Chapter 18 - James
"I was brought up in a children's home," James explained. "It was fine really, at least it was all I knew - I can remember looking at other children with their parents, and wondering what it was like to only have one or two brothers or sisters, instead of dozens as I had. Children are amazingly adaptable. I particularly liked one of the ladies who ran the home, she let me call her 'Auntie Viv'. And I liked the chap who came in to take us on nature walks. In my head they became my pretend parents. I wished I could have had a bit more of their attention sometimes. But you got used to sharing the grown-ups around you, not being too demanding. Maybe that came in useful later, who knows."
"I never found out who my parents were, and I suppose now I never will. Apparently I was left in a community hall entrance just before the WI had a meeting, and I was taken into care - at least whoever left me had the sense to plan I would be found. I was about six weeks old, and cute as a button, according to Auntie Viv," James smiled.
Paula smiled too, and softly urged, "Go on."
"Well, I got bigger and less cute, but I did fine at primary school, so I was put in for a scholarship to a rather remarkable school. They took one poor child for every rich student. It sounds horribly patronising but it worked - the rich kids were being trained to understand that not everyone lived as they did, and the poor kids got a glimpse of another world to aspire to. I was a natural mimic, so I quickly picked up a posh accent from some of the real aristocrats."
"I liked to be mysterious about my parentage, as if perhaps I was the son of exiled royalty. The airs and graces I gave myself, honestly, you would have hated me. What a revolting teenager I must have been. I ended up at university, usually being taken for a toff, and I joined every club I could to turn myself into the ultimate man-about-town. Believe me, I can tango, play polo, fence and ski with the best of them."
"Really?" Paula asked, impressed. "Tango, play polo, fence and ski? Not all at the same time, I hope," she teased. "But seriously, what did you read at Uni?"
"Politics, would you believe. I had some daft idea that if I became prime minister, my real parents would come forward and claim me. But I never finished the course." He paused.
"What happened?" Paula prompted.
James took a deep breath. "Look, you can't talk about this to anyone. If I tell you, please promise me that it will remain a secret between you and me. Promise?"
Paula nodded, wondering what on earth was coming.
"I was approached by some people who I later realised were from the Secret Service, and I was invited to train to serve Queen and Country - in intelligence."
Paula's eyebrows rose. "You mean you were a spy?!"
"They don't call it that. I was trained as an operative, eventually working for MI6. Look, you really can't repeat this. It's all in the past anyway, but it is the reason that the police got the wrong idea about me at first. They cottoned on that my CV was faked, put two and two together, and made five."
"Wait a minute - your CV was faked? So you have no experience of doing any local government work?" Paula exclaimed.
"Actually I am probably over-qualified," James grinned. "I was not far off my degree, and I did learn a lot about the way the world runs in the course of my career as an agent. This village may be small, but the same forces act on it, the same problems affect it, as you get in any area. A county, or a country. The villains may be more deadly, and the budgets and plans may be bigger, but the good guys are still fighting the same losing battles. I was na?ve enough to think that I could make a difference, find out things, and prevent bad situations from developing."
"Na?ve?" Paula queried gently. "Do you think I'm na?ve for trying to do good in this community?"
"No, Paula. You are a decent person who wants things to be nice for everyone. But let's face it, you haven't been able to prevent the awful things that have happened here. There are some horrible people in this world, and nothing we can do will stop them. Let me explain - when you've heard my story, you might understand why I think we can only keep things as steady as possible in our own little lives, not prevent the terrible things that will continue to rock our world."
"Yes, please go on, I didn't mean to interrupt."
James smiled, and almost without realising what he was doing, caressed her hand in reassurance. She kept very still, her eyes on his face. She was aware that he was confiding in her, as perhaps he had not done with many people before. Instinctively she knew that her trustworthiness now would make so much difference - not only in their personal relationship, but in his future ability to trust others.
"I was sent on quite a few missions," James continued. "All went well for a time, the assignments were not too demanding, almost boring sometimes. And I was part of a team, so there were others who did more risky tasks than I did. But one day I was called into the office and told that I had the skills needed for a particular mission. I was flattered, I have to admit. At last it seemed I was the one chosen to 'save the situation'. You'll never guess which of my skills they needed."
