Chocolate 2, Papaya 2 [Divide and Rule]
Title: Other People’s Secrets
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide and Rule)
Flavor(s): Chocolate #2 (rivalry/jealousy), Papaya #2 (wouldn’t you like to know)
Toppings/Extras: Brownie
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 6975
Notes: April 1956; Edward Iveson/Julia Iveson, Diana Foyle, Marie Werner, Caroline Sheldon, Ronald Whittaker.
Summary: The past comes back to trouble Edward and Julia.
***
Julia almost missed the knock at the door. The party was in full swing and while it was hardly what anyone would call a wild affair, the guests were busy talking and that there was music playing in the living room. She caught something, however, and went to investigate, trying to think who could be making such a late arrival, but when she opened the door, she found a stranger standing there.
The woman stepped into the hallway, as Julia invited her in, and then she widened her eyes slightly as she heard the sounds of the party. She gave a small, wry smile. “I guess this isn’t the best time, is it?”
“Oh,” said Julia. “Oh. Then I’m sorry - what did you want?” She watched the woman with more interest, but she still had no idea who she could be. She was American, judging by the accent, and some years older than Julia - hard to tell how many, but probably older than she looked at first glance. Her coat was expensive, her hat smart and underneath it, she was dark-haired and dark-eyed.
The stranger gave her another apologetic smile. “I wanted to see Mr Iveson. I’d come back another day if I could, but it’s urgent. He is here?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Julia. “Come on in. I’ll take you into the study and see if I can find him for you. Last time I saw him, he was being lectured by Sir Robin Mayhew, so I expect he’ll appreciate being rescued.”
The woman held out a hand to her. “And you must be Mrs Iveson? It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yes, I am,” said Julia, as she shook her hand briefly, and then hoped she hadn’t sounded too proprietorial. But it was odd, she thought. “I’m Julia Iveson. Who shall I say you are?”
The other woman was about to answer, when she suddenly looked past Julia. Julia turned instinctively, and saw Edward emerge into the hallway, shutting the dining room door behind him.
“Julia,” he said, moving across. “I thought I heard the door.” Then he turned to greet the visitor, and if Julia had been feeling unsettled before, the abrupt change in his expression did nothing to reassure her. He stopped at first in blank surprise, and then looked from one to the other with sudden guilt and alarm. “Good Lord,” he said, and then: “Marie - Mrs Werner. How - how nice to see you again.”
“My God, Edward,” said Marie, following him into the study. “Some things don’t change. You’re still terrible at this game. And I’m sorry. I had no intention of coming to see you, let alone butting in on a party, but I had to.”
Edward cast a last, anxious look at the door and then forced himself to give his attention to Marie, instead of wondering what Julia must be thinking. He remained by the door, clasping his hands behind his back as he surveyed her. She’d changed surprisingly little, really. She was older, of course, but he had probably altered more. She was nervous, though, looking around the room, and then playing with a paperweight on the desk, and that was new.
“Something’s wrong?” he asked. “I take it there must be.”
“You haven’t heard, then,” she said, and then gave a small shrug. “Obviously not. It’s Richard. He’s dead - just this morning -” She halted. “I know this must sound odd, but it’ll make sense presently, if you’ll hear me out.”
“I’m sorry,” said Edward.
Marie gave a nod, and composed herself. “Thank you. The thing is, the authorities aren’t happy about it.”
“They think it’s foul play?”
“They’re not sure it’s natural causes anyway.” She raised her head. “I don’t see why. It’s surely inevitable for someone who lived like Richard to keel over at sixty, if not sooner. But, yes. And so they’re suspicious of the spouse. In their eyes, I’m the wronged wife who’s set to inherit everything. I suppose I’d look at me funny, too, if I were in their shoes.”
Edward still didn’t see anything he could do, so he waited for her to continue.
“Darn, I sound heartless,” she said, “and I’m not, I swear. It’s just easier this way.”
Edward took a small step forward. “I wouldn’t ever think you were. But you still haven’t explained why you’re here. I’ve got no influence with the police - though I’m sure they’ll soon see the truth.”
