The Ka of Gifford Hillary (57 page)

I have also been allowed to receive letters and a limited number of visitors. Many of the letters have touched me deeply. Those of Charles Toiller, Silvers, Dr. Culver, my personal secretary Jean Nicholls, and many of my employees at the works, particularly so. It is a big consolation to anyone situated like myself to know in this way that quite a lot of people will regret one’s passing, and that many little acts of kindness, long since forgotten, that one has been able to do, are remembered.

Bill, as a material witness, has not been allowed to come to see me and his letter was typical of him. He had evidently learned from Eddie the line that my defence was to take; and, although he did not actually say it, reading between the lines I could see that he thought it a bit unsporting of me to try to father Evans’s murder on Ankaret. I have no doubt that had he been in my shoes he would have kept his mouth shut, and taken his medicine with a good grace. How I wished as I read it that I had done so; for then poor Johnny might have escaped being involved. But it was too late now to do anything but continue to reproach myself about that. For the rest, Bill’s letter displayed good honest affection for me, and the heart-felt hope that I would escape the worst.

Sir Charles also wrote to me, and his letter read as follows:

My dear Hillary
,

The unhappy situation in which you are makes me all the more sensible of the obligation I am under to you; particularly as it was my action which led to your arrest. Yet I feel sure you will not hold that against me, as it was a duty that I could not shirk, and neither of us can doubt that even had I refrained from doing as I did your state was such that you must have fallen into the hands of the police before very long
.

I would have visited you to express in person my gratitude for the warning you brought me but as I shall be called as a witness at your trial I am debarred from doing so. This letter must, therefore, serve for that and also to acquaint you with certain facts which I feel it is right that you should know
.

Your well-intentioned efforts on my behalf, disappointing as it may be for you, but happily for me, had no basis in reality. Old Maria, as I told you, has been with me for many years and, as I expected, M.I.5’s enquiries have shown her to be entirely beyond reproach. Jan Klinsky is her cousin, and he escaped from Poland only a few months ago. She had in fact told me of him, and that he had secured work on a nearby farm in order to be near her. But the welter of affairs that clutter the mind of a man in my position caused me temporarily to have forgotten his existence when you spoke of him to me
.

It was, of course, culpable of her to admit him to the house clandestinely and allow him to spy upon me; but the explanation for her doing so is quite simple. Having learned from her that the distinguished guest who dined with me the night of your visit came occasionally to my cottage, Klinsky had expressed a quite natural curiosity to see the great man at close quarters. At the first opportunity, therefore, Maria telephoned him and indulged him in his wish
.

He is however quite harmless and, in fact, such a fanatical anti-communist that he braved considerable dangers in making his escape from Poland. Moreover, fearing that he might be caught he brought with him a phial of poison, which he had determined to take rather than submit to capture. It was a small dose of this poison which you saw Maria give her cat. The animal was very old and had gone blind so she felt that
the kindest thing was to make away with it. Had she mentioned the matter to me I should of course have had it put down by a vet. But the frugal mind of the continental peasant is naturally averse to seeing anyone spend a guinea unnecessarily, and Klinsky having offered to do the job for nothing Maria agreed
.

I must refer now to our long talk at Martin Emsworth’s and thank you again for the selfless and patriotic way in which you agreed to abet my private design for making the nation conscious of the necessity for a complete realignment of our armed forces
.

That events of such a tragic nature should have prevented you from carrying out the ideas which I put to you is a matter on which I will not dwell, except to offer you my deepest sympathy. However, you will, I am sure, be pleased to learn that despite the failure of our plan, factors which I could not foresee at the time have since served much the same purpose as its success would have done
.