"Skiing?" Paula ventured, thinking of James Bond.
"No, there were plenty of agents who could ski. No, I was chosen because I am pretty good at ballroom dancing."
Paula almost burst out laughing. "Ballroom dancing?!"
"Yes, remember I said I could tango? I had learned at an evening class while I was at Uni, and I loved it. In my spare time I went to classes near wherever I was based, and I got to the level of being able to teach. I thought I'd kept it quiet - didn't want the rest of the guys to laugh - but the bosses knew everything you did, every sneeze. Anyway, there was a person who needed to be put under surveillance, and they knew he wanted to learn ballroom dancing. I thought it was a joke at first, until they told me who it was I had to get close to."
Paula nodded, encouraging him to keep talking. He looked sideways at the grass they were sitting on, lost in the memory of that office, and those men in command of him who had given him the assignment. He continued, choosing his words carefully.
"I won't tell you his name, but he was a powerful politician in a country that was - is - dangerous. Those who run the country don't care at all about the people - as long as they can live the high life, they carry on grabbing everything. Soon the economy will implode, that's for sure. Anyway, they showed me pictures of this man, and gave me all the intelligence they had gathered on his activities. He was suspected of illegal arms trading, and had betrayed his own country in his determination to be rich." James paused, wondering if this must sound too fantastic to Paula's ears. She waited patiently for him to continue, so he did.
"I was to get close to him by becoming his dance teacher, with assistance from a female agent who could also dance. We were sent to - well, the country in question, and we managed to present ourselves as well-known and successful dance teachers. You'd be amazed at the cover stories and documents the Department can come up with. You'd have honestly believed that we had won every medal going, and trained half the famous dancers in the world."
"And he believed it?" Paula asked, intrigued.
"Oh, he believed it all right. There's nothing like a well spoken Englishman for impressing the rest of the world. We pretended that we were too busy looking for premises for our dance academy to fit in teaching him - reverse psychology, you understand - so naturally he insisted that we postpone those plans and concentrate on teaching him and his wives to dance. He offered us an obscene amount of money."
"Wives? Plural?"
"Yes - well, I suppose that gives you a clue what part of the world we are talking about."
"No, I can think of more than one possibility!"
"Good. Well, we 'reluctantly' agreed to his offer, and set about teaching him and his family. I had been taught enough of the language to converse and get him dancing, but part of the plan was that the female agent couldn't speak a word. When I had taught him a new dance, he had to practice with her, and be
come so proficient at the steps that he could talk at the same time. I would leave the room and let them get on with it. We told him that in social settings, he had to be able to dance and hold a conversation simultaneously."
"I don't understand - how did that help you get any information out of him?" Paula asked, puzzled.
"I know it sounds potty, and I was convinced that we would just be there a few weeks and then be recalled, because it wouldn't work. Honestly, I was just as sceptical as you. At first he struggled to dance and talk at the same time, and only said a few things - like 'how are you today' and 'I like your dress'.
"Of course she couldn't understand a word he said - she just danced with him, never reacted at all. She smiled but she had no idea what he was saying. Gradually he became confident that he could say anything at all, and she would never be able to repeat it. The urge to talk must have overcome him, because he started to brag about what he was doing. Think about it - he was living a lie to his own government colleagues, keeping secrets from his family and just about everyone else. Secrets eat away at you inside, you long to be able to tell someone, even if, like him, it's just to boast about how clever you are. Some people tell all their secrets to their pets!"
"You mean he started talking about his arms deals?"
"Exactly. Her clothing was bugged, so everything was recorded. We had a couple of team members staying in an apartment in the city, and we took the results to them to be translated. I couldn't understand most of it, but that was just as well. I had to pretend I liked the man, and she especially had to behave as though dancing with him was the best treat of her day. Poor girl, she hated it really, he trod on her feet and had bad breath."
"Yuk!" Paula winced.
"I know. He made a pass at her once, but she was so well-rehearsed in acting dumb that she pretended he'd made a wrong move in the dance, and gestured 'No, no, no.' Then she went and started the music again, and pushed him in the right direction at the appropriate place. Fortunately he didn't try it again. She made him respect her passion for dancing - and he was a bit scared of her, I think."
"Brave girl," said Paula, wondering how attractive this unnamed female had been.
