The Winter Garden (2014) (37 page)

His eyes widened. ‘I’d give a lot to see that document. Presumably the deal will be done when the Duke visits Hitler at Berchtesgaden.’

‘If it happened . . . I mean if war came and then an alliance was formed, what would happen to the new King and his family?’

Clara thought of shy King George who had taken over from his older brother, with his pretty, plump bride, Elizabeth. They had two little girls – eleven-year-old Princess Elizabeth and her
younger sister Margaret Rose. Elizabeth, or Lilibet as she was called, was the serious, dutiful one and Margaret was lively and spirited. Already, the British public seemed to love them.

‘Who knows? Either they’d fade away into the background again, or they might emigrate, to Canada say, along with all those politicians who backed Edward’s abdication. Baldwin
and Churchill.’

‘And do you think the Duke would sign such a document?’

He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t say, but I’m certain of this: the only way the British public would have Edward back would be if they lost a war. Which is exactly why we need to
cultivate our friend Strauss. Now he took you to lunch and you had a glimpse of the camera. What did you learn?’

‘He talked about what aerial photographs can reveal. I memorized what he told me about the camera. It uses special thirty-five-millimetre film with a perforated edge, which allows motors
to turn the film automatically behind the lens and get a precise exposure. It can also be used at night, too.’

‘You obviously got on well with him. Sounds like he was quite forthcoming.’

She grimaced.

‘What is it?’

‘He was, very talkative. Over lunch he told me all about his childhood.’ She paused. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Ralph. I wanted him to be more savage, then it would have been
easy. But there’s something so sad about him. Desolate almost.’

‘Desolate?’ Beneath the genial demeanour, a flash of anger rose in Ralph’s eyes. ‘Who cares what happens in that cold Nazi heart of his? Perhaps next time you start
feeling sorry for Strauss, you should remember all those civilians mown down by his bombs in Spain.’

Almost as quickly as it had erupted, his anger was suppressed. He became brisk and businesslike.

‘Anyway, I’m glad you found him approachable. It makes our next step easier.’

‘What’s the next step?’

‘We need to encourage him to come over to us. Everyone’s getting their Intelligence ducks in a row and there’s no time to lose. We had a report earlier this month that Udet had
advised a friend to get the hell out of Germany and added that he would be doing the same were it not for his position. Udet believes it won’t be long before he falls out of favour with the
regime and I’d wager Strauss feels the same. And seeing as he has bent the rules by taking an attractive actress on an unauthorized joyride, our job might be a little easier.’

Despite herself she was aghast. ‘You’re not going to blackmail him!’

‘Don’t be foolish, Clara. You know that’s what this is about. There’s a lot riding on Strauss. Given his closeness to Udet we think he might be open to persuasion anyhow.
But if he isn’t, there are other ways.’

She sank back against the pillow. She felt a lurch of despair. She knew, of course, that Strauss’s information was valuable, but she had not thought he would learn so soon of her
deception. The thought of Strauss’s ravaged face when he learned of her betrayal made her quail. She was glad that he had been horrified at the idea of kissing a Jew.

‘Strauss is going to be very valuable to us,’ said Ralph, with satisfaction.

‘Don’t talk about him like that!’

He looked at her strangely.

‘I thought I’d made this clear.’ His voice acquired an edge of steel. ‘This isn’t about making friends. It’s not about having charming little lunches and
getting pally with the chaps in the Luftwaffe. I see these people every night of the week, and I never doubt that they would put me up against a firing squad, or that I’d do the same to them,
if needs be.’

Clara stared at the ceiling, her hands clenched beneath the sheets. ‘I understand that.’

‘If you’re not capable of basic emotional discipline . . .’

‘Emotional discipline!’ A wave of pain and weariness flooded over her. ‘Isn’t that what they taught you at that boarding school of yours? Never feel anything. Never get
involved. Damp down any remotely human emotions because they’re going to get in the way? Forget anything like friendship, or basic human decency.
I Vow To Thee My Country
. Build an
invisible armour around you that nothing can penetrate? Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t be like that. I get affected by the people I associate with.’