These last few weeks matters have moved with remarkable rapidity. Early in September the public was hardly aware that any controversy existed with regard to the future of the armed forces. Now, at the end of the month, the whole question has been ventilated in the press with most satisfactory results. A special post as co-ordinating head of the Chiefs of Staff Committee is being created for Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir William Dickson, and the merging of all three Services into one Defence Force has been openly canvassed; while the Prime Minister has agreed that either myself or whoever he may appoint to succeed me as Minister of Defence, should in future exercise a much greater degree of control over the Service Ministries and the Ministry of Supply. Moreover it has been recognised that the maintenance of reserves and war potential which could not be brought into play during a five-day conflict are a waste of public money and that wherever possible they should be translated into a strong and efficient home defence emergency service. A major reorganisation of this kind is bound to take time but it can now be said with confidence that we are on the road to achieving a ‘New Look’ which will give our country a far greater measure of security
.

In conclusion please believe that my thoughts are with you
in your present ordeal. The country can ill afford to lose men like yourself, and it is my most earnest hope that you will succeed in proving your innocence
.

Very sincerely yours
.

So there it was. All I had done was to raise a mare’s-nest, and my doing so had played no inconsiderable part in landing Johnny and myself behind bars. Yet, as I saw again in my mind’s eye Maria, Klinsky and the dead cat, I felt that I had had sound grounds for the conclusion I had come to, and that it would have been despicable of me to refrain from taking the action that I had. At least I had not got Sir Charles’s death upon my conscience.

Harold also wrote to me. His was an awkward, ill-expressed letter, conveying little except the one thing he could not conceal—namely how aggrieved and uncomfortable he felt at my having placed him in such a situation. He made a half-hearted suggestion of coming to see me, but added rather pathetically that as we had never really been friends it seemed a bit late to start now.

Personally, I felt that a meeting in such exceptional circumstances was the one thing left which might possibly have brought us together; and had he been in my shoes I should certainly have made an immediate and spontaneous attempt to prove that blood was thicker than water. But he more or less implied that it was an unpleasant duty which he would not seek to avoid if I wished him to observe it; and no good could come of our meeting in that spirit.

I harboured no bitterness against him, but felt complete indifference, and the only effect his letter had was to remind me that, having returned from my grave, it was again in my power to make a new will. He had been ‘Sir’ Harold for nine days and soon enough now he would be Sir Harold again, and for good; but I would see to it that he never had Longshot.

James Compton was my first visitor, and from the hour he spent with me I derived great comfort. Dear James is one of those honest God-fearing souls who prove a tower of strength to their friends when in tribulation. It was not so much anything that either of us said but the warmth of true friendship, tried and proved over many years, which radiated from him to wrap me in a temporary contentment.

Actually we talked for most of the time about the affairs of the company. He, of course, could not know, neither could I tell him, that I had been an unseen presence at all the recent board meetings; so he gave me an account of the strife my last proposal had caused. I told him how I had obtained my information and showed him Sir Charles’s letter. In view of its contents there was now obviously no point in penalising the Company; so we decided that the E-boat contract should be accepted with apologies for our delay in giving a definite answer. Some months must elapse before even the keels could be laid down; so the contract might well be cancelled—if the ‘New Look’ included a reduction in the establishment of small fighting ships—while the Government were committed to pay no more than a few thousand compensation. That sort of thing was far from uncommon in the armaments world, and anything they had to pay us would be a flea-bite compared to the huge cost of having entirely reconditioned
Vanguard
before laying her up.

James is far from being a demonstrative man but on leaving he took me by the shoulders, smiled anto my eyes and said: ‘Fear nothing, Giff! Fear nothing! I know you are innocent and so does our Lord. Have faith in Him and just keep on thinking how the boys and girls in our yard will cheer you when you come back to us acquitted.’

It was true enough that I was innocent. But how I wished that I had James’s simple faith to sustain me. Alas I had not, and was still uneasily endeavouring to resign myself to the worst.

My next visitor was Sir Tuke. He was as forthright as ever but he seemed to have aged quite a lot since I had last seen him. When I told him what James and I had decided about the E-boats he waved it aside and said wearily:

‘Oh to hell with that; if we hadn’t taken the blasted contract some other firm would have. Anyhow, I’d rather have had to come out of retirement to fight the Russians with my naked hands than have this happen.’

