There now being no royalty in Spain, the great and rich, who had been in exile during the years of the Republic, found Edward a gift to grace their dinners, luncheons, fountain-pool parties, gatherings in some of the great houses that had been ill-used during their owners’ absence. Society wanted to eliminate the bad years and bring back life as it had been.
Although she usually carried a loaded camera, Eve had all but given up her photographic expeditions. A glamorous and smiling woman will always get invitations to occasions such as these, and they put her right where she needed to be – where the Germans took every opportunity to renew their acquaintance with their Royal Highnesses, which was the title they were honoured with here.
The entourage staying at the Ritz was made up of close friends of Edward’s, who had supported him during his short reign, and, Eve assumed, some SIS men. She began to spend breakfast and dinner times when she was there, trying to pick them out. Occasionally she met direct eye contact, from which she slid away with the disinterest and boredom of a pretty woman who gets too much attention from too many men.
The tension around the exiled couple was often electric. One way and another, Eve’s path crossed theirs. There must be no trespass on the neutrality of the new regime because of its value as a place of contact between enemies; yet it was clear that the Windsors were being courted by emissaries from Germany, and corralled by their British protectors. When they were in public, Edward appeared always to have the same friend hovering at his elbow, and another man who appeared to be perhaps a secretary to the friend. Maybe British Intelligence? Maybe.
Frau von Mentz was always willing to gossip. She was very pro-monarchy but, of course, under the circumstances of accepting the hospitality of the Spain of General Franco, she only barely hinted at this. She could, however, be a supporter of the rightful King of England. And the position of the von Mentzes as part of Madrid’s exclusive set meant that they were always invited to any event His Royal Highness might attend. Herr Rudolph von Mentz was not as sociable as his wife, and was usually found on such occasions in a huddle with a number of cigar-smoking men.
‘Who is that man?’ Eve asked Frau von Mentz. ‘He is everywhere.’ Eve nodded in the direction of the man who seemed to have the ear of Edward. ‘And the other man? I see them in my hotel.’
‘He is a titled Englishman, a friend of the king from student days. I am told that he was the one who made the negotiations, he was always a supporter for Mrs Simpson to be Queen of England.’ That referral to ‘Mrs Simpson’ might be an indication that von Mentz didn’t entirely approve of ‘the king’s’ wife. ‘Who the second man is, I do not know. I do not know even his nationality. Probably British. He looks solid enough to be. A joke, my dear.’
Eve was a perfect ear for a gossip. She played dumb, knew nothing of the deviousness of kings and governments. ‘Is it right that she wasn’t allowed to be queen because she was American?’
‘That was the least of it. She had been married twice – and was still married when she became his mistress.’
‘She was his mistress when he was king?’ Eve looked amusedly scandalised. ‘How do you know?’
Frau von Mentz laughed and shook her head, then confided, ‘My dear, the only people in the whole world not to know were his own people. The British have a most heavy-handed state censorship. This is why the people were so shocked when he announced that he would abdicate rather than give her up. Rudolph and I were living in Portugal at this time, and the American, French and German newspapers were all full of the Great Royal Scandal.’
‘And that man – the one who is always with his Highness…?’
‘My opinion, for what it is worth, is that he has still the role of go-between.’
Eve, wide-eyed and eager to hear the gossip asked, ‘Between whom?’
‘Why do you imagine they are all here in Spain, my dear?’ Frau von Mentz patted Eve’s hand, and then indicated the room filled with her new-found acquaintances.
‘I didn’t imagine anything… enjoying the beautiful sun.’
‘You would not do for the world of intrigue. The baron tries to persuade him – the friend – that the war between England and Germany could be ended at once in a settlement between both countries which would put King Edward back on the English throne.’
‘Really? How do you know all these secrets?’
‘They are not really secrets. All these people know why they are here – the king, the baron and his Austrian and German friends, and all those who keep close to His Royal Highness. And Rudolph, my husband. He has entertained them all at our hunting lodge. When His Royal Highness is in company, away from the eyes of the public, you know, he is drinking a lot and he likes to boast. He imagines himself making treaties and returning to his kingdom as the hero. They all encourage him. He is their trophy.’
‘It’s all very dramatic. It must be exciting, being so close to what is going on… at your hunting lodge and that kind of thing.’
‘Oh no, not me. I refused to go. Rudolph is the one who likes intrigue and machinations.’ Frau von Mentz laughed. ‘Perhaps he sees himself as a king-maker. And after what happened, I am most pleased that I was not there. I hate hunting and all this stuff.’
‘What happened?’
Von Mentz put a finger to her lips and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. ‘There was an incident.’
‘With the Windsors?’
‘Rudolph refused to say what happened. I believe that he… What is it you English say? He has eggs on his face? After two days they returned to the Ritz. Did you not notice anything?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t even realise that they were away from the hotel.’ Eve lowered her voice. ‘Was there trouble between them… you know… the Windsors?’
‘Oh no, he is as besotted as a youth, and afraid for her safety. The baron was more forthcoming than Rudolph. It appears that a shot was fired – through one of the lodge’s windows – not from a hunting rifle.’
Eve raised her eyebrows and allowed her jaw to drop. ‘Are you saying that… ? Good Lord, how awful.’
