To All Eternity Page 20

  “I’m sure you have lots to talk about,” Lady Goodall suggested, and bustled off.

  “I’m in a fog,” Berkeley confessed. “Are you on a visit?”

  “Good Lord, no,” Harvey said, jovially. “I was posted here two years ago. Third Secretary, what.”

  “Two years,” Berkeley said thoughtfully.

  “It was the wife’s idea that I should apply for this posting, what,” Harvey said. “Always wanted to see Greece, she said.”

  “It is a most beautiful country,” Julia murmured. “But perhaps not as beautiful as Serbia.”

  “I’m prejudiced,” Berkeley said.

  “And is Caterina well?”

  “As well as can be expected. She’s pregnant.”

  “Oh. Will this be your first?”

  “Our third,” Berkeley told her.

  “Oh. Good Lord. I suppose I’ve been out of touch. I mean, with your parents.”

  “Have you children?”

  “No,” she said.

  Julia was placed next to Berkeley at lunch, probably because, he supposed, Lady Goodall felt that having known him before she was the least likely to be shocked by anything he might say.

  “Have you now made your home in Serbia?” she asked.

  “You could say that. It is my wife’s home, and Caterina is very attached to it. Anyway, there is nothing for me in England, now.”

  “I think the army treated you very shabbily.”

  “They pay me a pension. I can’t complain.”

  “And are you happy?”

  “I think so.” But she had given him an opening. “Are you happy?”

  She glanced at him, cheeks pink, and fiddled with her fork. “I think very few people actually know what happiness is.”

  “That’s an interesting suggestion. But it can only be based on certain essentials.”

  “Tell me of them.”

  “Well, good health is a priority.” His turn to glance at her, but she did not respond. “Then . . . security, financial and physical. A loving companion. And, as I am discovering, successful parenthood.”

  “And you have all of those things,” she mused. “You are to be envied, sir.”

  “And you do not. Would you care to tell me why?”

  “It is not a subject for lunch parties,” she said. “Will you tell me where you are staying in Athens?”

  “The Hotel Excelsior.”

  “May I ask for how long?”

  “I imagine I will be leaving again tomorrow.”

  “Such a short visit,” she remarked, and engaged the man on her left in conversation.

  Well now, he thought; here was an interesting situation.

  *

  He was returned to the hotel about three and had a siesta, being awakened by Lockwood at four with a cup of tea, and, “There is a gentleman here to see you, sir.”

  “A gentleman?” Berkeley asked in surprise, allowing himself to be wrapped in an undressing robe.

  “From the Embassy, I believe, sir.”

  “Oh, of course.” He had almost forgotten the telegram.

  It was Andrews. “This arrived half an hour ago, Major Townsend. His excellency suggested I bring it right round.”

  Berkeley took the envelope. “Thank you, Mr Andrews. You may tell the ambassador that I am most grateful for his assistance.”

  Andrews waited. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  “Certainly. As soon as I am alone.”

  “His excellency should be informed of the contents.”

  “Have you received instructions from London to that effect?”

  “Well, no. But it is our policy that the ambassador should see all correspondence, especially that in cypher.”

  “Yes. Well, the moment London authorises or instructs me to give the ambassador the transcript of this message, I shall do so.”

  Andrews glared at him. “I assume you are aware that there has been a revolt against Turkish rule in Albania. It is generally supposed this has been fomented by the Italians.”

  “I was not aware of that, Mr Andrews.”

  “You are saying that neither you, nor this clandestine exchange of messages with London, have anything to do with it?”

  “As I have said, until you told me, I was unaware of the Albanian situation,” Berkeley said. “As for my exchange of messages with London, I cannot form an opinion until I have read this telegram. Thank you, Mr Andrews.”

  Andrews hesitated a last time, glanced at Lockwood uncertainly, and left the room.

  “Lock the door, Harry,” Berkeley said, and took out his code book before sitting at the table.

  It was from Gorman.

  Information appreciated and understood. Our estimation is Italy will strike first. Serbia and friends will hope to pick up pieces. Consider it very useful for you to be involved. Seek highest possible level. Priority remains avoidance of conflict with Austria. G.

  “Intriguing,” Berkeley said, handing the transcript to Lockwood.

  “I didn’t know Italy was involved in the Balkan situation, sir.”

  “She isn’t, and I shouldn’t think she wants to be. But the Balkans represent only the tiniest part of the Turkish Empire. In any event, it looks as if we are going to be soldiers again, Harry. We’ll take the early train back to Belgrade.”

  “Yes, sir. That leaves tonight free.” He paused, hopefully.

  “Indeed it does,” Berkeley agreed. “I’m feeling a bit tired, Harry. Heavy lunch and all that. Why don’t you go out and have a good time. It may be your last opportunity for a while.”

  It’s a sad thing when one descends to lying to one’s oldest friend, he thought. But this was a white lie, and Lockwood was delighted.

  “If you’re sure, sir.”

  “Absolutely,” Berkeley said.

