Джеймс Хилтон - Time And Time Again

‘He put me in a spot where I couldn’t refuse.’

‘Well, I don’t really blame him.’

‘I hope you don’t blame me either. If I hadn’t kept up the pretence of leaving I think he’d have changed all his own plans and cancelled his appointments in London today. Of course I didn’t want him to do that.’

‘So there really ARE appointments?’

‘Oh yes. One of them’s this morning—with his dentist. He told me all about it. He’s very punctilious about such things. Almost ascetic in some ways—doesn’t drink or smoke—’

‘He did both—a little—at dinner with me last night.’

‘Then he loves you,’ she said softly. ‘The oddest things can prove love, can’t they? And since you asked me, I must tell you what a delightful son you have… the uninhibited ascetic. All those early formative years in America and then an English school—really, you couldn’t have devised anything more ingenious… I hated to lie to him, especially when I was seeing him off and he thought I was just going to another platform to catch MY train.’

‘You were lucky—and clever—to have managed it so well. When ARE you leaving?’

‘Next Tuesday. By air.’

Charles looked at his watch. ‘I—I can’t put into words— quite all—that I feel… and how grateful I am to you for—for being so kind to him. I’m fond of that boy, though he probably doesn’t realize it—why should he?—we’ve had so little chance to get to know each other.’ He turned the slight tremor of his voice into the beginnings of a laugh. ‘Just one more question—sheer curiosity —before I have to go… Why Rocher’s?’

‘I know—of all places. But even that was sweet of him. He thought because I’m American it was what I’d enjoy most.’

‘Then you’ve given me the right cue—will you dine with me one evening at a place I know you will enjoy?’

‘Yes—if you won’t be disappointed.’

‘Why should I be?’

‘Gerald told me you’re a great authority on food and wine. I’m not. I just love good eating and talking.’

‘One of which I promise and the other you’re bound to supply yourself.’

‘Oh, now, PLEASE… Is that the kind of thing diplomats have to say at conferences?’

‘If only it were… What about tonight?’

‘Fine… and by the way, why did YOU come to Rocher’s?’

‘That’s one of the embarrassing things I might have to confess —during dinner.’

And so it was arranged. Before he finally left she said ‘Good luck’, and as he rode to the Conference he felt both in need of and fortified by it.

Sir Malcolm Bingay was still indisposed and Charles had to carry the ball —to use an athletic metaphor which seemed to him singularly inappropriate. Most of the day he was embroiled with Palan, who gave no sign of any effects of the previous evening’s dissipation—or indeed, of having had any social intercourse with his opponent at all. Charles was puzzled but not altogether surprised. His own strategy in such circumstances was to ease himself into a situation like a key into a lock, to see first if it fitted before one tried even the slightest turn. All morning he performed this fitment, matching Palan’s performance by one of his own that was perhaps equally baffling; but in the afternoon he gave the first sharp twist by interjecting a phrase of English into his French and adding (in French): ‘I will not translate for the benefit of M’sieur Palan, because I have a feeling I shall be understood.’ Palan did not bat an eyelid.

The whole day was a nerve-exhausting stalemate, a laborious exploration of deadlock.

In the evening Charles took Anne Raynor to a small restaurant near Les Halles. He put on a black tie and was interested to note that her dress would have been suitable whether he had or not. He also noted that she knew more about food and wine than might have been expected from her disclaimer. All these matters, however, were secondary to the fact that he liked her and that their shared affection for Gerald seemed to bring them into a warm contact. During the day he had had to telephone his London flat on some business matter, and his housekeeper had mentioned that Gerald had arrived there in time for breakfast (not that Charles had really had doubts). He told Anne that Gerald must have had a tiresome day. ‘I can’t imagine anything worse than going to a dentist after an all-night train-and-boat journey— except perhaps the kind of day I’ve just had myself, arguing with that fellow who joined us last night at Rocher’s. The odd thing is that personally I don’t dislike him. He fascinates me slightly. He has a peculiar trick— I’m sure it’s a trick—of making you feel he’s always just about to see your point of view. Of course he never does. He can’t let himself. He has his line to follow and daren’t deviate by a hair’s-breadth. Only you don’t always know what the line is till you’ve wasted hours in futile debate. That’s another trick they have—physical exhaustion as a weapon.’

‘Don’t you also have to follow a line?’

‘Oh yes, but not so slavishly. We allow ourselves a little leeway. If I might make a parallel, Palan’s side are the trams, but we’re the trolley-buses… What was your impression of him, by the way?’

‘I’d say he’s an interesting character… No, I don’t dislike him either.’

‘He’s a braggart and I’m sure half the things he says about his past are lies.’

‘But if the other half are true it would still be remarkable. Do you really think he was being watched as he said last night?’

‘By his own men, possibly. Nobody’s ever trusted completely on their side.’

‘I wonder why he joined us then. Couldn’t it get him into trouble?’

‘I thought of that too. He wanted me to go back to his hotel afterwards for a drink. I fancy he’d drunk a little too much himself. He was talking in a rather wild way. Of course I didn’t go.’

‘In case he might be trying to trap you?’

‘Into what?… No, it’s hard to give a reason, except one’s general suspicion of those fellows. Their code’s different, therefore you have to be on your guard all the time. A strange thing, diplomacy, nowadays—full of novelties.’ He felt he had better turn the subject a little. ‘Television, for instance, in your country. I understand Gladwyn Jebb made a great hit that way recently. How would Metternich or Castlereagh or Disraeli have taken to it, I wonder?’

‘I think Disraeli would have been fine if he’d remembered to be like George Arliss.’

‘Then Abraham Lincoln should really have sounded like Charles Laughton, but I’m quite sure he didn’t.’

She laughed. ‘I don’t think YOU need worry, television or not. You’re rather like most Americans’ idea of an English diplomat.’

‘That alarms me. Perhaps it also explains why I haven’t climbed any higher in my profession… You know what they call me?’ Some faintly masochistic urge propelled him to the disclosure. ‘STUFFY ANDERSON.’ There—he had said it. It was always a barrier that had to be crossed, and in any friendship whose progress pleased him he always wanted to mention it first, rather than have it later discovered.

She said casually: ‘Yes, I know. Gerald told me.’

‘What? HE knew? Now how would… oh, well, I suppose there are all sorts of ways.’

‘He said it showed how popular you were.’

Charles was somewhat consoled. ‘Nice of him to think so—or to pretend that he did. But I don’t believe he’s altogether right. Not that I’m unpopular—far from it. But many of my colleagues probably think the nickname suits, and I daresay it does—I’m a bit of a back number in some ways… For instance—my reason for coming to Rocher’s last night —I said I might have to confess it to you.’ He then explained about Gerald’s fidgetiness during dinner and the excuse of the fictitious boat-train for an early departure. ‘Of course it was just because he wanted to meet you—I don’t really blame him at all. But I was curious, and also, well, being the old-fashioned person I am, I thought he might have plans that would land him in some less desirable company… So I followed him. What an ignoble suspicion to have had, and what an out-of-date thing to do! But you see, it’s the old world that I remember—old in history as well as in geography.’