‘The bullet was found embedded in a dresser – Bavarian, rustic, but I do love it – definitely not from a hunting rifle, but from a different sort of firearm. The baron did explain to me, but I did not truly understand. A large window in the room where we eat has a hole in it.’
‘Does the baron believe that it was an attempt at assassination?’
‘He does not believe so. A serious attempt at assassination could have been achieved whilst they were on the terrace. He believes that it was meant as a warning.’
‘Against what?’
‘None of them appears to know. There is a rumour that London has decided that Edward is to be Governor-General of the Bahamas. The baron believes that the episode at Rudolph’s lodge is the British secret service warning His Royal Highness that he must stop fraternising with the likes of Rudolph and the Austrians, and take the position.’
Eve drew down a worried frown and said nothing for a short while. Then: ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Some of the people who have been so friendly to me since I have been here… they don’t all understand that being Irish – as I am – is very different from being English. My country is not part of the British Isles. I shouldn’t like them to think—’
Frau von Mentz took Eve’s hand between her own two cool palms and held it. ‘Oh, my dear young friend, do you think that you might be in danger because of that one shot?’
‘Could I be?’
‘Not for a single minute. Politics and intrigue we leave to the men. We have more worthwhile lives to lead.’
So, at last Eve had something for The Bureau. No doubt there had been secret service men in the hunting party, but would they share the information with The Bureau?
The chatter in the room stopped and the little string orchestra struck up ‘God Save the King’, as was usual when the Windsors entered a gathering.
‘Ah, here they are,’ Frau von Mentz said, rising to her feet. ‘You see? He has already been at the bottle.’
‘Perhaps he needs Dutch courage. After all, his life’s not his own. I might need a stiff drink if I was under constant watch of everybody in the room.’
‘I think not. You would behave as the Duchess does, in control of herself. Of course, she must be in control of HRH too.’
Together they watched as Edward accepted a cocktail. The Duchess was smiling at him, but Eve bet that she was signalling a look.
‘I cannot but feel a little sorry for him,’ von Mentz said, drawing Eve to another part of the room. ‘His mother should never have had children. I knew her before – whilst she was still Princess May of Teck – a cold girl even then. May and the act of loving… one could never picture her with a man or a suckling child.’
Eve smiled; von Mentz was right about that. ‘From her pictures she is very poised.’
‘Men marry their mothers.’
‘I can’t see the similarity. Queen Mary has an hour-glass figure.’
‘My dear, it is more subtle than that. Men want to be told what to do. In their ridiculous “no-women-admitted clubs”, they eat nursery foods, especially the English and the Germans.’
Eve laughed delightedly. ‘Oh, Frau von Mentz, you are so amusing to be with.’
‘Thank you. I like youthful company. These rich old señoras are so stodgy. I think they must only tolerate my bohemian past because of Rudolph. He is so respectable,’ she whispered close to Eve’s ear, ‘and wealthy. Now you must excuse me, I must remind Rudolph where we are dining, and you must run along and talk to some young men. You like the baron?’
A little taken aback, Eve replied, ‘He is charming.’
‘Don’t you see these gatherings as strange? England and Germany are at war, the Germans have taken France, yet here we are all good friends.’
‘I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it till now. I hope that Spain won’t join in.’
‘In that war? Oh, never. They have so much to gain by offering the two sides somewhere to talk about treaties. I hope that you decide to stay here for some while. These are interesting times.’
Before running along to find some young people, Eve wondered whether she should go back to book a call to Electra, or stay a little longer.
Frau von Mentz was a professional actress – perhaps she could tell that Eve was giving a performance. Maybe she had been feeding her all that gossip about the goings-on at the hunting lodge. Across the room, Eve saw her speaking to her husband, and they both looked in Eve’s direction. Eve’s immediate reaction was to transfer her gaze away from them, but instead she held her moment of consternation in check, and waved. Rudolph nodded a little bow and his wife gave a friendly little finger wave. Then they left together.
A mist of perspiration had sprung around her mouth, so Eve walked out of the room and up a short flight of stairs to the ladies’ cloakroom, which was, thankfully, unoccupied.
She was seated at a dressing table cooling her face with some orange-blossom cologne on tissues, when the Duchess – accompanied by a companion Eve had seen before – came in and sat fanning herself with a pretty fan. Eve smiled and said, ‘Excuse me… sorry… I’ll make myself scarce.’
‘Don’t go on my account,’ the Duchess said in her soft, warm American accent. ‘It’s a deal too hot to move fast. Maybe I’ll try some of that you’re using, it smells really great. Come on, sit down, I don’t bite.’ She patted the seat of a silk-covered antique chair next to her and nodded to the companion, who left. ‘She’ll make sure nobody disturbs me for ten minutes. She’s a real good egg.’
Eve, not believing her luck, smiled and took out a lipstick to give her hands something to do. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. I never thought you might bite.’ And Eve sat down next to the Duchess.
‘Not “Your Highness” – “Duchess” is OK. I’ve noticed you.’
Eve raised her eyebrows. ‘Goodness. Have you really?’