"Oh, she was brave, she knew how to handle herself, but I found her rather frightening really. She was utterly dedicated to her work, clever, but no sense of humour. Beautiful, if you like them cold and unapproachable," James replied, answering her unspoken question. Paula was satisfied.
"So you got all the information?" she coaxed him.
"Nearly. We just had to find out who his contact was, as it was thought to be a British arms dealer. There were several candidates hanging around in the capital city at the time. I started to accept invitations to his home, hoping there would be a meeting with his contact while I was there. His wives were making a fuss of me, loving the dancing lessons, so it was easy to get invited."
Paula was thinking, 'I bet they made a fuss of you, I'd kill to get a chance to dance around in your arms.' All she said was, "So you went to his house. Was it huge?"
"It was huge, yes, and you drove into a compound with barbed-wire fencing and guards. This guy had enemies, and he knew it. But once you were inside, it was all opulence and luxury. Disgusting - there were starving children just a few yards away from his property, and he was completely oblivious. I felt such a hypocrite eating at his table, but I couldn't blow my cover by letting on how I felt."
"Oh, how awful. It was a really poor country then?"
"Don't try to guess, Paula. The less you know, the less you can give away. But yes, I saw abject poverty there, and human suffering on a scale I never want to witness again. But that was not the worst of it."
"I'm sorry, I interrupted again," Paula apologised.
"He took me to his place about eight times, and I got to know his wives, his children - he had ten of them - and even his servants. I began to feel part of his family, which was ridiculous when you think what I was there to do. But I couldn't help it, they made me feel welcome, and took me to their hearts." James was no longer looking at Paula, but gazing into the middle distance, enveloped in memories of another country.
"They would offer me special local dishes, and the children would bring me pictures they had drawn, usually of me dancing with their mummies. They did their own dances too, to entertain me. I felt like a privileged uncle. I knew what he was like, but the womenfolk and the children, and the servants - they were just living with him, under his control. None of it was their fault." James was looking at Paula again, an angry frown on his brow. Slowly his face became clouded with sadness, and he fell silent.
"What happened, James?" Paula whispered.
He pressed his lips together, and bending his head down, he lifted one hand to his face, holding it over his eyes. "Give me a minute," he mumbled. Paula waited patiently, watching him struggle. After a long pause, he spoke.
"The final time he took me to his house, we found the compound gate wide open, and the guards lying dead all over the place. He went berserk, wild with fury. He screamed at them, at their bodies - as if they could answer him. Then he raced inside, and I followed him. We found them - all of them - dead. Wives, children, servants - no-one left alive. Even their pet dog.........it was the most terrible sight I've ever seen. I can't forget it - I still have dreams about it. I was physically sick. And I felt so ashamed." He put his head down and stopped talking.
Paula's hands had involuntarily covered her own mouth as he told her the horrible account. She was stunned. She had no idea that James wrestled with such awful memories. They sat there on the grass under the tree, silent, lost for words. The sun poured down on the scene, the cars moved up and down the road the other side of the block of flats, and a bird sang in a nearby hedge. The minutes ticked by.
"I'm sorry," James said suddenly. "I shouldn't have burdened you with that. But I wanted you to understand why I have to be cynical about our chances of stopping the evil in this world."
"James," Paula chided gently, looking into his eyes, "I'm not a child, to be sheltered from bad things. I'm glad you told me. I know I can't share your painful memories, or lessen them, but I can comfort you. He was a wicked man who made enemies, and those enemies did that awful thing. You don't need to be ashamed - you had nothing to do with what happened."
He closed his eyes, and shook his head. "You don't understand. I don't know exactly how, but it was because of us his government found out that he was betraying them, and sent troops to massacre his family in revenge. The families living nearby, the poor and starving people who he had deprived, saw the troops arrive. They told him who had killed his family, and they pretended to be shocked. They were still scared of him, you see. But really they were glad, they felt he deserved it. You could see the old people sitting in the back of the huts in the shade, they had such looks of hate on their faces."
"But I still don't see why you were in any way to blame," Paula protested, shaking her head. "How could it be 'because of you'?"
