The Twilight Hour (12 page)

I thought of my father's pronouncements at the dinner table. It was true. There'd been times – over Alan, say – when I'd felt I was jury and accused in one, being harangued across the exiguous Sunday joint, as if, like me, it had been reduced and shrivelled by the force of my father's arguments, when in fact its size simply bore witness to food rationing. Yes – he was an actor. ‘In a way,' I said, and couldn't help smiling.

‘This is interesting. Gwendolen tells me your wish is also to act, so this is perhaps why.' He laughed.

‘My father was part of the prosecution team at the Nuremberg trials,' I said proudly – and perhaps also a little bit to test him, to see how he reacted.

Radu looked grave. ‘Ah, yes,' he said quietly, ‘it is good these evil men have their reward, that they are punished.' He leaned back, crossed his legs, lit a cigarette. Surely he wasn't a Nazi! Colin must have been wrong about that.

‘But now is more important we talk about you. I can get you screen test, you know – I am sure the camera will love you – such cheekbones.' His glance lingered on me. I felt embarrassed, yet at the same time there was a little surge of hope. ‘We make a part for you in our film.'

This was wonderful. I could hardly believe it. I stole a look at Gwendolen, wondering if she'd be jealous, but she was leafing through a copy of
Vogue
.

‘I am sorry Alan does not seem so pleased with the new treatment. I have been hoping we can all work together. Hugh and I have been talking things over. We think exactly along same lines. Your husband – I'm not so sure, perhaps you can tell me. He seemed he was the one in the middle, between his two friends. Unfortunately, Mr Harris is not right for this project, but I hope your husband will not find that an … obstacle, because now I have seen your husband's film I should be sorry not to collaborate with him.'

‘You've seen
Home Front
?' I hadn't even seen it myself.

‘But yes, of course. I have arranged a special showing. It is very good.'

I felt myself blushing scarlet as I stammered: ‘Alan is very keen to work on another film. He'd do anything to get a script-writing job.' Well – almost anything, I thought guiltily. I wasn't sure if ‘anything' would include completely ditching Colin. I hoped it wouldn't. Then I realised I hadn't said quite the right thing. ‘Of course he'd really love to work with you – he admired your film so much. He's awfully talented,' I went on rather desperately. ‘But he won't compromise with commercialism.'

Radu laughed. ‘But my films are artistic – you know that. If they are also a box-office success that is an … an unintended consequence. But anyway, I'm sure we can make a collaboration, Alan and I, with Hugh as well, of course.' His smile was dazzling. ‘It is my dearest wish.'

I was glowing inside from the cocktail, which I'd drunk rather quickly, and I didn't refuse when Radu refilled my glass. He matched me, and became even more expansive, outlining his plans for a film about central Europe that would astonish with its passion and tragedy. One might have expected this to engage Gwendolen's interest, but the strange thing was she seemed bored, seemed even to be becoming restless. I caught her looking at her watch, and I knew it was time to go home, to go toiling up the snowy wastes of Church Street to Notting Hill and murder mile, but I put off the moment of braving the cold, until Gwendolen smiled in that melancholy way of hers and said apologetically: ‘Darling – we have to go out soon.'

It was more than a hint. I knew I had to leave the warmth and face the elements.

‘Come and see us again soon, Dinah darling,' said Gwendolen and kissed me on the cheek. Another little frisson of awkwardness. It was odd, all this kissing. My mother and aunts kissed one another in greeting and Mother also kissed one or two of her closest women friends, but I hardly knew Gwendolen. Perhaps film stars, actresses, were more demonstrative. ‘Oh – and I forgot to tell you, there's a dinner dance here next month, at Ormiston Court. You will come, won't you? We're making up a party.'

Radu insisted on walking me down to the street. He wanted to wait with me for a taxi, but I insisted I'd take the bus. ‘There probably won't be a taxi anyway,' I said.