‘Sure, at the Ritz. Eve Anders, I’m told – you remind me of myself when I met my second husband.’ She smiled, one of those faces that changes completely when the corners of the mouth turn up. ‘Quite a few wrinkles ago now. But you have the kind of poise I had – still have, I hope.’
‘Oh, absolutely, Duchess. It is what I admire in you – if you don’t mind me saying that.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind at all. I’ll tell you something for your diary – do girls still keep diaries?’
Eve was trying to balance enthusiasm with overeagerness. ‘I do.’
‘I still have my girly diary in which there’s a quote from a “Real Woman” – my title for her – who I thought could give me a handle on womanhood. So you can have it for free. She told me, “Come hell or high water, hang on to your dignity, keep fit and your spine always in the vertical” – as you obviously do. You are beautifully slim. Only slim women can be stylish.’
‘I think I could easily run to fat. It’s not easy.’
‘Of course it’s not. I’ve never found anything worth having easy come by. But you shouldn’t worry about becoming fat. You won’t, you love fashion too much for that. One of the things I just might do when I am moved on from here is to design fashion. I have my favourite designers, but half the time it is my ideas they use. I think I might be quite good at it.’
‘Why not try? You are so clever with clothes and jewellery. A touch of class. Didn’t you once say, “You can never be too rich or too thin”?’
The older woman smiled broadly. Her mouth was wide and generous, and her teeth very American – cared for and even. Too many photographs showed her appearing straightfaced and tight-lipped. ‘You may be right. I say things and they are quoted; then again if I don’t say anything I’m still quoted.’
‘Does it worry you?’
‘No point in worrying. Journalists are so powerful these days. Nobody to stop them. People in the spotlight will say, “I don’t care – if they’re writing stuff about me, they’re not writing about somebody else.” But that isn’t true. The press will write anything about anyone for a buck – and it stinks.’
‘Doesn’t that make you feel that you can’t trust the people around you?’
‘I say, we are getting serious… but you’re right.’
‘I’m sorry. It is just so amazing sitting here with you. I want to ask you a hundred questions.’ Eve put two fingers to her mouth in an ingenuous way. ‘Not for the scandal sheets, I promise.’
The Duchess moved to one of the chairs at the dressing table and dropped orange-blossom cologne onto a tissue with which she patted her wrists.
‘It’s OK. You just can’t let it get under your skin.’ She touched her high, unlined forehead reflected in the mirror. ‘Gives you lines.’
Eve gave a little laugh. ‘Then you must practise what you put in your diary.’
‘If you suspected that you might be kidnapped… ah… yes, kidnapped perhaps sounds a touch dramatic. Let’s say pressured or persuaded, by being held in a remote place such as a hunting lodge, to high status and big, big bucks in return for being a kind of trophy to wave at the enemy – at the same time, the enemy (in more ways than one) had the power to whisk you off without the option but to a quiet life in the sun that was unutterably boring, which would you choose?’
‘Some choice. If it actually were me I would be on the next passenger steamer or aeroplane to America.’
The Duchess gave her own reflection a faint smile and met Eve’s eyes. ‘Why America?’
Giving her a wry smile, Eve said, ‘It’s where you would fit in. And we are talking about you and His Royal Highness. It’s all right for me to say that, but I guess you can’t do it, can you, Duchess?’
‘His Royal Highness has been offered Governor-General of the Bahamas. We would live in an exalted state there, but with nothing to do except entertain boring dignitaries. I know there isn’t really a choice, but I wanted to hear myself say it aloud.’
The Duchess handed Eve a little greetings card, which Eve read aloud. ‘“Beware of the machinations of the British secret service. A Portuguese friend who has your interests at heart.”’ Eve read it again to herself, to commit the exact words to memory.
‘This is not the first. There have been others which I destroyed. And recently a shot was fired.’
Eve did the same jaw-drop that she had done for von Mentz. ‘Not at you?’
‘No, but as a warning.’
‘By the secret service?’
‘I don’t know. So many people are trying to influence us. I really didn’t intend to get this far with you… but now you know.’ She stood, as did Eve. ‘Great to have met you, Eve.’
‘Aren’t you afraid?’
‘Only of dying of boredom as wife of the Governor-General. I need people, friends, things happening. I need a life.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Eve almost felt that she was.
The Duchess smiled. ‘Don’t ever fall in love with a king, Eve.’
‘I think all the best ones are taken, Your Highness.’
A wry smile crossed the Duchess’s face. ‘You’re a lovely girl, Eve. You’re not looking for a position as a companion, I suppose? I guess we had better let Tish come off duty. I do hope there’s another powder room, or the ladies will soon be peeing their pants.’
Eve laughed delightedly. This selfish, pampered woman was causing a lot of people a lot of trouble – and yet…
‘Thank you for trusting me.’
‘It was very kind of you to listen.’
‘I really do hope that things don’t turn out too boring for you. I wish that I could call you Your Royal Highness. It’s such a grand title.’
‘I’m forbidden that honour. My husband has it, but they wouldn’t give it to me. It’s the one thing he most wanted me to have.’
Eve said, ‘I’m so sorry,’ and left.
As soon as Eve got back to her room, she asked for a call to be booked to Ireland.
