Presently, he returned carrying a small package, but, as he opened the door to where Alex and Teddy were waiting, they heard sustained wailing from somewhere beyond.
‘Have we come at an inopportune time?’ Teddy asked, with concern.
‘We have family in Poland, and have not been able to contact them or our friends since the invasion, so my mother is worried for their safety,’ he explained.
‘I am sure that they will be fine,’ reassured Teddy.
‘I thank you for that,’ replied Mr Feldman, ‘but, knowing what happened in Czechoslovakia, the Nazis do not much like us Jews, and many have suffered terribly at their hands. My uncle is a cultured man – a musical composer and teacher – who has never hurt anybody in his life, and his family are delightful. We worry about their safety.
‘Anyway, I should not burden you with our troubles; it is unforgivable of me when this should be the happiest time of your lives. Let me show you what we have made.’
Mr Feldman opened the package in front of him and hinged back the lid of the small, leather-clad box in front of him. ‘I sincerely hope you will forgive the presumption, but when my father saw the quality of the stone and its colour, he thought its beauty did not complement the ring that you chose. He has fashioned a ring of similar style but in platinum, and I hope you agree that it sets off the diamond far better.’
He placed the ring onto the velvet mat in front of him, and Teddy looked downwards and gasped. She picked it up and tried it for size on the third finger of her left hand; it fitted beautifully, and when she inspected it carefully, a tear rolled down her cheek.
‘Alex, darling, look.’ She showed the ring to him.
When he saw what the jeweller had created, he realised that Mr Feldman’s father had been perfectly correct in making the ring from platinum. The slight colour of the stone shone through, and the refraction of the light almost lit up the room as much as it lit up Teddy’s face.
‘Mr Feldman, your father is a genius, and this ring is truly spectacular; thank you so much. Would it be possible to thank your father also?’ she asked.
‘My father does not choose to meet our clients normally, but I will ask.’ Mr Feldman left the room momentarily. He returned, and with him came the elderly gentlemen whom they had last seen two days previously, and who had handed Alex the card with Mr Feldman’s address.
‘I thought…’ began Alex.
‘My parent’s home,’ Mr Feldman confided, ‘belonged to my uncle until he died, and my mother will not allow us to change the door plate. My father observes the Sabbath more than do I.’
‘Mr Feldman, my fiancée and I thank you most warmly for the most exquisite ring that you have made for us. We shall forever be in your debt. Thank you, again.’
‘Ya s udovolstviem delal jeto kolzo dlya takoj krasivoj pary, [I made this ring gladly, for such a beautiful couple,]’ he told them in Russian.
Alex responded, ‘Spasibo bol’shoye, [Thank you very much,]’ and he smiled warmly at the old man, wondering how he knew that Russian was his mother tongue.
The younger Mr Feldman told Alex in Russian that his father had guessed that he was from the motherland when he had opened the door to them on Saturday, and that was why they were keen to help. Mr Feldman explained that his father had previously worked for Fabergé, even on the Imperial Easter eggs, but had left Russia in 1910 to join Fabergé’s branch in Oxford Street. He had left after the Bolsheviks nationalised the company, and the family had lost the rights to the business, but he was proud that his father’s cypher ‘ΛΦ’ (LF) was stamped on some of Fabergé’s most beautiful items. He himself, however, had been born in London.
No money changed hands, and Mr Feldman assured Alex that he would forward the account in due course. Alex and Teddy thanked the jewellers once more and shook their hands.
Teddy bestowed a kiss on the cheek of old Mr Feldman, and mouthed, ‘Thank you’ to him, which he acknowledged by smiling and nodding his head.
The happy couple left the terraced house and began their onward journey. When they were back on Bond Street, Teddy asked Alex what had just occurred, so he told her that the elder Mr Feldman was a renowned Russian jeweller who had come to England before the Great War to work with the most famous of all Russian jewellers in their London premises.
‘I have never believed in Providence, but I may change my opinion. What made us knock on that particular door? What guided you to me, my precious? There is too much good fortune in my life that is inexplicable. Perhaps I should believe in destiny?’ he conjectured.
