by Ann Bridge
‘Ask him yourself! Why put this on me?’ Julia asked sharply.
‘You get better results. As to why all this has to be done, isn’t it part of the defence of the free world?’
‘Oh, don’t be so pompous!’ She turned away; he guessed that she was near to tears. He put an arm round her shoulder.
‘My dear, I’ve already told you that I’m sorry about this.’
Julia blew her nose.
‘Sorry about that,’ she said then. ‘I suppose you’re right—if this can be true. Very well—I’ll help tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow’ brought many activities, when the Mary Hathaway once more put in to Stornoway. The new boom was brought out on a launch, raised on the burton, and fixed in position; the mainsail was dragged up from the fo’c’sle and bent to the mast and the new boom; all those complicated lacings and mousings, which had been undone with such difficulty on the open ocean, were replaced much more comfortably in a calm harbour, with the help of the carpenter, who knew a lot about boats as well as carpentry. When the job was well under way Jamieson asked Reeder if he and Julia could have the dinghy to go ashore again for a short time.
‘Do you really need Julia?’ the Skipper asked; the girl was busily threading cords through brass rings in the foot of the mainsail, and lacing them round the shiny new boom.
‘Yes,’ the Colonel said rather abruptly. ‘She can get more out of these people than I can.’
‘Something about that Swedish boat?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, all right. But don’t be too long. We want to get back in good time tonight, to make an early start tomorrow.’
‘We’ll be as quick as we can.’
‘D’you want to row?’ Julia asked Jamieson, as they stepped down into the small boat.
‘No. You do it better—and I like watching you.’
Ashore they made their way to Johnnie Macleod’s garage. Fortunately the proprietor’s son, who had driven the three ‘Rooshians’ over to Callernish the previous day, was in; Julia had a long conversation with him. The Colonel stood by, unable to understand a word. He felt extraordinarily frustrated; it was maddening to be so wholly dependent on the account he would get from someone who—beautiful and shrewd as she might be—was not wholly on his side in this. But he was too intelligent to interfere; she could learn what he could not learn. At last, with many hand-shakings and Oich-a-bhains (Good-byes) all round, Julia walked out of the little yard; the Colonel followed her out to the small street.
‘Well?’
‘Oh do let’s go and get a drink! I’m quite exhausted by all this counter-espionage!’ the girl said rather bitterly.
‘To the hotel?’ he asked. He realised that whatever Julia had learned had upset her.
‘I expect that’s best. People might overhear one in that sweet little pub—though you owe them a lot!’ she added pugnaciously.
‘My dear, do calm down!’ the man said gently. ‘I know how hideous all this is for you. Come and have a drink, and take your time about telling me.’
In the hotel, over gins, Julia told him what she had learned. The three strangers had given the most cursory of glances at Callernish, and then had asked to be taken to where ‘the famous English archaeologist’ was making his excavations. The driver, after enquiries, had driven them to the nearest point on the road to the dig. ‘Of course they couldn’t be driven to it; they got out, and walked down, and “stayed a fair while”, and then walked back,’ Julia said miserably.
‘Did young Macleod see them talking to him? As far as I remember one can just see the dig from the road.’
‘Yes, one can—and he did. “A very old man down there spoke with them for a while—and then they came back to the car”.’ She gave a gulping half-sob as she said this.
He put a hand on hers. ‘Thank you for telling me. That was all?’
‘Yes—bloody all!’ Julia said angrily. ‘Isn’t it enough? You and your defence of the free world! I’ve done all I could for it, if the wretched thing is still worth defending:—strikes all the time for less work and more pay, no discipline, no sense of obligation—such as I have just been displaying! I suppose you’ll have to report this?’ she went on, after a pause.
‘Obviously I must—though I shall make it clear that it’s only a country-boy’s statement, and at very long range. I think I’d better get a line off now—it should just make the steamer.’
