Traitors' Gate (47 page)

‘No,’ Gregory replied dully. ‘She has taken it very badly, and left a note in which she says she will refuse to see me.’

‘Oh, my poor Gregory. I am so sorry for you.’ Sabine’s expression had suddenly changed and she was smiling at him.

‘You … you mean that you don’t mind?’

‘Of course I mind. It is a terrible blow to my self-esteem that you should prefer any woman to myself. But I’ll be honest about it. Love and attraction are two different things. I wasn’t particularly attracted to my elderly husband; but I came to love him. On the other hand, you and I were terribly attracted to one another from the moment we met. We should count ourselves lucky that our feelings were mutual and that for two periods of several weeks we have been able to give full expression to them. It may not have been love, but we hit the high spots. That sort of thing can’t last. It never does. But we’ve had it and should be grateful. After our talk that night on the barge, when you showed reluctance to bring me to England, I didn’t suspect that there was someone else, but I did realise that we were pretty well through with one another I dug my toes in because at the time you were my only sheet anchor. Now dear Sir Pellinore has promised to take care of me that lets you out. I’ll always have a soft spot for you, but I wouldn’t want you for life any more than you want me. I’m terribly sorry if I’ve bitched things for you with your lovely blonde. I wouldn’t have done it intentionally. But she’s not exactly just out of the school-room, is she? So unless she is a very stupid woman I expect you’ll be able to talk her into forgiving you. Anyhow, I hope so.’

Gregory stood up and smiled down on her. ‘My dear, you’ve taken a great load off my mind. I would have hated to really hurt you. Thank goodness you know enough about life to see things in their true perspective. Thank you too for everything. Whatever happens I’ll always be your devoted friend. If ever you need my help in any way, you have only to let me know and you can count upon it.’

Ten minutes later he was saying to Sir Pellinore, ‘I had a suspicion that her feelings for me where just about the same as mine for her; but I didn’t expect that she would behave with
such generosity. To let me out without a word of reproach was damn decent of her.’

The corners of Sir Pellinore’s eyes wrinkled up in quizzical humour. ‘I must say, dear boy, there are times when I find your still youthful conceit most refreshing. High fliers like this pretty bird may enjoy coming down now and then to peck up a hearty breakfast from the lawn. But they live among the tree tops. You need never have feared that she might pine away in loneliness for you. She has only to show her plumage to have a Duke or millionaire industrialist in tow. Now, tell me about Budapest.’

Somewhat chastened, Gregory gave an account of his stay at Nagykáta with the Zapolyas, the formation of the Committee of Magnates and the final agreement to which that had led.

‘Good show!’ said Sir Pellinore when he had done. ‘Jolly good show! That stuff you picked up from Sabine about the Nazis gamblin’ everything on Stalingrad should prove very valuable. And by Jove, Gregory, you had something in your own plan! You were dead right. If we could have brought Hunary over to our side it would have saved Russia and altered the whole course of the war in our favour.’

Gregory frowned. ‘You speak in the past tense. Does that mean that nothing can be done about it? I realise, of course, that landings on the Continent could not be made as late in the year as this, but if only Stalingrad holds out they would still pay us this magnificent dividend in the spring.’

The Hungarians have stipulated for a force of fifteen divisions. There wouldn’t be that number sufficiently trained to do the job.’

‘Damn it all,’ Gregory objected. ‘It’s two and a half years since Dunkirk. There has been an enormous intake during that time, armaments have been pouring out of the factories, and American forces have arrived here in their tens of thousands. If the new troops aren’t capable of fighting yet they darned well ought to be. One doesn’t win wars with an army that is content to sit indefinitely on its backside.’

Sir Pellinore considered for a moment, then he said, ‘I take it you’ll be reportin’ back for duty at the War Cabinet Offices on Monday?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. That is, unless Erika says I can go up to
see her. Anyhow, I’ll be back there early next week.’

‘Then there’s no reason why I shouldn’t tell you what you’re certain to learn in a few days’ time. Within a month or so all our first line divisions will have left the country. Big show is being mounted now. Dead secret, of course; but you’ll hear all about it when you get back to the War Room.’

