London Match (42 page)

'Darling, it was an absolute riot. This lovely lady in the reception said she'd worked in big hotels all over Europe. No hotel ever returns nightgowns or articles of ladies' underwear to the address in the register, she said. They wait until there is a query about it. Then, darling, she showed me this immense cupboard full of flimsy garments left behind after weekends of illicit passion. You should have seen them, Bernard. I blushed at some of the things in that cupboard.'

'So all was well?' I wanted to talk about her affair with Dicky, but I could see she was trying to spin things out until George got back and so avoid it.

'I said to this amusing lady that we should go into business and buy all these wonderful things from hotels and sell them. I even mentioned it to the people on this committee I'm on — it's a children's charity — but you should have seen their faces. They're all old fogies with tinted hair and fur coats. You'd have thought I'd suggested opening a brothel.'

'You didn't explain to them exactly how you obtained this information?'

'I told them it had happened to a friend of mine.'

'Not a very convincing subterfuge,' I said.

'No, well, I'm not in that world, am I?' she said. That remark was aimed at me.

'It wasn't the nightdress. It was a friend of Daphne who saw you.'

'And my mind has been buzzing ever since you said that just now. I can't think of any familiar face there that weekend.'

'Daphne's talking about a divorce.'

'She always says that,' said Tessa. She flicked her hair back and smiled defensively.

'Always? What do you mean, always?'

'You know very well that I had a little fling with Dandy Dicky last year, or was it the year before? We talked about it one evening. I remember you were very toffee-nosed.'

'If Daphne goes to a lawyer, it could become a rotten business, Tess.'

'It will be all right,' she said. 'I know you mean well, Bernard darling. But it will be all right.'

'If I believed that, I wouldn't be sitting here talking about it. But I know Daphne well enough to think she could be serious.'

'Divorce? What about the children? Where would she live?'

'Never mind Daphne's problems. If she starts making a fuss, you'll have enough of your own. She wants me to introduce her to George.'

'That's ridiculous,' said Tessa.

'Dicky would be the real loser,' I said. 'Publicity such as a nasty divorce action would destroy his career.'

'Don't say they'd fire him — I know that's not true.'

'They probably wouldn't sack him, but he'd be posted to some lousy place on the other side of the world and left there to rot. The Department doesn't like publicity, Tessa. I don't have to draw you a diagram, do I?'

Her flippant attitude had changed now. She took her feet off the table and drank some champagne, frowning deeply as she considered her position. 'George would be furious,' she said, as if he'd be more furious about the publicity than about her infidelity.

'I thought you were trying to put your marriage together again,' I said. 'I remember you talking to me and saying that George was the most wonderful husband in the world and that all you wanted to do was to make him happy.'

'I do, darling, I do. But it won't make him happy to be portrayed as the wronged husband and have his photo in all those lousy newspapers. I'll have to talk to Daphne. I must make her see sense. It would be insane for her to leave Dicky over such a stupid little thing.'

'It's not a "stupid little thing" to her,' I said. 'And if you start talking to her in that fashion, you'll only make things worse.'

'What do you want me to say?'

'Don't make it sound as if you're doing it for me,' I said testily. 'I can't tell you what to say. But the only thing that Daphne will want to hear is that you're not going to see Dicky any more.'

'Then, of course, I'll tell her that.'

'You've got to mean it, Tessa. It's no good just patching it over. . . . You're not in love with him or anything, are you?'

'Good heavens, no. Who could be in love with him? I thought I was doing Daphne a favour, to tell you the truth. I don't know how anyone can bear Dicky round them all the time. He's awfully wearing.'

I listened to her protests with a healthy mistrust. I didn't know much about women, but I knew that such strenuous denials could sometimes be a sign of profound passion. 'Tell her you're sorry. It's time you stopped all this nonsense, Tessa. You're not a child any longer.'

'I'm not old and ugly,' she said.

'No, you're not. Perhaps it would be better if you were old and ugly. George would remain loyal, no matter how old and ugly you were, and you'd realize what a good husband you have.'

'You men all stick together,' she said sullenly.

'You make a lot of people unhappy, Tessa. I know you don't see it like that, but you're a troublemaker. You had a rich father who gave you everything you ever asked for, and now you think you can have anything you want, no matter who it belongs to or what the consequences may be.'

'You have a terrible tendency to play the amateur psychologist, Bernard. Did I ever tell you that?'

'I hate amateur psychologists,' I said. She always knew how to needle me. I drank my champagne and stood up.

'Don't give me that injured-pride look, darling. I know you're trying to help.'

'If you want me to talk to Daphne, I will. But I won't do it unless I get a sincere promise from you that the affair is at an end.'

She stood up too. She came close and stroked the lapel of my jacket. Her voice was a purr. 'You're very masterful, Bernard. That's a very attractive quality in a man. I've always said that.'

'Do cut it out, Tessa. Sometimes I think that these love affairs of yours are staged to give you constant reassurance.'

