The Alien

by Josephine Bell

  “I can see that you’ve suffered too much,’’ she said. “You’ve forgotten how to love. You’ve been betrayed too often.’’

  He shook his head and smiled.

  “You must ask Louise if I have forgotten how to love.’’

  Again she was outraged, but now she reminded herself that she must not expect her standards to be his. He was, after all, a Pole, a foreigner. So she forced a smile and moved a little away from him, out of the disturbing shelter of his arm.

  “I’m sorry,’’ she said again. “I do try to remember that I’m middle-aged and ought to behave as such. I suppose my life has been too easy. Colin has been too good to me – poor dear.’’

  “You must forgive me,’’ Boris said, cautiously. “But it is by you he is so poor.’’

  He expected another outburst of shocked rage, but she only stared at him while her eyes filled again with sad tears.

  “Yes,’’ she said at last. “I deserved that. I have been unfair to him – too long.’’

  So now we can move on, Boris thought. The problem is resolved in terms of British sport. British fair play. At last Margaret is satisfied in her soul. Dear, silly, charming, formidable woman! She will play now according to the rules of the game. It is even possible that she has always loved her husband, cheating herself as much as she has cheated him. But that was one of the mysteries of her Englishness, that he was not qualified to probe. And, dear God, how little he wished to probe it!

  There was a long silence between them. Boris felt that it would be better, as a mark of respect to her recent exposure of herself, as a mark too of his very real regard for her, that she should herself lead the conversation back on to easier ground. She did so, very suddenly, going with common sense and adult concern, to the question of his own future.

  “This business of extradition,’’ she began. “Of course it’s nonsense. John Carfax told me not to worry when I rang him up.’’

  “You were so anxious about me?’’

  “Naturally. Colin was, too. He was quite upset.’’

  “That was very nice of Colin.’’

  “He is nice. He said it was monstrous. I think he’s been seeing John, too, but of course he never tells me anything about what he does at the F.O.’’

  “I thought,’’ Boris said, carefully, “that when I came to England I would find peace and safety. But that is wrong. There is no peace, no safety. Three times I have been attacked. They have failed, but they will not always fail. Sometimes I think I should end it myself. This uncertainty. This fear! I have the means …’’

  He put his hand inside his jacket and drew out Stephen’s gun from its holster, slowly, watching her and the door and the open window now that he had once more exposed himself, armed, in this room.

  Margaret shrank away, horrified, with a hand at her mouth.

  “Suicide!’’ she whispered. “No, Boris, no! Not that! Anything – anything—’’

  The gun disappeared from his hand in an instant. He gave a great laugh.

  “You have only partly understood me,’’ he said. “Now I will tell you what we must do.’’

  Chapter Seventeen

  On Monday morning the newspapers carried indignant paragraphs stating that Boris Sudenic, the Polish seaman accused by the Soviet Government of theft and of deserting his ship, had been taken into custody pending a decision by the Home Secretary as to whether or not he should be deported. This unheard-of threat to an Iron Curtain victim was intolerable, most of the papers shouted.

  On Monday morning at ten-thirty exactly Stephen and Ann arrived separately at the house in Fawcett Street. The former carried a large suitcase. Margaret met them in the hall.

  “Colin’s here!’’ she said, in an urgent whisper. “Says he has a sore throat and won’t go in to work today for fear of spreading infection.’’

  “Honestly!’’ said Ann, fiercely.

  “That’s torn it,’’ Stephen muttered. “Where is he?’’

  “In the study. Come straight upstairs, both of you.’’

  “Up? Why?’’

  “The Ogdens haven’t left yet. Colin again.’’

  “Oh hell, he’ll wreck the whole thing!’’

  “Hush!’’

  Ten minutes later they crept down again. The Ogdens, dispatched together on a special shopping errand had now left, so the basement was free.

  “Can you manage?’’ Margaret said anxiously. “I ought to go up to look out for Boris.’’

  “I hope to God Colin doesn’t hear him arrive.’’