When it eventually came through, conversation with Electra was short and sweet. She asked whether Aunt Maureen knew when van Gogh would call on her. ‘Van Gogh’ dropped into a call was the code ‘urgent’.
It was all very well for the Ryde tutors to be confident in her ability to live as a different person, but they weren’t surrounded by all these fascists with whom she socialised on a daily basis. When she first began to live as Eve, who cared if she had changed her name? She’d been just a truck driver. Here in Madrid, there would be undercover agents – particularly German ones. Wouldn’t they see through her? Again and again she examined her demeanour, her conduct and manner but couldn’t find flaws. Yet she didn’t feel safe. It was no more than a feeling in her bones, but she had learned to respect those feelings.
Who knew what the MI6 agents, and the Germans and Portuguese undercover agents and the Spanish watchers might think? Being closeted with the Duchess wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Many of the watchers would be here for the sole purpose of watching the Windsors, and the Duchess had been away from their scrutiny for fifteen minutes, secreted with a woman who had charmed her way into the German circle.
When she’d returned to the cocktail party, Eve had enthused to von Pfitzer and Frau von Mentz about what the Duchess had said about American fashion and the loss of the Paris couturier houses. Was that believable? Eve thought so. It was obvious that they were dressed by fashion houses that the other, overdressed ladies had never entered.
Would I be curious about that myself? she wondered. But she couldn’t be objective enough to answer.
The message on the note and Wallis’s talk about kidnapping must be important. But would The Bureau think so? Eve had learned the rules of communication from Keef and Phoebe; at the time she had found it slightly amusing – cloak-and-daggery. But now that she had something she needed to get quickly to London, it didn’t seem such a bad idea.
How long would it take for ‘van Gogh’ to make contact with her?
Not long as it turned out.
It was early evening and velvety dark when she received a call from a man who simply said, ‘Van Gogh. Pull over at the flower stand. I shall be carrying flowers.’
She ordered her car to be brought round with its hood up, and walked to it with as much casualness as she could muster, even pausing to pass the time of day with the doorman.
‘Van Gogh’ stood at the kerb holding a bunch of bright yellow daisy-like flowers. She laughed at the sight of him.
She leaned across and wound down the window of the passenger-side door. He raised his hat and offered her the flowers. ‘Miss Anders, Linder, Faludi and Hatton thought you would like these.’
‘All right, Mr van Gogh. Get in. Tell me where to go.’
‘Away from the centre. A café. I know a good one – Bassilo’s.’
‘Is it still going?’
‘You know it?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘A bit downmarket for a society lady.’
‘In a past life, Mr van Gogh, I spent many an enjoyable hour there.’
‘Which means we can’t go there now. Portillo’s?’
‘Don’t know it, so direct me. You mentioned three names which I took on trust of you being genuine. What else?’
‘I could tell you about your outfit.’
‘Go on.’
‘It is now called the Special Operations Executive but we know it as The Bureau, late of Baker Street and recently of Wormwood Scrubs.’ Eve relaxed. He must be genuine.
‘Park away from the café.’
Eve smiled. ‘It is a bit noticeable. I know where to go. One of my new-found friends lives close by. It’s a very select area.’
Close by was ten minutes’ walk to Portillo’s, and it was good to walk with somebody with whom she didn’t need to be on her guard.
The early-evening air was still very warm, and candles burned on every table, many of which were already taken. Eve loved the ambience of street life. These street cafés were where she and Dimitri had spent so many evenings together. In memory of that she chose to drink the unbottled red wine.
A carafe was brought. Guitar music and scores of people chattering was good cover. Van Gogh raised his glass and Eve did the same.
‘Would you like to smoke?’
Eve accepted. Possibly awkward situations always seemed easier with tobacco smoke curling up between two people.
‘I have something that needs to be passed on very urgently – but not so urgently that I would hand it over without a bit of digging into you. What is your outfit, and can you show me anything in the way of an ID?’
‘Special Branch. We don’t carry IDs like Scotland Yard.’
Eve paused before asking, ‘You were a detective before SIS?’
He drew deeply on his cigarette before answering. Playing for time?
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Why would you even mention Scotland Yard?’
He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.
‘What’s the harm? You know who I am and I want to know who you are.’
‘OK, I am a detective. Seconded by the Met to Secret Intelligence Services for this one operation.’
‘Which operation?’
‘The same one as yours, except that I am a kind of investigator, until His Royal Highness and his wife are safely away.’
‘Where do you stay to do your investigating?’
‘I have lodgings and I sit around in places like this, especially those favoured by volunteers in the Nazi propaganda rooms. Have you seen them, the rooms?’
Eve shook her head.
Van Gogh smiled. ‘You should. Take home some souvenirs, swastikas on everything. Pictures of blond youth and autobahns. Lots of copies of Mein Kampf, and in translation. I hang around there. They’re trying to convert me. I no longer have to buy their tracts, they give them to me. They have no problems with me sitting around trying to understand. The partition between shop and committee rooms is thin. It’s easy to listen, one-sided conversations are revealing. They believe that I’m a dumb Basque a long way from home. The Basques are an oppressed people the Germans plan to free. But they don’t want the General to know.’ He grinned. ‘We have this secret, the low-order Krauts and I.’