‘All right. I’ll go out and wait by the dinghy.’ In fact she couldn’t bear to sit by and see Jamieson actually writing a letter that might be disastrous to beloved old Professor Burbage—a letter based on information that she had herself obtained. As she dawdled along the smelly quay she looked out across the harbour. The Y.J.631 was still there, but with no sign of life on board.
Distress or anxiety always made Julia want a drink, and at that moment she was extremely anxious and distressed. So although she had just had one gin, miserably, with Jamieson, she made her way to the little pub. As she walked into the bar the first thing she saw was the three men in berets; the oldest stepped backward without looking, and bumped into her—his glass of beer splashed all over her sweater and trousers.
‘Do look where you’re going!’ the girl exclaimed crossly.
‘Oh, so very sorry. I am clumsy.’ He pulled out a handkerchief and began to wipe her clothes—Julia backed away; the landlord came round from behind the bar with a cloth and did the job.
‘Please, will you have a drink?’ the man said.
‘Oh no, though thank you so much. I always buy my own drinks. A gin and vermouth, please,’ she said to the landlord.
‘I wish you let me give you this,’ the elderly Russian said. ‘I think I see you before, in Tobermory.’
‘Oh did you?’ She remembered that Jamieson had wished to encounter the men on the motor-cruiser, and ‘give them the onceover’, and slightly relaxed her hostile attitude—she ought to make what use she could of this chance encounter.
‘Yes. You have a beautiful boat, the Mary Hataway—I notice her. But you break your boom, no?’
‘Yes.’ (How did he know that?)
‘How do you get your boat round here without a boom?’
‘On a try-sail.’
‘What is this, try-sail?’
‘A sail with no boom.’
‘You have a beautiful boat,’ the man repeated. ‘Where do you go next?’
‘I haven’t a clue,’ said Julia.
‘Please?’
At this so common and tedious expression of foreign non-comprehension, Julia became impatient.
‘Don’t you really know English? What nationality are you?’ ‘Swedish.’
‘Oh—I thought all Swedes spoke English so well,’ the girl said coldly.
‘Some less well,’ the man replied, rather irritably.
Julia said ‘Good evening,’ finished her drink, and went out.
She reported this encounter to Jamieson when he rejoined her on the quay, after posting his letter to London.
‘What brass! What was his accent like?’
‘To me it sounded like the usual baddish Central-European—I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to a live Russian in my life.’
‘I can’t imagine why he should have tried this on,’ the Colonel said thoughtfully.
‘It began accidentally, of course, when he sploshed his beer over me. That gave him his opening, and he may have thought I looked so dumb that he might as well try to find out all he could.’
‘That might be it, of course,’ Jamieson said—he was thinking so hard that he didn’t realise the implication of his words—Julia grinned. ‘Catching you alone like that may have made him take the risk,’ he pursued. ‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked, suddenly noticing her face.
‘Never mind. A private joke.’
But he spotted her private joke.
‘Julia, I do apologise. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘Oh yes you were! Thinking about something else—that’s why you said it. An
yhow I know I look dumb, and I don’t mind in the least; it often comes in quite handy.’
‘As it may have done this time.’ He paused. ‘I found a telegram at the Post Office,’ he said. ‘I must go back to London by tomorrow’s steamer. If you could row me out I’ll just pack my things, and perhaps you would bring me ashore again? I know Reeder won’t want to spend a night here, so I booked a room in the hotel before I came down.’
‘O.K.,’ Julia said casually. She was rather dismayed at the degree to which her heart sank at this news. As she pulled across the harbour Jamieson took out his little notebook—his methodicalness was one of the things which she found so amusing and endearing. ‘Could I have your address?’ he asked. ‘One that will always find you?’
Julia gave him the address of her Club in London.
‘They forward from there without fail? I might need you at any time.’
‘Without fail,’ she assured him, wondering a little at his choice of words. Did he mean ‘I might need your help’?
Everyone on the yacht expressed regret at the Colonel’s departure.
‘We couldn’t take you down to Tobermory, or Oban?’ Philip Reeder asked.
