‘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.
A visitor who knew the house as it normally was would have noted certain arrangements made for the occasion. The standard of behaviour expected tonight was far higher than that at, say, Igor Swianiewicz’s parties, which were as different as they could possibly have been from the present gathering. Otherwise the outer doors would have been barred and heavy furniture run up against them, to be removed only when the last departure was reliably reported. As it was there was free access to east and west halls, in which hard chairs and folding tables were set, and only the more expensive appointments had been locked away. All internal doors except those of the downstairs lavatories, where the floors were covered with sheets of waterproof material, had of course been securely blocked.
The more sober spirits were grouped at the western end. It was here that, about eleven o’clock, Mrs Tabidze yielded to persistent requests and began telling fortunes with a pack of playing-cards. She stipulated that she would not choose her clients — individuals must suggest themselves, thereby nettling Alexander, who felt that this undemanding way of holding the stage would be unacceptably degraded if one were seen to bid for it. Nina had no such inhibitions. Ignoring Theodore’s mild dissuasion she went forward and sat at the small baize-covered table on the other side of which Agatha Tabidze was putting out the cards face down in heaps of half a dozen and turning them over apparently at random. Nina’s virtues were rehearsed, then some of her accomplishments, like making a good lemon soufflé; this part was light and facetious in tone. Her engagement was treated rather more sedately, with a few minor facts revealed which it seemed she had not thought at all generally known. Finally — it was soon clear that the fortunes told were to be of no great comprehensiveness — Mrs Tabidze drew a fresh card and said in a gentle voice,
‘And what is to come will be good. Soon there will be a time of trial, not of your making, for between the two of you there will never be any serious difficulty, yet none the less it will be a troublesome time. But it will pass, and you will be together, and you will be happy.’
There was shouting and applause from the couple of dozen in the west hall. Nina jumped to her feet and embraced Mrs Tabidze, then, streaming with tears and grinning broadly, ran to Theodore’s arms. Petrovsky made a confused re-announcement of what had just been made public and the company cheered, renewed their applause and proposed and drank toasts. One of the drinkers, a burly bearded man in a short bottle-green jacket and white trousers, immediately afterwards clapped his hand across his mouth and made off towards the lavatories at a lurching trot. Then things quietened down for a time. Successively, two middle-aged ladies, each the wife of an official, were taken at a smart pace through their pasts, presents and futures. General attention wandered; after emotional farewells, or in one case after being hauled upright and supported from either side, several people left. When the second lady had been dismissed there was a pause, and the entertainment, already languishing, seemed about to cease altogether. At last Commissioner Mets put up his hand and was accepted.
The fortune-teller had run into a small difficulty in that her acquaintance with her new customer was recent and slight, though it certainly included the fact that he held an important and therefore sensitive post; banter, the obvious recourse, would not do here. Hesitantly at first, consulting the cards a great deal, she told the Commissioner that he was a man of wide knowledge, refined taste and steady judgement, that he showed total dedication to his job but was always extending his horizons in new directions, and other things no self-respecting bureaucrat could demur at. When the talk turned to the inevitable difficulties along the way and the patience that would in time resolve them, someone gave a great yawn, but the next moment Mrs Tabidze turned up a card, looked at Mets and gave a sharp exclamation of surprise. She was not hesitating now; it was just that the words would not come.
‘Those difficulties we were speaking of,’ she said. ‘Are some of them … is one of them exceptionally severe?’
‘Yes,’ said Mets in a neutral tone, sitting forward in his chair with his hands pressed together.
‘In fact, would a stronger word be more appropriate? Quandary? Dilemma? Crisis?’
‘Yes. Well, in a way, in a manner of speaking.’
‘And has it presented itself recently? Very recently?’
‘Somewhat recently.’
Mrs Tabidze turned up another card and stared at it for some time in silence. Without lifting her eyes she said slowly, ‘Then I have to tell you that within a comparatively short time, certainly no more than four weeks, the situation will have resolved itself in your favour. You will have achieved success.’
‘How satisfactory. Thank you. Thank you very much.’