There was a moment of silence. Then he said, ‘Have you finished?’

She looked away.

‘It’s part of the job, Clara, I thought you understood that. You led me to believe it wasn’t going to be a problem for you. You said there was no chance you would get
emotionally involved. But if you’re going to start falling for every Oberst Leutnant who makes friendly overtures . . .’

‘I haven’t fallen for him,’ she said, through gritted teeth.

‘Feeling sorry for him.’

‘I don’t feel sorry for him.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t see the problem then.’

Clara’s head was throbbing badly. She wanted to stop thinking about Arno Strauss, to stop imagining the moment when he was confronted with the evidence of her double-dealing. That look,
both aggressive and vulnerable, in his hard grey eyes.

Ralph got up. ‘You’re probably still affected by the accident. Perhaps we should talk later. When you’re feeling more yourself.’

She turned her head away so he should not see the tears pricking at her eyes. This time he shut the door behind him.

Some time later he returned with two glasses of schnapps and a determined smile.

‘Let’s talk about something else.’

She gave a faint shrug.

‘Tell me about you, Clara.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘When I first met you, I tried to find out as much as possible about you. It wasn’t prying. I was just being professional. I was told there had been a chap who was madly in love with
you, but that it hadn’t worked out.’

‘His name was Leo Quinn and he worked at Passport Control. He was busy getting visas for Jews who wanted to escape Germany.’

‘Sounds like a brave man. The Foreign Office disapproved of that, I hear. They refused to give Passport Control officials diplomatic status. So he was risking a lot. Where is he
now?’

‘He went back to England in ’33.’ She met his eyes frankly. ‘He’s probably married to someone else by now. There’s been no one serious since.’

‘Was it Leo Quinn who recruited you?’

‘He realized I had useful access.’

‘Perhaps that’s not all he realized.’

‘What do you mean?’

He smiled. ‘When you first came here, I noticed you looking around. I saw you look at the photograph on the mantelpiece and work out that it was my mother. You’re naturally
observant. You probably always have been.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘You’re secretive, too.’

‘I think anyone is, who has brothers and sisters. You’re always trying to preserve your privacy, not to have your secrets held up for the public amusement of others.’

‘So you had secrets?’

‘Only the normal things. I kept a diary, hidden in drawers and behind beds and cushions. I tended to hide things.’

Emotions too. From the age of twelve she had perfected the art of keeping her confidences deep within herself, buried beneath layers of caution and circumspection. It wasn’t hard. In her
family, emotions had always been rigorously concealed. Falling out of a tree and ripping the skin off her knee meant a severe dabbing with iodine but no tears. Kisses were a rare gift. Any
passions, whether grief, joy or hilarity, were allowed only decorous display, like the collection of antique Chinese porcelain her parents kept behind glass-door cabinets. When Kenneth left for
boarding school at the age of eight, he had shaken hands with their father, who would no more have told his son he loved him than fly to the moon.

Ralph was still gazing at her, scrutinizing her.

‘Perhaps it would help if you told me a few of those secrets now.’

So she began to talk, and as she did she found herself telling him everything that had happened, right from the beginning, as though she was thinking out loud. About Bruno and the trip to Munich
and her conviction that someone there had been following her. The burglary. Coming back from the flight with Strauss to find the photograph of Erich on the windscreen of the car.

‘I realized that whoever is threatening me knew all about me. He knew about Erich and he was prepared to make a threat against him, too. I called the school right away and the principal
told me he was fine, but just knowing that someone has threatened Erich, and knows how much I care about him, makes me . . . what I mean is, if anything happened to Erich, I couldn’t bear
it.’

‘It won’t.’

‘Perhaps not. But I’m responsible for him.’

Gently he said, ‘You’re fond of the lad, aren’t you? Do you like children? All that combing hair and scrubbing knees and teaching them to keep their nails clean?’

‘I never used to. I suppose being with Erich has changed how I feel.’

‘Perhaps you should be having children yourself. Don’t you want them?’

She tried not to flinch beneath his steady gaze.