‘They are rare birds,' he agreed, ‘but then so are the buses.' He put an arm round my shoulder and marched me along the road to the bus stop. This made me feel most uncomfortable. While we waited he stamped his feet, folded his arms and beat himself with his hands to keep warm in his beautiful overcoat. ‘You are very lovely, Dinah,' he said. ‘I should love you to be in my film.'

His dancing smile mocked me and yet it held a promise. I didn't know how much to believe him. I peered anxiously along the High Street, wishing the bus would come. Radu's whole manner was so flirtatious.

‘You would make perfect ingénue,' he said.

I shook my head and tried to head him off. I had the feeling he was about to pounce – out here in the freezing cold, by the bus stop. And he did. His arms were like bands of iron round me. I felt his lips pressed against mine, his whole body too, through all our layers of clothing. He was trying to force my lips apart. I was trying just as hard to turn my face away, but I felt myself weakening. ‘You are so beautiful,' he muttered. We were struggling. Any minute we'd fall on the slippery pavement.

‘Oh really, Radu!' I managed to push him away and extricate myself. I laughed it off, it was so ridiculous, the two of us scuffling on the ice, but at the same time …

Just then, thank God, the bus came. Radu kissed my hand again and looked into my eyes. ‘We will meet again very soon, beautiful Dinah.' And he waved me on to the bus as if it was entirely due to his goodwill that it had appeared at all.

I sat on the bus, and after all it wasn't just absurd and ridiculous. I was shaking. It wasn't so much that my dignity was in shreds. I wasn't even feeling – how dared he be so cheeky. I'd
responded
. A great shaft of lust – and now a wave of shame and embarrassment flooded through me. I was obviously a nymphomaniac of some kind.

It was only when I got off at Notting Hill Gate that I thought how strange it was that no one had mentioned Titus all afternoon. It was as if it had never happened; as if he had never existed.

In the arctic cold the streets were empty. I walked along on the impacted ice, my fingers and toes aching, my face skinned with the cold. I heard steps creaking behind me. I looked back. A man in an overcoat trudged along behind me. He was walking faster than me, gaining on me with every step he took. I was nearly home. I tried to walk faster, but it was impossible on the icy pavements. I huddled on, head down. I reached our house. The moment passed. I despised myself for being so cowardly. I wasn't an hysterical girl, after all. I was a married woman.

Upstairs in the flat Alan was at the stove, while Hugh watched from the kitchen table. A bottle of Algerian red stood open between them.

‘You stayed on quite a while. I'm making spaghetti with that tin of anchovies I got hold of on my way home through Soho yesterday.' Then he looked at me more closely. ‘What's the matter, Dinah? You look as if you'd seen a ghost.'

I couldn't tell him about the man, because it was nothing. It would just make Alan fuss and not want me to go out alone. I unwrapped myself from the layers of outer clothing. ‘I'm tired,' I said and poured myself a glass of wine. ‘This cold is killing me.'

Hugh said: ‘Anything interesting after we left?'

‘Not really. But he's awfully keen to work with you both. Dead keen.'

Alan was stirring the spaghetti sauce. ‘It was Colin's idea,' he said in a low voice.

‘It was
our
idea,' said Hugh firmly.

‘It was his idea first,' said Alan, slowly. ‘And now he'll hate the way it's going to turn out. As far as he's concerned it'll be a travesty.'

‘Well, you don't have to work with Radu if you don't want to,' said Hugh. ‘Anyway – it's no good having an idea if it can't be turned into a reality.' Hugh smiled. ‘Rather like communism, really.'

Alan laughed, but he didn't seem amused. ‘You're right, of course. Of course I'll do it – and it is Colin's fault in a way for being so bloody-minded.'

So that was Colin – ditched.

I stole away to the bedroom without their noticing. I lay under the eiderdown in the dark, but I couldn't stop shivering. I thought about the man who'd walked behind me in the street. I thought about Radu's kiss. That was something else I couldn't tell Alan about. Why did I feel so alone, when I was married? I cried, silently, for a little while, but then I must have fallen asleep.

eleven

A FEW EVENINGS LATER I'D JUST GOT IN
when there was a ring at the doorbell three flights down. I inched open the front window, leaned out and saw Colin standing on the steps below and looking upwards. I chucked him down the keys.