Van Gogh steepled his fingers at his lips and leaned forward. ‘Well? Can you trust me with whatever information it is you have?’
‘Earlier this evening I was at a cocktail party.’ She went on to relate the episode with the Duchess of Windsor. Van Gogh listened intently. ‘“Beware of the machinations of the British secret service. A Portuguese friend who has your interests at heart.” That’s a message sent to the Duchess. There have been others, warning of kidnap plots. A hunting trip apparently, where she believes they would be held in the belief that they would be persuaded to go to Germany.’
He raised his eyebrows and blew out his cheeks. ‘The Duchess told you this?’
‘Yes. I know it sounds implausible, but she said that she needed to tell somebody quite unconnected with her own circle. Maybe she thinks they really are going to be kidnapped. Maybe she wanted some unbiased person to know, if she suddenly disappeared – I may be wrong.’
‘Did she mention Schellenberg?’
Eve shook her head.
‘Schellenberg owns the hunting lodge where the Windsors spent some time.’
‘I know about that, von Mentz gave me the impression that it belonged to her husband.’
‘Rudolph von Mentz has use of it, but it’s Schellenberg’s.’
‘A bullet was fired into the lodge.’
Van Gogh raised his eyebrows. ‘Go on.’
‘She hates the idea of being put out to grass… the Bahamas, she said. Is that right, do you know?’
He shrugged noncommittally. ‘What about de Silvo – Dr Ricardo de Espirito Santo de Silvo?’
Eve smiled, shaking her head. ‘I’d have remembered that one, who is he?’
‘A wealthy, outspoken Nazi supporter, and he owns, among others, a well-placed villa on the coast of Portugal that he has made available to the Windsors.’
‘Will they go there?’
‘It would be useful if they do.’
‘How?’
‘The resort is Cascais, not far from Lisbon. If the king and the government can put enough pressure on him to do the decent thing and clear off to the Bahamas, we could have him out of there and away pretty damned quick.’
‘Things are coming to a head, aren’t they?’
‘They have to, it can’t go on like this. We need all our energy to fight the war at home. All this is piddling around… I’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK. I feel the same.’
‘I guess what you got from the Duchess this evening will prove invaluable. Lets the ministry know how she’s thinking, and what she thinks, he thinks too. I’d say they aren’t thinking of going over to the Germans?’
‘I got the impression it wasn’t even a consideration. Her problem was with not having her own kind around her. Make him King of America and everyone would be OK.’
‘Was I wrong to get you to meet me? It appears you know everything already.’
‘No, no. We knew nothing about these notes. They’re important. All the rest falls into place. Now it’s just a question of watching and waiting. If you need to pass on anything new, I’ll give you a number to ring here rather than go through that rigmarole with the Irish connection.’
At last, Eve thought, she was doing something useful.
On the surface Nati was her old useful self, but Eve was cautious, not certain that she had convinced Nati that she knew nothing about the English tearoom. Also, Eve was watchful. Nati said things she must now wish unsaid. Both women were in insecure situations.
Yet another invitation. A musical evening for the Duchess, who was known to be a lover of blues music and jazz bands. After all the cocktails and soirees in a variety of places, Eve really looked forward to something different.
It was as the sun went down. Chairs were set out on a stone terrace, lanterns hung in trees and were strung on lines from the house. The scent of lemon oil helped to keep at bay the evening insects, but the women still covered their heads and shoulders with light shawls against the pests. The party was quite informal, and a buffet would be served later.
The programme started with traditional music of southern Spain. Eve loved the plaintive guitar, and she sat propped against a stone balustrade, absorbed and feeling the pain expressed through the instrument. Tietze, the Austrian, came to stand beside her.
‘It is moving, is it not, Señorita Anders?’
Eve nodded, cross at his intrusion, but smiling. At the end of the recital she turned and answered him. ‘Very moving. Neither your country nor mine could make music like that.’
‘I agree, one must be born with the compatible emotion. My emotion is stirred by Wagner as I am sure that your own is by the compositions of Ketelbey, both touching the hearts of their people. Would you agree that Ketelbey could never have written Das Rheingold?’
‘Probably not.’ Who the hell was Ketelbey?
‘Can you think of two such contrary styles?’
Eve sensed that he wasn’t interested in her opinion, but wanted to show off his knowledge – and probably to score a point or two.
‘Wagner is so strong, I think he could never conceive of Ketelbey’s sombre music In a Monastery Garden.’ He looked pleased with himself, as though he had primed himself with a little gem of superiority. ‘Yours is a gentler heritage.’
‘No, no, my heritage isn’t gentle. Irish music is all fast drums.’
He laughed. ‘I think that I am teasing, but if you speak English, then you are English. It is very ill-mannered of us, but I expect to you Austrians and Germans are the same.’
‘Point to you, Herr Tietze.’
‘Please, Frederich.’
‘Shh, listen, Frederich.’ She held a finger to her lips.
‘Ah.’
Eve sat as she had been, on plump cushions, propped up beside Tietze with her back to the stone balustrade of a terrace surfaced with beautiful old terracotta tiles.
