The Triumph Page 3

  If only he knew what Father would say.

  But for God’s sake, he told himself as he smiled at her across the table, I am all but thirty years old, and I am second-in-command of the Royal Western Dragoon Guards. I should be able to make my own decisions.

  ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see more of you, these last couple of months,’ Fergus told Annaliese as they strolled in the garden after lunch.

  ‘You have been busy,’ she agreed. ‘Getting ready to beat Hitler.’

  ‘Will you be glad about that? If we manage to do it?’

  She stopped walking, turned to face him. ‘You must do it. He is evil. Everything he stands for is evil.’

  ‘Your brother fights for him.’

  Annaliese hugged herself. ‘Paul is evil too.’

  Fergus was silent for a few minutes; the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. Annaliese continued on her walk, and he hurriedly caught her up. ‘What I wanted to say was...well...I have to go with the regiment, of course, to the other side of the country. But there’s a chance I’ll see you in town, next week. And then there’ll be leave, from time to time. Perhaps, when I come back...when...’ Hell, he thought, if only he could just come out and say it. ‘Well, in another couple of months, when...well...’

  She stopped walking, and gazed at him. ‘I will still be here, Fergus. In a couple of months.’

  *

  They stood on the porch to wave Fergus out of sight as he returned to the depot. ‘Ian would be proud of him,’ Lee said, and went inside. Today her eyes were damp.

  Annaliese held Murdoch’s hand. ‘Sit with me, Uncle Murdoch.’

  Murdoch allowed himself to be led to the porch settee. He was very relieved at the rapidity with which the girl had recovered her old spirits, but he was equally aware that her old spirits encompassed a great many attitudes of which not everyone would approve. Least of all himself. So he sat down rather apprehensively.

  Annaliese sat beside him. ‘Fergus nearly proposed to me, after lunch,’ she announced, without preamble.

  Murdoch was so surprised he did not immediately reply. Annaliese glanced at him. ‘I think he is going to, when next he has leave from the regiment. What should I do?’ ‘Fergus? But...he’s your brother-in-law.’

  ‘Does that matter? Now that his brother is dead?’

  Murdoch glanced at her in turn. ‘I suppose it doesn’t.’

  ‘So tell me what I must do when he asks.’

  ‘My dear Liese, how can I tell you that? If you love him, well...’

  ‘I am sure I could love him, Uncle Murdoch. He is Ian’s brother, and he is your son. But...do you want me to do that?’

  ‘It has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Yes, it has,’ she insisted. ‘Murdoch...’ she held his hands. ‘You loved my mother.’

  ‘That was a very long time ago.’

  ‘But you loved her. More than you ever loved Aunt Lee.’

  ‘No,’ Murdoch said. ‘I loved your mother in a different way to Lee.’

  ‘More,’ she insisted. ‘And I look exactly like her, everyone has always said. Is that true?’

  He made no effort to free himself, for the moment; he knew she had to get what was on her mind into the open —and he then had to react. It was a crisis he had seen looming for years; he simply had not expected it today. But his reaction would have to be a severe one, and he regretted that. Not that he intended to shirk it; Murdoch Mackinder had never shirked any duty, no matter how unpleasant, in his life. ‘I would say you are even more beautiful, Liese.’

  ‘My mother loved you.’

  ‘Up to a point.’

  ‘I love you beyond that point.’

  ‘Now, Liese, you are being absurd. I am old enough to be your grandfather.’

  ‘What is age? It is a system of accounting invented by man for his own convenience. I have known some men of thirty who are children, and others who have been old, old men.’

  Murdoch wondered if she was thinking of Fergus, and in that case, in which class she placed him?

  ‘While you are as handsome and attractive now as the day I first met you. Do you remember that day, in 1924, when you and Auntie Lee came to Germany to visit with us?’

  ‘You were nine years old.’

  ‘And I fell in love with you then. I winked at you. Do you remember?’

  ‘I remember. I wondered if I shouldn’t paddle your backside.’

  ‘I wish you had. Uncle Murdoch, Murdoch, I have never loved anyone else.’