‘Alan not about? I was just passing – I've had a grilling at King Street. Just had to have some human company before the final assault on the north face of Paddington.'

‘King Street?'

‘You know, Party HQ, you met me there that time.'

Notting Hill was hardly on a straight line between Covent Garden and Paddington. It was proof of how quickly their friendship had waned that Colin had to make such a feeble excuse to drop in.

We sat at the kitchen table with our tea and cigarettes.

‘A grilling? That sounds a bit grim.'

‘The Party seems so different now. Perhaps I'm seeing too much of the grey men in charge. D'you know the reason the London District Secretary hauled me in? It was actually to ask why I wasn't married! The Party has no time for bohemian behaviour, I gather. Communists are family men and women and having children is a communist duty. More socialists are needed in the world. In France the Catholic Church and the Parti Communiste Français unite to condemn birth control!' He spoke with immense bitterness.

‘But I thought you said they believe in equality for women.'

‘Perhaps it was partly an excuse,' he muttered, more to himself than me. ‘During the war there were none of these problems.' He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘There was a good side to the war. I know that sounds strange, but the comradeship of the ordinary soldiers was wonderful, you know, they had such simplicity and bravery. It was inspiring. Glad I refused a commission. And being in the Party was almost a plus; the chaps were ready to hear the message – no, that's wrong, they knew it already, knew Britain had to change. I mean, I didn't ram it down their throats, didn't even talk about the Party as such …' He sighed. ‘It's just that things were black and white then, I suppose, but now it's all gone grey again.'

He lit a cigarette, then struck a second precious match, for no good reason. It was the only box we had. He frowned, knocked non-existent ash off the end of his cigarette, played with a teaspoon. ‘I actually feel I
did
something in the war, struck a blow for socialism.' He was jabbing the teaspoon handle into the soft wood of the kitchen table. ‘You know I thought I'd seen Enescu in Bucharest?' he said abruptly. ‘I'm pretty sure. There was a crowd of people like him at the Athénée Palace. Out in the countryside peasants were starving all over the show, but in Bucharest there was this brittle bourgeois culture … corrupt, cynical … black marketeers, contact men, everyone on the make. I suppose he bribed his way out of the country.' He paused. ‘I bet he was in Berlin, making movies for the Nazis – or under the Nazis, anyway. He's too young to have been there in the twenties, before they came to power.'

‘You don't know that!' I exclaimed, too sharply. ‘You haven't any proof.'

He looked at me grimly, misunderstanding my insistence. ‘So Hugh and Alan are going ahead, are they.' It wasn't a question.

That was what this visit was about, then. He'd hoped to find Alan, to have it out with him. ‘You should talk to Alan. I'm sure it isn't like that.' I knew I was blushing. We both knew it was a lie.

‘But Alan seems to be avoiding me.'

The silence was awkward. Finally with an effort, Colin spoke. ‘That's not really what I came about. It's this whole Titus Mavor thing. I had a very unpleasant session with that shifty little copper, and he wants to see me again. Some fool told him about the row in the Café Royal – y'know, that time? He came on pretty strong. He made it fairly plain I'm a suspect.'

‘A suspect?
You
? How can you be a suspect? That's just absurd!'

‘It's true I couldn't stand Mavor, but … why did he taunt me about the Party?' He ran his hand through his thickly springing hair, then made a face. ‘Oh, why do I ask, that was Mavor all over. He just likes making mischief, always has – well,
did
– playing people off against each other, picking up gossip, spreading scandal and rumour. Poisonous character.' Colin frowned at his empty cup. I poured him some more tea. ‘Saying what he did! That was malicious.' He looked at me. ‘Do you believe all the anti-communist propaganda that's flooding out these days? I suppose you do – everyone does. Even Alan's fallen for it.'