'Fi was always saying that. Father never praised us for anything at all. Fi didn't care, but I wanted a bit of praise now and again.'

There was something in her voice that made me look at her more closely. 'Have you heard from Fiona?' It was a wild guess. 'A letter?'

'I was going to tell you, Bernard. Honestly I was. I was determined to tell you before you left this evening.'

'Tell me what?'

'I saw Fi.'

'Saw Fiona. When?'

'Just a few days ago.'

'Where?'

'I have a dear old aunt who lives in Holland. We used to spend holidays with her. I always go and see her for her birthday. She used to come to us but she's too infirm to travel now.' She gabbled nervously.

'Holland?'

'Near Eindhoven. She lives in a block of tiny flats built specially for elderly people. There's a doctor on call and meals if you want them. The Dutch do that sort of thing so well; it puts us to shame.'

'And Fiona?'

'She came for the birthday meal. I almost fell over with surprise. She was sitting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world.'

'What did you say?'

'What
could
I say, darling? My aunt knew nothing of Fiona going off to the bloody Russians. I didn't want to spoil the birthday for her. I just carried on as I had all the previous years.'

'Was George with you?'

'George doesn't like family gatherings. That is to say, he doesn't like gatherings of my family. When it's his family, it's quite a different matter, and there are thousands of them.'

'I see.' If what George didn't like was Tessa's father, it's a feeling that I shared heartily. 'Just you and Fiona and your aunt then?'

'She wants the children, Bernard.'

'Fiona? My children? Billy and Sally?'

'They're her children too,' said Tessa.

'Would you like to see her take them away?'

'Don't be like that, Bernard darling. You know I wouldn't. But she only wants them to spend a few weeks with her.'

'In Moscow? In Berlin?'

'I don't know. For a holiday, she said.'

'And if they go to her for a few weeks, how do we ever get them back?'

'I thought of that,' said Tessa. She sipped her drink. 'But if Fiona promises to send them back, she'll keep to it. It was the same when we were children; she'd never break her word in personal matters.'

'If I was only dealing with Fiona it might be different,' I said. 'But we're dealing with Soviet bureaucracy. And I wouldn't trust British bureaucracy as far as I could throw it, so the idea of delivering my kids to the mercies of the Soviet bureaucrats does not come happily to me.'

'I don't understand.'

'Those bastards want the kids as hostages.'

'For Fiona?'

'Right now she's obviously in the first flush of excitement. The Russians let her out to the West and know she'll come back. But the chances are that feeling won't last. She'll become disillusioned with Soviet society. She'll find it's not the paradise she's been dreaming of all these years.'

'Hostages?'

'When the kids are there, she'll discover that they can't return to the West all together. They'll make sure that she travels alone. She won't have any choice; she'll have to go back to the children.'

'She's prepared to go through the courts to get custody.'

'She told you that?'

'Over and over again.'

'That's because she knows the Department for which I work won't tolerate it going to the courts. They'll press me to let her have custody.'

'That would be disgusting.'

'It's what they would do.'

'The children have rights too. It would be wrong for a court to deliver them to the Russians without giving them a chance.'

'Maybe I shouldn't say what they'd do before they've done it, but I'd say Fiona's chances are good.'

'Bernard darling, do sit down for a moment. I didn't know how badly you'd take it. Do you want a whisky or something?'

'Thanks, Tess. No, I'll have some more champagne,' I said. I sat down while she poured it for me.

'She said she doesn't want to row with you. She's still fond of you, Bernard, I can tell.'

'I don't think so,' I said. But did I really only want to hear myself contradicted?

Tessa sat down next to me. I could feel the warmth of her body and smell the perfume. It was a heavy exotic scent, suited, I suppose, for the sort of evening she had ahead of her. 'I wasn't going to tell you this, but I think Fi is still in love with you. She denied it, but I've always been able to see through her.'

'You're not making it any easier, Tessa.'

'She must miss the children dreadfully. Couldn't it be that she simply wants to be with them for a short time each year?'

'It might be,' I said.

'You don't sound very convinced.'

'Fiona is a very devious person, Tessa. Truthful when it suits her, but devious. Surely I don't have to tell you that. Have you told anyone else about meeting Fiona?'

'Of course not. Fi said not to.'

'Not even George?'

'Not even George. Cross my heart,' she said, and made the children's gesture of running a finger across her throat to swear it was true.

'And there was no one with her?'

'Just Fiona. She stayed the night. My aunt has a spare room. We talked half the night. Fiona had a rented car. She went to Schiphol next morning. She had to fly on to somewhere else . . . Paris, I think.'

'Why couldn't she contact me?'

'She said you'd say that. She said it was better this way. I suppose her own people wouldn't suspect a stopover in Holland the way they would a visit to London to see you.'

For a few minutes we said nothing. Then Tessa said, 'She said she'd seen you.'

'Since leaving?'

'At London airport. She said you had a brief chat.'

'I'll have to ask you to forget that, Tessa. It was a long time back.'