At the Dark Hour

by John Wilson

  – So, Mr Novak. Just to recap. You knew nothing about the plans. You had never seen them before the police arrived. Hoffer found you the room and advised you not to report yourself. You did not know Katya before your arrest but you came over from Gibraltar on the same boat that they travelled on?

  – That is so.

  And Novak sat back and folded his arms, straightening himself into something like the posture he held on their last visit. It was hopeless. Then, in a flash of inspiration, Adam made one last roll of the dice.

  – Tell me about your journey from Gibraltar, Mr Novak.

  Novak jumped slightly. He looked over Adam’s shoulder and a dreamy look entered his eyes.

  – It was a beautiful journey. I thought we were sailing to America – we travelled so far west. But it was only to avoid the mines. The boat was very crowded. But the skies were bright and blue …

  – Where did you sleep?

  – I would sleep on the deck. I found myself a place under a lifeboat and wrapped myself in sheeting to keep warm … and I would look at the stars. I was very happy. I was oh, so very happy …

  There was loud knock on the door.

  – Time’s up, gentlemen.

  Jones and Falling got up to leave. Novak also stood.

  – We must meet again, Mr Novak. I need you to see the original plans and documents. It may be that this will be just before the trial.

  – Would you do me a favour, Mr Falling?

  – If I can. What is it?

  – Can you lend me any books? I have only three books that they have let me have from the library. I have read a novel by Sinclair Lewis four times now. Main Street. It is not a very good book. It has no plot. Maybe America was not such a good place. It also has writing all over it. My fellow prisoners are illiterate!

  Adam pulled out his current Penguin – Brighton Rock by Graham Greene – and made to hand it over.

  – I’m sorry, Mr Falling.

  The warder placed a restraining hand on his arm.

  – I’ll take that. All books have to be examined by the Librarian before being handed over. If he passes it I’ll give it to Novak.

  – That’s very good of you.

  – That’s all right, Mr Falling, sir. Anyway, once Mr Novak here has been here eight weeks he’ll be able to have four books a week. He should have plenty to read after the middle of February.

  – One way or another I don’t think Mr Novak will be here after the middle of February. Goodbye, Novak. I’ll arrange another meeting.

  – Goodbye, Mr Falling.

  ****

  Standing under the shelter by the bus-stop outside the prison, Adam lit another cigarette. This time there was no incentive to catch a cab, and anyway after black-out they were hard to come by.

  – That was all pretty rum, Falling.

  – I beg your pardon?

  – I was saying he was even stranger this time than he was last time.

  – Oh yes … yes.

  – I got a full note of it anyway – for what it’s worth; didn’t make a lot of sense.

  – Good … yes … good.

  – Do you want me to organise another visit?

  – Yes … good idea … yes. Actually, Mr Jones, would you mind if we had a chat on the telephone on Monday? I’ve rather a lot on my mind at the moment.

  – Oh! Well, all right. Anyway we’re travelling back on the bus together so if anything comes to you …

  – Yes… of course.

  They boarded the bus in silence and travelled slowly back to the city. Jones watched as Adam turned his blue notebook over and over in his hands, puzzled by this change of mood. Their meeting with Novak had certainly given him a lot to think about so it was no surprise, perhaps, that Falling too was deep in thought.

  Adam had thought about Novak and Katya, and about Hoffer, as they walked from the prison gates to the bus-stop. But then memories of Julia returned. His journey to his last meeting with her began from this busstop and so it bore the imprint of her memory. He thought of Blytheway’s reference to a potentially helpful development in his case and his throwaway invitation earlier that day to come “chez moi” for dinner the following week “as a friend and fellow member of chambers, sweetheart, not as a client. It would be good to get to know you better. Life can be so dreary!” What developments had there been? Did Blytheway have some sort of ulterior motive in inviting to dinner?

  But most of all Adam had been thinking again about his strange dream

  – The evidence. Sweetheart. Always start with the evidence.