‘I certainly believe in it!’ Teddy asserted, ‘Most definitely!’
*
They made their way onto Regent Street, heading towards Piccadilly Circus when the dismal moan of the air-raid siren caused them to be shepherded into Dickins and Jones department store by an air-raid warden, and then into the sub-basement by members of the store’s staff. They were pleasantly surprised to discover that a cafeteria had been set up by the store’s catering department, and that cups of tea and sandwiches were available for those sheltering.
It was forty minutes before a commissionaire entered the basement, and he told those sheltering that the all-clear had sounded and that they could now leave. A captain who was also taking refuge with his young lady asked the commissionaire what damage the air raid had caused.
‘None, as far as I can see, sir,’ he was told, ‘It was probably another false alarm.’
Alex and Teddy left the department store and emerged back out onto Regent Street and into glorious sunshine.
Could this be the Indian summer that was promised, and had thus far not occurred? Alex wondered optimistically. It was undoubtedly a much better prospect than two days previously when the torrential rain had seemed to herald the start of autumn.
The couple went window-shopping in the West End, and even tried on a few traditional and contemporary outfits at different shops. As they strolled down New Burlington Street, Alex found that they were at the junction of Savile Row, and he recalled that there was a uniform supplier to which he had been recommended to have a better uniform made. Hawkes & Co. was not difficult to find, as it were located right at the end and on the left, on the corner of Vigo Street.
When they entered the store, Alex was impressed with the air of quiet efficiency, and he explained his requirements to the tailor. Even though Hawkes handled the tailoring for very senior officers, Alex, holding the lowliest commission in the navy, received no less attention than if he had been the Admiral of the Fleet. On the recommendation of the tailor, Alex ordered three uniforms (the formal dress, known unofficially as ‘undress’ kit; a mess kit, sometimes referred to as ‘mess undress’; and the general duty uniform, like the one that he already possessed), plus a greatcoat. Alex did not order the white tropical dress that the tailor also suggested, although he promised that if he were posted anywhere hot, he would return and arrange it.
Teddy was seated in the store while Alex went into a curtained cubicle, where the tailor took his measurements in great detail, double-checking several for accuracy. It took over an hour to finish measuring him, by which time Teddy was becoming a little fidgety as she felt slightly out of place within the refined masculinity of the store. After the tailor was fully satisfied with the measurements, Alex took the opportunity to order several accessories, including shirts, which Hawkes did not make themselves but for which they had an arrangement with a “proper” shirt maker in Jermyn Street. Indeed, the only element of the uniform that Hawkes could not supply was shoes, but they recommended John Lobb of St James’s Street. It was too late to do so that afternoon, but Alex hoped to visit before he left for Finland.
The tailor was apologetic, saying that the uniform would take a while to be made due to the number of gentlemen seeking outfitting at that time, but, with a little coaxing, Alex persuaded the tailor to arrange the first fitting for that Friday,
with any further appointments undoubtedly postponed until his first leave.
Alex and Teddy left Savile Row, and, taking note of the time, decided to collect their thoughts over afternoon tea at the Palm Court at the Ritz hotel in Piccadilly, so they made their way quickly towards Green Park, and to the most famous and lavish of hotels.
*
Typically, the Palm Court was a favourite of ladies and their gentlemen friends, and this may have been the case when Alex and Teddy arrived, but it was noticeable how many uniforms were in the room, and the lowliness of Alex’s rank relegated him firmly to the bottom of the pecking order. It looked as if they were to be disappointed when a squawk from a nearby table heralded the rising of a statuesque young lady, who headed in their direction braying, ‘Air, hairlair!’ in one of those awful upper-class drawls of greeting.
‘Oh, heavens,’ muttered Teddy under her breath, but with sufficient venom that Alex heard the comment, ‘Daphne Fox-Bruton!’
‘Theodora Palmer, as I live and breathe,’ declared Teddy’s erstwhile acquaintance, ‘God, it must have been ages!’
The look on Teddy’s face suggested that the “ages” had not been long enough by several decades, but she smiled demurely and asked, ‘Daphne! How are you?’
