What Tomorrow Brings

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What Tomorrow Brings Page 13

by Mary Fitzgerald


  ‘Aren’t they taking notice now?’ I asked.

  ‘Some of them are. But those out of government are more interested. Churchill has been warning about this for ages. D’you know? I think I’ll take this dossier to him instead. He won’t shove it under the carpet.’ Charlie swigged back his drink and nodded to the barman, indicating that he wanted another. ‘You?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Not yet. I’ve only had a sip.’ I shot a glance at him. ‘Go easy, Charlie. How many have you had already?’

  ‘Telling me off, Blake, eh? I don’t remember telling you that it was part of your job.’

  ‘Well, you seem a bit high this evening.’

  ‘Mm, maybe.’ Charlie nodded. ‘You’re right. I got excited when I was reading what that bloke gave me. I’ll calm down now. I don’t know what it is about this trip, I keep losing my normal control.’ He gave me a grin. ‘It’s having you with me, Blake. There’s something about you . . . don’t know what it is. You seem to make things happen.’

  I shook my head, dismissing what he said, but my plans for meeting Kitty and her mother were sitting uncomfortably in my mind. I knew I should tell him, but I also knew what he would say. Charlie, although usually mild in temper, had been furious with me for going to Auguststrasse and hadn’t held back in letting me know. ‘What are we doing tomorrow?’ I asked, praying that he had set up a meeting with someone in the afternoon.

  ‘That’s the thing, Blake, I spoke to Geoff. I couldn’t say a lot to him because I’m not sure how much is being overheard. But our editor was pleased with what I was able to tell him and he said that if we take photographs he’ll give the article a double-page spread. So, you’ve got your camera and I thought that tomorrow we could have a wander around the city and take some snaps. It will round off the assignment nicely. What d’you say?’

  What could I say? Absolutely nothing. I nodded ‘Yes,’ and momentarily closed my eyes. Poor Kitty and Sarah, I thought. They’ll wait for me in vain.

  A voice intruded on my musings. ‘Darling! What the hell are you doing here?’ It was Xanthe. She was exquisite, in a black and white sheath dress with a tiny black cocktail hat perched at a slant on her blonde curls.

  ‘We’re staying here,’ I said impatiently. ‘I told you last night.’ She was almost the last person I wanted to see, but I gave her a sisterly kiss.

  ‘Of course you did. Silly me,’ Xanthe cooed and moved closer to Charlie. ‘Hello you,’ she giggled and pecked at his cheek. He looked as though he’d been bitten, but, remembering his manners, asked, ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Thank you, darling. Gin and It, please.’

  ‘So, what are you doing here?’ I returned the question. ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘God, no,’ she laughed. ‘I’m here with Wolf. He’s over there.’ She pointed to the other end of the bar, where I could see him, immaculately smart, chatting with a middle-aged man. ‘He’s talking to the Minister of War.’

  Charlie looked eagerly in that direction, thinking, I knew, about whether he should go over and introduce himself.

  ‘I saw you, and Wolf said I must come over. He’ll join us in a moment.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’ I wondered why I hadn’t asked that question last night and rather berated myself for being so uninterested in my sister’s affairs.

  ‘I’m at the Kaiserhof. It’s quite good, you know, but not as smart as the Adlon. I might transfer.’ Xanthe gazed at the well-dressed people who were sitting and standing in groups and gossiping loudly over drinks. ‘Yes, I think I will.’ She didn’t bother to lower her voice when she said, ‘Some of the guests at the Kaiserhof are not what we’re used to, you know. Wolf says they’re all very loyal but,’ she twitched her shoulders, ‘they’re a bit, well, provincial, I suppose.’ She gave me a smirk. ‘Your particular friend is on the same floor as me at the Kaiserhof. Him and that common little person he travels with. My God, you should see her in the dining room, gobbling her food and waving her knife and fork around in a way that would have made our nanny faint.’ She giggled. ‘Your friend doesn’t seem to mind her, though. He’s very attentive. Of course they’re always surrounded by officers and government people. Wolf says that she’s a good friend of Herr Hitler and will bring us more friends from England.’