  ‘Now really, Liese...’

  ‘It is true. I married your son because that was as near to you as I could get. As you would let me get. But I loved you. Now your other son wishes to have me. I will give myself to him if you wish it. Just to be near you. But will you not take me for yourself, just once?’ She stared at him, her face very close to his. ‘No one will ever know. I am always here. You are here. Aunt Lee goes out quite often and Aunt Philippa is always riding her horses. No one would ever know if you came to my room tomorrow morning.’

  Her eyes were unblinking, but slowly seeming to become opaque as she gazed into his. Not many people had looked into Sir Murdoch Mackinder’s eyes when they wore that expression, and lived to remember it.

  ‘You are obscene,’ he said, speaking as softly as she had done. ‘Yes, I loved your mother. And I love you...as her daughter. I have taken you in and given you a home. I was very happy when you married Ian. When he was killed, my heart bled at least as much for you as for him. When I stand beside you as you receive his Victoria Cross, next week, I shall be the proudest man on earth. And no one could have been kinder to you than your Aunt Lee. I know you have had a very hard life, Liese, and I respect the courage with which you have faced that life. I hope you will never lose that. But if you ever speak to me like this again, or make any suggestion like this again, I am going to throw you out on to the street. Understand that.’

  Her fingers relaxed and slid away from him. She stood up, facing him, her face cold. ‘And Fergus?’

  ‘That must be your decision, not mine. But if you marry him, Liese, you will love him and be his wife. Because if you ever let him down, you will have to answer to me.’

  She gazed at him for a moment longer, then turned with a swirl of her skirt, and walked away.

  *

  The best part of Annaliese’s day was after the ten o’clock morning feed. Then she could hand little Ian back to his nanny, put on a bathing suit and a bathrobe, and walk away from the house and down the hill to a stand of trees, perhaps a quarter of a mile from the house. On the far side of these trees, which acted as a wall, she looked down into the valley, a long slope of green grass studded with little copses. Beyond the boundary fence of Broad Acres there were sheep grazing, and the shepherd could often be seen — but he was a long way away. Within the boundaries she was completely alone. Even Philippa carefully avoided the trees when it was known that Mrs Mackinder was sunbathing. Once hidden by the trees Annaliese could spread her bathrobe on the ground, lay her bathing costume beside it, and lie on her back with her eyes closed.

  It was not a pastime the British seemed to believe in, which, she was sure, accounted for their pale complexions and the prevalence of colds and coughs. When, before the war, the Mackinders had taken her to the seaside, even on a boiling hot summer’s day like today, she had been amazed to see the amount of clothes everyone was wearing, the way the men would merely roll their trousers up to the knee, and would place knotted handkerchiefs on their heads the moment the sun grew too warm, while to take a shirt off was apparently indecent. The women were no more free with themselves.

  Annaliese had been brought up to believe that the sun is the source of all life and strength, and that the nude human body is the only truly beautiful one of God’s creations. From her earliest years, in the grim days after the First World War, Papa and Mama had set off for the river whenever they could, camping, swimming, and lying in the sun, with all of their numerous children, and not a b
athing suit between them. Out of those days in the sun, encouraged for the whole nation by the Hitler regime, had come the bronzed, beautiful, brutal, beastly and unbeatable soldiers who wore the swastika.

  No doubt a lot of evil had come out of it too. Evil she had been happy to escape. But she had never had it proven that the two were actually connected.

  As nude sunbathing was not accepted in England, she had made this little nook her very own from her first days here. No one had offered any comment, taking their lead from the mistress of the house. Perhaps they did sunbathe nude in the States. More likely Lee was trying to be as understanding as she could. Thus a pattern had been allowed to build, and her daily retirement here had become an accepted part of the summer day’s routine.

  Always by herself. The other women of the house would have been shocked had she suggested they might enjoy themselves by accompanying her. And during her so brief honeymoon with Ian it had already been late September and a little chilly. Until yesterday it had never occurred to her that Fergus, who was even more stolid than his brother, might be interested. Now Ian was dead. And Murdoch was angry with her. Well, she was angry with Murdoch. She had not been so angry with anyone since she had been angry enough to flee Germany. She had offered herself to him, without reservations. And he would have liked to take her. She was certain of that. But he was so hidebound in his concept of what constituted a British officer and a gentleman that he could not bend.

