Dominion

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘Well, maybe you could have changed my mind, if you’d ever bothered to try. I’ve changed it on my own, anyway. I know now you’ve got to fight.’ Her eyes were full of sorrow. ‘Even though I know the violence will corrupt you all, because it always does.’

  ‘It’s been hard—’

  Her voice rose angrily again. ‘You decided to keep me out of it, as you’ve kept me out of everything since Charlie died.’

  He said, ‘I never realized – what it must have been like for you, in the house, alone. I’m sorry—’

  ‘Don’t pretend it was for my sake you didn’t tell me, don’t pretend it wasn’t the easier thing for you to do. I’ve been blind for years,’ she added, bleakly. ‘Because I loved you so much.’ She stared into his miserable face. Her voice rose again. ‘Was that why you started working for them, because Charlie was dead and I wasn’t enough? Because you needed something else?’

  He shouted back, ‘No! It was because the persecutions had started and I’m Jewish!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She stared at him blankly. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  He came closer, gripping Sarah’s wrists. ‘My mother’s family came to Ireland from Eastern Europe. Long before she met Dad. I didn’t know until she died, Mum and Dad kept it secret so I wouldn’t experience prejudice. Dad persuaded me to go on keeping it secret.’ He looked at her levelly. ‘He was right. If they’d known who she was then later I’d’ve been kicked out of the Civil Service, I’d be in one of those detention camps now. You know the rules; half a Jew is still a Jew.’

  She pushed his hands away, stood up, and began walking up and down the room. She felt stunned. ‘You’re a Jew. You’ve known that since before you met me and you kept it secret.’ She broke off. ‘You’re not circumcised—’

  ‘Mum wasn’t a believer. Nor was Dad. I’m not a Jew and I’m not a Catholic – according to any reasonable interpretation anyway. But where’s reason these days?’

  She stopped, looked at him. ‘All this time I’ve been married to a Jew. And you didn’t tell me.’

  He asked, ‘Would it have mattered to you?’

  She looked taken aback. ‘I’d have been surprised. Of course I would. But – you know me, you know I’ve always hated anti-Semitism.’

  ‘But even before 1940, we were all brought up with prejudice,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s always there, anti-Semitism sometimes comes out when you least expect it—’

  She shouted, ‘Not with me! Have you forgotten how my mum and dad brought me up?’

  ‘But Irene—’

  ‘Irene married a bigoted fool! You know what I think of him! But you didn’t trust me. All these secrets. You never trusted me with any of it. Never.’

  He stood up, stepped towards her again. ‘I’m sorry. I was just so used to nobody knowing. Sometimes for a while I’d forget it myself until the persecutions started. And everything else, it was all to protect you.’

  ‘The support I could have given you, the help, the love,’ she said despairingly. ‘None of that mattered, did it?’

  ‘I thought it was for the best.’

  Sarah thought it a miserable answer, nothing of love in it. She stood for a long moment facing her husband. Part of her wanted to reach out and stroke his face, soothe his desperate unhappiness; another part wanted to hit him. She closed her eyes for a moment. Then she turned practical; it was the only way she could cope at the moment and God knew there were enough questions about practicalities, too. She took a deep breath. ‘What’s going to happen tonight?’

  David took a deep breath. ‘A boat will be waiting to pick us all up a few miles from here at half past midnight. It’ll take us to an American submarine in the Channel. You, me, Frank and the two others I’m with. They’re all upstairs now.’

  ‘Frank was in a lunatic asylum. Is he fit to go? Does he want to go?’

  ‘Yes. He’s better than he was.’

  ‘Who are these other two?’

  ‘Ben, he was a nurse at his hospital, and – and Natalia, she’s the one in charge of our group.’ His voice faltered for a moment, and he took a deep breath. ‘Part of our cover is that Natalia and I are supposed to be husband and wife, and Ben and Frank my cousins; we’re all supposed to have come down here for an old aunt’s funeral. You and I are not supposed to know each other, by the way, we have to pretend.’

  ‘Pretend?’ Sarah laughed bitterly.

  He said, quietly, ‘I’m so sorry, Sarah. For everything. I . . .’

