‘Pair of sevens,’ Fellowman said.
Piers returned to his normal voice. ‘But it’s going to be very dull for you, watching these men play cards. Why don’t we find somewhere for you to have a rest? Have you had enough Champagne? I can have someone bring us some.’
‘Do be quiet, Piers,’ Fellowman muttered from the table.
‘Sorry, Ian,’ he replied.
‘And a straight flush, well played.’
But Piers was fidgeting. His hand slid a little up my thigh, and I tried to brush it away without being too obvious about it. ‘I haven’t even seen you, properly,’ he whispered again, his lips almost touching my ear. ‘I think you should take this off.’ He indicated the mask. There were chuckles from the table as someone conceded defeat in the game. ‘Come on, off with it,’ he said, reaching for the ribbons at the back.
‘No, please,’ I said, fending him off.
‘Look – they’ve taken theirs off.’ He pointed to the other girls in the room and reached up again. He disgusted me.
‘I want to keep it on.’
He wasn’t listening, but if I fought him off it would only draw more attention to me, so I let him tease out the ribbons and prise away the mask. ‘There now. You are a lovely one.’
‘Thank you.’ I dipped my head down a little to hide.
‘Another hand?’ asked one of the men at the table.
‘Oh, I feel like mingling for a while,’ Fellowman replied, getting up and lighting a cigar. The game broke up and a few went to a drinks table, while another clutch huddled in a corner, laughing and slapping each other on the back.
I quickly placed the mask back over my face. Piers put his palm back on my thigh.
‘I’m with someone,’ I said.
‘I don’t see anyone here.’ He sounded aggressive.
Then a voice close to us – somehow right beside us, although I hadn’t seen him arrive – spoke. ‘Are you not in the mood?’ The sweating man jerked his head up at Fellowman’s voice.
‘No, not really,’ I replied, tying the ribbons of the mask before lifting my face to him.
‘Well, with fat old Piers here, who can blame you?’ he laughed. ‘Piers, you really must learn when a young lady isn’t interested.’ Piers laughed unnaturally heartily. ‘Come on, why don’t we find better company?’ Fellowman took my wrist and lifted me to my feet. One of the players emerged from a corner and mumbled something in his ear. ‘No. It’s out of the question,’ Fellowman told him. ‘Guy has made up his mind and that’s that. I’m not going to start second-guessing him.’ The man ambled away. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked me.
‘Catherine.’
‘Catherine. Are you enjoying the party?’
‘Very much so.’
‘I don’t think we’ve met, have we?’
‘I’m a friend of Adam’s.’
‘Ah, Adam.’ We were beside a balcony. He stopped, thought, and forced the balcony doors apart. One was stiff and groaned as it opened. ‘I need some air,’ he said. Out on the stone platform, he sighed and leaned on the balustrade. I had no idea what he wanted or if he had somehow just taken a shine to me. ‘Did you know Churchill once stayed in this house?’
‘I didn’t, no. That warmonger.’
He waved to someone inside the room. A young man appeared, and I knew in an instant that this was Greg, brother to Pete, who had walked me from the pub to the house. They had the same strong gypsy features, although Greg lacked the physique of a farm labourer. ‘A cigarette,’ Fellowman whispered. The younger man took one from a wooden case, lighted it between his lips and handed it to Fellowman, who placed it in his own mouth before gently touching him on the forearm in acknowledgement. He slipped away again, closing the doors behind him and pulling heavy curtains across them. ‘A warmonger? Oh, I wouldn’t call him that.’
‘No?’
‘It’s empty sabre-rattling. For American consumption. Old Mr Churchill knows we could close the Needle any time we like and he’s in our territory. Besides, our Soviet friends have twice as many warheads as the Americans, and who wants to fight a war that no one wins?’
‘Well, yes,’ I said. My nerves were still taut, but loosening.
He tapped ash down to the ground. Underneath was a pile of what looked like chunks of collapsed masonry covered by a tarpaulin. I was surprised it hadn’t been tidied up and carted away for the party. Even here they had priorities and some things were make-do-and-mend. ‘Comrade Burgess met him in ’38, you know. That imbecile Chamberlain had signed the Munich agreement, and Guy was so furious he went to Churchill’s home in Kent to see him for advice. In fact, Churchill had just received a letter from the Czechoslovakian prime minister begging him to help stop Germany taking over the country. “What can I do? An old man without power, without party?” Churchill said. It turned out that he was more in need of advice than Guy was. Guy told him to go up and down the country making speeches, to force people to listen to the danger. He told old Winston that they would listen to him. They didn’t, though. Guy was wrong about that.’
He blew more smoke and tapped out his ash. ‘Yes, Guy was wrong,’ he said under his breath. Then he looked me squarely in the eye. ‘Now, Mrs Cawson, will you tell me why you are here?’
I shook with the blow. My mind raced to know if he had recognized me when my mask had been pulled off, or if he had known from the moment I bought a ticket to Fetcham, his people keeping track of me all the way. I uncovered my face. ‘Lorelei had a deal with you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
What did that mean? Had I misunderstood everything?
And yet he knew me, had taken an interest in me. So surely there was truth in it somewhere. I suppressed my panic and bluffed a confidence. ‘Was it for the drugs?’
He stared at me as if I were mad. ‘I fear…’
I stumbled on. One last push. ‘What she was getting for you. From America – I can get them.’
‘Mrs Cawson…’ A bemused smile broke on his face.
‘I can get them.’
I just stood waiting, hoping I had hit home. There was silence. And then he spoke.
‘Why isn’t your husband here? Why send you?’ My heart was pounding so hard I felt it in my brow and my fingers. ‘Ah. He doesn’t know you’re here, does he? So you’re keeping this from him.’ His mouth twitched. ‘Maybe it’s because you think he’s keeping something from you.’ I was right. ‘Well, now, Mrs Cawson. You say you can get me the items the previous Mrs Cawson was supplying. I don’t need any more for now. What she was offering – it was something more than just the items themselves.’
So I had been right after all. He must have dealt only with Lorelei, and that was why Nick had been so desperate to be introduced to him when relations between her and Nick soured.
‘What was it? I can get it too.’
‘You think so?’
‘I’m certain of it.’
He drew in a mouthful of smoke and let it drift from his mouth. ‘Well, I suppose we’ll see if your self-confidence is misplaced. I was tired of going through middlemen. I wanted to buy straight from the source.’
‘Why?’