Reckless (27 page)

‘Has your party been joyful, André?’

‘Yes. Come along, now. I’m going to put you in a taxi.’

They walked back through the house, arm-in-arm. He found her coat for her and put it on her. They went out into the street, and round the side of the Dorchester, where there were taxis waiting.

‘My family has a house in the country,’ he said. ‘Will you let me show it to you?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Will you join me there, next weekend?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

He told the taxi driver where to drive her, and paid him more than the fare could possibly amount to.

‘See her safe into the house,’ he said.

By the time the taxi was rounding a deserted Hyde Park Corner, Pamela was asleep.

Every three months or so the firm of Caulder & Avenell, wine shippers of St James, held a tasting for buyers in the trade, and for their more serious private clients. The event took place in the large room they called the boardroom, above the shop. The wines were lined up on a long table covered with a white tablecloth, and served by junior members of staff; along with cubes of white bread to cleanse the palate, and black olives, and fragments of Cheddar cheese. The managing partners, Hugo Caulder and Larry Cornford, moved among their guests discussing the merits of the wines, but drinking nothing themselves.

The handsome panelled room was candlelit for these events. This was Larry’s idea. The firm was not yet twenty years old, but clients liked to believe it had been founded at least a century ago.

‘People associate good wine with venerable age,’ said Larry. ‘It’s nonsense, of course. Most wine is at its best after four or five years. But the image of the musty cellar persists.’

So everything about the appearance of Caulder & Avenell was designed to look long-established. Even the lettering of the firm’s name above its shop window had been copied from a Victorian font book and reverse-painted on glass, with gold-leaf
accents. The partners and their staff dressed in dark suits and ties, and spoke in low voices, as if in attendance at a church service.

‘How are you finding the Pauillac? Give it a few more years and it’ll be really special, don’t you think?’

Pamela arrived early, and gave her stepfather Larry a hug, and promised not to get in the way. Larry studied her with smiling admiration.

‘You look lovely, Pammy, darling. So is London suiting you?’

‘I just adore it,’ said Pamela.

‘Hugo tells me he hardly ever sees you.’

‘I do help out whenever they ask me. Really I do. But now they’ve got a live-in help, an Irish girl, so there’s not so much for me to do.’

‘We’ll talk later, darling.’

One of the firm’s main buyers had just come in.

‘Richard! Great that you could make it.’

Pamela hovered near the stairs, looking out for her own invitees. Rupert Blundell was the first of them to arrive.

‘Rupert! I wasn’t sure you’d come.’

‘It’s all very cloak-and-dagger, this,’ said Rupert. ‘Is it really necessary?’

‘My friend hasn’t arrived yet. Let’s get ourselves something to drink. Hugo says I’m only to have the Beaujolais.’

‘Beaujolais’s good enough for me.’

Pamela got them a glass each, making the young man with the bottle fill up the glasses to the brim.

‘There,’ she said, handing a glass to Rupert. ‘Everyone else gets a teaspoonful.’

‘How’s Mary?’

‘Oh, she’s fine. That fuss has all blown over.’

‘I really don’t think she had anything to do with it,’ said Rupert.

‘That’s because she’s your pet.’

The room slowly filled with serious-looking men in dark suits.

‘Wine experts don’t look as if they have much fun, do they?’ Pamela whispered. ‘Oh, good. He’s come.’

Eugene Ivanov, also wearing a dark suit, walked into the candlelit room as if into his own home. He looked round until he found Pamela, gave a wave of greeting, and stopped to sample the wines. Pamela and Rupert watched from across the room as he sniffed and sipped and spat and asked for more.

‘That’s your Russian spy?’ said Rupert.

‘Yes,’ said Pamela.

‘I see he feels it’s his duty to explore capitalist luxury in all its forms.’

Ivanov joined them, and was introduced. Pamela identified Rupert by the comical formula that always amused her.

‘Rupert’s the brother of the first wife of my mother’s second husband.’

‘That’s Larry over there,’ said Rupert, pointing to their host.

‘And you work for Lord Louis Mountbatten?’

‘I’m one of his advisers,’ said Rupert.

‘As you know,’ said Ivanov, ‘I am second naval attaché at the Russian embassy. I make no secret.’

‘Pamela has told me.’

‘You must make secrets of some things, Eugene,’ said Pamela. ‘You can’t do your spying in public.’

Ivanov smiled.