“No, no,” she said. “I didn’t think you had. It’s just an uncomfortable thought I keep having. If anybody killed Richard, it wasn’t me, and it was certainly a neat business and that got me thinking. He wasn’t a politician, but he was a player. You remember our last meeting, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Edward found himself colouring faintly, despite the sixteen years distance from that occasion. Seeing her again brought it all back again with uncomfortable clarity. “I take it you mean - asking you to spy on him.”
She nodded. “If someone thought that worth trying once, and it didn’t work out that way, what are the chances they’ll try again some other way? Maybe I’m just letting my imagination run away with me, but what if it was to do with somebody’s spy games? Because I don’t want to be locked away as the nearest convenient scapegoat.”
“I see.”
Marie looked up again. “You think I’m over-reacting? I probably am. The man at the Embassy certainly did when I even tried to hint about it - I’m sure he thought I was trying to cover my guilt with some crazy story. But I kept on thinking about it and it looked less unlikely every time. Then I thought that you are the only other person I know who knows anyone ever made that offer. And you know who made it in the first place.”
“Yes, I think I understand,” said Edward. “And I believe Carlisle is still around somewhere - one of the fixtures of the building, last time I looked. I suppose I can ask him and make some noise about it - or threaten to if anything happens. I don’t know what else I can do, though. It’s hardly going to help you if they bring up our former association.”
She raised an eyebrow at his attempt to be tactful. “My God, Edward, have you gotten even more mealy-mouthed with age, or is it only that I’ve forgotten what you’re like?”
“If you’ve got an address you can give me,” said Edward, choosing to ignore that, though he stiffened his shoulders nevertheless, “I’ll see what I can do and then let you know. But I don’t know -”
Marie pulled a pen from the desk and wrote it down for him. “Thanks, Edward. I’m sure it’s just the reaction. I’m all to pieces, and I haven’t felt like this since John. I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t let that happen again. And I certainly didn’t mean to come here and interrupt your party. You’re cursing me, no doubt.”
“Don’t be silly, Marie,” he said. He would rather she hadn’t turned up again, but now that she was here, he could only be pleased to see her, despite the attendant awkwardness. He took the piece of paper, and put it in his pocket. “You were kind to me once, and I’m grateful. I’ll do whatever I can.”
She gave a sudden, rueful smile, and looked more like the Marie he remembered. “As I recall, honey,” she said, “it was more than once.”
Julia, having first ensured that the guests weren’t feeling the absence of both their hosts, went upstairs to check on Emily. Her young daughter had been sleeping undisturbed by a crowd of politicians and civil servants downstairs, but she stirred slightly when Julia came into the room.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Julia said, crossing over to kiss her. “It’s only me.”
Emily didn’t wake, she merely fell still again, a small hot body buried under the bedclothes. Julia tried to straighten those, almost absently, refraining from the temptation to smooth back Emily’s hair, for fear she would rouse her. “Oh,” she added in an undertone, “and Daddy is downstairs talking to some mysterious woman, but I don’t think we should worry about that either, do you?”
Edward returned to the living room after Marie had gone, in search of Julia. He seemed to be able to find everyone but his wife, so he stopped to talk to Diana Foyle. “Diana. Have you seen Julia?”
“She was here, but I think she said something about popping up to see Emily,” said Diana. “Edward, while you’re here, Mr Whittaker’s just been telling me how much he would like to have a word with you. Not now, perhaps, but some other time.”
Edward turned towards the younger MP, and gave a smile. “Yes, of course. Whenever is convenient.”
“And when you do, tell him not to be so gloomy about everything,” Diana added, and then at Edward’s enquiring look, she explained: “He doesn’t think we can win the next election after all.”
“Well, it is a possibility, one must admit,” said Edward, amused despite himself. “It did happen last time. I was looking over the latest figures only yesterday, and it probably will be a narrow thing -”
Diana cut in. “Oh, God, let’s not go over that again. I swear I’ve had the same conversation with everyone in the room. It reminds me why I’m going away next week.”
“Now?” said Whittaker in surprise.
She laughed. “Only for a few days - a week at most. I’ve got a friend who’s got a cottage on the Devon coast, and I retreat there every so often before going back into the fray. Besides, my constituents don’t really have much choice. The only other serious candidate is Mr Flintwick-Allan, who may possibly not even be alive any more; it would be hard to tell. He stands up and announces that obviously he is superior to an interfering female and then my constituents sensibly ignore him. I think they quite like the feeling of notoriety I give them.”