  Just then there was a knock at the door. Jane came in. She looked scared. She said, ‘I’m sorry, but please, please keep your voices down. You can be heard upstairs, and in the hotel next door, these walls are thin.’ She looked at David, her eyes wide with fear. ‘What you shouted out earlier—’

  ‘About being Jewish?’ David nodded fiercely. ‘Yes, that’s dangerous, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ll go up to my room.’ She looked at David. ‘Don’t come after me.’

  Jane followed her out, and said, ‘Please don’t think I’m interfering, only – you’ve got to be ready to go off tonight. You can’t be arguing and fighting, not tonight.’

  Sarah realized just how frightened Jane was. Her life was at stake here, too.

  In her room Sarah closed the door, sat on the bed and put her head in her hands. It had been as bad as she had feared, worse. She recognized that inside she had been hoping against hope for some explanation from David that would somehow make everything all right again. But he had lived in a world of deception and lies, not just since becoming a spy, but long before she’d met him. She had a feeling that even now he hadn’t told her everything. How could she ever believe him again?

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  FRANK AND BEN HAD BEEN playing chess again. Ben, soundly beaten, seemed determined to win at least one game but Frank had got bored and said he needed a break. He went and looked out of the window. He saw a tall woman walk up the empty street and turn towards the hotel. Then she stopped in her tracks, staring in at the ground-floor window. She seemed to hunch her body a little before going on to climb the front steps, passing out of view. Frank turned and said quietly, ‘Someone’s arrived. I think it might be David’s wife.’

  Ben was sitting on his bed, the chessboard on a little table. He joined Frank by the window.

  ‘She’s gone now,’ Frank said.

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Quite tall. Red-haired. Funny, not that pretty. I’d have expected David to marry someone pretty.’

  ‘Love disnae always go like that,’ Ben said. ‘Romance is no’ like in the films. Ye dinnae choose who ye love.’ There was a sadness in his voice. Frank thought, all I know of love is from the films. He sat on his bed again. Ben had given him another pill on the way to the hotel, but the odd peacefulness he had felt since his encounter with Churchill was more than that. It had been astonishing; the old man had seemed somehow to understand him. Frank was certain now that the Resistance people wouldn’t try to take his secret. But he knew the safety of their little group here was as precarious as it had been in London. And tonight, when they tried to get on the submarine, that would be the most dangerous time of all.

  Ben was looking at him curiously. ‘You all right there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ve been awfy quiet.’

  ‘What will happen to me if we get to America?’

  Ben lit a cigarette. ‘They’ll ask all about what your brother told you, that’s for sure. But you won’t be telling them anything they don’t know.’

  ‘I wonder what they’ll do with me then.’

  ‘Maybe they’ll give you a job working on the atom bomb. They love their super-weapons, the Americans. Almost as bad as the Germans.’

  Frank shook his head. ‘I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘I know. I wis just joking.’

  Frank pursed his lips. ‘I don’t want to see my brother again,’ he said. ‘I hope they don’t decide t
o – well – put me out of the way, because of what I know. Or put me back in a hospital.’

  ‘No, pal. You’ll be a hero, coming over to them, escaping the Germans. Maybe they’ll set you up in some nice, sunny, quiet wee town in California.’ But Frank knew Ben had no more idea than he did of what the Americans would do with him.

  ‘I wanted to die, before, but now – I think I’d like to live, if I can. But not back in a hospital.’

  ‘You won’t. I know it was hard there. There won’t be such harsh conditions under communism. Hell, there’ll be nae reason for people to get mental.’

  Frank didn’t reply. He had grown to like and admire Ben now he knew the risks he had run to save him, but he wished he didn’t get so misty-eyed about communism. ‘Now that bastard Hitler’s deid,’ Ben added, ‘things’ll change. You wait . . .’

  Then, through the floor, they heard shouting, a woman’s voice. Next David shouting back. ‘No! It was because the persecutions had started and I’m Jewish!’

  Frank and Ben looked at each other in astonishment. Ben whistled. ‘That’s a turn-up for the book. David? Jewish?’ He looked at Frank. ‘Did you know?’

  ‘I’d no idea.’

  Ben frowned. ‘They’d better stop yellin’ at each other like that, sound travels.’