The voice was deep for a woman’s – blues sung with sex and wantonness.
Her ears pricked up like an animal’s. A suppressed thrill kicked her in the solar plexus.
That amazing voice.
Since she had last heard it flowing out into the spring air of the English countryside at The House by the Sea, it had gained power.
Her heart bounced.
DB.
Something was about to happen.
What happened was that the aide who had invited Eve to take pictures of the Franco garden pushed his way through the crowded terrace looking so pleased with himself. Whispering in Spanish he said, ‘Here she is, the lady I mentioned… someone to speak to in your own language.’ Then in English, ‘Miss Anders, I thought that you would care to meet Señor Paul Smyth, who is… what, Mr Smyth? Manager?’
‘Jack of all trades, señor. The agent who plans her appearances, and stops her when she would go on all night. I’m glad to meet you, Miss Anders.’
‘And I you, Mr Smyth.’
‘I will leave you to get acquainted.’
Tietze, who was still hanging about Eve, offered his hand to Paul. ‘Tietze.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’
Eve whispered in Tietze’s ear, ‘I am going to take our visitor into the garden where we won’t interfere with the Duchess’s pleasure.’
She rose and sauntered away, Paul in tow, until they were well away from anyone else.
‘Oh, Paul. If there weren’t people up there I’d give you a big hug and a kiss.’
‘You look amazing. How’s it been? Not exactly my idea of a worthwhile job. So far I haven’t done anything except have quite a good time with DB.’
‘Sit down here, there’s nobody within thirty feet of this bench. Keep your polite distance. How about you and DB?’
‘Don’t you think she’s come on in a few weeks?’
‘Oh yes. What’s she been doing to get that voluptuousness into her singing?’
‘Nightclubs and bars and whatever Lisbon could offer that was full of cigarette smoke and drinks in small glasses. There have been times when she could have set the curtains alight she was so hot.’
‘Come on, applause. Sounds like an interval.’ DB was surrounded by people wanting to congratulate her. Señora Franco’s aide led DB to where the General’s lady was seated with the Duke and Duchess.
‘Who is that fellow running everything?’ Paul asked.
‘“Señor Fixit”, he’s one of General Franco’s own; looks after Señora Franco’s affairs. This is his place. It’s a coup for him to have the General’s lady and the Duchess on his terrace. How did you manage to be here?’
‘Mendoza… you know Mendoza… he took us over. You probably know that he’s got a bar. The day before yesterday he offered us a booking, and in a word told us to get the hell out. He must have spoken to your Señor Fixit and here we are.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘Nowhere grand like you, but it’s not for long.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Mendoza. I think it’s all fixed for the Windsors to move on.’
‘It is, but they’re moving on into Portugal.’
‘Does the left hand know what the right one is doing?’
‘Who cares for tonight?’
The evening broke up.
Eve made no attempt to speak to DB, but as she was about to go to her car, the aide touched her shoulder.
‘Señorita Anders, Her Royal Highness has asked Miss de Beers to sing for her at a private party in her suite at the Ritz. She asks if you would care to join her.’
‘Of course. Will you please say that I shall be delighted?’
‘In about one hour.’
Well, Eve thought, if they’re on the move, I’ll be in at the kill.
It was a small gathering in the Windsors’ suite. The Duchess greeted everyone with poise and graciousness, and Eve thought, not for the first time, that she had everything the Queen of England did not have. ‘Please excuse my husband. He would join us if I asked him, but he would only fidget if he were forced to sit through my kind of music. Miss Anders, I’m real pleased to see you again. Everybody here speaks English, isn’t that just great? Have you met our entertainer? Come on over, Miss de Beers. Meet the only person who knows my plans for the future.’
DB shook hands with Eve and said all the right things. The Duchess gave a delighted laugh when people looked concerned. ‘It’s to do with a sewing machine.’
Eve, playing up to her, said, ‘Oh, Duchess, don’t give it away. When people start to talk about your venture, I want to be able to say, “I knew all about that, the Duchess told me.” Of course, no one will believe me, but I will know.’
‘Y’know what, Miss Anders, I do believe you’ve given me the confidence to do it.’
DB sang for about an hour, after which Eve invited the two newcomers to visit her suite for a nightcap.
It was as well that Nati had pulled the heavy curtains, for as soon as the three of them were safely in the sitting room, they clung together and danced a jig.
‘Oh my God, Eve,’ DB said, ‘this bit’s as fun as can be.’ She roamed around, opening drawers and cupboards, smelling bottles and soaps, trying on scarves and earrings. Paul poured drinks, lighted their cigarettes and sank into one of the overstuffed armchairs, looking hugely satisfied. ‘All we need for perfect pleasure is Fran.’
DB, who was fascinated by the luxurious bathroom, whooped and came out holding up two condom packets left behind by Duke. ‘Oh, you bad girl. You’ve been doing things with men.’ Eve felt her colour rising. ‘If I had been, they wouldn’t be unused, would they?’
‘Hey, come on, that’s a poor excuse for an excuse. Who’s been sleeping in Eve’s bed?’
Paul just shook his head. ‘Have you any idea at all what it’s like to be with this woman twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?’
