2 The Imposter (34 page)

She came to the hearth and kissed him on the cheek. “Edward,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you, Miss Costello.”

“Please––it’s Violet.” The butler brought over three glasses of champagne. Violet raised hers and proposed a toast: “To friends and family,” she said, “the only things that really matter.”

Edward touched glasses with Violet and her niece.
Friends and family
. Chiara winked at him from behind the glass.

“It’s good that we are able to do this,” she said, “during such difficult times.”

“Very,” Edward agreed.

“Did you know Tommy Falco very well?”

“A little––through Joseph. He was a good chap, I thought.”

“I knew his mother and father,” she said sadly. “I remember him as a youngster. He always was a bit of a tearaway, he used to give them both fits. His heart was in the right place, though. He was always good to his mother. He knew what was important.” She smiled a tight smile. “Never mind. We won’t worry about it tonight.”

Chiara excused herself for a moment as the butler returned with a tray of canapés.

Violet regarded him with carefully. “There’s one thing I have to say, Edward, while we’re alone––you should know that I’m very protective of my nieces and nephews, the girls in particular. When my brother, their father––when he died”––she paused thoughtfully––“well, there wasn’t anything else for it. I’ve treated them as my own ever since. It’s flesh and blood, isn’t it?”

“I understand,” Edward said.

“You said you were an orphan,” she said. “Do you mind me asking what happened to your parents?”

The lies were at the front of his mind and came easily. “My mother died when I was a child and my father just after the Great War.”

“How were you brought up?”

“In an orphanage.”

“How dreadful!”

“It wasn’t ideal, but you manage, don’t you?––you do your best with what you have.”

“Was your family from London?”

“Yes,” he said, although they were not. Practice lubricated his lies. He had anticipated questions about his background and had rehearsed the story in the car until he was confident that he could deliver it as if it was the truth. He adjusted his stance, and made it more relaxed by resting his hand against the mantelpiece. Violet’s posture was open and friendly. Edward found he was able to relax.

Chiara returned and Violet insisted that they all have another glass of champagne. Edward sipped his, careful not to finish it too quickly because he knew that she would insist he have another. He was happy to drink enough to quieten his self-consciousness but he did not want to drink so much so that he would become drunk. After half an hour Violet suggested that they should eat and led the way into the dining room. The table had been laid for three, with expensive cutlery and crockery, polished glasses and two large candlesticks with lit candles. They moved across to the table and took their seats. Violet kept returning to the subject of Edward’s childhood. “How did you manage to get to University with such a start? It’s very impressive.”

“Hard work and a bit of good fortune, I suppose. I’ve always been rather bookish and I did well at school, well enough to sit the entrance exam and pass it. The rest took care of itself from then.”

“And what will you do for your career––you don’t intend to knock around with Joseph forever, I’m sure? Will it be medicine?”

He sensed that Violet wanted to hear that he was ambitious, and that his ambitions were legitimate. He was happy to oblige her. “I should think so,” he said and then, as he noticed her approval, he added, “Yes, I think, eventually, it will be medicine.”

The conversation was dull and unchallenging, and Edward was able to navigate it without incident. Violet seemed fascinated by his background and asked what he could remember about the orphanage, and how he had managed to transport himself to the cusp of a career in medicine. She seemed especially impressed with that, and kept returning to it. Edward answered her questions with a combination of modesty and bashfulness, feigning awkwardness at being the centre of attention but, in truth, the evening could not have proceeded any better if he had planned it.

“Did you know I have a son?” she mentioned without preamble.

“I didn’t.”

“Joseph’s never said anything?”

“Not that I remember.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said.

“Joseph and Victor never really got on,” Chiara explained.

“Victor found him a little––limited. Would that be fair to say, darling?”

“I suppose so,” Chiara replied. She rolled her eyes when Violet looked away into the fire.

“Where is he?”

“Italy. He was in the Army, like you. Egypt to start with, then Greece and back to Egypt again. They didn’t know what they were doing at the start of things. Victor was captured at Tobruk and then shipped to Porto St Georgio. And then when the Italians capitulated in 1943 he led the escape from the camp.”

