Chapter One #2
‘The same, please,’ said Mrs Bainbridge.
The Brigadier stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, stood, gathered his drink and his hat, then led them through a door in the rear and down a narrow hall to the back where there was a kitchen with a small table and some chairs.
He motioned for them to sit. Hetty appeared a moment later with two pint glasses of shandy which she placed in front of the ladies, then vanished, closing the door behind her.
The Brigadier waited for a moment, then opened the door a crack to make certain she had gone back to her post behind the bar.
‘Good,’ he said, closing the door and locking it. ‘I won’t be keeping you long.’
‘Nice of you to pick a spot in our neighbourhood,’ said Sparks.
‘I like this pub,’ said the Brigadier. ‘It’s quiet, out of the way, and you can see who is coming with plenty of warning.’
‘And you have the use of the kitchen,’ observed Sparks. ‘Well, to absent friends.’
They held up their respective drinks for a moment, then drank.
‘Refreshing,’ commented Sparks. ‘Now tell us why we’re here.’
‘I need something done by someone outside of my department,’ said the Brigadier.
‘Why aren’t you using someone in your department?’ asked Sparks.
‘Because I am increasingly concerned about infiltration by communist sympathisers and double agents,’ he said. ‘The number of people in whom I have faith drops by the day.’
‘You have faith in me? That’s news,’ said Sparks.
‘I have faith in you, Sparks, because you quit the office rather than join in a project which in retrospect would have been a massive error had it been put into action,’ said the Brigadier. ‘My apologies for not elaborating, Mrs Bainbridge, but Sparks knows what I’m talking about.’
‘I’d rather not know any more than I already do,’ said Mrs Bainbridge.
‘And I have faith in you, Sparks, because of your willingness to throw yourself into situations that have occasionally run up against our own policies, and each time you have proved yourself in the right,’ continued the Brigadier. ‘Which is why I have protected you as much as I could.’
‘But you also found it useful to maintain my reputation as a renegade, haven’t you?’ asked Sparks.
‘I have,’ said the Brigadier. ‘That, along with your leftist background from your university days, and your contacts with a Soviet Intelligence operative last year, means that anyone looking into you might assume you had been turned, or are at least capable of turning.’
‘Why would a double agent be running a marriage bureau?’ asked Sparks.
‘It’s as good a front as anything. It allows you to meet people from all walks of life, including any level of His Majesty’s government.’
‘What specifically are you asking me to do?’
‘It would involve both of you, in fact,’ said the Brigadier.
‘And your marriage bureau. There is a man we’re concerned about who has been with our Far East operations based in Shanghai.
He’s transferred back home to work under the Foreign Secretary.
Bevin likes him, so he looks to be on the rise, and will have access to a number of ongoing operations and their personnel. Most importantly, he’s single.’
‘Ah,’ said Sparks. ‘I think I see where this is going.’
‘The Secretary prefers career civil servants to be stable and married,’ said the Brigadier.
‘I’ve personally never seen any causal connection between matrimony and stability, but there you are.
There are two parts to this plan. I want you to get this man to sign up for your professional services.
Then I want you to set him up with someone who can delve into his affairs. ’
‘A honeytrap?’
‘Not quite that involved. More of a sounding out in a way that will be less likely to set off his alarms. Once we’re satisfied, she’ll break it off, and, depending on which side he falls on, we’ll move in as appropriate.’
‘I have a question,’ said Mrs Bainbridge. ‘What if he proves to be loyal to the Crown? What does The Right Sort do with him then?’
‘If he’s loyal, go ahead and find him a proper bride,’ said the Brigadier with a shrug.
‘How are we supposed to recruit him?’ asked Sparks.
‘That’s the main reason I chose you,’ said the Brigadier. ‘You already know him.’
‘Who?’
‘Anthony Danforth,’ said the Brigadier, watching her closely.
‘Tony,’ she said, closing her eyes for a second. ‘Tony Danforth. I knew him at Cambridge.’
‘We know,’ said the Brigadier. ‘When is the last time you saw or heard from him?’
‘When he came back from Spain,’ she said. ‘Late ’38 maybe? We had dinner. He had plans to go to Singapore then. We exchanged a few letters, but we lost touch after that.’
‘I have to ask you this, Sparks, and it is absolutely essential that you be truthful with me,’ said the Brigadier. ‘Were you lovers?’
‘Lovers?’ she repeated. ‘No. Friends. Good friends for a while. But it never reached that level.’
Gwen willed herself to keep her expression blank as she watched her partner.
‘What I find interesting, knowing you as I do,’ said the Brigadier, ‘is that you haven’t leapt to his defence or attempted to dissuade me from this course of action.’
‘I’m not a wide-eyed student any more,’ said Sparks.
‘I fully respect the dangers of the world we live in. I know who Tony was then. I don’t know who he is now, but I think I know what he was capable of becoming.
And I think I know you well enough by now to know that you wouldn’t be asking me for help unless the situation was serious. ’
‘It is,’ said the Brigadier.
‘I also noticed that you have cloaked all of this in a semblance of choice, rather than pointing out the obvious.’
‘Which is?’
‘That you have us both under your thumb. If I said no right now, would you honour it?’
‘I would,’ said the Brigadier.
‘What do you think?’ Sparks asked her partner.