"We were foreigners, and we got close to him. I spoke to him in his own language, and used terms they thought were code words. It made them suspicious, and they started watching him. Somehow they found out what he was doing, selling his own country's arms to line his own pockets. They also thought that I was his contact, or the dealer. The massacre was timed so that I would be there with him to find the carnage."
"The other agents and I had to be got out of the country as fast as possible, and I was kept in hiding for some time. Not only were officers from his government interested in finding me, but also the real contacts - they didn't know if I'd managed to identify them or not. It turned out that what was going on in that country was a small part of a vast international criminal operation, and I'd nearly blown it. My handlers wouldn't tell me the details, but I now suspect that some governments we think of as our allies were involved. I was in the middle of something I knew nothing about, and I'd been used myse
lf."
James paused, and sighed deeply. "I know that all those deaths could have happened anyway, even if we'd never arrived, but I've always felt responsible. Those innocent women and children - and the servants, who were just trying to make a living. He was a tyrant, keeping them all under his thumb, but his enemies treated them as pawns in a game. They were killed to warn him, to punish him. It was a horrible feud, and whoever got in the way was just heartlessly cut down."
"Yes, and that's why I don't think you can blame yourself," Paula insisted. "You could have been a genuine dance teacher, just making a living. In fact you could have been killed yourself. He was responsible, you said it yourself - he was a tyrant. He did the dirty deals, he made enemies, he cared nothing for his neighbours who were starving. It was a terrible thing to happen, but you were in no way to blame, and you shouldn't feel ashamed."
"I felt ashamed partly because I couldn't stop myself being sick in the house. Not exactly a brilliant secret agent, eh? I resigned after that, and after some furious arguments with my bosses I managed to get myself out of my contract on medical grounds. Stress, that was the official version. They thought I'd gone nutty, due to the trauma of that day. They were most unhelpful for a few years, when I was trying to get my life back on track, until I found I was being followed by some very nasty people. I was living in Scotland under an assumed name, as a lodger with some old friends from university days. Then I must have been recognised and followed back to their house, because their garage was torched. The name of the compound where the massacre happened was scrawled on the gatepost, just to drive the point home. It was a warning. I couldn't risk putting anyone else's life in danger, so I moved again and again, to lose the tail. Finally the Department made arrangements for me to apply for the job here, with various changes to my identity, and - well - the rest you know."
"But is James your real name?" Paula asked. She felt it was a silly question, the least important concern after all he had just told her, but it was all she could think of asking.
"Yes, James Goswell is the name I was given in the home. There was a patron with the surname Goswell, who had died the year before with no-one to carry on his name. I suppose someone thought it was a nice idea. 'James' was the name of Auntie Viv's father. But don't worry - I never used the name while I was working as an agent. I had several names, but I've not been known as 'James Goswell' since University."
"And - changes to your identity? You mean - your face....?"
James managed a weak smile. "I was getting grey hair anyway, so that was emphasised. And a little work on my nose. It wasn't always straight. But nature - or old age I should say - had already changed my looks a good deal."
"Old age, indeed," Paula retorted. She sat considering him for a while, until he became uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Finally she spoke again. "There are no scars on the outside, James, only on the inside. But something can be done about that."
She laid her hand on his, and held it there, looking up into his eyes with warmth and love. He looked back at her in amazement.
"I'm a dangerous person to get close to, Paula," he warned. "I've put my friends at risk in the past, and I'm not sure I'm out of the woods yet........" He sighed glumly and looked down at her hand on his. "I thought when they found the first body in the basement that it was something my past had brought on all of you.......I can't tell you how relieved I was when the inspector told me it had begun long before I came here..........anyway, that aside, I'm a messed-up person, I'm not sure I even know how to show affection like ordinary people do....."
She sat perfectly still, looking deliberately into his eyes, maintaining her air of serenity. Inner thoughts softened the lines of her mouth, communicating her happy determination to be at his side come what may. He blinked, lifted his head again, and was astonished at the love he saw in her eyes. Gradually his lack of self-belief began to melt, and he returned her loving gaze. Slowly he leaned nearer to her, until she could feel his warm breath on her face. She closed her eyes, and he kissed her, softly and tenderly. As he pulled away a little, her eyes opened, and he said, "Paula - don't go away from me again.....please......"
"I won't. I understand now." She smiled at him, and closed her eyes again in anticipation of the next kiss.