‘Yes, my newspaper has recalled me.’
‘För vilken tidning arbetar du? [For which newspaper do you work?]’ The woman had switched language, which Alex knew to be an interrogation tactic.
‘Svenska-Posten,’ Alex replied.
‘Swedish Post? My husband knows Erik Lindholm, the editor; I suppose you know him also?’ she asked, switching language again.
Alex replied wearily in Swedish, ‘No, I do not. I work for Per Aslund, who is the editor-in-chief; I do not know any Erik Lindholm. Are you sure you have the right newspaper? May I continue with my breakfast? I want to continue my reading.’
Evidently, the woman was not used to such discourtesy, and she flounced away to rejoin her friends at another table, muttering some very uncomplimentary things about Alex to herself.
Well, nobody said that newspaper reporters had to be friendly, Alex thought to himself.
*
After finishing breakfast, and then collecting his suitcases and typewriter, Alex made his way to the embarkation sheds; the distant memory of when he had arrived in England all those years before came flooding back. He had the notion that very little had changed; it was still a dismal place, and he thought to himself that if this were the last sight of Merry England that those leaving the country would experience, then many would not regret their decision to go.
Mercifully, the first-class queue was much shorter than that for those awaiting passage in lesser classes. Alex arrived at the desk, and an official scrutinised his ticket alongside his passport before they were handed back to Alex; he was waved through to an immigration officer, who again double-checked his passport against his travel documents.
‘You are going home?’ the immigration officer asked Alex.
‘Yes,’ Alex replied, ‘it is a pity; I was just starting to understand London.’
‘Perhaps you will come back one day,’ the immigration officer said, and then he stamped Alex’s passport, and paperwork with an official rubber stamp. ‘Have a good voyage! Next.’
Alex’s time was over, and he moved forwards to the customs officer. Alex placed his cases on the table in front of the customs officer, who asked somewhat superfluously, ‘Are you travelling to Sweden?’
‘Yes,’ replied Alex, amazed at the silliness of the question; the Swedish vessel was the only one leaving that day.
The customs officer pointed at one of Alex’s cases and asked him to open it. Alex did as requested, and, after a cursory check of the contents, the customs officer nodded, asked Alex to close it, and then he scribbled on all three cases with a piece of chalk.
‘Have a good voyage, sir.’ The customs officer sent him onwards to a hall where passengers were waiting to board; Alex went to the first-class waiting area and selected a seat.
Hedda Larsson came towards him and said in English, ‘You did not say that you spoke English.’
‘You did not ask,’ Alex replied equably.
‘And you upset poor Hilda Sjöberg this morning,’ she continued in English.
‘She tried to disturb my breakfast,’ Alex stated.
‘You should not upset people like the Sjöbergs,’ Hedda warned enigmatically.
‘Why ever not?’ Alex asked.
‘It is better not to do some things,’ she said mysteriously, ‘I do hope we shall meet again on board, and do not worry about Fru Sjöberg; she is most unhappy at being given a cabin in second-class.’ Hedda Larsson smiled sweetly.
*
The first-class passengers boarded first, and, after going up the gangplank to the ship, Alex was met at the top by a steward, who escorted him to a large cabin on the port promenade deck. The steward advised Alex that the captain would be addressing all passengers before the ship left the harbour, and so Alex should be in the first-class dining room at 11.00am, forty-five minutes before the estimated sailing time.
‘Tack, [Thanks,]’ replied Alex.
Alex placed his suitcases and typewriter in the wardrobe, and he decided to explore the ship before the captain’s meeting. All of the first-class cabins were on the promenade deck, and, on looking out of his porthole, he could see other passengers waiting by the railing, taking a last look at England; Alex closed the curtains and went outside to join them.
Taking stock of his location, Alex walked around the promenade deck, re-entering the first-class saloon through the door directly opposite the one that he had left through. He walked down the centre aisle of the ship until he reached the first-class dining room, towards the stern, where he noted that there were already several passengers gathered in the better seats, waiting for the captain’s talk.
By 11.00am, the room was nearly full, and when Hedda Larsson entered the dining room, mercifully, there was no seat close to Alex. She saw him, however, and waved at Alex discreetly, to which he nodded his acknowledgement with a smile. As the clock struck the hour, a door opened, and a neatly bearded man wearing the uniform of a mercantile captain entered the room and stood behind a lectern on a dais.
He tapped the lectern to bring the room to order and then spoke to the gathered passengers in Swedish. ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Captain Stålberg,’ he began, pronouncing the “g” as a “y”, ‘and I am captain of the S/S Suecia. In about forty-five minutes, we shall leave the harbour of Tilbury and start our journey back home to Sweden.’ He paused for a round of applause, which he duly received. ‘We shall be escorted to the limits of British territorial waters by a Royal Navy cruiser, HMS Vernon, and we shall be on our own after that. The ship will fly a large ensign, and we have the Swedish flag painted on both sides of the hull of the vessel. We have been guaranteed safe passage by the Kriegsmarine of Germany, providing that we do not in any way breach our neutrality under the Hague Convention. My orders are that the safety of our passengers is paramount, and that I am not to risk your safety under any circumstance. If we do encounter any situation that might be interpreted as a breach of neutrality, I am instructed to ignore it and continue on the agreed course to our destination in Gothenburg.
‘The weather forecast is such that we should make good passage even though we must only sail at three-quarters of our usual cruising speed. Our expected arrival at Gothenburg on Wednesday morning is at about 6.30am.
‘There is always a possibility that our passage may be interrupted by the ship coming under attack or hitting a mine, and, for that reason, we shall practise the lifeboat drill until it is efficient. There are plenty of lifeboats on this vessel to accommodate all passengers and crew easily, so there should be no need for anybody to worry if that situation arises.
‘You are very lucky that you are going home on the S/S Suecia, because this is a fine ship of noble tradition, and I do not intend that this vessel will founder on this passage.
‘Please now return to your cabins and await the departure of the ship. When we are at sea, please feel free to use all of the ship’s facilities, but if you go outside, please make sure that you have your life jacket with you at all times. Now I must go and attend to my duties on the bridge; I wish you all a very safe and pleasant journey home.’
The passengers all applauded the captain as he left the dining room, and those who knew each other chatted among themselves, but Alex returned to his cabin and lay on his bed until he felt the engines vibrating through the ship. He then he rose to look out of the window as the ship was cast off, and his connection to England was physically severed.
Next stop, Alex thought to himself, either the Kingdom of Sweden or the bottom of the North Sea.
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Winston's Spy Page 40
