The Great Betrayal (13 page)

But she was not alone for long. She heard a key turn in the lock and was delighted to realize that her husband had come home.

‘John!’ She threw herself into his arms with a sigh of relief, burying her face in the cloth of his jacket.

‘Darling Lydia,’ he said, hurriedly extricating himself from her embrace, ‘I saw them leave – your father and the lodger. This is a bit of luck. We have to talk about something, and I was wondering how to get you on your own when I saw your father and Phipps go out. They didn’t notice me, thank the Lord!’

‘They’ve gone for a walk.’ She held him at arm’s-length, her face alight with pleasure. ‘Oh John, I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re back. I have so much to tell you – about the other day when Father got lost and—’

‘Not now, dear!’ Gently, he disengaged himself.

‘But dearest, I was terrified. He was gone for hours and . . .’

As she led the way into the kitchen she was still chattering excitedly until John snapped at her. ‘I said, “Not now!”’ He sat down then immediately stood up again and began pacing restlessly. ‘We have to talk, Lydia, and we can’t if you keep prattling on about your father! I don’t have much time.’

‘Talk about what?’ Seeing his expression more clearly she was finally alarmed. ‘You don’t have much time? But . . . what’s happened, John? Are you ill? You look thinner than I remember.’

She reached for the kettle to offer tea, but he stopped her. ‘Forget the teapot for once in your life!’ Seeing her stricken face he took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. Listen, Lydia, this is just a quick visit. I can’t stop long, and I can’t explain why but—’

‘You said we have to talk about something? What is it?’

‘Yes. Don’t look so anxious, dear. I’m not ill, but I have a proposition to put to you. Sit down, for heaven’s sake, and listen.’

Lydia sat down, her nerves jangling with anxiety.

‘My superiors are offering me a better job with more money . . . a promotion, but we have to move from here. I shall be based somewhere in Scotland or maybe Wales, but it means we must move house. I shall have to go on ahead in a day or two and get settled in, and then I’ll send for you and Adam—’

‘And Father!’

‘Yes, all right. George, too. It’s all very hush-hush, as it always is, but you must wait here patiently and . . .’ He swallowed hard, then brushed a hand across his eyes. ‘We’ll all be together again before you know it.’

‘Oh, John!’ She regarded him anxiously. ‘I’m pleased for you for the promotion, but I don’t know how Father will react to being in a strange place.’

‘He’ll have to get used to it! And Lydia, there’s one other thing. I forgot to get your ring insured, so if you could please let me have it. Now. I’ll see to it and send it back before I leave. On second thoughts, none of your jewellery is insured. I don’t know how I could have overlooked it. Can you fetch the pearls and the gold bracelet . . . and the little silver locket.’

Without another word, Lydia eased the diamond ring from her finger and watched him wrap it in a handkerchief and tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. As she hurried up to the bedroom for the rest of her jewellery, her mind was distracted by the prospect of moving from Lewisham. The very nice private school where she hoped Adam would be able to attend was now out of the question, but no doubt there would be somewhere suitable in Scotland or Wales.

‘But why so far?’ she asked him on her return, handing over the pieces for insurance.

‘Don’t cross-question me!’ he said sharply, slipping the items into various pockets. ‘I have to go where the job sends me. It may
not
be that far. I can’t say yet.’ Seeing that her lips trembled, he added. ‘It might be somewhere nearer, like Kent or Sussex or maybe Dorset – but it definitely won’t be London.’

‘It was just that there’s a very nice school where I hoped Adam . . .’ She stopped as his frown deepened. ‘I just thought . . .’

‘Well, don’t! I’ve enough on my mind without you whining about schools.’

Whining? Hurt, Lydia regarded him unhappily. ‘But won’t moving mean we’ll have to sell this house? Father won’t take kindly to that. It’s his house, remember.’

‘You never let me forget! He’ll have to put up with it. If he wants to stay in this house we’ll have to leave him behind!’ Suddenly, he hurried into the front room, and Lydia followed him. He at once went to the window overlooking the street. Easing the curtain slightly, he glanced from left to right.

She stared. ‘What are you looking for?’ she asked, her unease deepening. ‘Is someone following you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Are you expecting someone?’

