A Spy in the Family

by Alec Waugh

  All that was over now. There mustn’t be anything, but anything at all, he couldn’t get at home; nor must there be anything she couldn’t get from any man that she could not get at home from her own husband. That was what marriage was, what marriage should be, the sharing of everything, yes, everything between two people. We’ve only started, she thought. She recalled that long siesta talk in Beirut about the woman who had got drunk on purpose. She looked sideways at Victor. He was so composed, so controlled, so much the conventional, turned-out-to-pattern Englishman. It was hard to imagine those pale cheeks flushing suddenly, those eyes ablaze. She envied that girl who was able to break down that composure. It would be fun to see that look of anger, to be suddenly seized upon, thrown across his knees, your skirt tossed over your head, to feel his hand upon you, one, two, three; then to be flung backwards and treated like a slave girl, no preliminaries, a sudden fierce entry and possession. I wonder how I can annoy him enough to have that done to me. I’ll find a way—there must be a way; I’ll search. I’ll find it. She drew into her lungs a long slow breath of taut, fearsome anticipation. They’d only started. That girl in the Brompton Road wouldn’t stand a chance.

  As the taxi drew up in Holly Place, she could see on the second floor two small heads leaning out of an open window waving their hands.

  Anna or Lena must have been watching specially. That’s dear of them, she thought. She was going to miss them, miss them a great deal. The presents she had brought back for them were minute: a hand of Fatima for Lena, a string of beads for Anna; but they would take up very little room. They were the kinds of things that might lie upon a dressing table for a lifetime. The two children were eager for their presents. They, too, were modest ones. Turkish dolls that would look pretty for thirty hours, that would be discarded before the week was out. ‘They look as though they’ve been good, have they?’ Myra asked.

  ‘They’ve been very good.’

  ‘And we’re going to have two such pretty new nurses when they leave,’ said Jerry.

  ‘You are?’

  It was the first Myra had heard of it. Correspondence had been impossible during their tour, with its constant changes of address.

  Anna nodded. ‘I’ve found two young students whom I’m sure you’ll like. They’ve graduated from the London School of Economics. They wanted to stay on another year.’

  ‘When will they be ready to come?’

  ‘As soon as you want them.’

  ‘That means as soon as you want to go.’

  ‘I suppose it does.’

  ‘And when will that be?’

  ‘As soon as you’ve got settled back. The week after next, if that’s convenient.’

  ‘It’ll have to be, won’t it?’

  She said it wistfully. Yes, she would miss them. Particularly Anna.

  Two mornings later, as she had expected it to do, the telephone rang soon after ten. That flat, unaccented voice did not need to identify itself. ‘Did everything go all right?’ it asked.

  ‘Yes, everything went all right.’

  ‘When may I come round?’

  ‘As soon as you like.’

  ‘The sooner the better, don’t you think?’

  ‘I quite agree.’

  ‘I’d like to be able to have a little uninterrupted talk with you.’

  ‘I don’t see why you should.’

  ‘I’ll be able to explain why I do.’

  The tone of his voice did not alter, but it seemed to her that it contained a threat.

  ‘How long would you need?’ she asked.

  ‘An hour.’

  ‘What could you need an hour for?’

  ‘I’ll be able to explain that when I see you.’

  Again she detected a note of menace. What on earth could he need an hour for! ‘All right,’ she said. ‘What about this afternoon?’

  ‘This afternoon would be most convenient.’

  ‘At three o’clock.’ Then she could have tea in the nursery, with her mind and conscience clear, every cloud dispersed. At least that was how it should be. That was how she prayed it would be. But why had he needed a whole hour? What could he have to say to her that would take an hour?

  He arrived punctually at three. He was carrying a small plastic briefcase that looked as though it were made of leather. She had half forgotten what he looked like. If she had met him in the street, would she have recognised him?

  He put the briefcase on the table, beside the package labelled Valentina’s chocolates. He picked up the package.

