‘Are you quite sure,’ asked Lally Markham as they refreshed their make-up in the Ladies’ Cloakroom at the 400, ‘that you’re not seeing Claude any more?’ Diana sighed. She’d been having such a nice evening, dancing and laughing and enjoying herself with Lally and Jock and the others, until he’d walked in, alone. She’d pretended not to see him, but it hadn’t worked – all the others had, and it was the work of a few moments to find him a seat at their table. She’d greeted him coolly, then carried on talking to Margot. She’d been painfully aware of his eyes on her and the memory of what happened on her last visit to the club – the raid, and going to bed with him for the first time – and of everyone else pretending not to pay attention but actually drinking everything in as if they were watching a play.
Finally, unable to stand the tension for a moment longer, she’d excused herself, only to find that Lally was following her. ‘He’s still pretty keen, isn’t he?’ she said, patting her hair back into place. ‘He can’t take his eyes off you.’
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ said Diana. ‘And I’ve told you—’
‘Yes, you have,’ said Lally calmly, ‘but I don’t believe you.’
Diana, who had expected to have to deal only with a spot of ragging from Lally, was disconcerted by the seriousness of her tone.
‘As I told you, Diana,’ she said, settling herself on one of the gilt chairs and lighting a cigarette, ‘the last time Claude pursued someone like this, it ended badly.’
‘I know that.’ And I know a few things you don’t, Diana thought. Dropping her compact into her evening bag, she added. ‘I’m leaving.’
‘He’ll follow you,’ said Lally.
‘No he won’t.’
‘Of course he will. He only came because he knew you’d be here.’
‘How?’
‘Jock let on that you were coming with us. Stupid man, I told him not to.’
‘Well, I’m going anyway. If he tries to come with me, I’ll send him on his way.’
‘Diana, wait. You don’t know how serious this is.’
‘I know perfectly well. That’s why I’m not—’
‘For heaven’s sake! It’s crystal clear to every single person round that table that he’s crazy about you, and – whether or not you admit it – you are crazy about him.’
Diana made for the door, but Lally beat her to it and stood with her back to the panels.
‘Please let me pass.’
‘Not until you hear what I’ve got to say.’
‘There’s nothing more to discuss,’ Diana said coldly. ‘If you’re saying these things because you’re in love with him yourself, then …’
‘Diana!’ Lally looked hurt. ‘That’s an awful thing to say. I’m not in love with Claude, and even if I were, this is far too important for some petty piece of jealousy.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. But you’re making a mountain out of a molehill, because there really isn‘t—’
‘Please!’ Surprised by the raw urgency in Lally’s face, Diana took a step backwards. ‘You don’t know.’
‘Know what?’
‘Julia Vigo – that was the woman’s name – she didn’t commit suicide. She was killed.’
‘Oh, nonsense.’ Diana tried a laugh, but it was shaky. ‘Honestly, Lally, if you’re trying to put me off Claude – not that you need to bother – you’ll have to come up with something better than that.’
‘It’s the truth.’
Diana sat down. ‘How do you know?’
‘I overheard part of a conversation between Claude and F-J.’
‘F-J?’
‘Yes. I didn’t realise what it was about at first, but then I put two and two together, and …’
‘Why on earth would F-J want to kill her? Or Claude, for that matter? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘That’s why I didn’t realise. They were talking about her, and F-J said, “I’m afraid your Mrs Vigo will have to go.”’
‘He probably just meant dismissal. If she was … unreliable, or something.’
‘But then Claude said, “I’ll see to it.” If she was going to be dismissed, F-J would do it himself.’
‘But if he said “your Mrs Vigo” perhaps she was reporting to Claude, so surely he’d be the person to do it.’
Lally shook her head. ‘That’s not how it works.’
‘All right, but why kill her?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps she was a double agent – working for them, I mean.’
‘But surely …’ Diana stopped. If Claude was telling the truth about Julia Vigo being a drug addict, she’d be a target for blackmail, or – if the drugs she craved were expensive – she might have been given them in exchange for information. Either was possible, and if either were the case, then silencing her might well be the only option. Presumably, an injection of drugs – obtained from the very-useful-on-certain-occasions Dr Pyke – would do the trick if it were strong enough. And if Claude had been lying and Julia wasn’t a drug addict at all, it would have been equally simple to make up that story afterwards … Could he really have done it? Bewildered, Diana thought back to their conversation. No, she told herself. I believed him. He was telling the truth.
‘What is it?’ Lally was staring at her.
‘It’s impossible to believe. Claude was having an affair with her – you said yourself that he was pursuing her.’ It struck her, then, for the first time, that Claude had expressed no remorse over the woman’s death. Judging from his behaviour, it seemed not to have affected him at all. ‘It seems so unnatural,’ she concluded, with a helpless gesture. ‘It’s not normal.’