Although only a figure of speech, that told me how badly he must be feeling, and I said: ‘Your attitude was quite understandable; it was just hard luck on Johnny that I was put out of circulation before I could tell you that he had had no hand in my proposals.’

‘I know,’ he nodded. ‘I’d always liked him so it went against the grain to do what I did. Put it down to over-zealousness for my Service if you like, but I felt I had to. Still, that is all over now. I have made him my humble apologies—and that’s a thing I have never done in my life to anyone else. It is this new trouble which is driving me to distraction.’

‘Johnny is as innocent of that as he was of the other,’ I assured him.

‘Yes. I’ve just come from seeing him; and as both of you maintain that I naturally accept it. But what are the chances of his getting off? That’s what I want to know.’

‘None too good, I’m afraid. I am innocent too but I’d willingly perjure myself if that would save him. The trouble is that it wouldn’t. There is nothing I can say which would clear him or even make his case better.’

‘So I gathered from Arnold. And he says that if the jury find Johnny guilty, he’ll get ten years. Just think of it, Gifford. Ten years!’

I refrained from remarking that I did not expect to escape hanging, as he went on: ‘Even with good conduct he wouldn’t get out under seven; and seven for him means seven for Sue.’

‘She is determined to stand by him then?’ I asked, although I already knew the answer.

‘Yes. She nailed her flag to the mast the day he was arrested. Told me that if I didn’t like it I could go jump in a pond. Game little devil.’ The Admiral’s blue eyes suddenly flashed. ‘I’m proud of her, Gifford! Proud of her! Naturally I kicked at first. Couldn’t tamely welcome a chap into the family who had betrayed Official Secrets. But directly I learned that he’d been cleared of that I sailed right in behind her. What else could I do?’

I nodded, and he went on: ‘But seven years! Just think of the frustration these two youngsters must suffer in all that time. And what will he be like when he comes out, eh? There are not many men whose character could stand up to seven years with only jail-birds as their companions.’

In that I could at least offer him a little comfort, as I was able to say with conviction, ‘I believe Johnny’s would. Particularly if he has Sue to look forward to. In fact I’m sure of it. In some ways it is going to be worse for her than him.’

‘You are right there,’ he agreed. ‘She insists on being present at the trial and that will be bad enough. Of course’ I’ll be with her; though I’d rather be in
Lion
again with Beatty at Jutland when all our ships were blowing up behind us. But it’s the long haul afterwards, when all the excitement is over. That will be infinitely worse.’

We talked on for a while, and I did what I could to cheer him, though it was little enough. It was not until he was on the point of leaving that he said:

‘I’m a self-centred old devil, Gifford. I’ve been talking of nothing but myself and my concern for Sue. All the same I’m sure you know how deeply I feel for you. Your father was my good friend and there is nothing that he could have done for you that I wouldn’t, given the chance. The pity of it is that I know of no way to prove my willingness to help. Sue is of yet another generation so she’s hardly had a chance to get to know you well; but all the same she said: “Give him my love, and tell him I know that he was much too fond of Johnny ever to have deliberately brought him into danger.” Well; so long. We’ll both be keeping our fingers crossed for you.’

My third and last visitor was Christobel. To my shame I must confess that I had tended to couple her with Harold and, after receiving his letter, if I had thought of her at all it had been with equal indifference.

We greeted one another rather awkwardly, then she plunged at once into what she had come to say: ‘Mother meant to write to you but I decided that I’d like to come to see you; so instead I’ve brought you a message from her. We have always assumed that you are very rich, but Ankaret must have cost you a packet, and appearances are sometines deceptive. Everyone knows that briefing the best barristers for a murder trial costs the earth. So Mother wanted me to tell you that if you are hard up for cash, she has a thousand pounds put by and that it’s yours if you need it.’