‘The Germans built those camps, got German actors to pretend to be Russian prisoners—’
Natalia shook her head. ‘No, you’re wrong. I understand enough Russian to know what the survivors were saying. And you saw their faces on the newsreels, they were starving, dying—’
‘All right. Mebbe Stalin went too far, but people exaggerate that. Khrushchev and Zhukov want a different Russia—’
Sean said, ‘Opposition may be growing here. But this government’s still got plenty of supporters, including working-class people like our bloody neighbour. Beaverbrook’s got his newspapers behind him. And the police and the army and the Germans. It’ll be a long bloody battle and I hope to God we get something new and better at the end of it. Not what the Russians had.’
‘Probably we’d end up like America,’ Geoff said. ‘Not sure that’d be a good thing entirely.’
Frank sat up. ‘Don’t fight among yourselves like this,’ he said pleadingly. ‘Please, don’t.’
Ben said, ‘We’re just having a wee chat—’
‘It’s because of me you’re all here.’ There was a sudden silence round the table. ‘You’re the brave ones, the ones who decided to fight. You need to stand together.’
They went to bed after the meal, tired out. In their room Geoff undressed and got under the covers.
‘Are you all right?’ David asked.
‘I’ll survive.’ Geoff nodded at the mug full of water he had brought up. ‘My throat’s so damn dry, I keep drinking. I’ll be getting up to piss in the night, I’m afraid. Funny how this damned fog affects some people more than others.’ He smiled. ‘Good news about Sarah, eh?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t help worrying about Mum and Dad. But like Jackson said, they don’t know anything, and they’ve got contacts.’
‘They’ll be okay.’
‘How d’you think Frank is?’
‘He’s in a state still, you could tell from what he said at dinner. But I don’t think he’ll try to run again. He promised me. I think I’ll just drop in on him now, before bed.’
David knocked at the door of the next room. Ben had stripped to his underwear and was folding his clothes neatly beside his mattress. David saw a big round scar on the side of his stocky torso, a row of long scars on the backs of his thighs. The round scar looked like a bullet wound. He realized how little he knew about Ben, what he had been through. Frank was just taking off his shirt, his white body painfully thin.
‘Everything all right?’ David asked.
‘Aye,’ Ben answered cheerfully. ‘Just settlin’ doon for the night, aren’t we?’
‘I’m very sleepy,’ Frank said. ‘I’ve had my night-time pills.’
‘We all are,’ Ben said. ‘Still, we can rest up tomorrow. That’s war, isn’t it? All action one day, then sitting around doing nothing the next.’ David realized Ben was happy, he was enjoying the danger. ‘We can have another game of chess tomorrow, if you like,’ he said to Frank. ‘You can beat me again.’
David said goodnight. He wanted a cigarette. In case it made Geoff’s throat worse – his friend hadn’t had his pipe out all evening – he went downstairs to the kitchen. Natalia was standing there, quietly smoking. He felt the sudden rush of physical attraction again.
She nodded at him, smiled. ‘I just had a look outside,’ she said. ‘You can’t see a thing.’
David lit a cigarette and leaned on the edge of the cooker. ‘Safer for us all if we can’t be seen.’
‘Yes.’
‘I think you got the better of that argument with Ben earlier. About the Soviets.’
‘Ben is a good man, he cares more about Frank than he shows. But he is naive about Russia.’ She sighed heavily. ‘He needs something to cling on to, I suppose, like all of us do who have turned our backs on normal life.’
‘What do you cling on to?’
She blew out a cloud of smoke. ‘Beating the Fascists.’
David said, ‘I hope this smog goes on. If it stops them moving the Jews to the Isle of Wight. The Germans would take them east then, wouldn’t they?’
‘Yes.’ Natalia cast her eyes down. ‘I’m afraid the fog can’t go on for ever.’
He hesitated, then said, ‘Natalia, you haven’t told anyone, have you? About me being half-Jewish? Only there was something in the way Mrs O’Shea looked at me earlier . . .’
She frowned. ‘No, I have said nothing. I promised.’ She looked at him seriously. You should tell our people about yourself,’ she added. ‘We are all against what is being done, you know that.’
‘Perhaps. Only – I’ve kept it secret so long.’
‘Are you ashamed?’ she asked. ‘That you are a half-Jew?’
‘There are no half-Jews left in Europe, Natalia. You know that. You’re either a Jew or you’re not. No, I’m not ashamed of being Jewish, though I’ve no idea what it’s like to be a Jew; and why should it matter what your parents were, why should it mean anything? But nationality and race – that’s all that matters now.’
‘I know. All over Europe.’
‘What I’m ashamed of is secrets. Even though my parents kept mine to help me get on.’ He smiled sadly. ‘It was good practice for being a spy, I suppose.’
She nodded, sympathetic now.
‘You know,’ David said suddenly, ‘I’m afraid of seeing her again. My wife.’
‘Don’t you want to?’
‘All the secrets I kept from her.’ He shook his head. ‘So many. You know, this is the first time I’ve been away from Sarah since we were married. But in other ways we’ve been apart for years. I really don’t know if we can come together again. I’ve taken away her house, her safety, any reason for her to trust me again. I don’t know if she’ll even want to try.’ He bit his lip, then said, ‘Or if I do.’ He looked down. He felt Natalia step closer, put a hand on his arm. He glanced up at her in surprise. She smiled softly. She was giving in to him, she had wanted to all along. And he wanted to cling to her, to cling to a woman but especially to her, more than he ever had in his life. But then, abruptly, he shook his head. ‘No. You were right. Not now.’
She smiled sadly, and stepped away.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning away to the stairs.
AFTER SHOOTING THE POLICEMAN, Meg had led the way rapidly up the road to Kenton Station. Sarah could hardly believe what she had done; she kept seeing the vase shatter against the policeman’s head, the blood and the porcelain shards flying out. But he’d had a gun and would have killed them all.
She stumbled; Meg turned and gave her an angry glare. ‘Come on,’ she snapped. ‘Before that man’s missed and a hundred of them come down on us. Don’t draw attention, try and look normal. But hurry.’ Sarah tried to compose herself. She thought of what it must have been like for Meg, walking up and down her street, waiting for Irene to go, then seeing the policeman enter the house. She seemed quite unaffected by cold-bloodedly shooting a man. Were they all like this in the Resistance, this brutal? Was this what David was like, underneath?
They reached Kenton Station. Meg bought a couple of tickets. A tube came quickly and soon they were clattering down to London. They got off at Piccadilly Circus. ‘This is it,’ Meg said briskly. A queue of excited children and their parents, wrapped against the cold, waited outside a shop where a large poster over the door proclaimed,
They crossed the road. The traffic was heavy, it was starting to get dark. Sarah thought of her house, the dead man lying there. Meg led her into a maze of streets full of coffee bars, shops selling exotic foods, run-down pubs and shopfronts with black-painted windows.
‘Godless place,’ Meg muttered angrily.
‘What?’
‘Den of Satan. Nobody cares about morality any more. It’s all because of the Catholics.’
‘What is?’ Sarah began to wonder if Meg was a little mad.