‘No!’ Cursing inwardly at her perception, he went on quickly. ‘Look, Lydia, I know this has been a shock – a bit too sudden maybe – but I have no option. I need to move out of London soon.’

‘Need to?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Does that mean you’re in danger?’ Instinctively, she pressed a hand to her heart. ‘You are, aren’t you? Oh God! You’re in danger!’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be so dramatic, Lydia. You always overreact. It simply means I have to go where they send me. My superiors decide. You’ve always understood that. We just have to accept it in my line of work.’ He drew a long breath. ‘I’ll be off now, but I’ll write to you and let you know how things are going.’

‘But John . . . Can’t you even stay the night? When will I see you again?’

‘A few weeks, maybe. Just be patient, Lydia. I’ll be working. I may even be abroad. If you don’t hear from me there is no need to fly into a panic. In fact, please don’t. You will attract attention to yourself, and who knows where that will lead. No one else needs to know of my plans, so for heaven’s sake don’t blab about what I have told you. Later you can explain everything, but not now.’

The more he said, the greater her anxiety, but Lydia simply nodded. Then she said, ‘Don’t you want to see Father before you go?’

‘No.’ He stared round the room, then took down the key and began to wind the clock. ‘You can explain it all to your father in your own time. I’ll go up to see Adam, but I won’t wake him.’ He returned the key to its place inside the vase. ‘Wind it once a week,’ he reminded her, ‘and no more. It’s a delicate mechanism.’

It had a terrible ring of finality, Lydia thought. As if John would never again be able to wind it himself. She rested her hand on the mantelpiece to steady herself. Stop this, she told herself. You are being ridiculous. You are becoming hysterical.

‘Trust me, Lydia.’ John smiled. ‘This really is for the best. I’ll send Adam a toy as soon as I can. But remember what I said. Do not panic. And do not bring Leonard Phipps into this.’

Stricken with a nameless fear, Lydia sought for a way to delay his departure even for a few minutes. ‘Oh, but John, I haven’t told you about Father wandering off. The store had to send for a policeman, and for a while I thought . . .’

He held up his hand. ‘Don’t write to me, dear. Understand?’

‘But John . . .’

He caught hold of her arm. ‘No more letters to that previous address! As soon as I have the new address I’ll be in touch.’ He took another glance up and down the street. ‘Now I must go.’ He pulled her close and kissed her with a passion that surprised and alarmed her.

When he released her, she said shakily, ‘What aren’t you telling me, John? There’s something more. I can tell. Please . . .’

He gave her a long, enigmatic look, opened his mouth to speak, but apparently changed his mind. ‘Goodbye, dearest.’ He moved into the passage towards the front door, and she ran after him.

‘But you haven’t been up to see Adam!’

He hesitated. ‘I can’t, Lydia. I just can’t. Give him a big kiss from me. Tell him Papa loves him and always will.’ He swallowed and added huskily, ‘Tell him to be a good boy always.’

Startled by his tone, Lydia put out a hand to catch at his arm, but he pulled away, opened the front door and walked swiftly off without looking back.

‘John!
John
!’ she cried. ‘Dearest, wait!’

She was strongly tempted to run after him, to clutch at his arm and beg him not to go, but from behind her she heard a small voice and, turning, discovered Adam halfway down the stairs. His eyes were wide with alarm, and she wondered how much he had heard. With an effort she tried to compose herself.

‘Adam, what are you doing down here?’ With tears in her eyes she picked him up, hugged him and carried him back upstairs.

He didn’t speak until she had tucked him back into his bed. Then he asked, ‘Who was that, Mama?’

So he had not heard enough to recognize his father’s voice. Thank heavens for small mercies, she thought. A white lie might be kindest. She had no desire to tell him that his father had been and gone without wanting to see him. She improvised hastily. ‘It was a man looking for his cat,’ she told him.

‘Is his cat lost?’

‘Yes, but he will soon find him, I’m sure.’

‘I wish we could have a cat, Mama.’

‘I know, dear, but then poor Papa will keep sneezing!’ She managed a smile, but her thoughts were unhappy. How long would it be before they were reunited with John? The doubts crowded in.

