Chapter Forty-Three
Maureen
Once the house was empty, Maureen tracked Duff to the study where he had retired with the newspaper and a transistor radio.
She arrived, Pugsy in her arms, in time to hear the pips for the midday news, followed by ‘Lord Runciman has arrived in Czechoslovakia’ in the crisp tones of the announcer.
‘He has been sent by Prime Minister Chamberlain to mediate in the looming Sudetenland crisis …’ Cigarette smoke swirled around his head and the room was unbearably close.
The curtains had been pulled back, but badly; crooked – she wondered had Duff done it himself?
– so that the room was dingy in contrast with the brightness outside even though the garden doors were open.
‘May I come in?’ she asked, standing in the doorway.
‘I cannot stop you.’ Hardly a good start, she thought. He barely looked up as she entered. She had dressed with great care, a grey gingham dress that tied loosely at the neck. She knew he liked it but he said nothing now.
‘You haven’t told Chips you are leaving?’ she began. She knew that if he had, she would certainly have received a visit from Chips before he departed for his Roman ruins, lamenting that the balance of men to women was now a disaster, and insisting she do something to make Duff stay.
‘Not yet.’ Perhaps he had changed his mind, she thought. ‘I’m waiting on a telephone call.’
‘From who?’ For a terrible second, she wondered was it Marjorie. And what she would do if it was.
‘Churchill. He is to ring me this morning. There may be reasons why I need to stay a little longer.’
‘You’d stay for him, but not for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see.’ She let silence fall between them. Then, when it was clear he would not break it, as if he might even get up and walk away, to keep him she asked, ‘What does Churchill want?’
He closed the garden doors. ‘There is a man on his way to London from Berlin, von Kleist-Schmenzin—’
‘Such a mouthful, these German names,’ Maureen complained.
He ignored her interruption. ‘He’s an emissary, one of a growing number of Germans who want rid of Hitler.’
‘Why is he coming here?’
‘He’s looking for support. He thinks there’s enough resistance in Germany, if it can be mobilised and focused. He comes to talk to Chamberlain, who will not listen, and to Churchill—’
‘Who has no power.’
‘Who will listen.’ Again, he ignored her. ‘And so it may be that I am to stay, even though I have failed with Ambassador Kennedy—’
‘Not failed,’ Maureen tried.
‘Failed. But there may be new benefit to being here. A new plan to put into action.’
‘What new plan?’
‘Just a new possibility,’ he said evasively. ‘Something else to be considered. A chance that Chips has provided; all unknowing, of course.’ His lips twitched.
‘The ambassador again?’
‘No, not the ambassador.’
Maureen started to laugh then.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You are.’ She sat bolt upright. ‘This is. All of it. All this intrigue at a country party … I almost suspect Chips of starting it all, because he’s so afraid we shall find Kelvedon dull.
And so, instead, he has devised a Boy’s Own adventure, to keep you and the ambassador happy.
He should just lay on some grouse shooting. It would be so much easier.’
‘I assure you, it is deadly serious.’
‘You say that, because you need to believe it.’
‘And why do I need to believe it?’
‘Because …’ she spoke slowly, knowing how he would hate it, unable to stop herself, ‘if it’s true, then you are important, and correct in your judgement. But if it isn’t, well, you and Churchill are just two men who have backed the wrong horse, trying to redraw the race so that you will be right.’
‘How like you to see it in those terms.’ He said it so coldly. As though she were someone he barely knew. Someone he didn’t much like.
‘I came to ask you not to go.’ She had to force herself to say the words. No matter how much she wanted something, any appeal was hard for Maureen.
‘Well, it looks as though you may have got your wish without having to ask anything.’ He bowed stiffly in her direction. ‘Congratulations.’
‘But …’
‘You know,’ he said then, in a way that was almost conversational, so that she leaned forward eagerly, ‘I almost welcome it.’
‘Welcome what?’
‘War.’ He opened the double doors to the garden again so that she caught the grateful smell of wet grass.
‘How is that possible?’
‘An end to the talking, the trying and striving and scheming to prevent what in all probability cannot be prevented. For all that Kennedy thinks we’re eager for war, determined to rush towards it, that’s not true.
We too are trying to avoid it. Only not at any cost. But it’s like putting our hands up to stop a train or a tractor, some heavy engine that has begun to lumber downhill.
It cannot be stopped, only slowed. And so – a new phase, of action. ’
‘But you won’t fight. You said at lunch with the Devonshires that you would not.’
‘No. You said I would not. I said nothing.’
‘But you are under-secretary of state …’
‘And when war breaks out, I will resign and enlist.’
‘Duff! You must not! Why?’ It had never occurred to her that he would join up.
Through all that talk of war, she had always been a little indifferent.
Even watching that terrible film the ambassador had put on, she had felt remote.
Pity, of course, for the young men around her – poor Billy and Andrew, that fool Hugo – but it had been a pity without urgency.
She had felt safe in the knowledge that her father was too old, Sheridan a baby, and Duff secure in his government post. How, she thought suddenly, had she not realised that he would join? Of course he would.
‘Why?’ she said again, but without the same emphasis this time. It was a word to say, that was all. She knew why. He had told her – told them all – over and over. Only she had not listened. But now, instead of talking boldly of duty, honour, he said something quite different.
‘I am in a mess,’ he said, coming towards her.
‘Even I can see it. For all that your barbs are vicious, Maureen, they’re not wrong.
’ He raised his hands to his head for a moment and pressed his fingers into his temples.
‘That ghastly blunder yesterday. I know you began it but you’re right, I should have noticed and stopped it immediately …
Perhaps war will be a chance for me to begin anew.
A chance to make you proud of me. To make Sheridan proud. Caroline and Perdita too.’
‘I am proud of you,’ she said.
But he didn’t stay to hear her. He stepped out through the open doors onto the paved patio and into the blazing day. For a moment he was framed within the window, the sun behind him so that he was a dark silhouette. Then he set off across the garden.