  “He’s almost certain to.’’

  “What about Louise?’’

  “She’s in it. She’s in her room at the moment. I’ll bring her down.’’

  Stephen considered.

  “We can’t alter anything till he gets here,’’ he said at last, with a helpless gesture.

  Ann said, “I know. I’ll go up the back way and meet him as he arrives. Bring him straight down here.’’

  “You do that.’’

  Stephen turned to his suitcase to get on with his own preparations. Margaret went upstairs to watch. Ann took a leather and began to clean the outside of the window in the area.

  At eleven o’ clock Boris arrived in a taxi, carrying a soft bag, bulging with clothes. He was intercepted by Ann, went quickly to the back door and into the kitchen. A very rapid conference followed, at the end of which Stephen left the house by the front door, Ann and Margaret went into the garden and up to the drawing-room french windows, which were open and Boris went up the kitchen stairs into the hall, where Margaret met him.

  At that precise moment Colin opened his study door. He had heard the taxi, he had heard the front door close. He had looked out of his window to see the back of a familiar figure turn into the tradesmen’s entrance. He had read his newspaper that morning and came at once to the obvious conclusion. But he did not expect to see Boris disappearing rapidly into the drawing-room followed by Margaret.

  She shut the door behind her quickly.

  “Colin saw you!’’

  Boris turned to Ann, speaking rapidly, with complete authority. “He will come here at once. Ring for the ambulance from his room. To the end of the road. You understand? Stephen must not be discovered. It cannot wait. At once, Ann!’’

  “What is the meaning of this?’’ Colin said icily, from the doorway.

  Ann slipped past him, shutting the door behind her.

  “The meaning of what?’’ asked Margaret, in a high unnatural voice.

  “Sudenic,’’ Colin went on, ignoring her. “What are you doing in my house?’’

  “I come to take my leave,’’ answered Boris, quite truthfully.

  “You are reported in the papers as being under arrest.’’

  “These British newspapers,’’ Boris said, lightly. “They must always have the great story, the drama.’’

  “Are you telling me the report has no foundation whatever? Or that you have managed to avoid arrest? In which case you have no right to be in my house, compromising me and my wife.’’

  “Colin!’’ said Margaret, “for God’s sake don’t be so damned pompous!’’

  “You’re hiding him,’’ Colin said, furiously. “D’you think I didn’t see the bobby who’s just been here—’’

  “Bobby?’’ asked Boris, with maddening politeness.

  “Cop. Robert. Police officer. Went out of the front door a minute or two ago. Making inquiries, I suppose?’’ He turned to Margaret. “And all the time you had this man hidden and handed out a pack of lies! Didn’t you? It’s – it’s monstrous!’’

  Ann slipped into the room again, signalling success. Boris, half turned away, looked quickly at his watch. Eleven-thirteen. The deadline was eleven-fifteen. He whirled round, despair and fury in his face, his arms raised.

  “So!’’ he cried, on a high note. “You hunt me down, too? You hate me, all of you English! I upset you and your stupid idea of the law! Very well! It is the end! There is no escap
e, so I go my own way! I go NOW!’’

  The gun was in his hand. Margaret screamed out, “No, Boris! No, wait! Don’t do it! Don’t do it!’’

  Boris thrust his way past Ann, who stood by the door, her eyes shining, her mouth open. He slammed the door behind him, a shot exploded in the hall, there was a long wail, the front door crashed to, Louise tottered into the drawing-room and with her back to the hall, cried out, “He has shot himself! Mon Dieu, he has shot himself!’’

  Colin, appalled, rushed towards the door, pushing aside Ann and Louise, who both got in his way. He saw the hall empty, full of powder smoke and spattered with blood. He dived for the front door, but Margaret was between it and him.

  “You have driven him to suicide!’’ she cried in a terrible voice and fell forward into his arms.