  ‘Us?’ I questioned.

  She had the grace to blush. ‘I’m only saying what Wolf says.’ She gave a little pout. ‘Don’t be mean, Seffy.’

  Charlie, sensing a row brewing, butted in. ‘How long are you staying in Berlin?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She gave a smile. ‘Wolf doesn’t want me to leave, but I was thinking about joining Binkie Durham’s house party in Suffolk. I’m going to try and persuade Wolf to come with me. And then, Christmas is coming up and the parents will want me home for that.’ She bent her head towards Charlie and cooed. ‘Now that Seffy has blotted her copybook, there has to be one daughter they can rely on.’

  Bitch, I thought, but pretended that I wasn’t listening.

  I let my eyes wander about, but it was only after a few seconds of peering about that I realised I was looking for Amyas. Would he come here? Would he come to my room later? The pianist was playing ‘The Very Thought of You’, and as the strands of music floated across I almost laughed out loud. How could he know?

  I could see von Klausen making his way across the room to join us, and turning to Charlie, I said, ‘Have you thought about where we can eat dinner?’ Suddenly, I wanted to get away from this noisy place and most of all from Xanthe and her frightening friend.

  ‘Oh,’ Charlie sounded surprised. ‘Er, all right. Let me see.’

  But it was too late. Von Klausen had arrived and within seconds had invited us to dinner with him and Xanthe. ‘We will go to Horcher’s. I booked a table when I saw you were here. You have no other plans?’

  I wanted to say yes, but Charlie looked eager and I remembered that I was here on an assignment. I gave myself a little shake. I was letting my personal life interfere with my job and I had wanted this job so much.

  Horcher’s was small. Beneath the heavily beamed ceiling there was only room for about eight or ten tables, and after the crush in the Adlon’s cocktail bar it was quiet. The maître d’ greeted von Klausen as a welcome and favoured customer and, on our short way to our table, several people got up to shake the count’s hand.

  ‘This is good, yes?’ Von Klausen smiled at us, flattening his lips over his perfect teeth, but his chalk-blue eyes remained cold.

  ‘It’s very nice,’ I agreed. ‘Very intimate.’

  ‘A good word,’ von Klausen agreed. ‘Herr Horcher is very careful about his clientele.’ He examined the menu. ‘Now. What shall we have?’

  The meal was excellent, but it soon became apparent that we had been invited so that von Klausen could find out more about Charlie and me. ‘I have read some of your articles, Mr Bradford. You are a much travelled man.’

  ‘It’s the nature of my job,’ answered Charlie casually. He was tucking into medallions of beef.

  ‘You have been twice to Spain, recently.’

  Charlie frowned. ‘Yes, earlier in the year. And I was in China and France and Romania. I go where there is a story.’

  ‘So. There is a story in Berlin?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Charlie’s frown changed into a broad smile. ‘I’d say.’

  ‘And you will tell it truthfully?’ It sounded more like an order than a question. As always, in the presence of von Klausen I felt uncomfortable. I shifted in my seat and looked around at the other diners. They were working their way steadily through each delicious dish set in front of them, and only at the table where four SS officers sat was there any laughter. One of them called for another bottle of wine and his voice was so loud that von Klausen glanced away from his polite interrogation. Excusing himself, he stood up and walked across to them. I don’t know what was said, but the laughter stopped, and from the careful smile on his face as he returned, it was clear that he’d en
joyed throwing his weight about.

  ‘I apologise,’ he said, ‘for that display of bad manners.’

  I felt reckless. ‘They weren’t bothering me,’ I said. ‘I like to see people having fun.’

  ‘And having it yourself, Miss Blake, so I believe.’

  I shot a quick glance at Xanthe. Had she told him about me and Amyas after she promised not to? I was ready to kill her, but the rather vacant look on her face assured me that she wasn’t the guilty party. That left Amyas. It must have been him. Oh God. How could he?

  ‘You’re quite wrong, Wolf,’ said Xanthe pityingly. ‘My sister doesn’t approve of fun. She likes reading and going to museums and all that sort of boring stuff. She never goes to parties.’