“You’re very lucky, then,” said Whittaker.
Edward raised an eyebrow at Diana, who returned his look, unrepentant. “You’ll learn that Mrs Foyle takes these things as seriously as the rest of us, if not more so.”
“Oh, I do,” said Diana, putting a reassuring hand to Whittaker’s arm. “It’s only when I’m among friends - and when I’ve had those damned figures quoted to me so often I could recite them myself.”
Edward smiled. “Anyway, do excuse me. I need to find Julia.”
Having left Emily still happily asleep, Julia arrived beside Diana, looking around the room with a frown. “Where’s Edward, do you know?” Was he still, she wondered, in the study with the unknown woman?
“I don’t know,” said Diana, “but he was looking for you. It’s just as well your house isn’t any larger, or however would you manage?”
Julia smiled. “It’s not usually a problem, thank you. I didn’t see him in the other room, that’s all.”
“Well, I think he gave up on you and went to make a telephone call,” said Diana. “I’m sure I heard him say something like that to Mr Harding.”
Julia laughed. “Then I’ll stay here, and I’m sure he’ll turn up again eventually.” She sighed slightly. “I’d have thought people would have started to leave by now.”
“Is that a not very subtle hint?” said Diana, raising both eyebrows.
Julia said, “Oh, dear, I didn’t really mean - and not you anyway.”
“Don’t worry,” said Diana. “I spy Mr and Mrs Arlington coming this way, and I rather suspect they’ve only been waiting to bid you goodnight before going. And you know how it is with these things - one pebble should start off the avalanche nicely.”
Diana was right, and it thankfully wasn’t too long before the guests had gone. Julia sent Mrs Crosbie on home, telling her the clearing up could wait, leaving her at last alone with Edward. She stole a glance at him as she gathered up the full ash trays.
“So,” she said, when he didn’t take the initiative. “Who was she?”
Edward turned enquiringly, in the middle of putting the dirty glasses onto one of the trays.
“And don’t say ‘who’,” said Julia, before he could. “You know perfectly well that I mean the mystery American lady who turned up in the middle and wanted to talk to you.”
Edward arranged the glasses with rather more concentration than the action warranted. “It’s a little complicated.”
“Well, I suggest you try,” Julia said, “because I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look quite as guilty as you did when you saw her in the hallway. So either you once did something terrible to the poor woman, or there was something between you. Whichever it is, you don’t want to leave me to imagine lurid things, do you?”
“I don’t think now is the time.”
Julia thumped the ash trays down on the table unwisely. “Oh, really! Well, I assume that you once had an - an affair, because I don’t see why else you should look like that. Now, would you like to elaborate, or is that sufficient for the late hour?”
“Honestly, Julia, sometimes you can be so - indelicate!”
Julia had been feeling unsettled by the encounter, but not seriously. That, though, she thought, was really too much. She had to fight the temptation to throw one of the ash trays at his head. “I am?” she said, bristling. “Well, you sound positively Victorian - antediluvian - and thoroughly hypocritical, considering that she’s your mystery woman, not mine!”
“Let’s get rid of these things first,” he said, “and I’ll tell you upstairs. If you go on like that, you’ll wake Emily.”
If the ash trays hadn’t been full, thought Julia, she would have thrown one. And if he hadn’t been right.
“Well?” she said later, sitting up in the bed, hugging the eiderdown, and watching him while he fussed about hanging up his clothes. She kept her voice low.
Edward glanced over at her. “It’s as you said, really.”
“You had some kind of affair,” she said for him. “Didn’t you?”
He nodded. “It didn’t last very long, and I haven’t seen her for nearly seventeen years. I don’t mean to make excuses, of course, but I met Marie - Mrs Werner - about the time the divorce came through, and she was - well, it was all a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”
But it did, Julia thought. It mattered because this woman - Marie - had turned back up and Julia had been left feeling utterly ignorant of Edward’s past again. After all this time, she thought, painfully. Rationally, she could understand it, and she’d always assumed that he must have seen someone after Caroline and before she came along, but a large part of her seemed intent on being irrational. There was something else, too. “Was she married then? She was, wasn’t she? You had an affair with a married woman?”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said, holding back irritation. “Or, well, yes, but -” He stopped and then got into the bed. “Whatever the truth, it has no bearing on the present. You must know that.”
