I and My True Love (22 page)

Kate thought, you always know a good deal more than you pretend to know. “Did you learn all about wine in Korea?” she teased.

“There was a man in my unit,” he admitted, “who had been an assistant head-waiter. He used to invent dinners for us, choose the whole menu and wine list to match, just to add some flavour to our canned stew.”

The talk went on, general, light-hearted, for ten more minutes.

Then Clark rose, looking at his watch. “I’d better get along. Amy will start worrying.”

“Would you care to leave a message for Payton?” Sylvia asked. “There’s writing paper in the library.”

Clark shook hands with Kate and Bob, and followed her across the hall.

Bob saw the library door safely closed, and then he came over to sit beside Kate.

“Look,” he said, offering her a cigarette, “you can stop worrying about Sylvia.”

“I wish I could,” she said wryly.

“But you can. I just asked Clark out in the hall whether she’d ever been a manic-depressive or a schizo.”

“You what?”

“Well, not in those words. I hedged tactfully—that is what took the time.”

“You asked Clark, out
there?”
She pointed to the hall.

“Why not? He’s known Sylvia for years. Amy’s one of her best friends. You wanted to find out the truth, didn’t you? Well, you’ve found it out. Sylvia’s as well-balanced as you or I are. Who put that nasty little idea into your mind, anyway?”

“How do you know that anyone suggested it?”

“Because you aren’t the type to go around stealing people’s sanity from them. It was a mean little bit of malice aforethought, whoever invented it.”

She looked at him, unbelieving, and yet trusting him. He said nothing more. He waited for her to decide this for herself, watching her as she changed from incredulity to amazement, then to embarrassment, then to anger.

How naive Payton must have thought her, she decided... And Jan Brovic must have thought that, too, or else he wouldn’t have enlisted her help to reach Sylvia. “Then I’m easily fooled, it seems,” she said bitterly. “But you didn’t have to make yourself look foolish to Martin Clark just because of me.”

“We had to find out, didn’t we? I believe in scotching worries. We’ve done more with this one. It’s strangled.” He gave her a cheerful grin. “And don’t feel too sorry for me. Clark didn’t think I was so foolish when I explained it was a rumour that someone had started: he doesn’t like rumours any more than I do. He’s a direct-action man.”

“He must have had something of a shock, though.”

“Well, I admit he did lose a bit of his diplomatic calm. Called it the goddamnedest stupid question.”

“And it’s all lies?” Kate looked at the chair where Payton had sat and told her them.

“Diluted eyewash,” Bob assured her. “Now, feeling better? Let’s put on some Bartok...” He looked at the library door, wondering what bad news Clark had brought with him.

* * *

When Sylvia entered the library, with Clark following her, she said, “And here’s the ’phone, too, Martin. Would you like to call Amy and tell her you’re here?”

But Martin Clark didn’t answer. He closed the library door thoughtfully. “Sylvia,” he said, “would you give Payton a message?”

“I’ll leave it in the hall for him. I’m just about to go to bed. I’ve had a grim day.”

“I’d rather not write him anything.”

“What about telephoning him?”

“I’d rather not say what I have to say over the ’phone. Sit down, Sylvia. Just for a moment. This is really a nasty little problem. I want to warn Payton.”

“About what?”

He sat on the edge of the desk. “I suppose Payton discusses some of his work with you, now and again. So I won’t need to give you any rough idea of what it is.”

“Payton doesn’t discuss his work with me.”

“No?” He half smiled, as if he couldn’t quite believe that a wife never was curious or a husband off-guard. “Well, anyway, it’s important enough at the moment for a special measure of security.”

“I’m sure Payton’s security-minded enough.”

“Yes. He’s very good indeed. Except, he can’t quite guarantee his friends, can he? No one really can.”

“Payton wouldn’t believe that.”

“What I’m trying to say is this—and God knows I’m doing it badly, because it all may be unnecessary, but you know how sticky things are at the moment: it’s better to be sure than sorry, frankly.” He paused. “Now, where had I got to?”

“Not very far. Payton’s friends, I think.”

“Just one of them,” Clark said quickly. “The man’s behaving stupidly. I thought Payton might be the one person who’d have some influence over him. He’s a great admirer of your husband.”

“Who?”

“Minlow.”

“Oh...” She couldn’t quite hide her dismay.

“He’s been seeing Jan Brovic.”

“Has he?” She relaxed, then.