  ‘Is this it?’

  She nodded.

  He undid the gift wrapping, lifted the cardboard lid; Myra could not see what it contained. She was curious to know what it looked like, but she could only have seen by standing up. She did not want to do that. He licked the tip of his forefinger, put it inside the package, licked it again, then nodded. ‘Fine, fine. Isn’t it strange to think that so small a parcel is worth half a million dollars?’ He rewrapped the package, opened his briefcase, put the package in it, and took out a smaller one.

  ‘Is that my tape?’ she asked.

  He shook his head.

  ‘But you promised that you would give me the tape if I brought you back that package.’

  ‘I didn’t quite say that.’

  Rage and alarm struck at her simultaneously. This was what she had dreaded, the surrender to a long course of blackmail, where the fee was raised each time. She would become a slave, never knowing an instant’s peace of mind, her whole life poisoned. No, she vowed. No, I will not stand for this. I’ll go to Victor. I’ll confess. I know him better now. He’ll be furious but he’ll understand. We’ll go to the police. You can always trust the police where blackmail is concerned. He thinks he’s got me because I’ve taken that first step. He hasn’t though. I’m no longer the inexperienced woman he frightened that first time. I’m not afraid of Victor any longer.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I’m not standing for it. I’ve done this once, but not again. You told me that you never sent the same courier twice, and I believed you. It seemed logical. That’s why I went. Now you’re going back on your word. You’ve lied to me.’

  ‘Please, Mrs. Trail, please.’ He raised his hand. ‘I did not lie to you. But I did not tell you the whole truth.’

  ‘You told me …’

  He interrupted. ‘I did not tell you what I believe you are trying to say I told you. I told you that you had to recover that tape by earning it. I said that in order to get it you had to collect a certain package. And that was perfectly true. You had to get that packet and you have got it.’

  ‘You said …’

  ‘Please do not interrupt. I did not lie to you but where I was not quite honest was in letting you believe that the collection of that package was all you had to do. It is not all you have to do. There is one further forfeit that you have to pay.’

  ‘You told me that I should only do one mission.’

  ‘And that is perfectly true. I am not going to ask you to go on another mission. But there is, as I said, one further duty before I give you your tape.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘To recruit another courier.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Exactly what I said. Recruit another courier.’

  She stared at him. ‘Explain.’

  ‘It’s very simple. The operation that you carried out was a two-barrelled or perhaps I should say a three-barrelled operation. First of all you were yourself recruited.’

  ‘I was recruited?’

  ‘Of course you were. In Malta. How else do you think we got that tape? Then because we had that tape, you went to the Lebanon and brought back that package. That is the second barrel. You have been through Customs once. We never ask anyone to go through Customs twice. That is a rule we never break. But the circle has to be completed. The third barrel has to be charged and fired. You have got to acquire a piece of tape containing a confession that will make an unsuspecting person accept the role of courie
r. That is why I needed to spend an hour with you this afternoon. I have to explain how the machinery works.’

  He tapped the parcel that he had placed upon the table. ‘It is quite simple. You can learn it easily.’

  First of all you were recruited. So Naomi had been in the same position as she was now. She had wondered how that tape had come into this wretched man’s possession. She had felt aggrieved and cheated. She had been exploited. She had wondered if she would ever know the truth. Now that she did, her resentment left her. Poor Naomi; it must have been a bad time for her. She was dear and sweet and kind. Had she had any sense of guilt? How had she felt? Had she shrugged her shoulders? Sauve qui peut. She was a citizen of Dresden. Had the war contained a more pointlessly Philistine act of violence than the saturation bombing of that lovely city? Could anyone who as a small girl had had her home and family exposed to that feel any moral compunction about the temporary inconvenience, embarrassment—for it had been temporary—of a national of the country who had been responsible for that outrage? Poor Naomi, she thought. Poor, poor Naomi.

  Yet why poor Naomi? Had it been for her such a penitential project? All the same … in her case.