  Betty had said something to him – either in the dream or in the Stafford Hotel – which was extremely significant. But he couldn’t remember what it was. And he could not work out why it was so important.

  Chapter Forty-one

  (Wednesday 29th January 1941)

  Julia Pemberton was sitting at her dressing table. She looked into the reflected image of her eyes. She was no longer as beautiful as the photographs of her; even though they were in black and white. They looked better than she did. She felt far worse than they looked. Only an experienced observer would notice the slight sagging of her chin, the fullness of her cheeks. There were shadows under her eyes that had never been there before. Only an experienced observer would notice these things. But Julia was an experienced observer, and saw these things on a daily basis as they charted some sort of internal collapse. She thought, inexplicably, of her father. She never thought of her father! Weak chin. Lips that were too fleshy. He looked like an apology made flesh. How had he begotten her? Why had he never liked her? Why had she always hated him? She would start with some blusher.

  When she had given her cheeks some artificial colour she turned to her lips. Bright red lipstick. And then onto her eyes. They had always been bright blue, like a summer’s day, but now, as she looked into them, they seemed full of clouds and rain. A touch of mascara, but not too much. A little more blusher over her bags and she could almost fool herself. There was a knock at the door. It could not be Jeremy. There was an unwritten rule that he did not come in here.

  – Yes?

  – Sorry, ma’am. May I come in?

  A sigh of relief. It was the housekeeper.

  – Why, Annie! Yes of course! Do come in.

  Annie bustled in carrying a bundle of clothing and a bowl of flowers. Julia looked at her with the eyes of someone for whom everything “everyday” might hide a curse. Annie was about fifty years of age and had been with the family almost as long as Julia had been married to Jeremy. Annie had never married. She was short and fat and rather self-important. Julia knew that the Pemberton family was her life. She sensed an inordinate pride in her when she learnt that she and Samuels would be sharing the basement with them during the blackout and the air raids. It put her on a level above the other servants. But she had always been kind and deferential and, so far as Julia was aware, had never said an unkind word about her. Then again, thought Julia, the same could have been said of Samuels. Who could she trust?

  – I’ve brought you your clothes for this evening, ma’am. Shall I lay them out on the bed?

  – How kind, Annie. Yes, please do.

  And Annie arranged a dowdy skirt and a serge top carefully across the bed.

  – Forgive me, miss. But I don’t know how you can bear to wear that stuff. I can tell it’s scratchy just by carrying it.

  – Oh, don’t worry, Annie. It would be quite wrong to dress up. Have you put aside the usual for later?

  – Yes of course, miss. There’s a little jug in the fridge and I’ve put together a packet of tea in the pantry.

  – You are a treasure! Thank you so much.

  Annie, with a hint of pride, held up a bowl of early-flowering tulips.

  – And I’ve got these for you! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. You’ve been without flowers for over a week now.

  – How very thoughtful! I’d noticed that my hyacinths had disappeared.

  – Sorry, miss. I should have sa
id something. But they were going brown. And they had started to lose their smell.

  – Oh! Don’t worry. That’s quite all right.

  Julia affected a casualness that she did not feel.

  – Tell me. How on earth did you get these beautiful tulips to flower so early?

  Annie expanded with pride.

  – Well, ma’am. It wasn’t easy. I’ve been moving the bowl around the cellars for two or three weeks now. I thought that, well, if the electric fires were on, there was no harm in putting the bowl near them so that the bulbs would think it was nearly summer. Well. It’s worked.

  – How it has worked! They look lovely! But, tell me. What about the hyacinth bulbs? Were you able to save them for next year?

  – I’m sorry, miss. No. I know we ought to try. But I emptied them out and had a good look at them and they were done for.

  – What a pity! Well. Thank you for trying. Were you able to do anything with them?

  Julia had tried but, to her mind, failed to keep the tremor out of her voice. There was a pause, and she felt two long heartbeats through the pale linen of her shirt, before Annie replied. Her brightness contrasted with her mistress’s inner feelings.