‘This is a joke in our set,’ he explained to Rupert. ‘I am the Russian spy.’

‘Are you not?’ said Rupert.

‘My job here is to learn all I can about British military capability and intentions,’ said Ivanov. ‘Why else would I be here? To drink this excellent claret? I think not. So you may call me a spy if you wish. I call myself a channel of information. What is
more, Mr Blundell, I believe that the more information my country has about your country the safer we will all be.’

‘Very interesting,’ said Rupert.

‘That means he doesn’t trust you,’ said Pamela to Ivanov.

‘Captain Ivanov will understand my caution,’ said Rupert. ‘I’m afraid I’ll prove to be a disappointment as a source of information.’

‘I understand, of course,’ said Ivanov. ‘But would you not like to be a recipient of information?’

‘Information that my government is not able to obtain through the usual channels?’

‘The usual channels are nothing but posturing and lies. Do you have any idea what Chairman Khrushchev is really thinking?’

‘Do you?’

‘Of course!’

At this point Larry joined them.

‘Don’t tell Hugo I said so, but get some of the Puligny- Montrachet before it disappears. Hello, Rupert. How’s life?’

‘Ticking along much as ever.’

‘Isn’t it wonderful having Pamela in town?’

‘She certainly seems to be making the most of it,’ said Rupert.

‘I’m not sure how she manages it. Kitty keeps her on a very tight allowance.’

‘A lady should never have to pay,’ said Ivanov.

Pamela introduced Ivanov to Larry.

‘Even so,’ said Larry, ‘there are things a girl needs beyond dinners and restaurants. Five pounds a month can’t go very far.’

As he said this Pamela looked up quickly at Rupert, and Rupert caught the look, and a new idea entered his head.

‘Don’t worry about me, Larry,’ she said. ‘Everyone is so kind.’

‘We pay tribute to beauty,’ said Ivanov, giving a small bow.

Larry moved off to greet a new buyer who had just entered. Ivanov turned back to Rupert, serious once more.

‘I do not believe in secrets, Mr Blundell. I believe secrecy breeds fear, and fear breeds aggression.’

Rupert nodded his head, and sipped his wine.

‘An open flow of information, however,’ said Ivanov, ‘breeds trust, and trust breeds security for all.’

Rupert turned to Pamela.

‘This spy of yours, Pamela,’ he said, ‘talks remarkably good sense.’

‘Of course!’ cried Ivanov. ‘And you know why? Because I am only second naval attaché. Because I am not official spokesman. Because I am little fellow of no importance.’ Here he seized Rupert by the arm. ‘Don’t you see? It’s only we little fellows who can tell each other the truth!’

He went to the window and pointed out into the street.

‘You see the car there? Those are British Secret Service agents. They follow me.’

Pamela was intrigued.

‘What, everywhere?’

Ivanov shrugged.

‘I always tell them where I’m going. Then they come. That’s their job. But it’s not secret.’

‘Don’t you do any real spying?’ said Pamela. ‘Don’t you even have a secret spy camera?’

‘Yes, yes, I have all that,’ said Ivanov, waving one hand dismissively. ‘My bosses are as stupid as Mr Blundell’s bosses. They believe that information obtained by covert operations is more valuable than information that is freely given. That is stupidity.’

‘Is it?’ said Rupert. ‘Your bosses would love to know our military capability, but we’re not likely to give you that information freely.’

‘Why not?’ said Ivanov.

Rupert gazed at him, half smiling.

‘If I keep a dog to frighten away thieves,’ said Ivanov, ‘why
would I shut my dog in a kennel? No, let him out, where all can hear him bark!’

He looked once more out of the window.

‘My friends are waiting. I must go.’ He held out his hand to Rupert. ‘Shall we meet again, Mr Blundell, more privately?’

‘Yes, Captain,’ said Rupert. ‘I would like that.’

Ivanov produced a card.

‘I am at your disposal.’

He left. Rupert and Pamela remained by the window. They saw Ivanov come out onto the street, and stride away towards Piccadilly. After a moment the car followed.

‘He’s quite a character,’ said Pamela.

‘Oddly enough, some of the things he said are pretty much what I’ve started to think myself.’

‘Most people think he’s a bit of a joke. But I like him.’

‘I don’t think your Captain Ivanov is a joke at all. I think he’s a clever man. The question is, just how clever is he?’