  But there was no more shouting, just murmuring voices. Then they heard a door shut downstairs, and footsteps mounting the stairs rapidly.

  ‘They’ve got to get themselves sorted out,’ Ben said anxiously. ‘We need to be on the ball tonight.’

  Frank didn’t answer. An odd feeling of betrayal had stolen over him, just as it had when he had overheard David and Natalia making love in the O’Shea house. David was Jewish? All the time he knew David, he’d had this secret, too. He told himself it was stupid; David owed him no confidences. ‘Everyone thought David’s parents were Irish,’ he said.

  ‘They must have had Jewish blood and kept it quiet.’ Ben sighed. ‘People fake their ancestry all over the place these days. There’s parts of Scotland now, SNP strongholds, where if you’ve English blood you don’t talk about it.’ He made an angry, scornful sound. ‘Nationalism, what a world we’ve let it make.’

  ‘It’s strange. It feels – a shock. I suppose it doesn’t matter if someone is Jewish, does it?’

  ‘No. A lot of the best Communists have been Jews. Karl Marx himself, for example.’

  ‘Capitalists too,’ Frank said with a quiet smile. ‘Like the Rothschilds. And scientists, like Einstein. You know, the Nazi idea that there’s a conspiracy between the Bolsheviks and Jewish capitalists always seemed so crazy. Each hates the other’s system.’

  ‘That’s because Fascist ideology never makes sense, not if you ever really stop to think about it.’

  ‘Nothing does make sense, much,’ Frank observed sadly.

  Ben looked at him seriously. ‘You know David and Natalia were – well, you saw, when we all ran from the O’Sheas’, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Frank answered heavily, ‘I saw. Do you think David told his wife? Downstairs, just now?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so, or they’d have been shouting about that, too. But we can’t have the two of them going off like fireworks all over the place. I may have to have a word.’ He looked at Frank. ‘You’re a bit down in the mouth about it. Did ye have a bit of a fancy for Natalia yerself?’

  Frank smiled sadly. ‘No. She’s very attractive, but she’s –’ he laughed awkwardly ‘– real. I’ve only ever thought about film stars, unattainable people, in that way.’ He had reddened with embarrassment. ‘What about you? Do you like her?’

  ‘She’s a good leader. Clear-headed, fast. But no, she’s –’ Ben smiled wryly ‘– no’ my type.’

  ‘Haven’t you got someone?’ Frank asked. Ben had always seemed so focused on action, on what needed to be done next, that Frank hadn’t thought of him having a private life.

  Ben folded his arms on his chest. ‘No. Never met the right girl. Never met the right anybody.’ He gave a sad little laugh.

  ‘What would they be like if you did?’

  ‘Someone ma own class. But – nicer, gentler.’

  Frank frowned. There was something odd in the way Ben had put it, but he couldn’t quite grasp what. He said, ‘I can’t imagine what being married’s like. My father died before I was born. In the trenches.’

  ‘My parents are still alive, somewhere. Sod the pair o’ them.’

  ‘You didn’t get on?’

  ‘Let’s just say I wisnae what they expected.’

  ‘Married couples. I’ve only really met colleagues’ wives at the university. Christmas parties, things like that. Some seem happy, others you can see are miserable. You can’t blame David’s wife for being upset. If she never knew anything. That he was a spy, or Jewish—’

  ‘Not our business, Frankie boy. All that matters is keepin’ everyone focused. You too.’

  ‘Can you not give me a pill tonight? I want to be alert. In the fog, I got – confused.’

  ‘You sure? You won’t get twitchy?’

  ‘Not if we just leave it for a few hours.’ Frank smiled weakly. ‘I’ll have one on the sub.’

  Ben looked at Frank seriously. ‘Okay. But whatever happens, you stay with us this time.’

  ‘I will.’

  Half an hour later Frank heard footsteps in the corridor outside again, then Bert’s voice and a woman’s. There was a knock at the door and Bert and Jane came in, followed by the woman Frank had seen from the window, David’s wife. She looked tired, angry too. Bert was carrying his big map, rolled under his arm. He said, ‘We need to meet and talk about tonight. Get all the arrangements clear.’