  He waited for Lockwood to leave, then went down to reception and placed some notes on the counter. “I am expecting a visitor,” he said. “I don’t know when, precisely. But when the lady arrives, please direct her to my rooms.”

  The Greek clerk revealed no curiosity or even disapproval, merely bowed and pocketed the money. Berkeley, having secured a bottle of champagne and an ice bucket, retired to his room to wait.

  He wondered what he was planning. Adultery? He wasn’t sure. As Caterina was following her usual agenda when pregnant, he could certainly do with some sex. It was an interesting thought that had he not encountered Julia at the lunch party, he might well have accompanied Harry to a brothel this evening. That certainly would not be considered adultery, even by Caterina.

  So, was he intending to treat Julia as a whore? That was not possible. He was intending to treat Julia exactly as Julia wanted to be treated . . . it would be intriguing to find out. Just as it would be intriguing to discover just what had reduced her to such a wreck of the strong, healthy girl he remembered.

  And who he had known nearly all his life.

  She came at nine o’clock, a gentle tap on the door.

  He let her in, closed and locked the door. She was breathless.

  “I did not know if they’d let me up,” she said. “But the clerk . . .”

  “I told him what to do.”

  He poured champagne.

  Julia’s chin tilted as she took off her hat. “You were sure I’d come.”

  “I’ve always been an optimist.”

  He gave her a glass, and they stared at each other. Then she sipped, and he took the glass from her hand and kissed her. For a moment it was chaste, and then they were tightly in each other’s arms.

  “Oh, God,” she said. “I didn’t come here—”

  “How much time have we got?” he asked.

  “As much as we wish. On Saturday nights Harvey plays cards with his friends. Then they go on to a brothel for a couple of hours. He’s seldom home before dawn.”

  How amusing it would be, Berkeley thought, if Harvey chose the same house as Harry. But to the best of his knowledge, the two men had never met.

  “Well
, then,” he said. “We have the time to talk, at least. That’s why you came here, isn’t it?”

  He sat down, sipped champagne; Julia roamed about the room, nervously. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said.

  “I am sure you haven’t.”

  “But . . . seeing you . . . I asked Harvey to apply for this posting. I was sure that as you had used Athens before you would do so again, regularly, and that we might meet. I suppose I’m not very good with maps and things. I had no idea how far way Serbia is. Two years . . . and suddenly, there you were.”

  “You’re not going to say that you regret not having married me?”

  She had been standing by the window. Now she turned. “Do you mean to humiliate me?”

  “I hope not. I just want things to be straight up between us.”

  She sighed and sat on the bed, shoulders hunched. “Yes, I wish we could have got married. I know I made all of those objections, I kept putting you off. I know the fault was mine. I wanted too much. I didn’t realise that in this life one has to settle for the best one can get.”

  “And Harvey?”

  She shuddered.

  “He always struck me as being a very congenial type,” Berkeley said. “Of course, I don’t know him all that well.”

  “He stops smiling when he enters his own front door,” Julia said.

  “Ah. You mean he just becomes unsociable, or . . .”

  “He is physically violent,” she said. “Especially when he has been drinking.”

  Berkeley moved to sit beside her. “I am very sorry.”

  She turned her head to look at him. “Why should you be? It is not your concern.”

  “You are my oldest living female friend. Apart from my mother.”

  “And you would like to help me?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “What, would you challenge him, and shoot him down? In this country I do not suppose you would be arrested for murder.”

  “Probably not. And then?”

  “I don’t know. You are married . . .” She hesitated.

  “And a father.”

  “And you and your wife are still very much in love.”

  “As you and I are being so straight with each other, I will say that I am still very much in love with her.”

  She frowned. “And?”

  Berkeley sighed. “Caterina hates more than she loves. She has every reason to. Hers has been a fairly violent life.”

  “But she does not hate you.”

  “I think she does, sometimes. When she feels I am not hating her enemies enough.”

  She smiled. “Then you do not, after all, have the best of all possible worlds.”

  “I never said I did. I merely outlined what, in my opinion, were the roots of true happiness.”

  “And I naturally supposed you were speaking of yourself. But you have most of those roots, and perhaps in time you will have them all. You cannot help me, Berkeley. At least, not in the long run. But just for a moment . . .”

  *

  What does one do with a woman in such desperation? Well, Berkeley thought, what one does with her is straightforward enough: it is whatever she wants to be done. But what does one do about her? When she is married to another man, and when one is oneself married, to another woman? Julia had condemned herself to a life of misery. But what had been the alternative, when Berkeley had dropped out of the running? A lifetime of spinsterdom? And Harvey must have appeared an attractive prospect.

  But now . . . He supposed he had always loved her, without ever being able to penetrate her cocoon of good breeding and natural reserve to uncover the passion that could lie beneath, if it was there. He was sure he would have married her, had Gorman not set in train that sinister sequence of events that had brought him to Caterina. That was being unfair to the general. Caterina was one of the great experiences of his life. He had only slowly come to accept that he ranked second in her life, to what she conceived as her essential mission.