‘That’s rather a mean thing to say,’ said Pamela. ‘Surely the question is, is he sincere?’

‘You’re quite right.’

‘Shall we have some of Hugo’s posh white wine? He insists on serving it at room temperature.’

Rupert laid one hand on her arm to detain her. He spoke softly.

‘About Mary,’ he said.

Pamela looked down.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

She didn’t answer.

‘Oh, Pamela. Can’t you see? I’m not trying to get at you. What you do is your own business. But you know it’s been torture for Mary.’

‘I never said it was Mary.’

She was still avoiding his eyes. He waited.

‘What will you do?’ she said.

‘I’d like Mary to know the truth.’

‘And the others?’

‘That’s up to you.’

‘It’s not the way you think,’ she said.

‘Of course not. Nothing is ever the way we think.’

‘So why dig it all up again?’

‘I just want Mary’s mind put at rest,’ he said. ‘Will you tell her, or shall I?’

‘I will.’

‘She won’t blame you, or judge you. She’s not like that.’ Pamela looked up, and said with a trace of bitterness, ‘You think very well of Mary, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

It was almost nine o’clock. The wine tasting was coming to an end. Most of the clients had left. Hugo finally felt free to attend to his friends.

‘It’s always a bit hectic for a while,’ he said.

‘How’s it gone?’ said Rupert.

‘Well, I think. The new Rhônes were a big hit.’ He smiled at Pamela. ‘If your father were here, he’d be amazed. In his day we wouldn’t have dreamed of offering wines at these sorts of prices. But those
vins de pays
he came up with, they were fun to drink. And that’s what it’s all about in the end.’

Pamela said nothing. Hugo thought perhaps his reference to her father had been tactless.

‘Pamela’s a terrific hit, you know,’ he said to Rupert. ‘We all love her.’

*

Larry came in the taxi with Hugo and Pamela back to Brook Green, where he was staying the night. They found Harriet in the drawing-room with Mary sitting beside her, reading to her aloud. They were reading a Georgette Heyer novel called
A Civil Contract
.

‘My eyes get so tired,’ said Harriet. ‘And Mary has such a lovely voice.’

Hugo kissed her.

‘How’s the book?’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me. There’s one heroine who’s plain but worthy, and another who’s beautiful but worthless.’

Mary laughed, and then gave Harriet an apologetic look.

‘Hello, Larry,’ said Harriet. ‘Did your evening go well?’

‘Very well,’ said Larry. ‘I have no complaints.’

Pamela excused herself and went up to her room. There she sat in the armchair by the window and smoked a cigarette and thought what best to do.

She felt cross with Rupert. As she saw it, the whole fuss over the money had died down, and no real harm had been done. She felt no guilt about taking it. The money was Hugo’s, and Hugo and her stepfather were partners. It was like taking money from her own parents. She would have asked for it openly, except she could never have made them understand why she needed it. She knew with absolute clarity that the two worlds did not intersect: the world of her family, and the world of André’s party. What made sense in one world was nonsense in the other. How could she have made even Hugo, who indulged her in all things, comprehend the absolute necessity of buying expensive black underwear? Under such circumstances she had taken the only path open to her, and had been proved right a hundredfold. She had no regrets.

Pamela had wanted her triumph so intensely that it had come to seem to her to be worth whatever price she might have to pay. The taking of the money had become an act of courage – it had taken courage – in the pursuit of a noble cause. She had not anticipated that Mary would fall under suspicion. Even now she couldn’t stop herself from feeling that Mary was the most to
blame, for making her life such a secret that she appeared to be the likely culprit.

Pamela was also irritated with Rupert because of his fondness for Mary. This wasn’t jealousy. Pamela had no interest in Rupert for herself. It was more that Rupert’s preference for Mary seemed wilfully perverse. Of course one never said such things aloud, but Mary was the sort that you pitied, the humble kind who had learned to be content with a humble life. It was all horribly unfair, but what could she do about that? So it was annoying of Rupert to treat Mary as if she had the same claims to consideration as the rest of them. Pamela suspected it was some sort of moralism aimed at her, a punishment for her good looks. Rupert was, after all, a man. Men desired her. Why should Rupert be any different? So desiring her, and knowing she was beyond his reach, he looked for a means to punish her. He singled out Mary for his attentions. And when the occasion arose, he forced her into a position where she had to humiliate herself in front of Mary.