“You don’t seem worried about that,” Clark said, watching her still face. “Don’t you see, Sylvia—Minlow is a man who worked at one time with Payton. So he does know something about Payton’s job.” He paused. “Minlow comes round here quite a lot, doesn’t he?”

Sylvia looked sharply at Clark. She was hearing Jan’s voice, worried, troubled, talking about Minlow. But then, Jan was living with tenseness and suspicion. Minlow was only the man who took a delight in swimming against the tide. “Curiosity... obstinacy,” she had told Jan. Yes, that was Minlow. But he wasn’t a Communist: a dissenter, certainly, but not a Communist—he always attacked anyone bitterly who confused the two. And he was loyal to Payton. Remembering all that, she lost the momentary fear that had gripped her so suddenly.

“He sees Payton constantly, doesn’t he?” Clark was repeating.

“Yes. But why not? Payton never dropped him from his circle of friends,” Sylvia said. “I suppose that makes him all the more devoted to Payton. Martin, aren’t you just a little bit over-worried?” Over-officious, she thought. The new broom raising clouds of dust. “Payton isn’t the man to talk indiscreetly to anyone.”

“I’m not thinking in terms of indiscreet talk. I’m thinking of a small sentence, a brief or even an evaded answer to a friendly question. That is sometimes enough.”

Odd, she thought: I hardly ever pay any attention to Minlow even when he keeps dropping in to see Payton. And now, in one evening, I’ve heard him twice discussed and twice I’ve been drawn into defending him. Or am I really, subconsciously, defending myself?

Clark was saying, “Could you, somehow, drop a small hint to Payton? Get him to advise Minlow to keep away from the Czechs, would you, Sylvia?”

Sylvia stared at him, her face now frozen with amazement. Yes, she thought, what would Martin think of my meetings with Jan? Yet they’ve nothing to do with politics: so Martin would be wrong. “I don’t think Payton would even listen,” she said. “He wouldn’t dream of questioning a friend’s actions. If he likes a man, then the man is
bound
to be all right. Otherwise, Payton’s estimate is proved false.” And that would never do, she added bitterly to herself.

“But I’m not questioning Minlow’s intention. It’s just that he has—” Martin Clark hesitated.

“So little judgment?” Sylvia suggested, and smiled as she heard herself echoing Jan.

“Exactly.”

What would Martin say if he heard that Jan Brovic agreed with him completely? “I’m afraid Payton won’t listen to you,” she said. “I’m sorry, Martin.”

“But surely his loyalty to his country is far above loyalty to individuals? His attitude is all very noble, but it can’t pretend to ignore the facts.”

“I don’t see why a man’s private life can’t be his own business,” she said, almost sharply. “We’ve no right to—” She broke off, listening now to the sound of the front door, opening, closing.

“That’s Payton, now,” she said with relief. “You can tell him, yourself. And I promise to forget everything about it. I’m well trained, you see.”

The library door opened and Payton Pleydell entered. “Hallo, there,” he said to both of them. He nodded pleasantly enough to Clark. His manners were always equal to any surprise. Then he looked again at his wife. “Sylvia... you’re looking a little tired. Are you all right?” He dropped his briefcase quickly on a chair and came forward to put his arm affectionately around her shoulder. “Really, I wish you’d take things more easily. You’ll have a breakdown if we aren’t careful.” He smiled sadly, shaking his head over her disobedience. “Don’t you think Sylvia needs a vacation?” he asked a startled Clark. “I wish you and Amy would persuade her to take my advice.”

Sylvia looked up at the thin, handsome face, intelligent, and calm, with its shy gentle smile. But the grip on her shoulder was heavy, tight, forcing her to respond to the smile even as she braced her spine. It was the angry grasp of a determined schoolteacher forcing the recalcitrant child to behave before the visitor. It was the despairing hold of a man who clutched at what was lost to him.

“I’m all right,” she said too quickly. Martin Clark’s eyes were missing nothing. “Martin was just about to give me a message for you. Now, I’ll leave—” She broke off her words as she pulled herself suddenly away from Payton’s arm. She was trembling and she tried to control it. She looked at Martin Clark; his face was troubled as if he had noticed it. She turned quickly and walked to the door, closing it abruptly behind her.

And now, standing in the hall, she began to cry—quiet tears that wouldn’t be willed away but fell slowly, scaldingly, over her cheeks. Why doesn’t Payton hate me? she wondered: it would be easier for me if he did.

She moved over to the hall table to search in her handbag, lying there, for a handkerchief and some powder. Slowly, she regained control of herself, and removed the last trace of tears. Then she could enter the drawing-room.

