This Was Tomorrow (26 page)

She watched Hermione as hostess, at her somewhat patronizing best among the slightly sycophantic friends she seemed to prefer, and Stephen’s suspicions became more fantastic by the minute, until Hermione said off handedly, “Some letters came for you—I put them somewhere—one from Italy, I noticed, it must be the Lorings, we were just talking about them.”

Evadne found the letters, in a pile on the secretary-desk they both shared—where she had found letters dozens of times before, arrived in her absence, sorted over, commented on. Suppose one time Hermione had said, “One from America, I noticed, it must be Stephen. What does he say?” Evadne opened the letter from Italy and read out to them all that the Lorings were coming home next week, had had a marvellous time, had lots to tell, and hoped to see them soon. The tea party dragged on, with bright laughter and affectionate, shallow talk, merged into dinner all together at a Corner House, and wound up at a French film which was considered worth seeing.

It was nearly midnight when the two girls arrived back at the flat, and Hermione was in such an excellent mood that Evadne hated to spoil it—tomorrow would do—tonight they
were tired, and things were bound to go wrong—and she had still no idea how to begin. She slept badly and woke with a headache to hear the morning post thump through the letter slot, and closed her eyes again with dread. Hermione moved quietly to pick up the letters and went into the living-room with them. So easy, Evadne thought, and pulled the sheet over her head. I never thought to
watch
for Stephen’s letters, I only hoped that one would come….

She dozed again, uneasily, and heard Hermione making tea in the kitchen. On good days she brought a cup to the bedroom for Evadne. This was a good day, and Evadne drank it gratefully to the sound of Hermione’s bath-water running. Feeling dull-witted and unable to cope, she got out of bed and into a dressing-gown and hunted up the morning paper. Henlein again—agitating. Why did they let him? Hitler was going to visit Mussolini in Rome. Was that a good sign? It couldn’t be. Last time Mussolini had saved Austria. The war in Spain had made them partners now. Part-time ARP workers were wanted in London to be trained. She shuddered. Air Raid Precautions. Blast-proof steel shelters were to be provided by the Government, and gas-masks would be issued to the entire civil population. They hadn’t used gas in Spain. Not yet….

Hermione came out of the bathroom in a cloud of fragrance and said she had cleaned the tub. The morning proceeded as usual. They were still sitting over a late breakfast and Hermione was saying that all these ARP wardens were nothing but busybodies, when the telephone rang and Evadne jumped guiltily, in case it was Stephen to ask what had happened, which he would never have done, but anyway if he had she would have had nothing to report.

It was Victor, asking her in a low, hurried voice to meet him at one o’clock in Kensington Gardens beside the statue of Physical Energy. They had often taken that walk before, a reasonable distance from the Queen’s Road entrance into the Gardens and far enough from the sailboat activity at the Round Pond to be quite secluded.

Reprieved again, Evadne went off to her room to get
dressed. There wasn’t time to start a discussion with Hermione now, it would have to wait till after she had seen Victor.

She reached the statue first and stood watching him as he came towards her from the opposite direction along the path which started at the Albert Memorial. He walked with a scissors-like military strut, very different from the easy gait of men she was accustomed to see.

Before she could speak he gripped her arm and turned her down the least frequented one of several paths which meet at the statue.

“I haven’t much time,” he said in the same low tone he had used on the ’phone. “But I had to see you. I go to Germany tomorrow morning.”

He had been to Germany several times before, though not on such short notice, but something made her say, “But you’ll be back soon? You always do come back.”

“I don’t know. Except that I must go.” His voice was harsh. His hand on her arm was without tenderness. They had come to an empty bench and he propelled her towards it, and sat down beside her with a quick, furtive glance round about. No one was within hearing. It was a cool, foggy day, and the Gardens were almost deserted by the usual prams and strolling couples.

“Victor, you’re not in
trouble?
”

“Of course not!” he said impatiently, covering his own uncertainty. “Ribbentrop has gone—so I go. It is impossible to say for how long.”

“But—surely I’ll see you again?”

“Perhaps not. Unless—” He was looking at her fixedly, as though watching for something in her face, waiting for her to say something he expected.