  Almost she felt like running away again. She had no doubt that she could survive. She had proved that before, with her beauty and her confidence...and her appeal. Men could not resist her. But then, she could not resist men.

  The problem was little Ian, and Broad Acres. She had never been so comfortable anywhere before; she would not find its like again. And she was a mother. What a millstone to have tied around her neck, at the very moment when more than ever she needed to be free! So she would marry Fergus, at least partly to spite old Murdoch. But God, she thought, if Fergus was as inhibited in bed as his brother had been...She wondered what Fergus’s reaction would be were she to invite him to sunbathe with her?

  The crunching of feet upon the earth made her sit up with a start, looking to left and right. No one should have been here. In fact, this morning, there was no possibility of anyone being here, as both Lee and Murdoch were out, Fergus was at the depot preparing to leave, and Philippa had gone to a cattle market in the village. Down here in Somerset it was really very difficult to realize there was a war on at all, if one ignored the ridiculous Local Defence Volunteers with their armbands and their pikes drilling with great solemnity on the village green.

  But there was someone just on the other side of the trees, and coming round them. Annaliese stretched out her hand to pick up the bathing suit, then let it fall again. Whoever it was would get a pleasant surprise.

  The feet stopped, and she gazed at the battle-dressed and heavily booted figure of Bert Manly-Smith. Whose face was slowly turning crimson. ‘Oh, Mrs Mackinder,’ he gasped. ‘Oh, gosh!’ He turned and appeared about to run.

  ‘Why, Albert,’ Annaliese said. ‘Don’t go rushing off.’

  Bert hesitated, carefully staring into the trees. ‘I had no idea, Mrs Mackinder,’ he said.

  ‘Why should you, have any idea?’

  ‘I came up to say goodbye,’ he explained. ‘The regiment moves out tomorrow. But General and Lady Mackinder are out. The butler said I could wait. And when I asked if anyone was in, he said you were, Mrs Mackinder, in the garden. He didn’t say anything else. So when he left me by myself...’

  ‘You came looking for me,’ Annaliese said with some satisfaction, and lay down again, her hands beneath her head, consciously copying the pose of the naked Maja. ‘I think that was very nice of you, Albert.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Mackinder. Well...’

  ‘You can’t just rush off like that, Albert. You came to say goodbye. Come and sit down.’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Mackinder, I couldn’t do that!’

  ‘Why not? I have invited you to.’

  ‘Yes, but...well...’

  ‘Have you never seen a naked woman before, Albert?’ Bert swallowed.

  Annaliese turned her head and smiled at him. ‘I’m sure you have. You’re a soldier. You were in France. What did you do on your nights off?’

  Slowly Bert approached her and sat on the grass beside her. Now he could not stop himself looking at her, his gaze drifting up and down her legs, hovering at her pubes, moving up again to her breasts. This must be the luckiest day of his life, Annaliese thought. But then, was it not perhaps the luckiest day of hers, in the mood she was in? This boy was only eighteen years old, big and strong and undoubtedly virile. He would have a working man’s approach to sex, which was presumably earthy and masculine.

  Of course, he was working class, really, even if his father had apparently been an officer and a gentleman like the Mackinders. He was also an ordinary soldier. But then, she didn’t want to marry him. She wanted to marry Fergus, and remain at Broad Acres. Indeed, married to Fergus, she would one day, when Murdoch and Lee were dead, inherit Broad Acres. That had always been a dream. Now, after Murdoch’s rejection of her, it would add an extra pleasure: she doubted that eventuality had occurred to the old man.

  But before all of those things happened, she just had to have a tumble from someone who wouldn’t be afraid where he put his hands...or anything else. And there was absolutely no risk of anyone finding out. Not from Bert Manly-Smith. He would do anything rather than upset the Mackinders.