‘Oh, I’m always fine. Come and join us; Johnno’s treating us as he is off to some God-awful place up north, called Catterick, at the end of the week.’ She even emphasised “up north” in an awful parody of the Yorkshire accent.
‘Darlings!’ She called her table’s attention. ‘Look who I’ve found!’ With a dramatic sweep of her arm, she encompassed her fellow guests.
Teddy smiled at the group.
Daphne went on, ‘Now you know Johnno, of course…’
A major in uniform rose, and he kissed Teddy’s cheek warily, probably remembering their last encounter when he had made a thinly veiled pass at her and been rewarded with a less thinly veiled crushing of his toes under Teddy’s stiletto.
‘And do you know Margot Lloyd-James and her husband Clive,’ offered Daphne.
Teddy seemingly knew Margot, but not her husband; nevertheless, she nodded at the squadron-leader husband and smiled as if they were the best of friends reunited.
‘You must remember Felicity Ball, who was a couple of years ahead of us in school, but dreadfully popular. Her chap’s already with his regiment. And who is this?’ Daphne acknowledged Alex’s presence for the first time.
Teddy was tempted to introduce him formally, but resisted and merely said, ‘Alex Carlton, my fiancé.’
If Daphne was surprised, she hid it well. Sizing Alex up as a farmer considers a prize heifer that he is contemplating buying, she exclaimed, ‘Well, darling, didn’t you do well!’
They all shuffled around the table, and Daphne commanded a waiter to bring two more chairs and place settings; even though it was cramped, they all sat down and drank champagne cocktails. Tea, it seemed, was not fashionable with Teddy’s friends. The conversation was lively but entirely foreign to Alex, and he was grateful when Margot’s husband, Clive, engaged him in conversation, although Alex thought the interest level slightly dropped when he was unable to confirm that he was one of the Lincolnshire or Northamptonshire Carltons.
Daphne and Johnno – unforgivably, due to being the hosts – were the first to depart, citing a prearranged engagement as their excuse. This left Margot, Felicity and Teddy to go and powder their noses together, causing Clive and Alex to remain alone at the table.
‘Have you known your fiancée long?’ enquired Clive in the manner of small talk between acquaintances.
‘A few months,’ Alex responded tactfully.
‘Do you know about her brother, Toby?’ ventured Clive.
‘Yes, I knew Toby as well,’ confirmed Alex.
‘A damned shame, what happened to him, and a waste of a bloody good pilot,’ Clive continued, gaining the interest of Alex more.
‘Yes,’ Alex cautiously replied, ‘still, accidents happen.’
‘That was no bloody accident,’ Clive declared; he was clearly sufficiently lubricated with champagne cocktails to sail close to the wind of discretion. ‘Stupid waste!’
‘We had heard rumours,’ Alex left the door open for Clive to expand on what he had said.
Not able to contain himself, now that he was on a roll, Clive continued, ‘You know what happened, of course?’
‘Not in detail; as I say, there have been rumours and speculation, but nobody seems to be certain.’
‘Oh, there is certainty,’ Clive said with bitterness, ‘It was an utter cock-up from start to finish!’
Alex looked at him enquiringly, silently urging Clive to continue his indiscretions.
He beckoned Alex closer. ‘Strictly entre nous, old man,’ he confided, ‘it should never have happened. We thought that what they were testing was bloody useless, but we were told to give it a proper assessment, so we fitted it in another Blenheim, and Toby was instructed to find it, undetected, and jump them.
‘Toby was too bloody good; he found the other aircraft all right, and he jumped it as expected, but the other pilot overreacted, and the aeroplanes collided.
‘The sad thing is that the fool of a pilot who caused the collision limped home and made his report. Toby’s aeroplane went into the drink, and that was the last that anyone saw of him.’ To illustrate his story, Clive used his hand to demonstrate an aeroplane crashing.
‘Yes,’ Alex lied, ‘that was pretty much the story that the RAF told Toby’s family. What happened next, though?’