‘Now’s not a good time to be having babies.’

While they were talking he had edged nearer and taken her hand. He was rubbing it with his finger in soothing concentric circles, and when she paused, he suddenly dipped his head towards her and
kissed her, his lips soft at first then insistent. Without realizing how much she wanted to, she wrapped her arms round his neck and drew him down to her, responding with a deep, lingering embrace.
He moved onto the bed and she shifted beneath him, her fingers brushing the fine golden stubble of his face. Heat blossomed through her as his hands moved over her breasts and travelled the length
of her body, but after a few moments he drew back.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’

‘No. I am.’ He moved sharply away, his face set. ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s not what I intended.’

He made to get up, but Clara couldn’t bear to let the moment go. She had forgotten everything that had gone before. Desire was coursing through her in waves. She wanted nothing more than
for him to make love to her. She was sure it was true for him too.

‘I’m half naked in your bed, Ralph. You brought me here and took my clothes off and then you kissed me. What the hell were your intentions?’

‘I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.’

Quietly, she said, ‘When I came here before you said there were all sorts of reasons why you shouldn’t get involved with me. What are they?’

‘I’m too old for you.’

‘You’re what, ten years older than me?’

‘I’m in my forties,’ he said gruffly. ‘Set in my ways. Used to my own company. Accustomed to pleasing myself.’

‘You asked me about my love life, so what about you? You must have known plenty of women. You joke about them.’

‘They come and go. No permanent fixtures. I don’t think they see me as a good bet.’

‘I’m not a betting girl.’

Still his eyes avoided her. He knitted his hands together and leaned forward, frowning at his feet.

‘Do we have to go through this? I’ve told you, I’ve always needed to be alone. All my life.’

‘That’s not the reason.’

‘Spare me the inquisition, Clara, would you?’ he said tersely. ‘I’m too old for all this. I plainly overstepped the mark and I’ve apologized. It was irresponsible
of me. Particularly in your condition. I’m going to leave you now.’ He stood up.

She felt herself flushing. ‘Leave then, Ralph, but at least be honest with me.’

For a moment he stood, hands rammed in his pockets, face grim and sulky, as though he might refuse to speak. Then reluctantly he said, ‘All right then. If you insist. I won’t get
involved with you because it’s risky.’

‘So is everything we do.’

‘This is doubly so. We would be a risk to each other. There’s enough risk out there without multiplying it. If either of us were ever arrested we would have to disown the other. You
know that, don’t you? I would deny all knowledge of you.’

She didn’t doubt it.

He leaned down, took her face in his hands and his eyes burned into hers. ‘And I would loathe myself for that. Don’t you see? I could never forgive myself. And then, if they were
certain that I did know you, it could be worse . . .’

‘You could betray me?’

He didn’t answer. But she knew that was his deepest fear. To seduce and deceive and betray, these were the tools of espionage and every spy learned to live with them. To deny a friendship
was one thing, but to betray something precious to you, something you treasured, whether it be your country or your lover, that was a deeper fear.

He turned away and occupied himself fixing a cigarette into his ebony holder.

‘So it’s best we stay as we are.’

‘Don’t you ever get tired of it, Ralph? All the lying? The subterfuge?’

His eyes clouded. She knew this was something he didn’t want to discuss.

‘Lying is like learning another language. For a long time you have the translation, which is the truth, running continuously through your head. But once you’re fluent, it comes
naturally, and then you’re in a different state. The trick is to make it as much like your real life as possible. I’m used to this life now. I can hardly remember it any other way.
I’m used to being watched and observed and one step away from arrest. I have responsibilities to other people and I appreciate the immense need for self-control. We both do. To put two people
like us together . . . it would be combustible. We’d risk losing control. And that’s a risk I can’t take.’

He reached down to the brogues stowed under the chair, picked one up, and turning it over with a sudden twist, swivelled its heel to reveal a compartment the size of a penny, containing a twist
of newspaper. Inside was a brown, rubber-coated pill the size of a pea. It looked innocuous, as he held it up to her. Dull, even.