‘No he hasn't,' I said stoutly. ‘Nor me. I have an open mind. I'm trying to understand it all.'

‘Everything was different in the war. The Soviets were our allies. In Bucharest … the Red Army had arrived. I was only there a short time, but it was –' He broke off, then started again. ‘I'm a
Communist
, Dinah. I don't believe in petty national interests. I believe in the revolution. But I'm not sure the Party does believe in revolution any more. And our allies have changed now, of course.' His smile was bitter. ‘One ought to have known it was too good to last.'

I didn't know what to say. After a bit he looked up as if he'd forgotten I was sitting there. He shook his head. ‘That shifty little inspector. He near as anything
accused
me.'

‘Honestly, Colin, you must be reading too much into it. It's so utterly far-fetched.'

‘You're so young, you're so innocent, Dinah,' he said, rather sadly, ‘you couldn't possibly understand how difficult it's all become.'

Oh,
why
did they all insist on treating me like a child? ‘You could try me.'

He smiled then. ‘You're lovely, do you know that.'

I felt uncomfortable. His gaze was a little too intimate.

‘You're so sweet. You really are.'

My face was hot. ‘I'm not.' I hoped he wasn't going to make a pass. That would be awful. ‘I'm sure you're worrying unnecessarily.'

He shook his head. ‘I even wondered if someone was trying to frame me.'

‘Frame you!' I thought he'd taken leave of his senses.

‘There's something else. So much I can't talk about.' He smoked ferociously. ‘Oh well, it'll pass. Everything happening at once, I suppose that's what's got me down.'

‘What do you mean, things you can't talk about? You can talk to us – to me. You'd feel better if you got it off your chest. Everything's worse if you bottle it up and hug it to yourself.'

He looked at me, seemed suddenly to make a decision. His mood seemed to change. Now he spoke calmly, but it was the calm of resignation. ‘You see, I'm in love with someone I shouldn't be in love with.' He looked at me very hard. And then of course I understood. I didn't know what to say. It was a declaration – well, not quite, but as near as. It was awful, not because he didn't attract me at all, but because even to broach the subject as obliquely as he had seemed like disloyalty to Alan. Yet I couldn't help feeling flattered; and even that flicker of delight was a kind of disloyalty to Alan too.

‘Oh, Colin … I'm so sorry …'

His attempt at a smile managed only to be a grimace. ‘Not your fault, is it.'

Silence again. After a while he shook his head violently, as if his ears were air-blocked, managed a more normal smile, came back to earth. ‘It's awfully good of you to have listened to all this rot. It must be the weather getting me down.'

His parting shot as he stood poised at the top of the precipitous flights of stairs was: ‘You know, I don't think Alan quite realises how lucky he is to have you. You're so – so
clear
, Dinah, and so lovely.'

After he'd gone I sat at the kitchen table for quite a while. I lit a cigarette. Alan said the Party substituted for relationships in Colin's life. I'd thought it was heroic to devote yourself to a cause, even if, as everyone was saying these days, the cause was a misguided, or more likely, a sinister one. But now I knew Colin had hidden depths. My thoughts melted into a sort of daydream. It was flattering to think that Colin was sweet on me. Carrying a torch for me – ‘
I just want to start/A little flame in your heart
.' Of course I didn't want Colin to be in love with me, and would never give him any encouragement, that would be cruel, but … the thought of having a hopelessly languishing admirer
was
romantic. I supposed that was how Gwendolen felt about Stan.

Alan came home and I told him Colin had been round. Alan frowned. ‘Oh, God. How was he?'

I knew Alan felt guilty, but now I thought about it I was quite surprised that Colin had said so little about the film and Radu. ‘He's worried about the inspector,' I said. ‘He thinks he's a suspect.'

‘That's absurd.'

‘I know. I told him.'

In a way I think Alan was relieved that Colin seemed not to be bearing too much of a grudge. ‘I'll talk to him,' he said, ‘I daresay we can pull a few chestnuts out of the fire. After all, nothing's decided.'

But there he deceived himself.