  ‘I can’t do that,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t see why not. Is it any worse than what you’ve done already? I’d have said it was much easier. You smuggled this package through Customs. In doing that you ran a considerable risk. You’ve come through safely. There’s no risk now. Listen.’ He began to speak not wooingly but practically. ‘What you have to do,’ he said, ‘is to inveigle someone into behaving or talking in such a way that a record of it will make him or her ready to collect an illicit article to prevent the publication of that tape. It is as easy as all that, you see.’

  ‘But I can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not? What you have already done is far more serious than anything you have to do. May I now explain to you how to manipulate this machine so that you can obtain the tape that we require?’

  ‘Please, no, please.’

  ‘You have taken the first step; the second will be much easier.’

  ‘But how could I meet the person who would provide that tape?’

  ‘That is exactly what the lady who enrolled you said to me. I answered, “It doesn’t matter whom you enroll.” It may be a man, it may be a woman. It could be a schoolboy. It has to be someone who, confronted with a certain proof of a certain aspect of his or her behaviour, will do anything to prevent its being publicised. You have to find someone vulnerable. Artists, actors, authors, they’re no good: they don’t mind what is said about them. Someone like yourself does. That’s why you were such a good choice. But a man would be just as good. Very likely it would be easier for you, with a man. A man’s more vulnerable —if he’s in public life. And there’s this, too, that you must remember: the tape has to identify the man or woman. You have to get the name on, the position occupied, if possible the address. I didn’t play over the whole of your tape to you, but our courier had been very careful. Everything was down.’

  ‘But the person from whom I get this confession will know it came through me. I’ll never be able to look him in the face again.’

  ‘Choose someone in whose face you don’t want to look again.’

  ‘It’ll make things very awkward.’

  ‘Not if you’re tactful. I can recall a case when one of our couriers taped a series of scenes with a very high-born lady. He confessed to her. He said, “You’ll never forgive me. I’ve done a fearful thing. I had a tape machine concealed in my flat when you came to see me. It was because I loved you that I did it. I know this won’t last forever. How could it? Comparing our positions. I wanted to remind myself that it had really happened. You understand that, can’t you? Well, a terrible thing has happened. My flat’s been burgled and the tapes were stolen.”

  ‘Believe it or not, he got away with it. She believed him and she kept on with him. But that’s unusual. It’s best to choose a stranger, someone you won’t see again, as your friend did with you. And there’s this to be remembered, it doesn’t have to be sex. A fiddle over income tax would be just as good, a numbered bank account in Switzerland, a piece of bribery perhaps. It’s up to you. Now let me show you how this toy works.’

  It was an intricate piece of machinery, but it was not difficult to install or operate. Naomi should have found it very simple. So will I when my time comes, Myra thought. For there was not much doubt that she would have to go through with this. She had got in too deep. She had taken the first step; why not the second? She was already beginning to rehearse the list of acquaintances who might be suitable. Kitty—what about Kitty? Or one of Kitty’s friends.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘that you see quite a little of what is called the seamy side of life.’

  He smirked. ‘I have friends who do.’

  ‘Then can you give me the address of a good London brothel?’

  He raised his eyebrows. He pursed his lips. He looked as though he were preparing to whistle, then changed his mind. ‘You’re going in for this in a big way, I see.’

  ‘It might be a handy thing to know.’

  ‘Of course, of course … But… it isn’t easy. London’s been cleaned up. What are you interested in especially? I can put you on to see blue films.’

  ‘That’s an idea.’

  ‘Or anyone who’s keen on rubber.’

  ‘Rubber?’

  ‘Those tight-fitting rubber clothes, you know.’

  ‘I don’t, but still…’

  ‘Don’t you? It’s very much the mode. I can put you on to that.’