  – Oh no, miss. Well, obviously, I tried. But there was nothing to be done. So I put the lot on the vegetable garden. Help the war effort at least.

  – Exactly so, Annie. Thank you for trying.

  Julia was repeating herself.

  – Will that be all, miss?

  – Sorry. Yes. Thank you, Annie. There’s nothing else. Jenny and I will be going out for tea. But I will be back in good time to change for work. Thank you for organising the tea for later.

  – A pleasure, miss.

  And she was gone. Julia thought of her heart’s beating. Two beats. How much could happen in two beats of the heart? She had tried to be good. She had tried to be rational and kind. But so often her heart had betrayed her. She returned to her mirror. She was beginning, again, to resemble her old photographs. But what lay behind her face now was so different from what lay there before. Where exactly was her heart? Of course there was that silly organ pumping blood around her. It sat where everyone else’s hearts sat – well, almost. That couldn’t be it. A muscle, at the core of her, feeding her troops. A playing card – the Ace of Hearts – expanding and contracting in her breast. How could sunlight on the trees – or across Adam’s hair – affect her heart? Her heart had no eyes. It was buried deep within her blindly pumping blood. She looked again into the mirror. Her heart was behind her eyes. And it was hurting her.

  Still in her slip she went to the wardrobe and chose a bright, peacock-blue, two-piece tweed. It should be warm enough. She always dressed brightly when she felt vulnerable. She smelt it for smoke but the Woodbines had been routed by her dry cleaner. She held up the golden locket that hung round her neck and clicked it open to look inside before closing it again and sliding it under her blouse. Opening the top drawer of her dressing table she took out a small velvet casket. It contained a ring, a giant emerald in a platinum setting. She had worn it for many years but it had not been on her finger when, for the first time, in Green Park, she had cradled Adam’s head in her hands. Nor had she worn it since. She slipped the casket into the pocket of her two-piece.

  Buttoning up the jacket she picked up her coat and headed for the door. Jenny’s bedroom was just across the landing. Before entering, Julia stepped to the window and looked out on the garden. Prior to the war it had been a beautiful Victorian set-piece. But all that had changed and, in common with everyone else, the careful structures had been razed so that vegetables could be grown. Somewhere down there lay Adam’s note. She prayed for rain.

  Jenny was sitting at her writing desk, with her back to the door, wearing a silk dressing-gown – pink and blue and twenty years old. She jumped when Julia walked in, and instinctively her hands went to cover the paper in front of her.

  – Julia!

  – Oh, I’m sorry. I should have knocked. Forgive me.

  – That’s all right.

  Hands moving away from the paper and shoulders relaxing.

  – You gave me a bit of a shock.

  – Are you ready to come for tea?

  – Tea? Oh, I’m sorry, Julia. I quite lost track of time. I’m nearly there. Can I catch you up?

  – Of course. The table’s reserved for four o’clock.

  – I’ll run if necessary.

  – Don’t worry. I can wait.

  Julia left the room and headed down the stairs. Jenny was plainly writing another letter to Captain Jenkins. There had been a succession of letters, in bold blue-black ink, addressed to her step-daughter, sitting on the silver tray in the hall in recent weeks. Julia paused at the alcove. The photographs were still all there. She picked up the one of her and her children and gazed at it for a long time. How long would these photographs remain here? Would Jeremy remove them if he succeeded? But she would not let him succeed. She thought of Adam, who had confronted her here just over a month ago, his eyes streaming and that wheezy cough in his voice. She thought of Jenny, who had seen her crying, exactly here, before she went to see her father. She looked down towards Jeremy’s study. The new brass lock shone out like a reproach and there was a light under the door, although that didn’t mean anything. Jeremy had said so many contradictory things about his movements in recent weeks that it was laughable. She couldn’t believe a word he said.