“I hoped you would be here for our London meetings the end of this month,” she said uncertainly. “We’re expanding our programme in a very special way, and—”

“Talk—words—
futilities!
”
he said suddenly, through his teeth. “In Germany we
act!
Come with me now, and see for yourself!”

“Now? But I—you don’t mean—” She in her turn was searching his face, finding it grim and secretive.

“I don’t mean that I can marry you before I go,” he said explicitly and with irony. “That can come later, if you wish.”

“If I—”

“It is not a time to be childish, Evadne, and think only of yourself. It is difficult for me to explain in a few words, but you have always said you would do anything possible to help make England and Germany friends.”

“Yes—yes, I
will,
Victor, you know that!”

“Then come to Germany
now.
Take the eleven o’clock train to Dover tonight, and go by boat from there to Ostend. We cannot travel together and I am flying over tomorrow, but you will be met at Ostend.”

“B-by whom?”

“By a man I shall send. Wait for him at the Continental Hotel. He will bring you to Berlin, where I will have rooms engaged for you. Your passport is in order? Have you enough money?” He reached for his inner pocket.

“Yes, of course—please, Victor, we don’t need any money from you.”

“You will need nothing once you reach Ostend, everything will be provided. Bring only one small bag, or none at all, to make the journey seem unintended. Don’t draw any unusual sum from your bank. Don’t let anyone know you are coming.”

“But Hermione will want to know more about—that is, I don’t myself quite understand what you—”

“Surely you can understand that it is now only a question of how much you are willing to do to prove all this noble talk of spiritual armament and self-sacrifice—if it is sacrifice, which it need not be—”

“But Hermione might—”

“Will you stop arguing and do as I tell you?” he cried angrily, and it was a long moment before she answered.

“No, I don’t think I will, if you speak like that,” she said coolly, and he recognized danger signals which he had encountered before now.

He leaned towards her, his hard fingers biting into her wrist, and she thought his eyes were a little wild.

“You must forgive me. You must—be kind to me now, I am under great strain. Listen to me, Evadne—when first I came to England I was unwilling. I came to hate, and to make trouble, and to do harm where I could. That was a long time ago. I met my mother and saw what she was. I—fell in love with you. And so I tried to make of myself a bridge between my country and yours. You know how well I have tried.”

“Yes, Victor.”

“I have failed.”

“But how can I—”

“I have failed to convince the English that they can condescend to like me a little, and I have failed to show in Germany that the English are different than at first we think. Because of what I have learned here, about things that seem so natural to you that you do not notice them—I know that Ribbentrop is wrong. He says that England is finished as a world power. He tells the Leader that. I do not agree with him. It is very dangerous to discount your Navy as he does. Your Army and Air Force—pitiable. But your Navy—no. We dare not bring your Navy against us yet. No one will tell them that in Berlin. Ribbentrop will not. He does not believe it himself. He believes that England will be easy. He is wrong.”

“And you’re going back to tell them that yourself! That’s splendid of you, Victor, I—”

“Do you think I am mad?” he asked roughly. “Stand up in front of the Leader and say that Ribbentrop does not know what he is talking about? The next thing for me would be the firing squad!”

“Then why—?”

“In Germany you cannot work in the open. You must think round the corner and burrow underground. There are people in Germany who will listen to me, if there is still time. People it would be harder to liquidate than me.” He gave a snort of rueful laughter. “It is what in England you call a joke. I was a long time learning what is a joke, wasn’t I. Listen, this is one.
I go back now to beg from the men like my father who are still alive in Germany. I must look to them—to the old generals—to comprehend that our Leader is being misled. He does not know the truth about England. He will not listen to me against Ribbentrop to hear the truth—but perhaps he will listen to
them
.”
His face twisted in a grimace that tried to be a smile, but gave him for a moment the squared, trembling mouth of a crying child. “If my father were alive now, it is to
him
and his friends that I would have to turn for help to save Germany! I would like my mother to know that, but it is too late. For her it would be a
good
joke!
”
He tried again to laugh, and beat one clenched fist on his knee.