‘Well, the wing commander wanted to court-martial the other pilot, but Group overruled him; somebody higher up had put pressure on them, d’you see?’ Clive revealed.
Alex was astonished that Clive had been so indiscreet, and he was in a dilemma about whether to tell Teddy what he had learned. On the one hand, it was the right of Teddy and her family to know Toby’s fate, but, on the other, the knowledge would not bring him back.
The girls returned from the powder room, and with much kissing of cheeks, the party broke up, with congratulations offered to Alex and Teddy on their engagement, and vague promises to meet up in the future, which nobody had any intention of honouring. Alex and Teddy made their unsteady way out of the hotel, and, as they stepped onto Piccadilly, Teddy lost her footing, and Alex caught her deftly in his arms.
‘Phew!’ she exclaimed, ‘Drinking champagne cocktails in the afternoon when one hasn’t eaten anything much, does not aid one’s balance!’ Teddy giggled mischievously, clutching onto Alex’s arm for support.
Alex concluded two facts: first, even a gentle stroll through Green Park and St James’s Park would prove a challenge to Teddy’s equilibrium, and, second, she needed to be considerably less inebriated before they met Jeffers. They still had an hour and a half before the meeting, so anything was possible.
*
It took Alex almost all of the available spare time to sober Teddy up, and he was obliged to hail a taxi to take them to the Army and Navy Club, to avoid being late, and they arrived early enough to be polite but not so soon as to cause embarrassment. The commander had come earlier, and the club steward had to fetch him from the member’s bar; after he had signed his guests into the club register, they all made their way to the stranger’s dining room.
Alex did not enjoy the meal; he was preoccupied with Clive’s earlier revelations, but Teddy was in good form, and she charmed Commander Jeffers outrageously. The commander responded similarly, and it was not long before Alex began to feel left out of the private interaction between his fiancée and his boss. He retracted further into his shell of reflection, and the others either did not notice or were being too polite to mention his distraction.
*
On the way home, Teddy still appeared unconcerned. ‘What a frightfully nice man; you are so fortunate to have him as your chief,’ she gabbled away
, snuggling close to him.
Alex mused at the English use of contradictory adjectives as intensifiers to emphasise statements. He neither considered Commander Jeffers to be “frightful” nor did he consider his fortune in reporting to the commander as being “awful”. It amused him momentarily and caused a wistful smile to brighten his demeanour.
They made it safely back to Teddy’s flat, and made preparations to retire for the night. Eventually, as they were lying in bed, Teddy sensed that Alex’s mind was elsewhere, and asked playfully in a shy and innocent manner, ‘What’s the matter, Lieutenant Carlton? Don’t you love your Teddy anymore?’
Instead of answering, Alex asked another question, ‘That Clive Lloyd-James, whom we met at the Ritz, what do you know of him?’
‘Nothing, really,’ she replied, wondering at his sudden interest in the man that they had met earlier, ‘I knew Margot vaguely at school, and heard she had married some RAF, but I only met him today. Why?’
‘Perhaps it does not matter…’ Although it was clear that Alex thought that it did. ‘I just wondered whether you knew anything about him? I thought I recognised him from somewhere, is all,’ Alex explained.
‘Margot said that she was worried about him and that he expected an overseas posting soon,’ she recalled, trying to be helpful. ‘He’s ostensibly some type of technical boffin to do with aeroplane design. I don’t think he flies.’
‘It’s probably nothing.’ Alex drew the conversation to an end by leaning over and kissing Teddy. ‘Goodnight, my darling; I’ve an early start tomorrow.’ With that, he turned over and fell asleep almost instantly.
Teddy was confused, not least because this was the first night together when he had not wanted her but she was also concerned at his interest in Clive Lloyd-James. It was a worried Teddy who drifted into sleep, and the misguided thoughts of her subconscious helped ensure that her slumber was not restful.
XVII
Simon’s office was a mess the next day when Alex called first thing; filing cabinets had been emptied and their contents packed into crates that littered the floor, the desk had been cleared and similarly packed, and the shirt-sleeved Simon was sitting at his desk sifting paper.
Winston's Spy Page 17