Berlin Game. Len Deighton

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СКАЧАТЬ nothing bad in Giles, but sometimes he can be a fool.’

      ‘I’ll have to speak to you again, Tessa. You’ll probably have to repeat it all to an investigating officer and write it out and sign it.’

      She placed a finger on the rim of her glass and ran it round a couple of times. ‘I’ll help you on condition you go easy on Giles.’

      ‘I’ll go easy,’ I promised. Hell, what else could I say?

      Dinner was served on the Minton china and the table set with wedding presents: antique silver cutlery from Fiona’s parents and a cut-glass vase that my father had discovered in one of the Berlin junk markets he visited regularly on Saturday mornings. The circular dining table was very big for three people, so we seated ourselves side by side, with Tessa between us. The main course was some sort of chicken stew, the quantity of it far too small for the serving dish in which it came to the table. Mrs Dias had a big gravy mark on her white apron and she was no longer smiling. After Mrs Dias had returned to the kitchen, Fiona whispered that Mrs Dias had broken the small serving dish and half the chicken stew had gone onto the kitchen floor.

      ‘Why the hell are we whispering?’ I said.

      ‘I knew you’d start shouting,’ said Fiona.

      ‘I’m not shouting,’ I said. ‘I’m simply asking …’

      ‘We all heard you,’ said Fiona. ‘And if you upset Mrs Dias and we lose her …’ She left it unsaid.

      ‘But why are you trying to make me feel guilty?’ I said.

      ‘He’s always like this when something gets broken,’ said Fiona. ‘Unless, of course, he did it himself.’

      I shared out what little there was of the chicken. I took plenty of boiled rice. Fiona had opened one of the few good clarets left in the cupboard, and I poured it gratefully.

      ‘Would you like to come and stay with me while Bernard’s away?’ Fiona asked her sister.

      ‘Where are you going?’ Tessa asked me.

      ‘It’s not settled yet,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure I’m going anywhere.’

      ‘Berlin,’ said Fiona. ‘I hate being here alone.’

      ‘I’d love to, darling,’ Tessa said. ‘When?’

      ‘I’ve told you, it’s not arranged yet,’ I said. ‘I might not go.’

      ‘Soon,’ said Fiona. ‘Next week, or the week following.’

      Mrs Dias came in to remove the plates and solicit praise and gratitude for her cookery; these were provided in abundance by Fiona, with Tessa echoing her every superlative.

      ‘Senhor Sam?’ To her I was always Senhor Sam; she never said Senhor Samson. ‘Senhor Sam … he like it?’ She asked Fiona this question rather than addressing it to me. It was rather like hearing Uncle Silas and Bret Rensselaer and Dicky Cruyer discussing my chances of escaping from Berlin alive.

      ‘Look at his plate,’ said Fiona cheerfully. ‘Not a scrap left, Mrs Dias.’

      There was nothing left because my share was one lousy drumstick and wishbone. The greater part of the chicken stew was now spread out on kitchen foil in the garden, being devoured by the neighbourhood’s cat population. I could hear them arguing and knocking over the empty milk bottles outside the back door. ‘It was delicious, Mrs Dias,’ I said, and Fiona rewarded me with a beaming smile that vanished as the kitchen door closed. ‘Do you have to be so bloody ironic?’ said Fiona.

      ‘It was delicious. I told her it was delicious.’

      ‘Next time, you can interview the women the agency send round. Maybe then you’d realize how lucky you are.’

      Tessa hugged me. ‘Don’t be hard on him, Fiona darling. You should have heard George when the au pair dropped his wretched video recorder.’

      ‘Oh, that reminds me,’ Fiona said, leaning forward to catch my attention. ‘You wanted to record that W. C. Fields film tonight.’

      ‘Right!’ I said. ‘What time was it on?’

      ‘Eight o’clock,’ said Fiona. ‘You’ve missed it, I’m afraid.’

      Tessa reached up to put her hand over my mouth before I spoke.

      Mrs Dias came in with some cheese and biscuits. ‘I told him to set the timer,’ said Fiona, ‘but he wouldn’t listen.’

      ‘Men are like that,’ said Tessa. ‘You should have said don’t set the timer, then he would have set it. I’m always having to do that sort of thing with George.’

      Tessa left early. She had arranged to see ‘an old school-friend’ at the Savoy Hotel bar. ‘That must be some school!’ I said to Fiona when she came back into the drawing room after seeing her sister to the door. I always let her see her sister to the door. There were always sisterly little confidences exchanged at the time of departure.

      ‘She’ll never change,’ said Fiona.

      ‘Poor George,’ I said.

      Fiona came and sat next to me and gave me a kiss. ‘Was I awful tonight?’ she asked.

      ‘Asinus asino, et sus sui pulcher – an ass is beautiful to an ass, so is a pig to a pig.’

      Fiona laughed. ‘You were always using Latin tags when I first met you. Now you don’t do that any more.’

      ‘I’ve grown up,’ I said.

      ‘Don’t grow up too much,’ she said. ‘I love you as you are.’

      I responded by kissing her for a long time.

      ‘Poor Tess. It had to happen to her, didn’t it. She’s so muddleheaded. She can’t remember her own birthday let alone the dates she met Giles. I’m so glad you didn’t start shouting at her or want to list it all in chronological order.’

      ‘Someone will eventually,’ I said.

      ‘Did you have a terrible day?’ she asked.

      ‘Bret Rensselaer won’t let Werner use the bank.’

      ‘Did you have a row with him?’ said Fiona.

      ‘He had to show me how tough you get after sitting behind a desk for fifteen years.’

      ‘What did he say?’

      I told her.

      ‘I’ve seen you punch people for less than that,’ said Fiona, having listened to my account of Rensselaer’s tough-guy act.

      ‘He was just sounding me out,’ I said. ‘I don’t take any of that crap seriously.’

      ‘None of it?’

      ‘Rensselaer and Cruyer don’t think СКАЧАТЬ