‘I don’t understand. D’you mean that we really are going to do a cross-Channel operation? I should have thought that by the end of October the risk of bad weather would be far too great.’

‘It would; and even earlier in the year I doubt if it could have succeeded. The Americans pressed it on us, particularly General Marshall. They maintained that a full-scale invasion of the Continent was the only way to draw pressure off the Russians. Right up to July they fought tooth and nail for it. At one time it looked as if we’d have to give way to ‘em—at all events to the extent of seizing the Cherbourg peninsula and tryin’ to hang on there through the winter. They more or less threatened that if we wouldn’t play they’d go back on the agreed first principle for the grand strategy of the war—the defeat of Hitler before Japan—and send everything to the Pacific. That was the last thing we wanted. But our people didn’t want a Continental landing either. They maintained that it would have been murder. I think they were right. The Yanks have plenty of guts, but are still children as far as modern war is concerned. We just couldn’t make them understand the immense difficulties of landing great numbers of men and vast quantities of stores on enemy-held beaches against heavy opposition. But, thank God, Winston managed to argue them out of it and get his own pet plan adopted. It is, with or without the consent of the French, to occupy North Africa.’

Gregory looked a little dubious. ‘I don’t see how that is going to give very much help to the Russians.’

‘Not immediately, but it will if they can hold out till the spring. The occupation of Morocco and Algeria is only the first phase. When the Anglo-American expeditionary force has consolidated it will drive east into Tunisia. Simultaneously the Eighth Army will launch an offensive through Libya, to the west. When they’ve joined up Malta will be relieved and the Mediterranean once more be open to British shippin’. It’s estimated that we’ll gain a million tons of shippin’ through
no longer having to send our convoys round the Cape. Then the real squeeze on Hitler will begin. With the sea and air superiority in the Med. regained, we’ll be able to threaten the South of France, Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, Italy, the Adriatic coast, and the Balkans all the way round to Turkey. He’ll not dare to leave any part of that immensely long coast line unguarded. To garrison it adequately he’ll be compelled to withdraw at least forty divisions and half his air force from Russia.

‘I see. Yes; it certainly is a magnificent conception. But what are the odds on our pulling it off?’

‘Fifty-fifty,’ replied Sir Pellinore gravely. ‘No more. It’s an appalling gamble. If there is a leak and Hitler gets wind of our intentions he’ll order his U-boat packs to intercept and make suicide attacks on our convoys on their way down. That could cost us thousands of our best troops before they even reached their first objectives. When they do land, if the French decide to resist, it’ll be touch and go. Our forces will be a thousand miles from home, and with no air support except what the carriers and the one small air base at Gib. can give them. There can be no taking them off as there was at Dunkirk. If they fail to establish themselves ashore it will be a shambles.’

‘Then what it really boils down to is that everything depends on the enemy’s being kept in the dark about our intentions. Or at all events, as the cat can’t be kept in the bag once our convoys are sighted passing through the Straits of Gib., our getting ashore before the Axis has time to take counter measures for our reception.’

‘You’ve said it. Although after Gib. we shall naturally do our utmost to fool Hitler into believin’ that we mean to land somewhere other than in French North Africa.’

That night, before going to bed, Gregory followed up his telegram to Erika with a letter. But with Sir Pellinore’s advice in mind he kept it short: simply asserting that he loved her better than anyone in the world and begging her to let him come up to see her at Gwaine Meads.

Next day he put on his uniform and went to see Colonel Jacob. Sir Pellinore had said that he should inform the Colonel about his trip to Hungary, and the Colonel showed great interest in all he had to say; but, without giving any reason for it, he told Gregory that he did not think Allied Strategy for
1942-43 would permit of advantage being taken of his private negotiations with the Hungarian magnates.

On the Monday Gregory returned to the War Room. His colleagues there had been told that for the past two months he had been seconded for special duty and they were much too discreet to ask him any questions. So discreet were they in fact that although they brought him up to date with the situation none of them actually mentioned
Torch
, which was the code name that had been given to the North African expedition. All of them now knew about it, but they were not officially supposed to be in the secret of future operations; so they referred to it among themselves only obscurely.

