Michael Ridpath - Shadows of War

‘There’s a newspaper campaign planned. Alston has friends in every part of the ruling class, according to Constance. It will seem like common sense, like a great escape from defeat. Or at least that’s the idea.’

‘It will never work.’

‘I’ve seen it work. So have you. In Germany. Hitler was voted into power by the people, remember? This will be different, because you British are different, but that’s why it will work. According to Constance and Alston.’ Anneliese looked up at Conrad. ‘Don’t be too quick to dismiss these things as impossible. That’s what we did in my country.’

Conrad stopped. They were in the middle of a large green meadow, bordered by trenches that had been dug a couple of years before as protection from air raids. No one had ever used them.

‘What the hell is my father doing with Alston?’ Conrad said. ‘I can’t for a moment imagine he is a willing participant. Alston must have pulled the wool over his eyes somehow. Father is much too naive.’

‘Constance said that Lord Oakford is going to France to tell the Duke of Windsor to come back to Britain and reclaim his crown. Apparently he and Alston discussed it with the duke when he was here in February.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Conrad said. ‘I can just about believe that he might help Alston make peace with the Germans. But we already have a king and he’s called George, not Edward the bloody Eighth. If my father is trying to get the duke to come back that’s treason, pure and simple. And whatever else my father is, however stupid he is, he’s not a traitor!’

‘I can only say what Constance told me,’ said Anneliese.

‘I’ll talk to him now,’ said Conrad. ‘Tell him he shouldn’t be such a fool.’ Conrad turned on his heel and walked back towards the Knightsbridge underground station.

‘No, Conrad!’ said Anneliese. ‘No. Listen to me.’ She tugged on his sleeve, urging him to stop.

Conrad turned to her. ‘Anneliese. I have to sort this out! Maybe Constance is making it up. Or she is confused.’

‘Conrad. Listen to me. Your father is involved. We don’t know how and we don’t know why, but Constance would have no reason to lie to me. She doesn’t know that I know him or you. But we have to assume that your father knows what he is doing. Which means that you can’t tell him that we know it too.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he will stop you from doing anything about it. Your father is an idealist. If he thinks he is doing the right thing, he won’t let you get in his way. You know that, you’ve told me yourself about the arguments you’ve had with him.’

‘How could he stop me?’

Anneliese shrugged. ‘I don’t know. What I do know is that you think you are safe in nice cosy Britain and you are not. All those horrible things that happen over the English Channel are coming here soon. Very soon.’

‘My father wouldn’t hurt me.’

‘This kind of thing tears families apart in my country. It will in yours too.’

They were a few yards away from a bench and Conrad headed towards it. He sat down and leaned forward, his head in his hands. He felt Anneliese’s palm on his back.

‘I just can’t believe Father would betray his country like that,’ he said. ‘I know peace is important to him, but this is treason. He’s betraying everything he believes in. Everything I believe in. Everything!’

‘He probably doesn’t think it is,’ said Anneliese. ‘That’s the whole problem. He probably thinks he’s doing what’s right for his country. Alston and Constance think that too.’

‘When you told me just now you had proof that Constance had killed Millie, I thought I could finally go to Father and convince him that Alston was evil, that he was a traitor, that not only had he killed Millie but he was conspiring to lose the war and overthrow our king. I thought Father would listen to me, help me. I thought he was a good man and he would prove it to me. But now? Now I don’t know what to think.’

Conrad blinked. He could feel tears springing to his eyes. He could see Anneliese had noticed, and he fought to control himself.

Anneliese reached for his hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m sorry, Conrad.’

Conrad sat up and took a deep breath. ‘All right. So what do we do?’

‘We tell someone,’ said Anneliese.

‘Tell someone that my father’s a traitor?’

‘Yes,’ said Anneliese.

Conrad turned to her. Her familiar green eyes were looking into his. No irony, this time. No humour. Concern. Love even. Sincerity.

‘I can’t do it,’ he said.

‘You have to do it,’ Anneliese said. ‘This is bigger than you and me. You know that.’

What about Mama? Conrad thought. What about Millie and Charlotte and Reggie?

For a second he had forgotten Millie was dead. And Edward was dead. His family had been torn apart. More than that, it was as if a mortar bomb had landed right in the middle of it and exploded.

‘Do you know why I didn’t want to marry you when I came to London?’ Anneliese said.

‘No,’ said Conrad.

‘Because I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I felt worthless. I felt that what had happened in Germany had destroyed me. The only reason for me existing was to help my parents, and even they didn’t have much of a future. I felt that if I once was worthy of you, I wasn’t anymore. I loved you and I was absolutely certain that you would have a better life without me.’

‘But that doesn’t make any sense!’ Conrad said.

‘It made sense to me. It was as if I was carrying the evil of the Nazis inside me somehow, that it had infected me like some plague and that I had brought it with me to England. I didn’t want to infect you.’

Conrad reached out his hand and stroked Anneliese’s hair.

‘Can you understand that?’ she said. Her eyes were steady, her jaw firm.

Conrad thought of all Anneliese had suffered. Of her stoic misery in London. Of the confidence that he had always felt that she loved him really, and the frustration that she wouldn’t allow him to love her.

‘I think so.’

‘But going to the Russian Tea Rooms, pretending to be some kind of Nazi myself, has made me feel better. I am worth something; I am doing something worthwhile. The world is on the edge of a thousand years of darkness. Don’t you feel it? If France surrenders, if Alston and your father create their puppet government, the Nazis will control Europe. They will control Britain. They will destroy the Jewish people. They will destroy civilization. There will be a new Dark Ages.’

Conrad nodded. She was right.

‘Doing what little I can to prevent that has given my life meaning again. You must do what you can too. Even if it means betraying your father.’

Conrad looked at Anneliese. She knew how important his father was to him; her own father meant everything to her. She knew him; she understood him.

She was right.

He stood up. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

‘Where?’

‘We need to tell someone. Someone who can actually do something about it.’

‘Who?’

‘Sir Robert Vansittart.’

It turned out that that was much easier said than done. It was only a fifteen-minute walk across Green Park and St James’s Park to the Foreign Office, but once there it transpired that the Chief Diplomatic Adviser was busy. Conrad scribbled a note for the commissionaire to give to Mrs Dougherty, saying that he had information of national importance, and then he and Anneliese waited in the grand entrance hall of the Foreign Office.

And waited.

Eventually, two hours later, Conrad heard a familiar deep Ulster voice behind him. ‘Lieutenant de Lancey, would you be good enough to come with me?’

It was Major McCaigue. Conrad introduced Anneliese and they followed McCaigue up to a small windowless office on the third floor that he must have borrowed.