  And yet their single beds in the cellar were no longer moving apart and, if anything, somehow, they were moving closer together. And she knew that Jenny had caused him to doubt. He was less certain of himself and no longer made emphatic mention of the proceedings. But the petition remained alive. She could not help but be aware of Samuels’s visits to Jenny’s room. A knock on the door, a muffled communication, and then Jenny would head down the stairs to her father’s study.

  She descended to the ground floor. The reception rooms were empty now. She had not entered them since the evening of the party. The first and last time that Adam had been in her home. The only place she felt safe was her dressing room. Julia still had her coat over her arm. She slipped it on and began buttoning it up. The cashmere was warm and comforting to her touch. Putting a hand into the deep pocket, she felt for her purse. Jeremy had at least continued to provide her with her allowance. How was she to survive if he succeeded on his petition? She shivered and opened the front door to leave.

  The cold air hit her and she pulled her coat more closely to her, lifting the collar so that it covered her cheeks. She turned suddenly to her right and glanced down the square. A familiar figure jumped backwards to hide behind a tree but the belly, protruding as it always did, gave him away. Despair mixed with grim amusement rose up in her. Until Adam warned her she had never noticed him. Now he seemed to be everywhere. Why was Jeremy bothering? Julia ambled off towards Belgrave Place before turning into Eaton Place and heading along Upper Belgrave Street. The doughty Jackson followed. Eventually she reached Constitution Hill and entered Green Park from its north-western corner. How thrilling this must be for the private detective on her tail!

  It was a short walk along the Green Park footpath adjacent to Piccadilly but Jenny was running late and Julia had time to spare. She walked as far as the exit to Green Park tube and stood there for a moment. This was where it all began four and a half years ago. She had walked the same route pushing Agnes in her pram and then waiting for Adam to emerge from the sea of faces. And this was where everything ended: Jackson handing her a brown envelope containing the petition and doffing his hat. She had shaken his hand. It had been warm and clammy despite the cold.

  Julia turned to look out over the park. Ugly trenches had been cut into its surface and a barrage balloon swung out overhead, its cables humming ominously. It had been so sunny that first day. And because she had been so happy it was as though everyone around her had been just as happy as she. She tried to picture the leisurely crowds, the candy-coloured deckchairs, but she could not. She wa
lked on in towards the centre of the park. Here was the bench where she read the petition, tears running down her face. This was the tree they had leaned against when first they kissed. Here was the second entrance to the Stafford. She glanced across the park and caught sight of Jackson attempting to be inconspicuous behind a tree and decided not to dally near the hotel. She took a deep breath and made her way to the Ritz.

  She had asked for a table in the middle of the room. She had nothing to hide. Someone looking in would have seen, through prisms of crystal, a glamorous self-contained woman dressed in brilliant blue and green, daintily sipping tea.

  Julia looked at her watch. Ten past four. She’d booked tea for four. Petit fours and biscuits were balanced delicately on the cake tray in front of her but she had not yet touched them. By the end of the month such treats would be almost impossible to find without breaking the law. There was a clattering of heels on marble and Jenny appeared, breathless, on the threshold of the room. Julia gasped.

  Jenny steadied herself and flapped an elegant hand across her face to cool herself. Her cheeks were flushed. She caught sight of Julia, smiled broadly, and walked gracefully across the room, her dark hair bobbing gently on her shoulders as she approached. Men and women turned their heads to watch her. She was no longer a girl. But it was her dress that caused Julia to catch her breath. It was a deep crimson with flashes of mauve cut high to the knee in a Twenties style which on anyone else would have looked dated. She had seen that dress before but only in black and white. Jeremy had always told her that Joan had been beautiful, but black and white photographs told a limited two-dimensional story. It was as if Joan had come back to life and was walking towards her in glorious three-dimensional colour. Only Jenny’s warm smile of recognition differentiated them. Joan had never known Julia and could not have recognised her. And Julia was afraid. In a flash she saw what Jeremy had been seeing for the last five years as Jenny grew and changed and became more like her mother. She could never have competed with that beauty. But Jenny, kissing her on the cheek and sitting down neatly opposite her, was oblivious to this.