  Again he had to accept that the fault was his. His impatience to save her from the consequences of her birth and background and upbringing, but more importantly, he knew, to make her entirely his, had led him to that disastrous kidnapping. For all his promises since and her apparent acceptance of them, she had not forgiven him and never would, thus she would never fully trust him again. Even her delight at the idea that he should join the Serbian army had been because she anticipated that army, one day, going to war with Austria. As that was not going to happen in the immediate future, her pleasure would soon dissipate in disappointment.

  Yet she was his wife, and the mother of his children. He did not know if the Orthodox Church permitted divorce – he doubted it – but he knew that if he proposed it she would declare war on him, and his children would be lost to him, even supposing he himself survived.

  The other side of the coin was Julia. Their failure to marry had been a result of her refusal to accept anything but her own terms, her own concept of how a marriage should be. Now, after two years of marriage to Harvey Braddock, she in was the mood to surrender. She had indeed just surrendered, everything. She knew very little about the art of love, and Harvey had clearly not wasted any time in teaching her. A woman’s business in bed was to lie on her back with her legs apart, or on her front, again with her legs apart, and let the man get on with it; she did not expect to be pleased or in any way aroused, much less satiated.

  This last hour had been a new world to her. She had looked at him in consternation when he had used his hands before entry. She had given little whimpers of uncertain ecstacy as he had brought her to orgasm, the first in her life, he estimated. She had moaned with pleasure when his entry had created another. She had clung to him fiercely when he had in turn climaxed, as if this was a moment she did not ever wish to end.

  She was his, all his, for all eternity. And he could not take her.

  She lay on her side, facing him, small breasts crushed together between her arms. “Tell me what you wish me to do,” she said.

  He sighed. “I wish I knew.”

  “You mean you would like me to leave.”

  He rolled towards her. “I mean I would like you to lie there for the rest of our lives.”

  “But I can’t. So . . .” She rolled away from him and sat up.

  He caught her round the waist and brought her back to him. Her head lay on his chest, her still-rich hair scattered.

  “Say the word,” she said, “and I will leave Harvey. I know you cannot marry me. I will be your mistress.”

  “My dear girl, you’d be ostracised.”

  “Do you think I give a damn for any of these people?”

  “And at home?”

  “Them too. If I could be with you, only occasionally.”

  “Unfortunately, that isn’t on.”

  She sat up again, and this time kept on going, out of the bed before he could catch hold of her again.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to do it,” he said. “I would set you up as my mistress tomorrow . . .”

  She turned to face him, long and slender and white. “But?”

  “I am to join the Serb army within the week. And we are going to fight a war. I cannot tell you more than that. But I do not know for how long I shall be involved, just as I do not know if I will survive. I cannot ask you to ruin your life for a dream which may never happen.”

  She began to dress, slowly. “Harvey’s tour of duty here has still three years to run,” she said. “Will your war be over in three years?”

  “I should think so.”

  “Well, then, I will wait,” she said.

  He got out of bed, held her in his arms. “And consider what you do.”

  “I have done that,” she told him.

  *

  Berkeley and Lockwood caught the eight o’clock train north. Berkeley did not ask Lockwood about his night, and Lockwood made no comment regarding Berkeley’s night; but as he was a valet he knew Berkeley had not slept alone, even if
the lady was long gone by the time he came home.

  In any event, they were distracted when they reached the border, where the guards had been doubled and their travel documents were examined for several minutes, while armed soldiers patrolled the platform. As Berkeley spoke no Turkish it was difficult to discover what was going on, but he did manage to get some information from a Greek businessman who was travelling on the same train.

  “The Italians have served an ultimatum at Constantinople,” the Greek explained.

  “To what end?”

  “They wish the surrender of Tripoli, and indeed, all Libya.”

  “Just like that?”

  The Greek shrugged. “It is the beginning of the end for Turkey.”

  *

  “So that’s what Gorman meant, that the Italians will do it first,” Berkeley remarked, as the train finally moved off.

  “Tricky business,” Lockwood agreed. “And you think the Serbs will come in on the Italian side?”

  “Let’s hope they don’t until we are across the border,” Berkeley said.

  But although the evidence of Turkish agitation and suspicion grew throughout the next two days, they reached Belgrade without mishap. Berkeley went immediately to see Colonel Savos.

  “Exciting times,” the colonel remarked. “I am glad you got back safely, Colonel Townsend.”

  “Would you tell me what is going on?”

  “Why, the Italians have invaded North Africa.”

  “Invaded?”

  “They were bombarding Tripoli and landing troops even as the ultimatum was being delivered in Constantinople,” Savos said. “Our information is that they are now ashore in large numbers, and that the Turkish governor has fled.”

  “And what are the powers doing about it?”

  “Nothing. We are informed, through diplomatic channels, that Italy cleared its action with Britain and France before undertaking it.”

  The bastards, Berkeley thought. “And Albania?” he asked.

  Savos shrugged. “The Albanians are always revolting. In my opinion, they are a revolting people.” He smirked. “No doubt the Italians will make what use of it they can.”