‘No, Skipper, though thank you kindly—for that, and for all the rest. This trip has been most valuable; I couldn’t have done these jobs nearly so fast by any other means—and without my interpreter,’ he said, with a smile at Julia.
When he had packed, and Colin had stowed his effects in the dinghy, Julia rowed him ashore again—Colin volunteered to do this, but his sister told him crisply that she needed him to peel potatoes for supper.
‘Do let them say Goodbye in peace, you dope,’ Edina said, as they went below.
‘Oh Lord! Don’t tell me she’s starting something up with Jamieson,’ Colin said gloomily. ‘I don’t want all my bosses moping over Julia. Torrens was bad enough.’
‘I expect all the uncommitted ones she ever meets will mope over her,’ Edina said, cheerfully.
‘She oughtn’t to let them,’ Colin said, rolling up his sleeves and addressing himself to a bowl of potatoes.
‘She can’t help it. And as long as she’s so useful to them, I expect moping over Julia will be an occupational hazard in the Secret Service.’
In the dinghy—‘Where are you going now?’ Jamieson asked.
‘To Loch Erisort tonight, I suppose. After that back to Glentoran, gradually—Philip never likes to be away from the farm for very long.’
‘Well do look out for yourself,’ he said seriously. ‘If you see those three types again anywhere, avoid them. If that boat is in any harbour, don’t go ashore alone. Will you promise me that?’
She was startled by his tone.
‘Why, do you think they’re murderous?’
‘All Russians are murderous! No really, Julia—I mean this. Will you promise?’
‘Yes, I promise.’
But she had a question she wanted to put to him; she slackened her rowing while she did so. ‘Colonel Jamieson——’
He interrupted her. ‘Must you call me that? Can’t you use my Christian name?’
‘I might if I knew it, but I don’t,’ Julia said, with her irrepressible giggle.
‘My name is Philip.’
‘Then why do they call you Jimmie?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Colin told me—when I took the trouble to ask him your Christian name!’
‘When did you ask him?’
‘I shan’t tell you! Anyhow I did. Well now, Philip’—but her expression changed as she spoke; the question she wanted to ask was far removed from the gaiety of this brief exchange. She hesitated.
‘Well what, Julia?’
‘After we get back to Glentoran I shall be going to London and I shall be seeing darling Mrs. Hathaway.’
‘Oh, such a remarkable person.’
‘Yes. But the dear old Prof. had been a sort of long-range worshipper of hers for years and years.’
‘Well?’
‘What I was wondering was whether I might give her some inkling of all this beastly trouble? It will be a fearful shock if anything comes on her out of the blue.’
‘Have you any idea how long Mrs. Hathaway has known him?’
‘Oh, fifty years at least, at a guess—I don’t know for certain.’
‘Known him really well? Has had his confidence?’
‘Most people who know Mrs. H. give her all their confidence!—so I expect he has.’ Suddenly the girl looked sharply and suspiciously at Jamieson; she stopped rowing altogether. ‘But if you think I’m going to pump her about him for you, you’re greatly mistaken,’ she added coldly.
‘That was not my idea at all,’ the Colonel said. ‘I was thinking that if she has known old Burbage so well, for so long, she might be a valuable witness for the defence, if it came to that; she might be aware of all sorts of extenuating circumstances.’
‘Those wouldn’t be needed, if his treachery can’t be proved,’ Julia said rather sharply.
‘Quite so.’ He paused, reflecting. ‘Look, I will go as far as this. Please listen carefully, and remember what I say. You may tell your old friend that you met him, digging away—and you may also tell her of the local suspicions about him.’
‘And the trawler and so on?’
‘Yes, you could mention that—but not what it is all about.’
‘Nor that he is under suspicion in London?’
‘Not at this stage. It would only complicate matters. But if she were to open up, as very likely she might to you, you might refer her to me. I’m in the Telephone Book—a Flaxman number.’
Julia looked, and felt, very unhappy. She began to row again. ‘How beastly all this is,’ she said, pulling at the oars.
‘My dear, the modern world is very beastly. Are you quite clear as to what you may, and may not, say?’
