Christopher Priest - The Separation

They moved towards the exit, leaving Hess behind them. The peace was sealed, but not with a handshake.

Dinner was served in the banqueting hall of the mansion, with everyone who was involved in the negotiations seated along the sides of one immense table that ran the entire length of the room. By contrast with the relaxed mood of the two previous days, Churchill’s arrival appeared to have split the conference into its three constituent groups. He had succeeded in creating a frosty, almost hostile atmosphere between the two main groups when until his arrival all delegates had mixed convivially with everyone else. He and the Duke of Kent, together with the ambassadors, the chiefs of staff and the secretaries from the Foreign Office, sat at one end. Hess and his similarly sized retinue were at the other. The representatives from the neutral states, the auxiliary negotiators and the document team occupied the middle ground.

Churchill was sitting on the opposite side of the table to me, about fifteen seats away. In spite of everything I still felt about his warlike nature I was dazzled by his presence. Although I had been closely involved with the preparations for the treaty, I suppose that I had never really believed Churchill would bring himself to sign it. Yet here we were with the process complete. Even as we were dining, the teams of constitutional lawyers from Germany and Britain were elsewhere in the building, engrossing the text, making it ready for release to the public record. Churchill appeared to be deep in conversation with the Duke, but I could not help noticing that from time to time he gave me a direct and unblinking stare, which I found disconcerting.

Hess and his group left without warning in the middle of the meal. During the first two courses he and his officials were deep in conversation, conducted with much intensity. They did not wait to finish their venison course. Without a word to anyone else at the table they suddenly rose to their feet, scraping back their chairs. They strode quickly to the exit.

At the door, Hess turned back, stamped his feet together and raised his right arm in the Nazi salute. The room fell silent. Hess held the pose for a moment.

‘Heil Hitler!’ he shouted and marched out of the room.

Churchill said into the silence, ‘Good Lord.’

He turned back to the Duke and continued his affable conversation as before. The mood in the room lightened noticeably.

Now that our negotiations were complete I was starting to think anxiously about returning home. I could not see what more work I would be called upon to do for the Red Cross, but the inescapable fact was that I could not return to England on my own. I tried to find out from some of the people I was sitting close to what the arrangements for flying home were going to be, but everyone else was in the dark too.

At the end of the dinner, Winston Churchill rose to his feet and made a brief speech. For me, it was a moment of high anticipation, the thought of being present when he might have something to say of historic significance. As soon as he began speaking, though, it was clear that he saw this as no opportunity for high oratory. In plain language he merely congratulated us on our work and said that despite the apparent bad faith of the Nazi leadership he believed the treaty would hold and that the peace would be genuine and lasting. He also explained that he was obliged to return to London as soon as possible. After his few words he sat down to warm applause. Somehow, imperceptibly, he had turned the meeting round: it was no longer an international forum for peace, but was now a Churchill occasion.

Not long after, we began to collect our personal property together as cars arrived to take us back to our hotel in Stockholm. When I passed through the main conference room for the last time, I saw Winston Churchill there. He broke off his conversation and came across to me, his cigar smoke trailing behind him. He was cradling a brandy balloon, with a generous quantity of the liquor swilling around inside.

‘I remember you from our meeting at Admiralty House last week,’ he said, without preamble. ‘Your name is J. L. Sawyer, is it not?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Let me ask you a question, Mr Sawyer. Your name had already come up before I met you. There was some confusion about you which I think Dr Burckhardt might finally have resolved for me, but I should like to hear it from you too. He tells me you have a brother or a close relative with the same name as you.’

‘I have a brother, Mr Churchill. We are twins, identical twins.’ I briefly explained about the similarity of our initials.

‘I see. Your brother is the one serving in the air force, I take it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And he is the married one of you?’

‘No, sir. I believe he is still single.’

‘But then you are married. To a German?’

‘My wife is a naturalized British citizen, Mr Churchill.’ I added quickly, ‘She came to England before the war began and we were married five years ago.’

Churchill nodded with some sympathy. ‘I understand your concerns perhaps. There is no need for you to worry any longer about your wife’s position. But let me say that I have been amused by the confusion your name was creating, because something of the sort once happened to me. When I was younger I discovered that there was another Winston Churchill loose in the world, this one an American. A novelist he was and rather a good one too. We were both writing books and before anyone realized what was happening we innocently caused a muddle. Ever since I have used the S for Spencer as a middle initial, but only on my books.’

He seemed to be in an expansive, talkative mood and in spite of his warning at dinner that he had to hurry back to London he did not appear to be in any great haste to leave me. Because of that, I raised the subject that was on my mind.

‘Sir, do you suppose the Germans really intend to observe the peace?’

‘I do, Mr Sawyer. As you know, most of the impetus for peace came first from their side. Hess clearly intended that he and I should fall into each other’s arms like long-lost brothers. That is not my way in any event. Although I will parley with Nazis I do not expect to have to hug them afterwards.’

‘He seemed furiously angry as he left.’

‘Indeed he did. But if it is any consolation to you, I can tell you that the peace has already broken out. Because you have been here in Sweden, you will not know that on Saturday night London suffered the worst air raid of the war. Terrible damage was done and many people died. Since then, though, not a single German plane has crossed the Channel. We too launched massive air raids against Germany on the same night, but they were the last we will be flying. U-boat activity in the Atlantic has entirely ceased. The desert war has halted. Our navy is still on patrol, the air force is flying constantly and the army remains vigilant everywhere, but there hasn’t been a single hostile incident from either side since Sunday afternoon. Because we have not yet had the opportunity to announce our armistice, the war will continue in theory for the time being, but in every practical way there has been a cease-fire for more than twenty-four hours.’

Mr Churchill swirled his brandy one more time and tipped the balloon against his lips.

‘Then why did Hess act the way he did?’ I said.

‘I do not know. Maybe because I refused to shake his bloodstained hand.’ Churchill made a chortling sound. ‘I suspect darker deeds will soon be afoot, and his departure in that fashion was a little play-acting for our benefit. Most people are afraid of the Nazis, but I find them tiresome, as everyone else will too, once their threat to our safety has passed. This reminds me, though. Now that we have entered the post-war period you’ll have to find a new job. I have one I can offer you. We are going to need an organizer with special skills to act on behalf of British interests in Berlin. It would be an administrative job, concerned with moving all those people to Madagascar. It’ll be a huge responsibility, but Dr Burckhardt says that no less a man than you should be the one.’