‘You wouldn’t need any of these, that’s for sure.’ Unrolling one, DB blew it up like a balloon, patting it about until it landed on her burning cigarette.
‘Come on, mad woman. Let’s find our hotel.’
Eve said, ‘It’s late. Stay here.’
DB put her arms around Eve’s neck and kissed her hair. ‘You making us both an offer we can’t refuse?’
‘This place is half empty. I’ll ring down and get you rooms. The Bureau can afford it.’
‘You’re not kidding. The Bureau should have made a nice little profit out of us,’ Paul said. ‘I really think I’d make a good agent – of the other sort.’
‘A double agent.’
There were rooms available for Miss Anders’ guests. Her own felt empty once they had gone. These days she never seemed quite to be free of anxiety.
Had she been too spontaneous in arranging rooms for two people who were supposed to be strangers?
But then, they were English, so it would be natural for her to want to have their company.
One of the things Janet had said was that stress kept you on your toes. Anxiety made you careful.
Before Eve went down to breakfast next morning, DB and Paul had gone, leaving a formal ‘thank you’ note for Miss Anders’ generosity.
Then there was a phone call. ‘Ladybird’s gone to London. She wouldn’t say what’s up, but I don’t care. It means that you can come down and stay at my place. If you don’t come, I’ll fetch you.’
‘I’ll try. Ring you back later.’
Then came a note on crested paper saying the Duchess and her husband were going to stay with friends, and how she hoped that she and Eve might meet up again some day.
Then came a phone call from van Gogh. ‘I hear that you are planning a trip south, Miss Anders. Would you mind giving some friends a lift?’
‘Who?’
‘A Miss de Beers and Mr Smyth.’
Eve told Quixote that she planned to spend a little time with some friends in Seville.
He was sad that she would be leaving. Maybe he could arrange a little farewell cocktail party?
She was touched by his sweet thought. She hated goodbyes… they made her melancholy.
Eve was anxious enough without Nati being agitated, fumbling with the packing, dropping things, jumping when porters brought in trays or the telephone rang.
‘For goodness’ sake, Nati, take ten minutes and sit down. Here, have a glass of tea.’
‘Thank you, no, señorita. I must get the packing finished.’
‘There isn’t that much left to do.’
Suddenly, Nati was standing before her, hands knotted tightly and her face a picture of apprehension. ‘Excuse me, Señorita Anders, now that you are going, I have to tell you this. I think we have met before.’
‘I don’t think so, Nati.’
‘When you came here I wondered how I could have seen you before. It seemed impossible; you had not been to this country. I ask Señor Quixote if you are famous, I might have seen you in a magazine, and he says not famous but very rich.’
Eve looked up and saw that Nati was almost rigid with anxiety. Deep breath… relax. Deep breath… relax.
‘Come on, Nati, spit it out. Sit down, do as I say. Here.’ She poured another glass of iced tea.
Nati sat, perched on the edge of an armless chair. ‘Barcelona, señorita, you know that I was in Barcelona?’
Eve drew on her subconscious to achieve a relaxed state but to appear a bit irritated and impatient.
‘Yes, you told me that. You were a teacher. And your father brought you here for the sake of the children.’
‘Yes, that is true. Please be patient.’
‘Of course.’
‘Julio was workers’ party.’ Nati looked directly at Eve, not expecting an answer. ‘There was always trouble between POUM and others. Each accuse the other of betraying. When the end was near in Barcelona, old adversaries settled old arguments with the gun. My husband went out to deal with anarchist but tables were turned. I have not seen him since then. I am sorry, but I and my children are never out of danger because of Julio.’
Eve felt herself at risk now, but all that she could do was to sit still and say nothing and let Nati talk.
‘After that time, it was very dangerous. Perhaps they would come looking for me and the children. What I did, señorita, I change my appearance from teacher to very poor person. Ha, that was not difficult. I went to my uncle, who lives in the old streets. He did not recognise who was this ragged lady. He is my mother’s brother. He was simple fisherman, never in the world of revolution and politics; he lives and works only for the family, you understand? He was family and he took us in and did not ask why.’
Eve shrugged noncommittally.
‘At first I was no good, because I did not know the different fishes, but my cousins were good teachers and in one or two days I was sorting and helping with the catch. Meat was scarce, polios, pavos, all plucked and stewed weeks before. There was a joke which maybe you have heard: ‘We have eaten the last cerdo, but we saved for you the grunt’ – the pig, you see. Which was true – the only meat was fish. The sea was dangerous to be in. But my uncle went out every day. He was not a man for churches, but he was good in the way of bringing back as much fish as he could.’
She paused, perhaps waiting for Eve to say something, but she still did not comment.
‘Every day the same woman would come. She would not push but wait till the good fish was gone and ask for small things that were left. Cheap. My uncle said I must always put one good fish at the bottom of her bag and she must pay only for the bits and pieces.’
‘Why?’
‘Señorita, I am still feeling guilty. My uncle did not say why she was his favourite. I took the wrong reason. You can guess what I thought of him… and of the woman. No one would have blamed her. I too might have gone with a man to keep my children fed. But I did not think that my uncle would be a man like that.’ She looked down at her hands as she twisted a dusting cloth.