“Victor—darling, I am so sorry—” Evadne’s quick sympathy stood in her eyes, and she laid a comforting hand on his and it was immediately engulfed in a convulsive clasp. “How did your father die? In the war?”

With everything else for the moment erased, he stared at her.

“Did she not tell you that?”

“Rosalind? She’s never spoken of him to me. Or of you.”

Victor sat back against the bench, looking bewildered. His eyes travelled slowly round the informal, peaceful Gardens, with their fine old trees, and the green turf on which one was permitted to walk, and the far away rumble of red buses along the Bayswater Road.

“The
English!
”
he said, as though to himself. “I shall never understand.”

“What is it, Victor?”

“Not now.” He pulled himself together with a visible effort. “That is past. I must go now. There is no more time.” He leaned to her, one arm along the back of the bench imprisoning her shoulders, the other hand in hard possession of hers in her lap. “With you at my side there is nothing that is not possible for us to do. They will listen when I show them you, even the old ones—especially the old ones.
This
is young England, I will say to them. Look at her! Is she the spiritless, degenerate weakling you have been led to expect? See what the women of
England are like, I will say to them, that she has come, like this, to save our two countries from lies and stupidity. Behold this Englishwoman, I will say, here of her own free will, alone and unafraid, because she believed me when I told her that she was the hope and symbol of a new world—and then think again about the kind of fighting men Englishwomen can breed! Think again about this war you will bring upon us, I will tell them, while there is still time! You
will
come to Germany, Evadne, and stand beside me there!”

She gazed up motionless into his face, so close above hers—a heavy, brooding, pitiless face, she thought, with eyes that ran possessively from her hair to her throat to where the fast beating of her heart jarred the fold of her unbuttoned coat. His strength held her there, with the arm of the bench cutting into her ribs. For the first time she wondered if they quite understood each other on the terms of her journey to Berlin.

“Must we start tonight?” she objected, purposefully matter-of-fact after so much rhetoric from him, “You know how Hermione is about packing. It takes her hours to get ready to go anywhere, even for a weekend!”

“Good God, must we have Hermione even
now?
” he cried, for a duenna was not included in his plans. “She will never come. She has not your courage.”

“She is much braver than I am,” Evadne declared loyally.

“You will not let her prevent you? You will come without her if she refuses?”

“But we always go on these jobs together, you know that,” she reasoned with him. “It’s always a team, lone-wolfing isn’t approved of. So you see I’m not sure I—”

“How can you hesitate!” he cried impatiently. “The time is
now!
Armies are marching, the thing will not wait!”

“And besides, I had promised to speak at the meetings here, and it’s a little late now to notify them—”

“You can notify no one!” he said harshly. “To advertise our intentions ahead of time is to fail! As for these ridiculous meetings, when will you learn that they accomplish nothing except self-importance!”

“Really, Victor, how can you say such a thing, I thought you—”

“Speeches made in London are not listened to in Berlin! When our Leader speaks the whole world listens! You are wasting your time here, you are no good to us if you are here in London, the great decisions will not be made here, they will be made in Berlin! That is where you belong now if we are to acomplish anything in time!” He leaned towards her again, urgent and more excited than she had ever seen him. “You will not disappoint me in this, Evadne! You will do your part now, as you have always boasted. This
is
your part. You said I had only to tell you, when the time came!”

“Very well, Victor, I—I’ll do my best. If Hermione baulks I’ll—try to come myself.”

He eyed her a moment closely, afraid to press her further. With or without Hermione, once she reached Germany the question of marriage was bound to arise, and she would have to realize sooner or later how impossible a marriage between them was, in his position. But then it would be rather late, he hoped, for her to turn back. Hermione was already afraid of a war, and would probably take no risks. If she did allow herself to be persuaded to Germany and made too much of a nuisance of herself, there were ways to deal with that. The first thing was to make sure of Evadne now, of her own free will. Once she was in Berlin and the rest of it was made clear to her she would doubtless be willing enough to stay. Indeed, she would have very little choice. Because the German in me, Victor told himself again with pride, always wins.