Yakimov received no sympathy in the bar for the loss of the Hispano. When it had first appeared in Bucharest, Hadjimoscos had refused to go out and look at it, implying with a gesture that his life had been littered with such cars. Now he said: ‘Even were there no requisitions, only a fool would buy an Hispano. It eats up the essence and is without accommodation. No doubt, too, there will be many such cars for sale. The English, having failed to protect us, now run away to protect themselves.’
Yakimov, quite bewildered, said: ‘It’s true, dear boy, that a few old ladies have gone – Mrs Ramsden and that lot – but …’
‘I do not refer to old ladies,’ Hadjimoscos, agleam with malice, spoke very distinctly. ‘I refer to Mr Dubedat and Mr Lush.’
‘Lush and Dubedat? I’m sure you’re mistaken, dear boy.’
‘I think not. They were seen leaving the town with very much luggage. People say they are no longer at the University.’
Knowing nothing of this, Yakimov could only shake his head. When he returned to luncheon, he said to Guy: ‘There’s a canard going round that Lush and Dubedat have packed their traps and hopped it. Not true, I’m sure.’
Guy said nothing.
‘They’re still here, aren’t they?’ Harriet asked.
Guy shook his head. ‘I’m afraid they have gone.’
‘You said nothing about it. When did they go?’
‘I’ve been expecting them to turn up. They told me they were going away for the week-end. I took their classes on Monday, then, when they weren’t back on Wednesday, I sent a porter round to their flat. There was no one there, but the hall-porter there told him they’d paid off their servant and taken all their stuff away. This morning they heard at the Consulate that Toby’s old car has been found abandoned on the quayside at Constanza.’
‘They’ve bolted! They’ve gone to Instanbul.’
After a pause, Guy said: ‘I suppose one can’t blame them.’
‘Why can’t one blame them?’
‘They don’t belong to the organisation. It’s chance employment for them. Why should we expect them to take such a risk?’
‘And now you have no help at all? You’re alone at the University!’
‘I’ll manage somehow,’ said Guy.
That was all that was said in front of Yakimov. When he had retired, Harriet said: ‘With all these things happening, I have a feeling we won’t be here much longer.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Things could settle down.’
‘I’m getting worried about Sasha.’
Guy, preoccupied, said: ‘He’s all right up there, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he’s all right. But what is going to happen to him if we go.’
‘We’ll have to think about that. Would Bella take him in?’
‘Bella? You’re crazy.’
‘You said she was a decent sort.’
She laughed at the fact Guy had simply taken her word for it, and said: ‘So she is, in a way, but one couldn’t expect her to take in a Jewish deserter whom she has never met. Anyway, left alone here, she’ll have her own problems. What about your students? Isn’t there one who would hide him?’
‘Several would, I’m sure,’ he said, then on reflection, he added: ‘But would it be fair to ask them? Besides, they’re all hoping to get away. He would merely exchange one temporary refuge for another.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’
‘Nothing at the moment.’ Mildly exasperated by her persistence, he added: ‘Now that Lush and Dubedat have gone, I have to rearrange all the classes. We can discuss this problem of Sasha when we have more time.’
‘All right,’ she said, wondering as she did so whether he had ever given any thought to it. How much feeling had he for Sasha? He had been fond of the boy when they were master and pupil. He had been grateful to the Druckers for extending their friendship to him while he was alone here. But how involved was he now? She felt the trouble was that Guy was fond of too many people. Allegiance was a narrow business. She had almost ceased to expect it from him. It would be as difficult, she thought, to tie him down on Sasha’s behalf as on her own.
Her long silence caused him to say: ‘Don’t worry. We’re not leaving tomorrow. We’ll think of something.’ When she still did not speak, he went round the table, took her hands and pulled her up. ‘You don’t trust me enough,’ he said.
She slid her arms round his waist and felt reassured by the nearness of his warm, muscular body. ‘Of course I trust you,’ she said and, their dissensions forgotten, they went into their room. But Guy could not forget the time for long. With all the work of the summer school on his hands, he would not even wait for tea.
As he was dressing, she said: ‘Couldn’t I take some of the classes for you?’
He shook his head doubtfully: ‘You’ve no experience of teaching, you’re quite unqualified and it’s more difficult than you think.’
12
When Guy left, Harriet, fretted by the peculiar insipidity of life at that hour, went out to the balcony and looked over the empty square. The air was furred with heat. On the pavement the Guardist youths with their banners and pamphlets, were still trying to rouse revolt. Although a sense of revolt agitated the nerves like an electric storm that would not break, the city was lethargic, the palace dormant, its white blinds drawn down against the tedium of the afternoon.
A third conference had broken down and now the Transylvanian question was being discussed in Vienna. People had begun again to believe it would be solved by proving insoluble. Yakimov, repeating the opinion of the bar, had said: ‘Dear girl, it’ll all trickle out in talk, talk, talk.’
It was barely five o’clock, but already the light had an autumnal richness. The height of summer was past. The dahlias were ablaze in the Cişmigiu. Up the Chaussée, the trees were parched, their few leaves dangling like burnt paper, as they had been the first time she saw them. The brilliant months had gone down in fear and expectation of departure.
She had been married a year. It was, as Guy liked to point out, a pre-war marriage. With a sadness that seemed an emanation of the deepening, dusty colour of the air, she thought perhaps it might not, after all, prove to be what it had seemed at first, an eternal marriage. She could imagine the loosening of the bond. Guy had said to her: ‘You can’t trust me enough,’ yet he had not had cause to say that when, after three weeks’ acquaintance, she had crossed Europe with him. If she did not trust him now, if, left on her own, she sought companionship elsewhere, he had himself to blame.
At that moment, she remembered that Sasha had asked her to do something for him. He had asked her to try and see his father.
Drucker was, for the moment, the most talked-of man in Bucharest: the u sound of his name seemed constantly in the air. Despina’s husband had brought in the information that at different times of the day the accused man could be seen entering and leaving the back entrance of the court-house. Despina, always eager to impart news, had run at once to tell Sasha. The next time Harriet had gone up on the roof, she had found him awaiting her in great excitement. He began eagerly to beg to be allowed to go, that very evening, to see his father leave the court, and perhaps even accost him.
Harriet had been appalled at the suggestion. ‘It’s out of the question,’ she said. ‘The military police are looking for you. They might be waiting there for you, and there’s the danger someone might recognise you, expecially if you spoke to him …’