‘Yoo-hoo! Edith!’ Dori was waving from the other side of the room.
‘Over here!’ Edith waved back. She turned to Harry. ‘I have to go.’
‘I meant it about meeting.’ He held onto her hand to prevent her from leaving. ‘CCG Education Branch. Lübeck?’
‘That’s me.’ He really means it! Edith thought with a catch of her breath. Not only that, but she will be in Germany. In that moment, she felt her life turning. This is really happening and it’s happening to me …
‘I’ll find you.’
Edith hoped he would.
‘If I don’t see you before,’ his grip on her hand tightened, ‘Happy New Year!’
His mouth was warm on hers. The kiss lingered a fraction longer than it should have. The intensity surprised them both.
‘Happy New Year.’ Edith didn’t quite know what else to say. ‘Perhaps I’ll see you in Germany?’
‘You certainly will.’ He kissed her hand. ‘I better get back to being barman.’
‘You’re a quick worker, I must say!’ Dori was at her side. She nodded towards Harry Hirsch. ‘What was all that about?’
‘I’m not quite sure,’ Edith replied. ‘I was a bit startled myself.’
‘I rather had my eye on him. But no need to worry. All’s fair and the night is young! Also, Leo’s here. Cab’s outside. Have a lovely evening, darling.’ She dropped her voice and her grip on Edith’s arm tightened. ‘Tomorrow, we need to talk.’
‘What about?’
‘Not here,’ Dori breathed in her ear. ‘Not now. New guests are arriving.’
Edith turned and nearly collided with a tall, elegant woman in a long black gown and a fur stole. She was with a curly-haired young man in evening dress.
‘Oh, I am sorry. I do apologize.’
‘That’s quite all right. No harm done.’ Vera Atkins peered closer. ‘Miss Graham? I hardly recognized you. What a transformation. Going on somewhere?’
Her eyes turned to Leo as he came through the door, shaking moisture from his hat.
‘Bloody weather! Fog’s turning to horrid drizzle. Edith? Are you ready? I’ve a cab waiting.’ He glanced at the woman by Edith’s side. ‘Vera. And Drummond. Well, well. Everyone knows everyone, hm?’
The two men shook hands.
‘Leo. How unexpected.’ Vera Atkins looked from him to Edith, her dark eyes sparking amusement. ‘How do you two know each other? Remind me.’
‘Sort of cousins. Ready, Edith?’
Leo didn’t elaborate further. Neither did Edith. Childhood friends, cousins at several removes. Sometime lovers. As children, they had been co-conspirators, although Edith had learnt to be a wary one. Leo ultimately owed allegiance to no one and there was a streak of cruelty in him. He’d had a knack of drawing her into trouble. She had a feeling he was about to do so again.
4
Savoy Grill, London
31st December 1945
Menu
Consommé
Steak Diane
Noisettes d’Agneau, Pommes Duchesses,
Carottes Juliennes
Glacés
Tergoule de Normandie
One for Louisa!
‘The steak, I think,’ Leo announced. ‘How about you?’
‘The lamb.’
Leo nodded, engrossed in the wine menu. ‘A Reisling, since you’re going to Germany. Then a Duhart-Milon Rothschild, ’34.’ He snapped the menu shut. ‘Had it the other night. Not bad.’
The Savoy Grill was crowded. Leo acknowledged people on nearby tables. There were people here whose fame gave their faces a vague familiarity. Edith tried not to stare. Leo would introduce her as his cousin, if he introduced her at all.
‘Thin stuff,’ Leo announced after two spoonfuls of consommé. ‘I prefer a proper soup.’
‘I was just thinking how different it was from soup,’ Edith looked up. ‘As different as the names. Soup sounds opaque. Thick.’
‘Hmm. That’s how I like it.’
‘What’s this about, Leo?’ Edith said as she finished her consommé.
Leo put up his hand to silence her as a waiter arrived to clear the table and another approached with a trolley.
‘Ah, the Diane! Best way to eat it. You can see what the buggers are doing.’
Leo sat back to enjoy the drama as the deft young waiter fried the steak in butter, executing the flaming with the flourish of a stage magician before transferring the dish to the plate and completing the sauce with efficiency.
‘How is it?’ Edith asked, once they had been served.
‘Not too bad.’ Leo chewed. ‘Better than the one I had at the Club last week – you could have soled shoes with that. How’s the lamb?’
‘Fine.’
It was still pink. At home, the sight of blood brought on universal shudders.
Leo reloaded his fork. ‘Mash a bit fancy for my liking. Club does it better.’
Edith took a forkful of the duchesse potatoes, smooth and rich under a thin golden crust. Trust Leo to prefer lumps. Enough prevarication.
‘So, are you going to tell me?’
‘Not here!’ Leo looked to the nearby tables. ‘You never know who’s about. Let’s just enjoy this, shall we? It’s a bad business.’ He added, sweeping slivers of carrot aside, he was never one for vegetables. ‘Not something to talk about while one’s eating. It’s all in the file back at the flat.’
By the time they got to the flat, Leo had other things on his mind. His attentions started in the cab and their lovemaking was quick with the ease of long familiarity. They had been lovers, off and on, since fumbling adolescence. They were comfortable with each other and the arrangement suited both of them. Edith enjoyed her escapes to London and Leo liked the diversion. He had his life nicely organized in compartments: Sybil in the country, the boys at boarding school, flat in Marylebone for his week in London, mistress up in Hampstead and Edith when she was in town. Edith knew Sybil, of course. They met at family occasions, weddings and funerals, which diverted Leo even more.
Edith left him snoring, wrapped herself in his dressing gown, poured herself a glass of champagne, then turned on the desk light and opened the file marked ‘Kurt von Stavenow’.
She held the photograph of Kurt in a cricket sweater close to her eyes so that she could study it with an intensity that had been impossible before. She’d gone to Oxford on the train to visit Leo. Kurt had been in the Parks watching cricket. Leo took a photograph. The snap was in black and white but Edith’s memory was in vivid colour: blue sky, green grass, the cream of the sweater, Kurt’s hair shining a soft, deep yellow like old gold. When he turned and smiled, the world seemed to stop and start again. Edith couldn’t quite look at him; it was like staring into the sun.
He had begun studying Anthropology at Heidelberg University, he told her in his careful English, but had changed his course of study to Medicine. ‘I want to find ways to bring the two disciplines together,’ he said, interlacing his fingers. ‘To help people, you know? Make them better.’ He’d smiled again. Perfect teeth and dimples. Edith had never thought that a man could be so beautiful. She was scarcely listening as he went on to explain that he was in Oxford to perfect his English and to study his other love, Anglo-Saxon. He talked excitedly about Old English, Norse myths and his new obsession: Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.