“And then the Germans arrived,” Edward said.

“Of course. I don’t know all the details––lots of secrecy, obviously––but Victor has been fighting as one of the Partisans. Italy is our home and he is a very patriotic boy––to be honest, I wouldn’t have expected anything else from him.”

“Where is he now?”

“A place called Rassa, in the Borgosesia valley. He’s been helping with the rebuilding. And I believe there has been work to do with regard to the Fascists who were left behind, too. Trials and executions.”

“I’d like to meet him,” Edward said.

“I’m sure you will.” Violet smiled absently and stared into the fire again. Chiara raised her eyebrows in mild amusement.

The main course of chicken was brought out. They ate quietly for a while, just the sound of cutlery against their plates breaking the silence. “You have a beautiful house here,” Edward said eventually.

“Thank you.”

“The first time I saw it––my goodness, it took my breath away.”

“We’re very lucky to have it.”

He cast a hand around, gesturing to the room. “I can’t imagine what it must cost to maintain.”

He had made a mistake and he realised it immediately. “What do you mean by that?” she said, her voice suddenly tight and clipped.

He felt Chiara tense next to him. “Just that it’s so big,” he said, “the repairs, the staff––it must cost a fortune.”

“It’s not a problem,” she said. “Why would that be a problem?”

Chiara glanced at him, a warning in her eyes. He began to sweat. He smiled at Violet, trying to recover his poise. “I’m sure it isn’t.”

“Then why would you say that? Do we look like we’re short of cash?”

“No, no,” he said, backtracking furiously, although he could see it
was
a problem––that much was obvious from the shabbiness of the furniture, the scuffed paint, the leaks and spills that had discoloured the plaster––and he had offended her by suggesting, however obliquely, that they might not have the funds to do the house justice. Why had he said that? What had he been thinking? It was a foolish error.

“I don’t think Edward meant that, Aunt,” Chiara said.

“I think it’s absolutely splendid,” he followed quickly, “I’ve never been anywhere like it before. Spectacular––really quite spectacular.”

Violet allowed herself to be placated. The embers of her temper flickered, then abated. “My brother bought it twenty years ago. Has Chiara told you about him?”

“Yes, Aunt,” she said. “I’ve given him all the stories. I expect he’s heartily bored of all of them.”

Edward smiled at her and said that he was not.

Violet did not catch Chiara’s hint and seemed determined to speak about her family’s past. “Harry was quite a man. Strong and decisive––he wouldn’t stand for some of what goes on these days. He had no time for weakness.” She spoke haughtily. “I don’t know what you think of things these days, Edward. Society. Young people, they don’t have any respect for anything. Some of them seem to think they should be given everything on a plate. Nothing is for free, is it? They need to get their sleeves rolled up and work for what they want. You agree, I’m sure?”

He thought about how difficult it had been to find any money, the humiliation of the Labour Exchange, the scarcity of accommodation, the deprivations that he only managed to save himself by falling in with Joseph. He thought of it all, and decided it was better not to mention it. “I do,” he said, instead. “I think there are always opportunities if you are prepared to go out and look for them.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Quite so. Just as you have done.”

Wasn’t it ironic that Violet should agree with him when he was looking for opportunities right at this very moment? That was amusing, he thought, but, as he considered it, he suddenly felt vulnerable. Surely she could see his agenda? Wasn’t it obvious? The confidence rushed out of him and shivers of fear ran up and down his spine. He told himself that it was irrational. He had convinced them of his story and so there was no need to be afraid, no need at all. He was too clever for her, for all of them.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Violet was asking him.

“I was just thinking about my parents.” The lie slipped from his mouth without him even thinking about it.

A tray with a bottle of brandy and three glasses was delivered to the table and Edward took it upon himself to pour. They repaired to the drawing room where they enjoyed another glass each, Violet becoming increasingly mellow as she reminisced about Little Italy, Chiara smiling contentedly to herself and Edward struggling to tamp down the fear that he had said something he ought not to have said and was about to be discovered. He wished the dinner was over and that he could get back to his room. He got up from the comfortable sofa several times, taking his drink to the fireplace, fretting with a loose button on his jacket, and, when he looked into the mirror, he watched a tic jerking in his cheek. He toyed with the button for too long and the thread snapped. He slipped the button into his pocket and undid the others to obscure the damage. He felt dreadful.

