‘Your father looked thoroughly mystified,’ said Theodore with a chuckle.
‘Oh, wasn’t he sweet? Just managing to prevent himself from asking why on earth you needed permission to marry a female indisputably of age. But he came through like a born administrator. I was proud of him. You two should get on like a house on fire.’
‘There was something else he’d have liked to ask, or rather get confirmed – that we’re sleeping together.’
‘Oh, yes. I’m so glad he didn’t, aren’t you? We’d have had to say No, and he’d either have been hurt at our lying to him or been terribly shocked at our unprogressiveness.’
‘I know, but really I think it would be hard to find anybody much who’d understand that we both simply would much rather not until we’re married. Perhaps your mother would.’
‘I doubt it. She’s very moral but her ideas are rather fixed.
And of course someone like Elizabeth would just think we were mad. That reminds me: she says she’ll join the… music society. She’ll do anything within reason that isn’t either dangerous or disgusting. By disgusting she means sleeping with Vanag’s men to get information out of them.’
‘Very sensible. I’m so happy I’m going to do something that isn’t sensible at all and may be both dangerous and disgusting.’
‘Oh, darling, he knows I hate him.’
‘He must know everybody hates him… Good evening, sir - I trust I find you in good health.’
‘I beg your pardon, I so rarely have need for that language. Nevertheless good evening, Miss Petrovsky, Mr Markov.’ Director Vanag spoke in a high tenor, almost an alto. He wore one of the badgeless uniforms, very dark blue and buttoned to the neck, in which he was always seen, this version being of distinctly superior cloth to that of his everyday dress. Theodore’s greeting might not have been to his taste, but he had responded to it with what in almost anyone else would have been taken as a pleasant, even attractive smile. The glance of his large, clear grey eyes had similar connections with friendliness and candour. In repose his face, almost unlined and of a healthy complexion, had a wistful, unworldly look. His crisp, sandy hair, cut short and parted on the right, lifted a little in the faint evening breeze. His teeth were small and regular. He was forty-five and looked thirty-five.
‘You must congratulate us, Director,’ Theodore went on. ‘Miss Petrovsky and I have just become engaged to be married.’
‘Indeed? What a splendid concept. I do very heartily congratulate you.
‘We can take it that you approve, then, can we, sir?’
‘Approve?’ Vanag gave a merry laugh of pure amusement. ‘Of course I approve, but what possible difference could it make whether I did or not? The view of a humble pen-pusher can hardly be of much interest to anyone. Well now, this chance encounter is very timely, Mr Markov. I was thinking to myself just the other day that my ignorance of the activities of your Commission was quite shameful. You can enlighten me. Perhaps you’d be good enough to give me a short account of them.’
Theodore set himself to do so and the talk flowed with some freedom. After a couple of minutes Alexander joined the group, but seemed to have nothing to contribute. He soon began making small impatient movements which the other two men paid no attention to.
‘It’s an impressive undertaking,’ said Vanag in tones of great interest and also of finality. ‘More ambitious than I’d realised.’
‘It’s the least we can do, after the way we treated them in the past.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t quite…’
‘The denationing programme was nothing but an act of savagery.
‘With respect, Mr Markov, if it was that it was also something more: it was the means of breaking the English will to resist, and that had to be done.’
‘It broke everything English. The scale of the thing was altogether wrong. After all, organised resistance collapsed on the third day.’ Theodore was trying hard to speak calmly and civilly. ‘Isn’t that true, sir?’
‘Perfectly true. Hostilities didn’t cease immediately, how-ever.
‘There were isolated pockets of resistance, according to the official history of the operation.’
‘Just so. I take your point, Mr Markov, and if your feelings about these events cause you to approach your work with heightened enthusiasm, so much the better for everybody concerned. I’ve enjoyed our chat. Now I fear I must leave you. Miss Petrovsky; gentlemen.’
And with a gracious inclination of the head Director Vanag turned away and took a proffered glass of the freshly-squeezed lemonade that was always available to him wherever he went and whatever the hour.
‘Strange, isn’t it?’ said Nina a moment later. ‘If you didn’t know-’
But Alexander interrupted her. ‘Forgive me, darling, I must just have one minute with your fiancé. Men’s talk. Then I’ll get you a lovely drink.’
As soon as they were alone, Theodore said, ‘What on earth’s the matter? You look-’
‘My parents know about me and Mrs Korotchenko.’
‘Are they here tonight, the Korotchenkos?’
‘I haven’t seen them.’
‘Let’s hope… Sorry, go on.
‘Well, I was all surprise and indignation but my mother just went on saying she knew – she’s always much tougher than my father over things like this, over most things, in fact. They were trying to warn me off, saying she’s mad and bad, but that’s no news, though they had plenty of documentation, I must admit. At any rate, they know.’
‘How?’
Alexander drew in his breath and shook his head. ‘That’s just it. My mother was quite firm that it was nothing but her observation of me and Mrs K on the evening in question, but she may have some source she didn’t want to mention.’
‘Who could it be?’
‘I can’t imagine. It’s depressing. Perhaps I could… No. Let’s think. Not Korotchenko or they’d have mentioned it, and so would he, presumably. They’d have mentioned the Tabidzes too. Or would they? Who else is there? Think.’
‘Look, will your parents keep quiet?
‘My mother will. My father… well, yes, probably. I’ll take a chance on it, anyway.’
‘You must. The great thing is that Korotchenko clearly doesn’t know. That list of their agents is important to us.’
‘All right.’
‘When is it, next Thursday? The best of luck, my dear fellow.’
Before the night was out Theodore Markov had another conversation that was later to seem important to him, even though this later one lasted only half a minute. The sturdy figure of Commissioner Mets had approached him and Nina rather abruptly.
‘How did it go’?’ Mets had known about the impending engagement.
‘Oh, very well, thank you, sir. The old boy was rather taken aback but he soon rallied.’
‘Good. I saw you having a word with the big boss. Vanag.’
‘Yes, sir. Just briefly.’
‘What do you think of him?’ asked Mets in a loud expressionless voice.
‘We had met once before. He was most polite.’
‘Good. He didn’t make any interesting remarks, I suppose, about any of us? I mean he’s a bit of a joker in his way.’
‘Is he? No, the conversation was general.’
‘I see. He can be quite a joker, you know. Well… good night.’
‘Your boss might have congratulated me or something,’ said Nina as soon as it was opportune.
‘I think he must have been drunk.’
‘Probably. He looked to me as if he was frightened.’
Time was advancing. No food remained on the tables; a large part of it had been eaten by the guests, the rest smuggled out of sight by the waiters for selling to the English gardeners, grooms and lower house-servants for a few hundred pounds a time. The punch had all been drunk, and the company, now somewhat reduced in both numbers and condition, was regaling itself on inferior white wine, rye beer and various spirits. As the light began to fail there was a general move indoors, partly because the breeze had freshened, partly because a good deal of noise was now coming from an impromptu male-voice choir and, round the miniature temple, a remote kind of prayer-meeting with the principal role being taken at the moment by a naked man flourishing a bottle of vodka, during the day a senior official in the department of communications.
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