  ‘What I was really wondering about were places like Polly Adler wrote about.’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s gone. Even in Paris now. Too many people needed to be bribed. It’s all done privately. Girls on their own, or girls in couples, in their own flats. You see their advertisements in Shepherd Market, hung up outside tobacconists. I can tell you what I can do, though. I can give you the name of someone who might help. He’s a barman in a mixed club in Soho.’ He took out a memorandum book, wrote an address, tore out the sheet. ‘Ask for Grantie. Say Frank sent you. Good luck. I’ll ring up every first Tuesday of the month.’

  Once again she watched him from the window. No one turned to look at him as he walked down the street with his plastic case that contained half a million dollars’ worth of illegal merchandise. What a world I’m moving in, she thought.

  She looked at the clock. Five minutes to four. Kitty might be in. If she were, it wasn’t a time when she would mind being disturbed. But Kitty was out. Her daily help answered. ‘Please ask Mrs. Severod to call back any time before dinner.’ She went into the nursery. It was extraordinary that she should be conducting two such different lives; this one so sane, so ordinary, so normal.

  The two new Swedish girls were to pay their first visit on the following day. Jerry was enrapturedly excited.

  ‘But you will miss Anna and Lena, won’t you?’ Myra asked.

  ‘Oh yes, of course, but we know them.’

  The new thing, always the new thing.

  ‘I expect that you’ll miss them more than they’ll miss you.’

  ‘I’ll certainly miss them, and I’ll miss England too,’ said Lena. ‘I’ve made good friends here.’ She wanted to spend the Tuesday night away. Friends in Sussex had asked her to pay them a goodbye visit. ‘They want to show me how good English cooking can be in an English country house.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’

  Tuesday was one of Victor’s Odde Volumes evenings. This time the dinner was to be held at Oxford and Victor would be spending the night away. ‘Would you like to go too?’ she asked Anna. ‘I can easily sleep in the nursery. I’ll be alone.’

  Anna shook her head. ‘They’re Lena’s friends more than mine. They’d prefer to have her to themselves. I’ll enjoy a quiet evening, writing goodbye letters.’

  Kitty rang back shortly before seven, Victor had been home half an hour. They were listeni
ng to records, he over a whisky and soda, she over her habitual dry martini. She guessed that it might be Kitty. ‘I’ll take it in the bedroom,’ she said, put down her cigarette in the ashtray, and hurried through. ‘Kitty? Yes, I thought it might be you. I can’t talk to you about it now. But you know that information we tried to get in the St. George from Pierre? I’ve found out where you can get it from a barman called Grantie in Soho. When can you lunch with me? On Tuesday? Fine. At the Jardin at one-fifteen.’

  She was back within a minute to find that the cigarette at which she had only taken a couple of puffs had been stamped out in the ashtray. She looked at it, surprised.

  ‘If there’s one thing I loathe it’s the leaving of lighted cigarettes in ashtrays,’ Victor snapped. ‘They give off the most nauseous stench.’

  He was almost angry. She had never seen him angry like this before. Was that how he had looked at that girl friend who got drunk at parties? It might be worth remembering.

  ‘But how did you find out all this?’ Kitty asked.

  ‘Never reveal your sources of information. But we might as well look around.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’

  ‘You have seen blue films, haven’t you?’

  ‘One or two.’

  ‘Did you get a kick out of them?’

  ‘To begin with, yes. But they’re so repetitive. It’s only the beginnings that are any fun.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘It’s the introduction, the seeing how they start. There’s a chauffeur, say, driving a couple of girls along a country lane. The car breaks down. They all get out to try and put it right. Then suddenly you find that it’s only a bluff, so that he can get them out of the car and in a hedge. The real kick is over before it’s been running for two minutes. The men always look pretty ghastly too.’

  ‘What about the girls?’

  ‘They’re not so bad. Quite attractive, most of them. But then that isn’t surprising, is it? If they weren’t attractive, they wouldn’t have got started in that kind of game. It’s the exact opposite with men. If they were attractive, they wouldn’t ever get caught up in it.’