Her absence hadn’t been noticed, seemingly. Kate and Bob were standing together as if he were about to leave. He was saying, as he held her hand in a long handshake, “Think nothing of it. Any time you need some crude tactics, just call on me. I can solve problems—if they aren’t my own.” Then he looked round at Sylvia. “You are just about to get rid of me,” he told her, watching her face: God, he thought, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ll ever see.

“It’s still early,” Sylvia said. “You don’t have to go.”

He glanced over her shoulder towards the library door. “I might as well. You’ll be pretty sick of looking at this uniform by the time I leave Washington.”

“When will that be?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Where will you be sent?” Kate asked.

“That’s the question we’re all asking,” he said with a smile. “Good night, now, anyway.” He shook hands once more.

“Good night, Bob,” Kate said. Her smile was real, Sylvia noticed.

“I’ve Miriam’s invitation to give you,” Sylvia said, and she went with Bob into the hall. “When can you—” Her voice faded.

In the drawing-room, Kate finished arranging the record albums and the books. Bob and Sylvia were still arguing mildly in the hall about Miriam Hugenberg’s party: Bob wasn’t sure if he ought to be there. Too much heavy brass, he gave as his excuse. But Sylvia was persuading him to come in uniform all the same or else Miriam Hugenberg would feel she had been cheated of a gesture.

Then, at that point, the library door opened and Martin Clark came out alone. He closed the door behind him quite definitely. He didn’t say very much, not even when Sylvia admired his homburg. Quite soon, the front door shut and the hall became totally silent.

Sylvia came slowly back into the drawing-room.

“Bob says these records need more playing,” Kate said. Then she noticed Sylvia’s grave face. “Martin Clark didn’t stay very long with Payton, after all,” she remarked. “I suppose he was worried about Amy.”

“I told him,” Sylvia said wearily, “I told him Payton wouldn’t listen.” She looked back at the library door, and she shivered slightly. “Let’s go upstairs, Kate.” Let’s talk, she wanted to say; but that suggestion must, somehow, come from Kate.

Kate was looking at the library door, too. “Yes.” She moved to gather up her cigarettes and photographs. “Sylvia,” she said in a low voice, “you think I’ve been judging you. Not really... I don’t know enough to judge. I don’t know,” she repeated miserably. “I was worried about a lot of things, not just about you and—” She broke off. She glanced quickly again at the library door, but it was still closed. “I’m just trying to say I’m sorry,” she added with difficulty.

“For what?” Sylvia took her arm. Together they went into the hall, walking closely, quietly, as if they were giving each other courage. Both looked at the closed door and then, moving almost stealthily, ascended the thickly carpeted stairs. In the upper hall, Kate drew her arm away, gently but surely. They stood facing each other under the parchment-shaded lights of the silver-green landing.

“Good night, Sylvia.”

“You are still judging me,” Sylvia said gently. “You think I’m a liar and a cheat, don’t you?” The blue eyes, watching Kate so intently, were shadowed with pain. “That’s how I must look, I know. But the choice, Kate, isn’t so clear-cut as you see it. Soon, it will be. But not at the moment.”

“What choice?”

“Either I stay here and give up Jan. Or I leave at once and tell Payton I’m marrying Jan.”

“No,” Kate said, almost angrily. “There isn’t even that choice. Sylvia—how can you marry Jan?”

“But I can. And will.”

“Do you plan to live in Czechoslovakia, now, as it is today?
You
can’t ignore that kind of politics, Sylvia.” Her voice became despairing. “And it’s my fault: I persuaded you to see him again. But I thought, honestly I did, that he needed help. From the way he talked to me, I thought he was trying to escape, to get away from them. But he’s still with them, isn’t he? He hasn’t made one gesture to renounce them. And what’s going to happen to you?”

But Sylvia paid no attention to that. She said quickly, “Have you ever told anyone else about your meeting with Jan? About what he said?”

“Of course not,” Kate said impatiently. “I thought he was speaking the truth. I wouldn’t have given him away.”

“He didn’t tell you any lies. I’m sure of that.”

Kate avoided Sylvia’s eyes. How easily men lied when they wanted their own way, she thought angrily. Even Payton, the honest and noble Payton, had spun a little web of falsehood. Why? He never did anything without a purpose, without calculation. She was sure of that, at least. “Does Payton know you are leaving him?” she asked suddenly, waiting impatiently for the answer that could explain so much. Payton would never give up what he owned. She was sure of that, too.