As she tiptoed out of the room five minutes later, she heard her father returning with Leonard Phipps. Abruptly, she decided to say nothing about their forthcoming change of circumstances. What would she tell them, she wondered unhappily. It would all sound very strange. It
was
very strange. Lydia sighed. It was a very uncomfortable situation – frighteningly so, in fact. Perhaps she would be able to invent a plausible story that would raise no doubts or awkward questions. Slowly, she counted to ten and then took several deep breaths. She would wait until tomorrow, when she hoped her present panic would have subsided and she would feel more in control of her emotions.

Later that evening Lydia struggled against the urge to give in to her misery and weep, but the thought of her father’s and Mr Phipps’ concern, if they saw her with reddened eyes in the morning, stopped her. Instead, she poured a small glass of sherry and drank it down in one gulp, promising herself that it would strengthen her resolve. Eventually, she would have to tell her father they were leaving Lewisham – and to tell Mr Phipps he would have to start looking for new lodgings.

But that could wait, she decided, until there was more definite news from John. Her father would find a move hopelessly confusing, and Mr Phipps would be disappointed at the prospect of finding other accommodation so soon. No need, she told herself, to make the situation worse than it already was.

‘What a mess!’ she exclaimed, fighting to settle her jangled nerves. ‘What a truly awful mess!’

But it would be best, she thought, to let a few days pass until she herself had come to terms with the prospect, so that she could inform them in a calm and a collected way. There was no need for either of the men to know the extent of her own anxiety.

She found a pair of her father’s socks and sat down in her usual chair, preparing to darn the heels, but before she had started Leonard Phipps had his own surprise for her.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, ‘about that strange letter you had about your husband’s place of work. If you wish it, I could follow it up for you. My brother lives not too far from Mansoor Street. In Bidmoor Road, in fact. It’s only a quarter of an hour’s walk from there, and I’ll be going over to see them tomorrow morning.’ He smiled. ‘They have a new baby – their first – and are keen to show it off to me. A little girl. Please God it will live.’

For a moment Lydia was taken aback, and her instinct was to tell him that it no longer mattered, but that would require an explanation. Better not to make waves, she thought. Better to accept his offer to enquire at the PSD office. ‘That’s very kind of you . . .’ she began.

‘I’ll make a few enquiries for you at that address. I’ll be discreet, naturally.’

Still Lydia hesitated. Was she doing the right thing? Now might be a good time to explain that before too long they were all going to find their lives drastically changed, but she did not feel ready yet to talk about John’s recent hurried visit or the reason for his distracted manner. She heard herself say: ‘That’s very kind of you, Mr Phipps.’

‘Truly, it would be no trouble, Mrs Daye.’ He beamed, obviously pleased to feel that he was of service. ‘It might set your mind at ease to know what lies behind the returned letter.’

George had joined them and was settled in his chair and he began to show attention to the conversation. ‘What’s this about a letter, Lydia? Have I been told about it?’

‘It’s nothing really, Father. It’s just that—’

‘Mr Phipps seems to know about it,’ he argued. ‘I have been left in the dark.’ He gave Lydia a sharp look. ‘Strange letter? In what way is it strange?’

Leonard Phipps, seeing his mistake, said, ‘Oh dear. Have I spoken out of turn? I’m so sorry.’

Lydia forced a cheerful smile. ‘Of course not. I simply haven’t had time to tell Father the details.’ To him she said, ‘My last letter to John was returned with a note to say that the firm was no longer located there. Mr Phipps happened to be here at the time I read it, that’s all.’

‘And where, may I ask, was I?’

Lydia was beginning to regret their lodger’s kindly meant offer. ‘You were in the garden with Adam,’ she invented. ‘I did mention it to you later, Father, at dinner. You must have forgotten.’

George said, ‘No longer located there! Hah! Exactly what I’ve been telling you. What did I say, daughter dear? He’s a spy! Always thought there was something odd about the man. He’s a dyed-in-the-wool spy! Admit, why don’t you?’ He gave her and Mr Phipps a triumphant look.

Mr Phipps said, ‘Really, Mr Meecham, I’m sure he is nothing of the sort.’

George glared at him. ‘What would you know?’

‘Father! There is no need to be rude to Mr Phipps. He is only trying to help.’ Flustered, Lydia’s voice had risen, and she cursed her momentary loss of control. She must not allow her father to see how much his accusations upset her.