‘I follow your lead in this,’ said Mrs Bainbridge.
‘But what do you think?’ persisted Sparks.
‘I think that the Soviets are as great a threat now as the Nazis were,’ said Mrs Bainbridge. ‘If there is any small way I can help with the fight, I offer it.’
‘This isn’t small,’ said Sparks.
‘As I said, I follow your lead.’
‘Right,’ said Sparks. ‘I’m in. We’re in. Who’s playing the not-so-sweet honey?’
‘Someone new to my team,’ said the Brigadier. ‘So new that I’ve kept her separate from the rest. She’ll be showing up at your office to sign up within the next few days. After that, you’ll receive instructions on where to find Mr Danforth.’
‘And that has to be just me,’ Sparks said to Mrs Bainbridge.
‘Of course,’ replied her partner. ‘It wouldn’t make sense for both of us to run into him.’
‘Anything else I need to know?’ asked Sparks.
‘Not at the moment,’ he said, standing and reaching for his hat.
‘Are you well, sir?’ asked Sparks.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Since I last saw you, you seem thinner. And more tired.’
‘This work takes its toll,’ he said. ‘No need to concern yourself with my well-being.’
‘We need you to stay alive, sir,’ said Sparks. ‘You’re the one keeping me out of jail, remember?’
They re-entered the pub and deposited their empty glasses on the bar, the Brigadier leaving a healthy tip as he paid.
‘I was never here,’ he said to Hetty.
‘You’re always never here,’ said Hetty. ‘See you the next time you’re never here.’
‘You go ahead, ladies,’ he said. ‘It was a pleasure to see you as always.’
‘And you, sir,’ returned Sparks.
‘Goodbye,’ said Mrs Bainbridge.
They left, nodding to the patrons at the outside tables as they passed.
‘“A pleasure to see you as always”,’ muttered Iris. ‘I can’t think of a single time it’s been a pleasure. We do meet ’em, don’t we?’
‘We certainly do,’ agreed Gwen.
‘Was he telling us the truth in there?’
‘As far as I can tell,’ said Gwen. ‘He’s difficult to read. As are you when you’re talking to him, by the way. Your defences rise to a higher level.’
‘You were reading me?’
‘If I’m following your lead, I need to know where you’re going,’ said Gwen. ‘Especially if it’s anywhere dangerous.’
‘This shouldn’t be dangerous,’ said Iris. ‘We’re merely setting up the connection, then stepping back and letting it play out without us.’
They walked back to Edgware.
‘Was I telling the truth in there?’ asked Iris.
‘You should know better than I.’
‘I lie to myself as much as I do to anyone,’ said Iris. ‘Don’t hold out on me, Madam Cassandra, tell me my fortune.’
‘I once wanted to be a fortune teller, but there was no future in it.’
‘I’m being serious, Gwen.’
‘You were telling the truth – for the most part.’
‘Ah,’ said Iris. ‘Where did I go astray?’
‘When he asked if you were ever lovers.’
‘You thought I was lying.’
‘I thought you were being … ambiguous.’
‘It was that word. Lovers. I don’t think we were. Not really.’
‘But?’
‘But I think I answered a different question than the one he was asking.’
‘So do I,’ said Gwen. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
‘No,’ said Iris. ‘It doesn’t change anything. And here is where I turn off. Are you seeing Sally later?’
‘He’s working late tonight.’
‘Pity. I thought you’d be taking more advantage of Ronnie being away this summer.’
‘I have been. During our lunch hour. It’s a quick walk to his flat.’
‘So that’s where you’ve been going. I should have guessed.’
‘I thought you had.’
‘You always return looking as immaculate as ever. Let me think. You missed lunch with me yesterday, and three times last week. My goodness! You must be starving!’
‘Hungry, but happy,’ said Gwen.
‘See you in the morning,’ said Iris. ‘The world must be peopled!’
‘The world must be peopled,’ returned Gwen. ‘Goodnight, Iris.’
‘Goodnight, Gwen.’
Iris walked down to the Regent’s Canal where the Cecilia, her current abode, waited.
She waved to her neighbour, Casper, who was as usual seated in a worn easy chair he had somehow manoeuvred onto the roof of his boat.
He was smoking a pipe and watching the changing colours of the sky as the sun descended.
She felt enough of a glow from the shandy to forego adding more alcohol to her meagre evening meal, then sat out on the fore well, an unopened book on her lap.
It’s That Man Again wasn’t on tonight, and there was nothing else on the radio that she wanted to listen to, so she contented herself with watching a family of ducks paddling about.
Some song was running through her head. What was it? She hummed a few bars, then placed it. ‘The Internationale’. Of course, that would be the one to resurface even after she had suppressed it so many years ago.
She went back inside and changed into her pyjamas, then lay on top of the covers. The wind kicked up outside, and the Cecilia swayed back and forth, bumping gently against the dock.
Well, Tony, you’re back in my life, she thought. And I’m on a boat.
How appropriate.
‘The Internationale’ continued to play in her head. What were those lines in the last verse? Something about crows and vultures. Mais si les corbeaux, les vautours disparaissent … But if the crows and vultures disappear, the sun will shine forever.
The crows and vultures have returned, thought Iris. Which one is Tony?
And which one am I?