‘Yes, perfectly. I won’t forget.’ She rowed in to the quay; the Colonel humped his effects ashore, and stood looking down at her.
‘Aren’t you coming up?’
‘I think I won’t. Philip will be hotching to get away.’ That was not her real reason. ‘Goodbye,’ she said.
‘Au revoir— I hope very soon,’ Jamieson said. He stood for some time watching the easy movements of her body as she rowed back to the yacht.
Chapter 6
The Mary Hathaway made a leisurely return to Glentoran. They headed for Lochmaddy in North Uist—Edina wanted to get some tweed from a particular old woman there. Having secured her tweed she suggested that they should put in to Inch-Ian again—‘She’s fun, and he loves seeing people, poor old boy.’
‘Too long a run for one day,’ her husband said.
‘Then let’s go to Canna again, and ring them from there. I should like a bath!’
Getting baths is one of the major preoccupations when sailing. Edina knew that the supply of hot water at the MacIans was inexhaustible, and she hadn’t had a hot bath for ten days. So to Inch-Ian they went, and, after baths for four people, ate one of Lady MacIan’s splendid meals.
In the West Highlands the grape-vine is an exceptionally well-grown plant. Julia, talking kindly to the deaf old Laird, but keeping her ears pricked for the rest of the conversation in the big drawing-room, was hardly surprised to hear Lady MacIan saying to Philip—‘Who was the very good-looking man you took on board at Tobermory, after poor Captain Benson left you? What a shame he was so seasick!’
‘He was much more use than Benson,’ Philip Reeder said bluntly. ‘He’s crewed several times in the Fastnet race. We should have been badly off without him going round the Butt on a jury-rig—that wretched woman my wife collapsed completely, and I had to nurse her.’
‘My poor Edina! What was wrong with you?’
‘Captain Benson’s complaint,’ Edina said, with a bleak little grin.
‘It takes her pretty badly sometimes,’ Reeder continued. ‘I was almighty glad to have someone competent to hand over to.’
Julia listened to this w
ith all her ears. Was Philip withholding the Colonel’s name on purpose? And would he get away with it? Lady MacIan was a strong-minded woman, with the persistent curiosity of people who lead isolated lives in lonely places; she wouldn’t be satisfied, the girl guessed, till she had the name.
She was right.
‘But you still haven’t told me who this competent helmsman was,’ their hostess said to Philip.
‘Oh, one of Julia’s innumerable boy-friends! He was in Tobermory, and we picked him up and took him along.’
Over to me!—Julia thought. Again she was right; Lady MacIan came across and asked her husband if he would have some more coffee? While she was fetching back his refilled cup Julia just had time to decide how to answer the question that she saw was coming. Lady MacIan would have picked this up in Tobermory, so the reply was plain.
‘And who is your handsome admirer, Julia?’ Lady MacIan asked, settling her husband’s cushion in place behind his back.
‘He’s a Mr. James,’ Julia said. She avoided looking at her companions. ‘In fact Philip exaggerates a little—he’s only a semi-boy-friend.’
‘My dear, what strange nuances you all go in for nowadays. “A semi-boy-friend”! I wish I knew what that means.’
‘In Vienna they would call it a Verehrer, who has neither got his congé, nor been accepted,’ Colin put in, coming unexpectedly to Julia’s help.
Lady MacIan turned to the young man in rather vexed astonishment.
‘What on earth do you know about Vienna, Colin?’ she asked, startled. She had an instinctive feeling that there was some kind of conspiracy among her guests to thwart her interest in Julia’s new young man.
‘Lived there in a family to learn the language—learnt the language, and quite a bit about the local mores,’ Colin replied, grinning.
Lady MacIan gave up Mr. James as a bad job, and changed the subject. The broken boom, the subsequent delay in Loch Roag, and the visit to Callernish had all been dealt with exhaustively during luncheon—now she asked whether they had seen Professor Burbage when they were at Callernish? ‘I hear he’s doing some excavations near there.’