Chiara rested a hand on his wrist. “Edward and Joseph are going to Paris next week,” she said.

“Is that so?”

He managed to relax again. “Yes,” he said. “It’s a birthday treat. I’m looking forward to it very much.”

“Have you been before?”

“No, never.”

“I’ve never been either,” she admitted.

“It’ll be interesting to see it now. I doubt the Germans were all that respectful.”

“You must tell me everything about it.”

“I’m hoping I might persuade Edward to take me one day,” Chiara said, smiling at him warmly. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather go.”

Chiara excused herself after the second whisky, saying she was tired and needed her sleep. She kissed Edward on the cheek, her hand brushing down the top of his arm as she leant in closer. Edward was minded to do the same but Violet wouldn’t hear it, and poured him a third drink before he had a chance to demur.

“Actually,” Violet said over a genteel sip of her whisky, “Chiara not being here gives us a chance to talk about other things. I try to keep her away from business as much as I can. Ruby Ward telephoned me this morning. He’s sold the refrigerators you collected from Honeybourne for a tidy sum. I’ll make sure that Joseph gets your cut of the profits––he can distribute it among the men.”

“That’s excellent news.”

“What did you make of the goods at the base?”

He pictured the wide storage sheds, filled with booty. “There’s a lot. It will take several trips to empty. Even if we are selective with what we take––the high value items first, then we can look at what’s left––even then, I’d estimate fifteen or twenty lorryloads of quality merchandise. Maybe more if we’re less picky.”

“And the Major?” Violet said as she lit a cigarette. “How was he?”

“There was an issue with our clearance at the gate but I think we’ve sorted that out, now. He’ll certainly see the benefits of working with us when he gets paid.”

“Tell Joseph to keep an eye on him. He’s not family. I’m not convinced he’ll be reliable.”

There it was again, that word, another reference to family. It caught like a torn fingernail. Edward was beginning to see how the Costellos were obsessed by the idea of it, that blood was the only thing that they ever really trusted. He tightened his grip around his glass. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“There was another thing,” she said. “I know my brother and I were a little short with you when we spoke about Jack Spot before, after what happened to Lennie. I hope you understand why––that we were upset.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Things have worsened since then, obviously. What happened at the Regal was awful and unnecessary. I know you have your own ideas about how we should deal with Spot, but I’m afraid they’re just not right. Soho is too hot. There’s Spot, obviously, but he isn’t the only one. There are other men, other gangs, trying to move into areas that we have traditionally controlled. The Maltese have always had their brothels but they are starting to expand East of Regent Street, and to open shops selling dirty books. New spielers and shebeens open every day. Ten years ago, we had the manpower to stop that from happening but it isn’t the same today. It’s all competition, and it makes it more difficult to bring in the same profits. And the cost of buying police support is rising––Spot wants them too, and that puts the price up. Two of our oldest friends have switched sides in the last week. Supply and demand, you see?” She smoked for a moment, her eyes fixed on Edward. “We could fight him, but it would be bloody and long and I can’t be sure that we’d win. I only fight when I know the odds are in my favour.”

“But all the business he’s taking from you?”

“We’ll wait him out.”

He felt impatient at hearing the same excuses again. “And in the meantime?”

She seemed vaguely amused at his curt response. “There are other avenues that we have started to explore. We were involved in the black market throughout the war but it’s even more profitable now than it was then. Honeybourne is a good example, but there are others. It’s criminalised whole sections of society. Housewives who pay a little extra for more cheese than they are entitled to. Extra cuts of beef slipped into the bag. Oranges and bananas selling for fifty times more than before. The goods have to come from somewhere, and we have a network of suppliers and dealers who can service the demand. Ruby isn’t the only one. We are in a fortunate position, Edward, and we’ve decided that that will be our focus from now on.”