‘No. Never. I swear.’
‘He’s been going somewhere. For over a year. He said he went to play tennis and I’ve been getting – suspicious.’ Her voice tailed away.
Carol leaned forward. ‘You have to help him now.’
‘Good God.’ Sarah closed her eyes. ‘Did they call David in for questioning?’
‘I don’t know. I said he should leave but I don’t know what happened after that.’
‘So they could have arrested him?’
‘I don’t know. All I know is that Mr Dabb, my boss, said the police would want to speak to me again tomorrow; they’ll contact me.’
‘So David might be under arrest?’
‘I tell you, I don’t know. But if he got out – wouldn’t he come home?’
‘I’ve been out all day.’ Sarah didn’t add, because of you. ‘I should go home, he may be there.’
‘Yes,’ Carol agreed quickly. ‘Even if he’s not there, he may telephone you.’
Sarah looked at her. It was strange, now they were on the same side. She asked, ‘Why did you help him today? You’re putting yourself at risk.’
‘I know he’s a good man. If he does something it’s because he believes it’s right.’
‘Would you believe it’s right? For a civil servant to spy against the government?’
Carol smiled sadly. ‘I don’t know anything about politics. And David and I never discussed it. You don’t, in the Service, unless you know someone well. I don’t like a lot of the things that are happening now, some of them I hate. But I have to get by. Isn’t that how it is for most people, they just want – need – to get by? My mother – well, you’ve seen what she’s like. And if the alternative to Beaverbrook and Mosley’s a revolution I’m not sure I’d want that either. I’m not brave, not like David.’
Sarah said, ‘I’ve always been a pacifist. I don’t like the Resistance violence. But things lately—’
‘Yes. The Jews, the deportations and violence, it’s awful.’ Carol paused and then asked, ‘Do you think David could be a spy?’
‘It might explain a lot.’ Sarah stood up suddenly. ‘I should go now.’
Carol took a step towards her, then stopped. She rubbed a hand across her forehead. ‘I don’t know if I should have told you. But I had to. Will you tell him I’ve spoken to you?’
‘I think I must, now.’ It was Sarah’s turn to laugh. ‘I made myself come here, I was determined to get the truth, but you often get more than you bargain for if you do that, don’t you?’
Carol smiled sadly. ‘Yes. But you – you have to help him now.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Sarah looked at Carol. She didn’t feel anger now. She realized that in different circumstances she and this woman might have been friends. But when Carol impulsively extended a hand Sarah shook her head quickly. She knew Carol would have taken David from her if she could.
Carol showed her out. On the doorstep she said, ‘Good luck. To both of you.’
Sarah nodded. She turned away, then looked back and said, ‘Thank you.’
Sarah went home. The rush hour was over, the carriages only half full. She stared unseeingly at the tunnel walls. The idea that David was working for the Resistance fitted with the facts. She felt rage towards him, fury at all he had kept from her if this was true, the danger he had placed them both in. Then she thought of him lying in a police station somewhere, maybe even in Senate House where they said the SS tortured people, and the thought of him in a cell, bruised and broken, made her want to scream out loud.
She arrived at Kenton Station and walked home. Now, for the first time, she began to observe, to calculate. She thought, the house might be watched. If it was there would be someone in a car outside or very close. What would she do if there was? She realized there would be no point in running, they’d soon catch her and running would be a sign of guilt. No, she would go back to the house. But what if David wasn’t there? He might have come while she was out. She would look and see if he had taken any clothes. Then what? She would have to throw herself on Irene’s mercy. Then she thought of Geoff, steady, reliable Geoff. If David wasn’t there she would go to Pinner.
There were a few cars parked at the roadside but none close to the house and none seemed occupied, though it was hard to be sure in the dim yellow streetlight. No lights were on in the house, none of the curtains drawn. She unlocked the door and went in. All was silent and still. The London telephone directory lay on the hall table where she had left it that morning. She went into the kitchen and switched on the light. Then she screamed.
Two men were sitting at the kitchen table; they had been waiting for her in the dark. She saw that the back door had been broken open. One of the men was in his thirties, tall and thin, with a mean, hard face. The other was older, plump, with sad, pouchy features and untidy fair hair. He looked at her with cold, light-blue eyes: a horribly penetrating stare. Then he spoke, in what Sarah recognized at once was a German accent; not angrily but somehow sadly. ‘Good evening, Mrs Fitzgerald.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
AT KENTON STATION DAVID found himself reluctant to go in; he knew the Resistance people would have a far better chance of rescuing Sarah, but he felt that leaving now would be his final betrayal of her, as well as a final departure from his old life.
He had never been to Soho during the day before. It seemed greyer, more ordinary – narrow streets, now filled with markets selling fruit and vegetables. The coffee bar beside the alley was closed; the alley itself looked even dingier in daylight. The door with the two bells beside it had, he saw, once been green but most of the paint had flaked away long ago, revealing strong old planks. He pressed Natalia’s bell.
There was no answer. He waited and rang again but still no footsteps sounded on the stairs. He tried the door but it was locked. An old man in a threadbare overcoat, bent with age, shuffled down the alley and gave David a look of dislike as he passed; he must have thought him a client for the prostitute. David felt panic rising again, wondering whether something had happened here, too. He wished he didn’t look so conspicuous in his overcoat, pinstripe trousers and bowler hat.
Eventually footsteps clattered down the stairs inside. The door half opened and the prostitute peered round the frame at him. She wore an expensive-looking silk dressing gown, her red hair curling around her face. ‘You’ve woken me, ringing the bell like that.’ She spoke crossly, then she recognized him and her face became suddenly alert.
‘Dilys, I need to speak to Natalia—’
‘She’s just gone to the shops. Is something the matter?’
‘I need to see her urgently.’
The girl thought a moment, then said, ‘Come up.’
David followed her up the creaking stairs, into a poky little bedroom dominated by a large, unmade double bed and a dressing table covered with pots and powders. The room was separated from the rest of the flat by a flimsy-looking door. It stank of cheap scent and cigarette smoke and was stiflingly hot, a gas fire hissing away in the corner. The girl sat on a hard chair at the dressing table and waved David to the bed. ‘Sit down.’ She turned to the partition, and to David’s surprise, shouted ‘Helen!’ A middle-aged woman in an apron came through the inner door. Dilys said, ‘We’re out of tea, love. Go and get some, will you? Get some groceries as well, take your time.’
The woman gave David a stony look. ‘Be all right, will you?’
‘’Course I will. This one’s a shy boy, aren’t you?’
With a doubtful look at David, the old woman left. Dilys smiled archly. ‘First time you’ve been in a place like this?’
‘Yes – yes, it is.’
She nodded at the door. ‘Helen, she’s my maid. We girls always have an older woman working with us, to help us, keep us safe. Helen doesn’t know about next door.’ Dilys took a deep breath. ‘Something’s up, isn’t it? I can see by your face.’