  ‘Ah, perhaps I’ve got it wrong, meine Liebe. Fräulein Persephone is the good girl in the family? Yes?’

  Xanthe laughed and wagged her finger at him. ‘Does that make me the bad girl?’

  He smiled. ‘No, Liebchen. You are good, in a different way.’

  We had chocolate torte for dessert, but I couldn’t eat more than a couple of forkfuls. I was thinking about Amyas telling von Klausen about us and determining that if he dared to come to my room tonight I would throw him out. But three hours later when the knock came at my door, I did let him in.

  ‘Don’t come near me,’ I hissed.

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘You told von Klausen about us.’

  He shook his head and casually took off his dinner jacket and threw it over the chair in front of the small dressing table. ‘I told no one about us.’

  ‘You must have,’ I wailed. ‘He knew, but not from Xanthe. I’m certain she hadn’t told him. So how else could he have found out?’

  Amyas sat on the bed and started to pull off his bow tie. He was frowning, his handsome face creased and his usual half-smile gone. ‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘it was Elvira. She’s had her suspicions about me and it would be typical of her to bribe your mother’s private detective to discover why I was being investigated. She generally finds a way to corrupt. Money, or lack of it, is a great inducement.’

  I couldn’t look at him. ‘That’s why you stole my father’s books.’

  He nodded. ‘She cut off my allowance. The money from the books got me to Paris and I could have carried on but,’ he shrugged, ‘only in a poor sort of way.’

  ‘What about principle?’ I asked. ‘You told Percy that it was more important than his obligations to his family. You gave the impression that it mattered more than anything.’

  Back to his normal relaxed self, he was unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Well, darling Persephone, it seems that I haven’t quite enough. I like to eat well and sleep in a bed.’

  ‘God! You are a bastard.’ I stood by the window, not going near him. He was worthless, unprincipled; everything that I normally despised. But when he walked over to me and kissed me I was lost again and allowed him to take me to bed, where I sank into that blissfully addictive magic of passion.

  Later, we talked. First, about Percy and Graham. ‘Do you know what’s happened to them?’ I asked.

  ‘I knew a few months ago, though now I have no idea. Graham was already in Spain by the time Percy and I went to Paris. We met the organisers at a small hotel and signed up for the International Brigade.’ He laughed. ‘You wouldn’t like them, Persephone. They’re communists, anarchists and all sorts of odd people. Although, they probably do have an abiding principle, which you would like. Our organiser introduced us to a girl who was tasked to get us through France and on to a boat at Marseilles. Elena, that was her name.’ He shook his head, remembering. ‘She couldn’t have been much more than seventeen and was so very pretty. But, my God, she was devoted to the cause and fierce in her hatred of the Nationalists. Percy was scared of her.’

  ‘Were you?’ I was stupidly jealous.

  ‘No.’ He sounded surprised at my question. ‘I knew I could tame her.’

  I lay in the curl of his arm and thought about him ‘taming’ the pretty Elena. I knew how he’d have done it. ‘So you left Percy with this wildcat girl?

  ‘I did,’ he replied casually. ‘When they got on the train to Marseilles at the Gare de Lyon I left that station and went to the Gare du Nord and took the boat train for home.’ He chuckled. ‘I bet Percy went looking for me through all the carriages.’

  ‘God, you’re cruel,’ I said.

  ‘Am I? I took him to Paris. That wasn’t cruel. He wanted to go on. He believed, as I do, in the cause.’ Amyas turned his head and stared at me. ‘Would you rather I was there or here?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ I said.

  ‘Nothing in life is fair. Not from the moment you’re born. You have to even it out in the best way you can.’ The words came out heartfelt, but bitterly, and I was lost for an answer. He was right, of course. Life for some wasn’t fair. I thought about Kitty and her mother; their life was already hellish and would get worse.

  ‘Amyas,’ I whispered. ‘I’m going to meet Kitty and Sarah Goldstein tomorrow afternoon.’

  He sat up. ‘No. You can’t go to Auguststrasse again. It’s too dangerous for you.’