‘I am so sorry, Señorita Anders. When I discovered the truth, it was too late. My uncle asked, “Where is the English girl? She has not come here maybe for three days.” He sent one of the little boys to find what has happened. I did not know that she was English, because she spoke our language well. When the boy returned, he said that the house was empty, and people said that the English woman had gone with the refugees. My uncle crossed himself and asked the Good Lord to protect her.’
Eve felt boxed into a corner. Blackmail? To gain time, she walked across the room, took out a new pack of cigarettes, fumbled the opening and the lighter and perched on the edge of the bureau. ‘I expect there are many such stories. You should write them down for when your children are grown up.’
‘Madame,’ Nati sounded a bit scornful, ‘I have no need to write. It is all here in my mind, very clear. I could describe the English girl’s eyes, which I would say are very like your own. It is one thing that we cannot disguise, also the fingernails. You remember the day when I was putting cream into your hands? I commented that these parts were very large and white, and you told me that in English the word was “moons”.’
Money. She had plenty of cash. She held her fingers out, inspecting them and said smiling, ‘You are a good manicurist, Nati. Maybe you could set yourself up offering that service to guests.’
‘Until that time, I had not seen such clear moons except for the other English woman.’
‘The fish woman.’
‘Si, señorita. Also, the fish woman had a scar. My cousin had shown her how to use a filleting knife, it had slipped and taken a small piece from the woman’s finger bone of the left hand, the first-finger knuckle. Also on that same finger was a small bump, an old wound of some kind.’
Eve didn’t look down at her hands, but remembered the shock of realising that the needle of the industrial sewing machine had gone right through her left index finger.
‘So you see, madame, if I write this story, I can easily bring the English woman to mind. Eyes, teeth, hands. To remember these details it is not difficult to see the bones of the face – the profile. That is the word I have been looking for. If I one day should see this lady, madame, I would tell her that I feel bad why my uncle was giving her good fish and she pays only for leavings.’
‘Oh, Nati, stop feeling guilty about something that is in the past.’
‘But, señorita, the end of this story is not the past. I will help you pack everything.’
‘I may not want everything. I have arranged with Señor Quixote to store things until I return.’
Nati got up and stuffed the duster into her pocket. ‘I think you may not, señorita.’ She looked so serious and determined that Eve felt threatened. Nati began removing Eve’s collection of summer frocks off their hangers, folding them neatly and pressing them into one of the soft-top cases. Then she stopped and came face to face, holding Eve’s elbows firmly. ‘Please, Señorita Anders, your time in Madrid is over.’
‘Nati! Who are you, the Guardia?’
‘Señorita, it is possible. Listen, please. You know when I first come here with you, I told you how I was able to get work because of my father and his dealings with Falange? OK, I understand that you are worried that my stories may be tricks for you, so please let me continue. You need say nothing, but I should like it if you could trust me.’
‘OK, Nati, five minutes and then I have to leave.’
‘My father is so sure of his position now, that he no longer bothers to talk quietly and in private. I learn things without listening. Since the General’s return he has been renewed, people talk to him. He was fifth column – it was these people who kept silent until the General invaded, and then they helped him – small acts of sabotage, a few murders, harvests set to fire.’
Eve knew those small acts very well – dynamiting mountain passes so that lorries carrying supplies of ammunition to the front were blown to smithereens.
‘Last evening, my mother and I were sitting listening to the crickets and drinking juice. My boys were asleep. It was quiet. My father was in his room where he works talking by telephone – it is the thing he is proud of, his telephone. It was impossible not to hear. He mentioned the Ritz. Then I did listen. It was to do with the singer who came.’
Eve nodded.
‘He said, “Nati is maid to an English woman, perhaps she is the one.’ Then he was listening, then he said, ‘I have placed Nati in the Ritz,’ and he laughed. ‘Now it is time for her to do something for me.’ Then he listened again, then he said, ‘Ah, daughters – they are trouble. Did your mother think that she had a right to attend university? Girls were not meant for universities. All troubles start with students. Now she is down a peg or two, and I have the next generation under my roof. There will be no more Comunista, no FUE students in this family.”’
‘So what do you think your father wants you to do, Nati?’
‘I don’t know. I thought that maybe if I come early, before he is awake, he cannot tell me what I must do. I am sure it must be something bad. Because the person who was talking to him knew something about the singer, and then my father says that I work for you, I became so worried. I made a bad mistake about the English girl in Barcelona. I should not like to make another.’ Eve wanted to believe that this was not a trick, but everyone was capable of double-dealing. Maybe the story was bait to see if Eve could be flushed out.
Trust no one.
‘I’m sorry, Nati, I really can’t make head nor tail of the poor girl story. I would really like to know more about her, but, honestly, I really do need to start soon before it gets too hot.’
‘I am sorry to take your time, madame. But, please, go at once.’
‘That’s all right, Nati, you have had a bad time. I do hope things are better for you soon.’
Nati took Eve’s hand and looked at the two old scars. ‘Please go at once, señorita. Please.’
Eve nodded and kissed Nati on both cheeks. ‘Your uncle was a good man. Without him, children would have starved.’
‘I do not believe in God, señorita, but may He go with you.’