  ‘I’ll get the others.’ Jane went out. Ben stepped forward, extending a hand. ‘You must be Sarah, David’s wife,’ he said cheerfully, for once playing down the Glasgow accent. ‘I’m Ben.’

  Sarah shook his hand. Her expression was wary, her pleasant voice cool as she asked, ‘How long have you been with my husband?’

  ‘First met him a fortnight ago, believe it or not. Feels like years though, doesn’t it, Frank?’

  Sarah looked at Frank intently. He imagined her thinking: you’re the one who brought all this about. Then she forced a smile and reached out her hand. ‘How do you do. My husband used to talk about you, the letters you wrote.’ She shook his hand gently; she had noticed its deformity.

  Frank said, ‘David’s been a good friend. For a long time.’

  ‘Please, sit down, sorry it’s all untidy,’ Ben said, all cheery politeness. ‘Two fellas sharing a room, you know what that can get like.’ He took a stray sock off the bed. Sarah sat down. The door opened and Bert and Jane came back in, followed by David and then Natalia. David looked at his wife. She stared back angrily. She turned to Natalia, smiling uncertainly. ‘I’m Sarah Fitzgerald,’ she said.

  ‘Natalia.’ The two women shook hands, Natalia looking at Sarah coolly. Frank realized Sarah didn’t know about her and David; he hadn’t told her. Bert spread the map on the other bed.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Tonight at ten thirty, Natalia will drive you all over to Rottingdean. There’s the coast road, here on the map, but we think it’s safer for you to drive north into the country and then come down into Rottingdean from there.’ He pointed at the map. ‘All clear so far?’ Everyone nodded. Bert continued. ‘There’s a path that leads under the cliffs from Brighton, too, but that’s exposed, no cover at all if anything goes wrong. When you get to Rottingdean you go to a house in the village where our man will meet you. You’ll all change into dark clothes, so you won’t be seen so easily, and then walk down to the cove. They’ll be thick clothes, it’ll be very cold out at sea.’

  ‘It looks like a small place,’ Sarah said, looking at the map.

  ‘It is. There’s a lot of posh houses up round the green, mostly retired people. Rottingdean’s always had a lot of writers and artists, people like that. Then along the High Street there’s shops, smaller hous
es. That’s where our man lives, he’s a retired fisherman. It’s a quiet place, nobody will be about on a cold December night. Then you make your way down to the cove.’ He looked round the little group. ‘From that point on, you’re all at risk, there’d be no cover story to explain a group of people going down to the beach at night in December.’

  Sarah shook her head slightly. David asked, ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing. I was just thinking how many identities I’ve had the last few days, how many sets of clothes.’ She looked at Bert. ‘You people have a lot of resources, don’t you? More than I’d ever thought.’

  ‘None of it has been easy,’ Natalia said, coldly. ‘I can promise you that. Everyone involved has exposed themselves to danger.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘People have died.’

  Sarah met her gaze, ‘I know. I’ve seen two people killed in front of me in less than a fortnight.’

  Natalia nodded at Frank. ‘Getting this man away is very important indeed. That’s what matters tonight, the rest of us are just passengers. It’s as well to be clear about that.’

  Sarah stared back. ‘I understand very well. I know what danger is, I’ve learned that very fast. I’m not a fool, so please don’t take me for one. Just tell me what to do.’

  Natalia inclined her head, a new respect in her look.

  Bert said quietly, ‘Natalia is the leader, you all do as she says. So far as we know, we’re safe. We’ve had people watching the cliffs, the village, the coastal path and out to sea. Nothing unusual has been happening. When it gets dark we’ll still have a few people on surveillance, from the cliffs. In case any unexpected boats appear.’

  Ben said, ‘It’s important for everyone tae move quickly and quietly.’ He looked at Frank.

  ‘Yes,’ Bert agreed. ‘The place will be asleep, you mustn’t wake anyone up. It’s going to be a quiet, clear night, there’ll be a half-moon. The sea’s like a millpond. Our man who’ll take you to the cove has got a rowing boat and he’ll start to row you out to the sub at twelve thirty. We’ve got precise coordinates, a spot about a mile out. Because the water’s shallow inshore the sub will be on the surface. It’ll take you on board. After that they’ll go out to deeper water, dive, and take you to an American ship out in the Atlantic.’