  Colin held her, bewildered, indignant, trying to grasp the sequence of events that had led to this ghastly situation. He foresaw endless inquiry, criticism, condemnation perhaps. Why the devil did the chap have to pull a scene from a melodrama instead of taking a quiet pill or using the gas oven? Or the gun, if he preferred it, in his own flat?

  “Carry her to the sofa,’’ Ann was urging behind him.

  “I ought to go after – He’s made a muck of it—’’

  “Carry her in, Colin! You can’t put her down here, in the middle of his – of his blood!’’

  He groaned aloud. Ann said, with sudden pity for him, “I’ll look out. I’ll get help. You see to Margaret.’’

  He nodded and picking up the limp burden that was clinging to him with considerable strength by the arms wrapped about his neck, he laid her down on the drawing-room sofa and tried, without immediate success, to disentangle himself.

  When he managed it he found Louise at his elbow with a glass of water.

  “You give it,’’ he said, at last asserting himself.

  “I cannot! I dare not!’’ Louise was trembling, the glass shook, obviously she would slop it all on the carpet if he didn’t take it from her.

  While he was lifting Margaret’s head, Ann came back.

  “There’s a crowd at the end of the road,’’ she said, “and a cop in charge as far as I can see. They’ll have ordered an ambulance.’’

  Colin dropped Margaret’s head, which struck the sofa quite hard and sprang to his feet.

  “Look after her,’’ he said. “I must go to that poor devil. If he’s done for it’s my fault! I’ll never forgive myself!’’

  He tore out of the house. The three women clustered at the front window, staring down the road.

  “I can’t see the ambulance,’’ Margaret said, anxiously.

  “Colin’s doing a pretty good sprint,’’ Ann said, with admiration.

  “Oh yes, he can run. He was in the Varsity Sports when he was up. Won the half-mile his last year.’’

  “I hope—Oh, there’s the ambulance!’’

  “Thank God! I hope the crowd’s too thick for Colin to get through before they take him away. He’d be certain to spot Stephen.’’

  “Bill said he’d lay on enough of his own buddies to keep the real crowd out of range.’’

  Louise, who being the shortest could not really see anything from behind the backs of the other two, moved away. Margaret turned to her.

  “What did you do with the liver?’’

  “I put it back in the fridge.’’ She made a face of disgust. “How could I know the plate would have so much blood?’’

  “You certainly have rather overdone it. Never mind.’’

  “I think I will never eat liver again.’’

  Boris came into the room. He had worn, that morning, a dark navy-blue suit, a white shirt and a black tie. He was now struggling into a naval officer’s jacket, which was a little too tight for him across the shoulders. The jacket of his suit was stuffed into his open grip; a black brief-case lolled out of it and fell on the floor.

  “It goes according to plan?’’ he asked, as the three women clustered about to help him.

  “It does,’’ Ann said. “Colin’s filled with remorse and is trying to help. He ran down the road very fast. We couldn’t keep him.’’

  “Just as well,’’ Margaret said. “If he’d been in a fit state to notice he’d have seen I wasn’t a bit pale when I did my fainting act.’’

  “But the ambulance? If Colin sees Sergei it is all over. He will exclaim – protest—’’

  “I don’t think so.’’

  Stephen was at the door of the room, a hired policeman’s helmet in one hand, a handkerchief in the other, mopping his face.

  “Don’t worry, Boris,’’ he said. “The ambulance got there about two minutes after your friend did a most realistic fall on the pavement, just outside the crowd round Bill with the toy space-ships.

  He’s sold quite a few, by the way. That ploy worked like a bloody charm, Ann. People swarmed up from nowhere. Congratulations.’’

  “I knew Bill would play it fast,’’ she said, smiling proudly at her brother’s achievement.

  “You saw Sergei into the ambulance?’’ Boris demanded.

  “On to the stretcher. Daren’t stay any longer when Colin steamed up. He was on the stretcher, though, with his eyes shut, limp, really putting on a tremendous act, heavy breathing – the lot.’’

  He began to loosen his policeman’s jacket.

  “Did anyone see you come in here again?’’ Ann demanded. “I mean was there anyone in the street?’’