  Annaliese turned on her side, facing him, rested her head on her hand, and allowed her legs to drift apart. Bert’s head jerked. ‘If you came looking for me,’ Annaliese said. ‘It must be because you wanted to see me, about something.’

  ‘I...’ he licked his lips. ‘I think you are very beautiful, Mrs Mackinder.’

  Annaliese smiled. ‘That’s very nice of you, Albert.’ She stretched out her other hand, rested it on his battledress trouser leg, and then slid it up towards his groin. ‘I think you are very beautiful too. Aren’t we going to be beautiful, together?’

  *

  ‘Murdoch.’ Winston Churchill rose and shook hands as Murdoch entered the office of Ten Downing Street. ‘You know Spears.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Murdoch shook hands with the Prime Minister’s military aide, Major General Sir Edward Spears.

  ‘Fit again, I see,’ Churchill said. ‘How was the investiture?’

  ‘Like an investiture. But they were very kind to Annaliese.’

  ‘Unique, presenting a German with the Victoria Cross. You don’t mind my saying that?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Murdoch agreed. ‘I’m sure it is unique. But it was won by a British colonel.’

  ‘Quite. Sit down.’

  Murdoch seated himself, as did the other two men. ‘When did they start bombing London?’ he asked. It was his first visit to the capital since being wounded.

  ‘Two nights ago. They say it is in reprisal for our raids on Berlin. But it’s at least partly because our fighters have been giving their bombers a succession of bloody noses when they’ve attacked our airfields by day.’

  Murdoch nodded. ‘I listened to your speech about never was so much owed to so few. Stirring words.’

  ‘Words cost nothing,’ Churchill growled. ‘It’s beating the Nazis that counts.’

  ‘Just tell me how. When I look at that damage out there, it really makes me angry.’

  ‘London can take it.’ Churchill grinned. ‘And we’re knocking down a few houses in Berlin. Now, beating the Nazis. Right this minute, our problem is how to get at the bastards. Oh, we will return to the continent in force one of these days, but it is going to take some time, until we have re-equipped our army, and raised it to sufficient strength. Our best hope is for them to come here, then we can kill a lot of them at one go. But I suspect Mr Hitler isn’t quite that stupid. So we have to keep ourselves occupied by doing what damage we can in Europe, by all the means we can discov
er.’

  ‘What about the Italians? We could have a go at them.’

  ‘They aren’t doing much to trouble us, at the moment. Just a shot or two on the borders of Egypt and Somaliland, and the occasional naval clash in the Mediterranean. I’d rather leave them be, until and unless they start something. I’ve a notion they aren’t really keen on being in the war at all. No, it’s Hitler and his gang we have to topple, by making life as uncomfortable as possible for them. Here’s where you come in, Murdoch. I can’t give you a command, by service rules.’ He gave another grim smile. ‘And even if I could, you’d have nobody to fight. So I want you to create your own command. There are in this country a large number of refugees from the fighting forces of the countries overrun by Hitler. We have Czechs and Poles, French and Belgians, Norwegians and Dutch, all looking for the opportunity to hit back at the Nazis. We are giving them that opportunity as fast as we can. Already we have a Czech fighter squadron, and a Polish one, fighting with the RAF. We are forming a Polish brigade in the army. That fellow de Gaulle is promising to recruit an entire French army. But amongst all of these people there are quite a few men, and women, who would be of enormous value to us were they to return to their homes. I want you to find those people, Murdoch, and put them to work. Organize your own staff, and use whatever nationalities you have to. Let me have reports on your progress, and when you are ready to start operations. I would like that to be as soon as possible.’

  ‘These people who are sent home. What am I to tell them to do?’

  ‘Anything and everything that will help defeat Nazism. Information, sabotage, downright assassination. We are fighting for survival, Murdoch. There can be no holds barred.’

  ‘How will I get them there?’

  ‘By whatever means is most convenient. Parachute or boat. Or you can infiltrate them in through Sweden or the Balkans.’

  ‘Any limit on numbers?’

  ‘The more the better.’

  Murdoch considered for a moment. ‘You realize that we could be sending a good number of people to a particularly nasty death?’