‘I’ve never known her to behave like that before,’ said Tatiana Petrovsky to her husband. ‘It’s as if she really had seen something in those cards.’
‘Oh, old Agatha’s a marvellous actress.’
‘I don’t think it’s that, or not only that. There’s something funny going on here.’
Alexander had had a poor evening: no real chance to show off, irritating conversation with parents, and now boredom with no end in sight. He was weighing the merits of getting sonorously drunk against those of denouncing the company as rotten with credulity and superstition before storming off to bed (quicker, for one thing) when Sonia Korotchenko passed him on her way to the vacant chair at the baize-topped table. He made no sound but gave a start that scraped his foot on the stone floor. If asked at any previous stage, he would have stated with total confidence that she had not turned up at the party. Where was her husband? Not in sight, or not completely or identifiably; a pair of trousered legs and the crook of an elbow on the far side of a nearby pillar might quite well have been his. Several voices asked more or less loudly who that woman was, meaning the one now seeking (with some determination, to judge by the set of her bare shoulders) to have her fortune told.
For a moment Alexander considered withdrawing as quietly as he could. It was impossible, no, but it was most unlikely, that she should not know he was there, far from impossible that within a minute she would tell of or otherwise reveal, as it might be by diving at his genitals, something he would on the whole prefer should remain undivulged, and quite certain that parts at least of this risk would be removed if he should prove not to be there after all. And yet — the limelight was always the limelight, whatever colours it showed one in, and the sort of things she did were apt to lose heavily in the telling. He was finally decided to stay by Mrs Tabidze’s expression of restrained disquiet coupled with having heard from his parents something of what she knew about the lady in the low-cut muslin dress — the same, he was nearly sure, that she had twitched so unreluctantly over her head on her previous visit to the house. It could well be her only garment if when at home she went about naked all the time instead of just when receiving visitors.
After thoroughly shuffling and cutting the pack Mrs Tabidze put it out as before and glanced at the top card on each heap. Alexander could see her chewing at her lips and hid a grin. After a false start she said rather hoarsely,
‘When you were very young you made a long journey. You and your mother and father came from—’
‘I don’t want to hear about the past, I know about the past.’ Mrs Korotchenko sounded as if her mouth and lips were dry. ‘Tell me about the future.’
‘Very well …. You will have a long and happy married life. You will continue to be a source of strength and comfort to your husband. Over the years, you— ‘That’s the sort of thing that happens to a lot of people. Isn’t anything going to happen to me that never happens to anybody else? And
shall I never do anything? Surely I shall do something, however trivial, that nobody else has ever done?’
The wooden phraseology, the loud, grating, uninflected voice seemed to add to the impression made on the audience. Unbelievably, they fell silent, except for the continued frenzied coughing of a hugely fat, pop-eyed old character whose frilled shirt lay open to the navel. The cards clicked loudly in Mrs Tabidze’s hands. Coming to the last one of a heap, she sat still for a moment and turned it over. What she saw, or the interpretation she put on the sight, made her spring to her feet and grunt with an astonishment much more acute than that shown over Mets’s fortune a few minutes earlier. In years of acquaintance Alexander had never known her behave so excitedly before. Mrs Tabidze looked up, became aware she was standing and sat down again in some confusion.
‘I could have sworn I’d….’ She paused and collected herself, blinking rapidly. ‘Forgive me, all of you — the cards spring their surprises on occasion. Now … my dear, I have good news for you. Soon, you will perform an act of great virtue, of great courage and humanity, an act for which your name will live in praise. And this will be soon. Within four weeks. No, sooner than that,’ she added, looking momentarily troubled again, but went on with all her usual firmness, ‘The performance is at an end. Thank you for your attention.’
Mrs Korotchenko rose almost as quickly as Mrs Tabidze had done and, looking to neither right nor left, marched away and into the spacious corridor that ran the breadth of the house. When, after leaving it long enough not to court suspicion, he followed in her track, it appeared that he had also left it long enough for her to disappear. She was not to be found in the east hall nor anywhere within sight in the garden. On his return he saw that the chair beside the pillar was empty, and so he never knew whether its occupant had been Korotchenko or another.