  ‘I know that. I’ve arranged to meet them at Monbijoupark at three o’clock, by the museum. That is, if I can get away from Charlie. He wants us to spend the day taking photographs for a picture spread.’ I thought for a moment. ‘It’s important, Amyas. I must try and persuade Sarah to leave for England. Can you see that?’

  ‘I can see that you would put them in even more danger if you were followed. Which you most likely would be. It’s madness. Promise me you won’t go. Promise.’ He had turned and was gripping my shoulders.

  ‘All right,’ I whispered miserably. ‘I promise.’ And he lowered his mouth on to mine and the conversation was ended.

  At dawn he got up and started dressing. ‘Where does she think you go to?’ I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. ‘Your Mrs Cartwright.’

  ‘She doesn’t wake up before I come back,’ he smiled. ‘The morphine keeps her well sedated.’

  ‘Is she a drug addict?’ I asked, shocked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he grinned. ‘Part of my role in her life is finding a constant supply for her.’ He noticed my frown. ‘Not very edifying, I agree. But one does what one has to.’

  I watched as he pulled on his trousers and fastened his shirt buttons. ‘I won’t see you tonight,’ I said. ‘We’re getting the evening train. We’ll be back in London tomorrow.’

  His face fell and I could see that he was genuinely upset. ‘I’ll miss you, darling girl. Life is empty when you’re not around.’ He came over to the bed and kissed me.

  ‘You could come and see me at my flat,’ I said. ‘I told you the address.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘although . . .’

  ‘Although what?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Gently he stroked my face and I could feel the enchantment sweeping over me. ‘We’ll be together again, Persephone. I don’t know when but we will.’

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded, my heart bursting. I wanted to grab hold of him and cry that he mustn’t leave. I wanted to take him back with me to the house by the sea and abandon myself to the careless bliss of passion, but I knew it was only a hopeless dream. Amyas marched to a different beat, only sometimes in step with me; so, instead, I bit my lip and watched him finish dressing.

  ‘Amyas,’ I called as he walked to the door. ‘What’s your real name?’

  He shook his head and grinned in his devastating way. ‘Too soon to tell you that, my darling.’ And he shut the door behind him, leaving me alone once more.

  I joined Charlie for breakfast and he could see from my face that I was upset. ‘You’ll see him again,’ he said kindly, and I nodded. ‘I know. It’s just that . . .’ Then I shook my head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  So I drank my coffee, and drawing air into my lungs with a slightly shuddering breath, bent my head to study the map that Charlie had laid out on the table. All the sights that he want
ed to photograph were marked and while I was taking the snaps, he would try and interview passers-by to get a flavour of what the man on the street thought.

  ‘All right,’ I said cautiously. ‘D’you think they’ll speak to you, especially when we’ve got an SS man following us?’

  ‘Don’t be defeatist, Blake. You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude.’

  Reproved, I entered fully into the day’s activities. We admired the magnificent Brandenburg Gate and while I shot pictures from different angles, Charlie chatted to people who were on the Platz in front of it. Most shook their heads when he asked questions and hurried on their way, but he got more luck with an old flower seller, who had nothing but greenery on her stall. Surprisingly, she was doing a roaring trade, as customers paid for small branches of pine and fir, some of which had decorative cones hanging from them.

  ‘How is it for you?’ Charlie asked her. His German was good. ‘Wonderful,’ she answered. ‘We were starving before these good men took over. My grandsons will have a happy life. Better than me and their father.’

  ‘Write that down,’ he said to me, after translating her words. ‘We have to make a balanced report.’

  I was weary, even before lunch, because we had walked and talked all over the city. As we sat down to eat at my favourite café, he said, ‘We need shots of the river. It’s the artery of the city.’

  I remembered that Kitty had said that Monbijoupark was by the river. ‘Good idea,’ I answered eagerly, ‘and perhaps one or two of a park. I’ve seen a park on my map near the river.’ It was madness, I knew, but there might be just a chance.

  The afternoon had become quite murky, with low cloud and rain threatening by the time we reached the park. I looked at my watch, it showed five to three, and as we walked through, I wondered if I should just tell Charlie what I had planned. He’d shout at me, but so what? It was the right thing to do.

 

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