  “Not that I noticed. But I was concentrating on keeping my back turned to Colin. I’d better hide this stuff before he comes back.’’

  “In my room,’’ Margaret said.

  “Ann,’’ said Boris. “The car that Carfax will send should now be in the lane beyond the garden. Will you go to find out, please?’’

  “Here,’’ said Margaret. “I’ll get you the key. It’s in the study.’’

  Ann followed her out of the room. Louise flung herself into Boris’s arms, crying freely.

  “You go now and I shall never, never see you again!’’

  He held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring to her in French and Polish.

  “My darling, it was always to be like this. My little love, you have been so good to me. I shall not forget you, but you must forget me. You will marry Franz soon. Promise me.’’

  She nodded. She had few illusions. She knew she would be replaced, but she thought it might be true that he would not forget her.

  They kissed, long and tenderly and drew apart as Margaret came back into the room.

  “Ann has gone to the garden door,’’ she said. “Oh, here she is. Well?’’

  “The car’s there,’’ Ann said. “Waiting.’’

  “Then it is goodbye.’’ Boris kissed Ann gravely, watched without rancour by Stephen, who had just come back into the room, dressed in his own clothes.

  “Stephen. Thank you for all you have done and will do.’’

  They shook hands firmly, Stephen silent, having no words to express his sudden desolation.

  Boris turned to Margaret, put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her, too, as he had kissed Ann, with affection and respect.

  “All my friends,’’ he said and left it at that.

  Margaret stepped forward to go with him across the lawn, but he held out his hand to Louise and together they moved down the steps from the balcony, then separating the girl went first across the grass, with Boris, his naval cap on his head, following. The other three watched from the windows.

  “Christ, he’s wearing it like a damned beret!’’ Stephen groaned.

  His heartfelt complaint broke the tension. They laughed, relaxed, began to feel the triumph of their plans.

  “He’s off,’’ Ann said. “That’s the car starting.’’

  He had gone. Louise came back over the lawn, her head rigid, staring in front of her.

  “Poor child!’’ Margaret said. Ann and Stephen exchanged a look but said nothing.

  Louise went in through t
he back door and when she had shut it she leaned against it, not crying, but silently tearing up her heart into small pieces – for the waste-paper basket.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Look who’s here!’’ Stephen said, suddenly.

  John Carfax’s head rose up the balcony steps. He walked in through the french windows.

  “What have you lot been up to?’’ he asked, pleasantly.

  They looked at each other, suddenly seeing their exploit in a ridiculous light.

  Margaret said, indignantly, “Where have you sprung from, John? Barging in here with an awkward question?’’

  “I was in the car, of course. Going to see your friend off. But he gave me a rather garbled account of some strange doings in this house and up the road and mentioned Colin, so I decided I’d be more useful here, perhaps. He’s quite capable of looking after himself.’’

  Stephen began to laugh, but checked at once.

  “Anything funny in that?’’

  “Well, there is, actually.’’

  “We’re a bit above ourselves,’’ Ann said, half giggling herself. “Can’t we tell him, Margaret?’’

  “There’d be no harm now, I suppose,’’ she answered. “Better tell him now before Colin comes back.’’

  Stephen went to the front window.

  “What the devil’s keeping him?’’ he said. “The street’s empty now. The crowd’s gone.’’

  They told Carfax, each contributing his or her share of the conspiracy. As they built up the story its brilliance and ingenuity struck them afresh. At the end they sat looking at M.I.5, waiting for some acknowledgement of their skill.

  But they were disappointed. He merely turned to Margaret and said, “As I came up from the garden door I saw your ancient neighbour. She was showing signs of excitement.’’

  “Lady Cotville?’’

  “That who she is? I think you’ll have to square her, Margaret.’’

  “I’ll take her in some flowers this afternoon. I often do. What shall I tell her?’’

  “Talk openly about parking in this street. Say the police have told you visitors with cars must leave them in the mews. Say your naval visitor was a bit annoyed.’’