However, in the course of the next few days, Sir Pellinore’s assumption that Gregory would find himself in the picture was fully borne out. The movements of troops, air squadrons and shipping, which were all recorded in the War Room, told a story. Oblique references to this and that filled in gaps. Above all, the speculations on possible enemy reactions in certain circumstances, of highly placed visitors who had the entry to the War Room, left no room for doubt about the broad outline of the plan.

Anxiously he waited for every post, hoping to hear from Erika, but in vain. As by Wednesday he had still received no reply to his letter, he wrote again, declaring that his heart was broken and that only she could mend it by allowing him to go up and see her.

At last, on Saturday morning, Rudd brought him with his breakfast a letter addressed in her well-loved writing. Eagerly he tore it open, only to suffer grievous disappointment. It ran:

From what I learned when I last saw you, I cannot believe that you have a heart worth patching up. But mine is truly broken, and with good reason. I thought that we had both long since finished sowing our wild oats, and were old enough to be faithful to one another. Anyway, I love you far too much to face a future racked with the thought that you may be secretly indulging in affaires with other women. Since there can now be no future for us I do not intend to submit to the additional pain of hearing you make excuses for your ‘honeymoon on the Danube.’ That it took place you cannot deny
,
for if you could you would already have done so. Should you come to Gwaine Meads you will drive me from it; so please at least spare me from having to make a new life among strangers. I hope in time to recover from the awful shock that was sprung upon me, and to be able to think again of the long happiness we had together. In the meantime I can do no more than wish you well
.

Bitterly, he realised that he was in a cleft stick. His only chance of altering her decision lay in his seeing and talking to her, but if he attempted to she might do as she threatened—and with Sir Pellinore’s grim reference to ‘an inquest’ haunting his mind he dared not take that risk.

His decision to avoid Sabine had debarred him from visiting Carlton House Terrace or resuming his customary Sunday night suppers there; so he rang Sir Pellinore up and asked him to lunch at his Club. Wednesday was the earliest day the Baronet could manage and after the meal Gregory showed him Erika’s letter. The old man was much distressed and offered to act as intermediary, but added that he was so heavily involved in matters connected with the war that he could not possibly give twenty-four hours to spending a night up at Gwaine Meads during the next ten days; so for the time being he could do no more than write to her.

Gregory gratefully accepted his offer, then enquired after the lovely cause of all the trouble. Sir Pellinore told him that Sabine was still at Carlton House Terrace, and as yet had taken no steps about finding a flat for herself; but she had got a job in which she had started the previous Monday. Apparently she had run into a pre-war friend who had introduced her to the Chancellor at the Moldavian
¹
Embassy and, owing to her proficiency in languages, she had been taken on in the Chancellery there. As her alien status would have prevented her from working in any Government Department, and all commerce with Central Europe was at a standstill, this job in a neutral Embassy had seemed the very thing for her and she was delighted about it.

The following Monday morning Sir Pellinore rang up Gregory
at the War Room to tell him that he had had a reply from Erika. But it contained no comfort for her distracted lover. She said that even if Sir Pellinore could manage a visit to Gwaine Meads during the course of the next fortnight she would not be able to bring herself to discuss the affair with him. Her mind was made up, she was doing her utmost to forget, and to reopen the matter could only cause her acute distress.

It was later that same morning, the 12th of October, that Gregory ran into his old friend of
Worcester
days, emerging from the Chiefs-of-Staff conference room at the far end of the basement.

‘Hello!’ he said. ‘Been called in for consultation by the mighty? You are going up in the world.’

The airman grinned. ‘No, they only meet down here now at night when there’s an air raid on. They’ve lent us their room because my little party has a global conference of its own on today. There’s something rather awe-inspiring in the thought that the top boys who do our stuff overseas for us all flew in yesterday from places as far apart as Cairo. Washington, Delhi and Cape Town, to meet us round the table. But it was essential that we should get all the loose ends tied up.’