13
I don’t remember the journey home with Nick from the Comintern party at the hotel, the moment when he, Charles and Lorelei had stared as the world had seemed to fall to pieces around me.
He gave me a sedative when we got in and told me not to say anything, simply to sleep and we would talk about it in the morning. I couldn’t have spoken if I had tried. He stroked my head and wiped my cheeks dry, and I felt warmth spread over me like a blanket as the memory of what had happened that evening melted away. It was something that had happened to someone else.
I have images of the days that came after; but nothing is clear now. Just Nick sitting patiently by my side. But there is a memory I do have, distinct in my mind, of a time when I woke up and he wasn’t there. It was an afternoon and I heard a woman’s voice downstairs, strong and clear. I lifted myself out of bed and rubbed my clammy skin. I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep. Opening the door just a crack, I heard the voice again.
‘… anything I can do for her?’
‘No, no. I don’t think there’s much anyone can do. Time. That’s all.’
‘Yes, that’s right. You’re still coming for Hazel on Sunday?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thanks, but no, I should come straight back. I’m needed here.’
There was a pause. ‘Nick, I wanted to say something.’
‘About this?’
‘About something else.’
‘Oh, yes?’ he said.
‘It’s your choice, of course, but – Ian Fellowman. I saw you were angling for an introduction. You have heard about him, haven’t you?’
‘Heard what?’
‘He has a side to him.’
‘Meaning?’
She hesitated. ‘Well, I saw George Orwell – Eric – on the street just last month, walking past that restaurant that used to be Rules. I was meeting a chum there. I pointed him out and was about to call over because I hadn’t seen him for ages, but then Sabrina grabbed me and warned me off. It seems he was put in one of those re-education camps for that silly story he wrote about the animals. And it was Ian Fellowman who put him there.’ She paused again. ‘Darling, I’ve met real fanatics, and they don’t look like fanatics: their eyes don’t swivel or stand out on stalks; they just look like middle managers in off-the-peg suits. Really, I’m serious, Fellowman’s damn well toxic. You must watch yourself.’
‘Thanks for the warning.’
‘All right. Yes. Well, look, I really must make tracks.’ There was silence. I wondered why they weren’t speaking. ‘Do you think she’ll be all right? It’s a terrible thing to happen.’
‘She’s in a pretty bad state. I’ll go and check on her in a minute,’ he replied.
‘Yes. Do be kind. Cheerio.’
‘Goodbye.’
I returned to the bed. I didn’t want him to catch me listening. The creaks on the stairs told me he was coming up, and I pulled the bed sheets up to my chin as some sort of protection and waited. He gently pushed the door – I don’t know if it registered with him that it was ajar – and slipped into the room.
‘Oh, you’re awake,’ he said, sitting on the bed and taking my wrist. He laid his hand on my forehead. ‘How are you feeling?’ As he bent over me, I smelled that sweet perfume on him. The one she had held out to me on her wrist that night at the party. Tabac Blond.
‘I don’t know. Numb.’
‘Do you remember what happened? Why you have been unwell?’
I blinked. The question was awful. ‘Of course I remember.’ And then I was furious. I don’t know where it came from but I could have torn my hair out with the rage. ‘Do you think I could forget that? What are you … Are you mad?’ As I started to shout, he stood up and retreated to the wall, but remained facing me. I threw back the covers and looked down at my stomach. I had half expected to see some sort of evidence there. But there was nothing, no record. The child had been and gone without a mark on this world other than in my mind. Nick too just stared at the place where I would soon have been swelling.
‘Do you want some time alone?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ I couldn’t look at him. ‘Was that Lorelei?’
‘Why was she here?’ I was so bitter.
‘Just so –’
‘I don’t want her here again!’ All the anger I had was swept up into him.
‘She just came to collect something for Hazel.’ I picked up a wooden-framed photograph from the table and threw it against the wall. The frame broke in two and dropped to the ground. I half recognized an image of the two of us on a day out. There was a long pause. ‘Please don’t do that, my darling,’ he said. ‘You nearly hit me. We’ll get through this. I promise.’
I wanted desperately to believe him, but my mind was echoing with a thought that I knew was unfair but I couldn’t put away from me: If you had taken me home when I told you I was ill, I might not have lost the baby.