ‘Why don’t you come with me? You can make her understand just how unreasonable her father’s being.’

  ‘Well, if I can help …’

  ‘I’d appreciate it. I really would.’

  ‘Then say no more. I’ll be there.’

  We caught an afternoon train from Victoria and were walking down the lane from Box Hill station towards the river Mole by three o’clock. Ahead of us, where the main road from London crossed the river, stood the hotel, rambling and substantial in its leafy setting beneath the downs.

  Max was nervous lest Diana would not be there. I think he was afraid Charnwood might have imprisoned her at Amber Court. But he need not have been, for she was already installed in a quiet corner of the hotel lounge, tea and cakes arranged on a table before her. She looked sombre and somehow more beautiful because of it, the delicate forget-me-not pattern on her dress emphasizing her vulnerability. If she was surprised to see me, she covered it well. Perhaps, I thought, she had guessed Max might bring me.

  We ordered more tea and sat down together. At once Diana lowered her voice and said: ‘I’m grateful for what you tried to do, Guy, but you’ve only succeeded in hardening my father’s heart.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I replied, endeavouring to look suitably crestfallen. ‘Really I am.’

  ‘He’s forbidden me to see any more of you, Max,’ she said, taking his hand discreetly in hers. ‘Simply by being here, I’m going against his wishes. He says we’re to spend next month abroad. In Italy. Out of harm’s way. Meanwhile, I’m not even allowed to visit London. And my dear little Imp’s been locked in its garage, the keys confiscated. I’ve never known him to behave like this before. It’s as if he’s suddenly become some …’ Tears glistened in her eyes and she reached for a handkerchief. ‘Some kind of ogre.’

  ‘Don’t distress yourself, darling,’ said Max, patting her hand. ‘He won’t stop us marrying. He can’t.’

  ‘Can’t he?’

  The question was left hanging in the air as our tea arrived. After the waitress had spent an age arranging cups and saucers amidst many an echoing clatter and finally withdrawn, I decided to contribute my four penn’orth to the anguished discussion. ‘I believe pride is what’s stopping your father admitting he’s wrong, Diana.’

  ‘Surely he wouldn’t let that stand in the way of my happiness?’

  ‘He can’t help himself.’

  ‘Then what’s to be done?’

  ‘You must take matters out of his hands.’

  ‘You mean …’ She bit her lip and frowned. ‘But I’d so hoped to have his blessing.’

  ‘And you will have … after the event.’

  ‘Steady on, old man,’ said Max, clearly worried that I was rushing our fences. ‘What Guy means, darling, is—’

  ‘I know what he means. And he’s right. I thought it myself last night, while I was tossing and turning in bed, wondering what to do for the best. It’s the only way, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think it is,’ I said. ‘I truly do.’

  And so it was agreed. The two young lovers – or not so young in Max’s case – adjourned to the hotel garden, there to stroll hand in hand among the borders and hatch the romantic scheme I had conceived for them. I remained in the lounge, smoking a cigarette and idly turning the pages of Country Life. I was not told the details of what they had agreed until Max and I had boarded the train back to London, but he did not hesitate once we were under way to take me into their confidence. Diana was to give her father the impression that she would, however reluctantly, comply with his wishes, while Max – with my assistance – would make the necessary arrangements for a register office wedding at the end of the following week. At two o’clock in the morning of the relevant day, Diana would steal from the house and meet Max halfway up a wooded path leading to the Dorking road. He would have a car waiting on the road and would whisk her away to London, where the ceremony would take place a few hours later, with my good self serving as best man. Diana would meanwhile have left a note for her father explaining her action and hoping to find him reconciled to it upon their return from a honeymoon in Paris.

  S
o far, so touchingly simple. Max and I spent most of the next day browbeating various jacks-in-office into supplying a marriage licence without notice and fixing a date and time for a wedding at Marylebone Register Office: Saturday the twenty-second of August at ten o’clock. We then gladdened the heart of a car dealer in Tottenham Court Road by buying a nearly new Talbot Saloon from him for three hundred pounds and dined at the Ritz on the strength of Max’s certainty that an idyllically contented future was about to be his. All he had to do now was await the joyous day with as much patience as he could muster.

  And I had little choice but to wait with him, knowing it would never dawn. For the expression of dog-like devotion I had seen on his face as he held Diana’s hand that afternoon at Burford Bridge had convinced me Charnwood was right. I really would be doing Max a favour by sparing him the creeping realization that love in a garret is very soon hatred in a ditch. I would be saving him and Diana from a grievous disillusionment. And I would be ensuring Max had his share of Charnwood’s thousand pounds to console him for his loss, this last being the most compelling argument of all for biding my time and pretending I had not already decided what to do.

  But I had. And two days almost to the hour before the wedding was due to take place, I did it. There were no difficulties gaining admittance this time. The secretary had been told to expect me. Nor were there any sleights-of-hand with five-shilling pieces. Charnwood merely heard me out in silence, then wrote out a cheque for a thousand pounds and slid it across the desk to me.

  ‘I’m obliged to you, Mr Horton. You may rest assured Mr Wingate will be given no cause to suspect you were the source of my information.’ We rose and shook hands. ‘It’s been a pleasure doing business with such a straightforward man as yourself. It makes life so … simple.’

  Simple for Charnwood perhaps, I reflected as I pocketed the cheque. But, thus far, I had found simplicity to be in desperately short supply.