‘None of this is normal. Having this conversation isn’t normal. Everything we’ve always taken for granted – rules and values – is changing in front of our eyes. Black, white, right, wrong – they don’t mean the same any more. Surely you understand that?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘You cannot afford to be naive about this, Diana. Claude may be fond of women, but he doesn’t take them seriously. You must have realised that by now.’
‘I suppose I have.’ Diana put her head in her hands. ‘This is … It’s … I’m so confused, Lally. I don’t know what to think. I just want to go home. Would you mind telling the others? Say I’ve got a headache or something – apologise.’
‘Would you like me to come with you?’
Diana stood up. ‘No need. I’ll take the bus. It’s still early. I just … I’d like to be by myself.’
Lally looked at her doubtfully. ‘You will be careful, won’t you?’
‘I promise.’
‘Very well.’ Lally embraced her. The look in her eyes was so heartfelt, and the gesture so very unexpected, that it made Diana want to cry. ‘I know it’s not easy, darling,’ she murmured, ‘but you must be strong.’
Diana stood on the crowded bus in a daze, scarcely registering where she was going. Was it possible that Claude had killed Julia Vigo? Obviously, if he had, he could never discuss such a thing with her … And she couldn’t ask him about it, either. Bringing Lally’s name into it would get her friend into trouble – or worse … But if Claude had killed Julia Vigo, it wasn’t because he was wicked, but because it was his job. She’d heard things about people disappearing, but never anyone she knew, and never more than the vaguest rumours. Surely, Lally had misunderstood what she’d heard? Really, it was no better than the dotty old ladies she visited with imaginary Germans under their beds. But what she’d said about right and wrong not being the same any more certainly rang true. And as for F-J’s words at Bletchley Park: ‘The consequences can be disastrous, even fatal …’
Diana dug her nails into her palms, remembering the vertiginous feeling she’d had when Claude walked into the 400, how she’d looked across the room and seen only him, as if he was lit by a sort of halo. He is like an addiction, she thought. A drug. She’d had two notes from him since her return from Bletchley Park and ignored them both, but managing not to think about him for more than five consecutive minutes was little short of a miracle. At least he hadn’t had the temerity to telephone her at work, and the line at Tite Street had barely functioned since the bombing started. But I am in love with him, she thought. I can’t help it.
There was no point in going round and round in circles, she told
herself: I must never see him again. Ever. Following the beam of her torch along the Chelsea Embankment, her footsteps seemed to sound the words ‘Never, ever, never, ever,’ on the pavement. She turned the corner of Tite Street, desperate to get home, to sleep, to forget, ‘Never, ever,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Never, ever, never, ev—’ Yards away from her house, she was brought up short by the sight of a slim, elegant form leaning against the railings: Claude.
She stopped, her whole body buzzing as if she’d been wired to an electric socket. For a second, she considered running away, but the street was dangerously dark and besides, her limbs seemed to have turned to water. Before she had a chance to collect herself, Claude was coming towards her, and a moment later his arms were round her and he was kissing her on the mouth.
For a moment she was stupefied by the treachery of her body’s reaction to his, then she pushed him hard, so that he staggered backwards. ‘Stop it!’
‘Not here, you mean?’
‘Not anywhere. What do you think you’re doing?’
‘You know damn well what I’m doing. And I’m going to go on doing it.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘I think you’ll find, darling,’ Claude grabbed her arm, ‘that I am.’
‘Leave me alone!’ Diana tried to push him away, but this time he was ready for her, and, shoving her against the railings, kissed her again.
‘You disappoint me, Diana,’ he whispered. ‘You shouldn’t let people frighten you so easily.’
‘I’m not frightened!’
‘Then why are you shaking?’
‘I just don’t want …’
His hand felt beneath her coat for her breast. ‘You’re lying,’ he said, in a sing-song voice. ‘If you want to have your cake and eat it, I don’t mind. You’re frightened, and you like being frightened, my angel. It excites you. You do want to. I know you do.’
There was too much truth in this for Diana to deny it, and she was appalled that he’d perceived it so clearly. ‘All right,’ she said, furiously. ‘I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to.’
‘Oh, yes it does. Right here in the street, or upstairs.’ His hand
moved down between her legs. ‘It’s your choice.’
‘Go away!’ She beat at him with her bag, and he caught her hands and forced them to her sides, holding them there and laughing at her.
‘Come on.’ He began towing her towards the house. I must not allow this to happen, she thought, frantically. Never, ever. It’s too dangerous. I must stop him – slap him or something, but I must not give in to him. Or to myself. She could hear all these things clearly in her mind, but suddenly it was as if someone else was speaking, far way. She wanted him so much … Helplessly she let herself be pulled up the front steps. Claude held her round the waist as she fumbled in her handbag for her latchkey, and she felt him caress her back and buttocks through her clothes as she opened the front door. ‘Stop it,’ she whispered, desperately, ‘Someone will see.’
‘Then hurry up.’ Claude pushed her inside and, closing the front door behind him, half-dragged and half-carried her, unprotesting now, up the stairs to her flat.