Len Deighton - Spy Line

'Only frozen Székelygulyás, ' I said reflectively. 'What a colourful life we live.'

'I didn't get to the shops,' said Gloria. I heard the warning note in her voice.

'We can go to Alfonso's or the little Chinese place,' I offered.

'What has made you growly tonight, teddy bear?'

'I'm not growly,' I said and managed a convincing smile to prove it.

'A soft-boiled egg will do me,' she said.

'Me too,' I agreed.

She was standing in front of the mirror combing her wet hair. She looked at me and said, 'You say that, Bernard, but when I give you just an egg you always end up at bedtime rummaging through the larder and opening tins or having Shredded Wheat.'

'Let's have the frozen Székelygulyás ,' I said, having suddenly remembered that it wasn't some new packaged line from the supermarket; it was her mother's Hungarian home cooking. Criticizing such a meal could lead to a tangle in the psyche that only a Freudian gourmet could hope to unravel. 'It's my very favourite! Is that the chicken in sour cream?'

'It's pork with pickled cabbage,' she said angrily, but when I pulled a face at her she grinned. 'You are a bastard! You really are.'

'I knew it was pork and cabbage,' I said.

'Or there's the new fish and chip shop, the one we haven't tried.'

'What kind of wine goes with Székelygulyás? '

'You hate Hungarian food.'

'No I don't.'

'You said the caraway seeds got in your teeth.'

'That was my other teeth.'

She knelt down beside my chair and put her arms round me. 'Please try, Bernard. Please try and really love me. I can make you happy, I know I can, but you must try too.'

'I really love you, Gloria,' I said.

'Is Silas very ill?'

'I'm not sure,' I said. 'One moment he seems on the point of collapse and the next moment he's shouting and laying down the law.'

'I know he means a lot to you.'

'He's old,' I said. 'We all have to go sooner or later. He's had a good innings.'

'Is it something I've done then?'

'No, darling. You're perfect. I give you my word on that.' I meant it.

'It's this house isn't it? You've hated this house ever since we moved here. Is it the journey? Your other house was so central.'

She kissed my ear. I held her. 'The house is fine. It's just that I'm trying to work out a few problems at work. You'll have to make allowances for the growly factor.'

'Dicky Cruyer, you mean?'

'No. Dicky is the least of my worries. Without me to do ninety per cent of his work, he'd probably be shifted off somewhere where he could do less damage.'

'But?'

'A lot of people would like to see Dicky booted out of the German Desk. Deputy Europe for instance. He detests Dicky. If getting rid of me meant getting rid of Dicky too, Gus Stowe would do it and throw a party to celebrate.'

Gloria laughed. The idea of a celebratory party given by Gus Stowe was not easy to imagine. 'Let me put the food into the microwave,' she said. The way she chose to say let me, instead of using some more assertive syntax, was the essence of our relationship. Despite what others may think, my love for her was not of any paternal sort: but what was the nature of her love for me? 'And I'll bring you a glass of wine.'

'I'll get it.'

'You sit there and take it easy. When dinner is ready, I'll tell you the latest about Dicky. It will make your eyes pop.'

'Nothing Dicky could do would surprise me,' I said.

She brought me a glass of chilled wine. There was no scotch. No gin, vodka or anything else. We'd run out of such stuff and she'd never bought more. She wanted to rescue me from hard booze. I sat back and drank the wine and took it easy while listening to the electronic squeaks of the timer on the microwave. The oven was her newest toy. I'd overheard her talking to the cleaning lady about it. She'd boasted of cooking delicious braised liver in it, although in fact the liver had exploded and covered the inside of the oven with a garlicky film of pulverized goo. She'd ended up in tears.

But now I could hear her singing quietly to herself and I knew I'd done the right thing in choosing her mother's Hungarian cooking, prepared by Gloria in her new machine. It gave her a chance to play at housekeeping. The particular pleasure she got from it was demonstrated by the elaborate way she'd arranged on the table our tête-à-tête meal. There were candles and even a long-stemmed rose, albeit an artificial one.

'How wonderful you are,' I said when I was permitted into the kitchen to eat.

'I've forgotten the pepper mill,' she said, reaching for it hurriedly. There was a nervousness in her voice, an anxiety, so that sometimes her earnest desire to please me made me uneasy. It made me feel like a tyrant.

'Tell me your news about Dicky.'

'I don't know how Daphne puts up with him,' said Gloria. She liked to begin with a preamble that set the mood. 'Daphne is such a clever woman. You know she's painting leather jackets?'

'Painting leather jackets? Daphne?'

'She's an artist, Bernard.'

'I know she went to art school.'

'Same thing.'

'On leather jackets?'

'Dragons and psychedelic nudes. You haven't seen them? I know you'd love to have one, darling.'

'Having a psychedelic nude, even on a leather jacket, might prove a bit too much for me these days.'

'They take hours.'

'I would imagine.'

'Stop it!'

'What?'

I'm serious. Daphne works very hard and Dicky doesn't understand her.'

'Did he tell you that?'

'Of course not. I wish you'd listen instead of trying to be so smart.'

'I like this pork and cabbage. A bit too much salt but it's very good.'

'Last time you said it was tasteless. I put the extra salt in.'

'It's delicious. So what about Dicky?'

'He's going to Berlin on Friday. He's booked a suite at Kempinski's; he's taking a girl with him. Poor Daphne. If she ever finds out…'

'What girl? Someone from the office?'

'I don't know,' she said.

'Where did you hear these rumours?'

'They are not just rumours. He's got the suite booked.'

'Did Dicky's secretary tell you?'

Gloria took a moment to swallow her cabbage and then drank some wine too. It gave her time to consider her reply. 'No, of course not.'

'She has no right to be gossiping about such things.'

'You wouldn't tell Dicky?'

'No,' I said, 'of course not. But it's stupid of her to gossip like that.'

'Don't be stuffy, teddy bear,' she said pouring more wine.

'Suppose there was no woman,' I said. 'Suppose Dicky was waiting for an agent coming through the wire? Suppose that agent's safety depended upon everyone keeping their mouth shut.'

'Yes.' She thought about it and said, 'Suppose it was a woman; suppose it was your wife?'

'Impossible,' I said.

'Why impossible?'

'Because Fiona is one of theirs! Damn you, I wish you'd get that simple fact into your thick blonde Hungarian head!' I saw the sudden alarm in her face and only then realized that I was shouting and banging on the table.

She said nothing. I could have bitten my tongue off as soon as I'd said it. But once it was said, there was no way ever to unsay such a stupid gratuitous insult.

I'm sorry, Gloria. Forgive me, please. I didn't mean it.'

She was crying now, the tears running down her flushed cheeks as if they'd never stop. But she managed a hint of a smile and said, 'You did mean it, Bernard. And there's nothing I can do to make you see me any other way.'

'Let's go and sit in the other room,' I suggested. I poured the last of the wine.

'No. It's almost time for me to go and collect the children, and I must throw some clothes into the spin-drier before I go.'

'Let me collect them,' I said.

'You don't know where it is, Bernard. It's all ill-lit one-way streets: you'll get lost.'