Julia nodded, and gave him a brief smile, because she knew he wasn’t the only one being a little unreasonable at this particular moment. She was more disturbed than she cared to admit, though. She’d always thought of Edward as being, if anything, stricter in these matters than she was. Now she knew that wasn’t the case, or it hadn’t always been. “I do know,” she said. “And I agree, except - the thing is, she’s turned back up now. So, please - tell me what she wanted.”
“I don’t think,” said Edward carefully, “that I can say.”
Julia lifted her head. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t think I should,” he said. “It’s rather sensitive.”
Julia bit back her temper again. “I’m not asking for every last detail, Edward - I just need to know something. How do you think I felt earlier when she arrived and I had no idea who she was? You never even mentioned her, not in almost seven years -”
He had the nerve to look surprised. “But, Julia, how could I? It isn’t the sort of thing one brings up in casual conversation - and it was over long ago, Marie was thousands of miles away. Why should I? In any case, Marie was still married, and it would have been unfair to her to say anything unless I had to.”
“I know our agreement,” said Julia, “but that’s no reason you couldn’t tell me something like that.”
Edward looked at her, about to say something else, and then evidently thought better of it. “I don’t think this conversation is getting us anywhere, do you?”
Oh, yes, thought Julia, yes it is. It was sobering to find out how much he still didn’t trust her. She lay down and turned her back on him, and said, if a little indistinctly, “Yes, quite right. Good night, Edward.”
“Julia -”
“I think,” she said, “that I’ve already talked to quite enough politicians for one evening, thank you.”
Julia closed her eyes and tried not to allow herself to be upset, but she was. No doubt Edward had been thrown by Marie Werner’s unexpected reappearance as much as she had, and perhaps, given more time, he would explain. However, it hurt not to be trusted with his secrets. Worse still, it was disconcerting and humiliating to find she could still be so ignorant of his past.
Yet what ate at her the most was something else again - irrationally, underneath it all, she was furiously jealous. Not of Marie now, or Caroline, or anybody else, but quite savagely so of them for having known him years ago when she hadn’t; when she couldn’t have done. This felt worse than Caroline. He’d told her about Caroline, and she knew how he felt about her, but Marie was an unknown, as were Edward’s feelings for her.
It would be no use trying to explain that to Edward. She had made the attempt once, when talking about Caroline, and he’d only given her an alarmed look and pointed out that she must have been still at school when he had married Caroline. Which wasn’t the point, Julia thought. She wished she’d met him sooner - not quite that soon, obviously, Edward was right about that much - but they could have run into each other during the war and not had to wait for that awful interview about her brother’s death.
Besides, she thought, wasn’t Caroline was more than enough for anyone to have to put up with, without this? It was completely unfair and never happened the other way around. Honestly, thought Julia, it would serve Edward right if Michael Campbell walked in. Except, she admitted, being a realist at heart, that Michael had always had trouble remembering her name even when he had been going out with her, and in the unlikely event that he ever did turn up again, he would probably have forgotten her altogether.
That made Julia sigh to herself, and she turned over again, facing Edward. “I was thinking about throwing one of the ash trays at you,” she told him, which wasn’t really much of an apology, but she didn’t think he deserved a proper one yet. She also thought he’d understand, and he seemed to: he gave a slight smile in the gloom, or she thought he did. “And in the morning,” she said, “please, think about it; think about whatever you can tell me. I need to know something. It isn’t fair otherwise.”
“Julia, will you please go to sleep?” he said, but he touched her face lightly, and that was a yes, she knew.
Tidying with Mrs Crosbie the next morning, Julia found that Diana Foyle had left her scarf behind. Even though she could hardly tell Diana her problem, the idea of at least speaking to someone else appealed more than anything else she had in mind for the morning. She made a telephone call to Diana’s house to locate her, and then set off, tracking her down in a church hall, where she was busy folding leaflets, and, much to Julia’s dismay, with Caroline Sheldon helping. It was, Julia thought, trying to stifle unfair annoyance, as if it were a conspiracy.
“Oh, Julia, how nice,” said Diana, looking up with a brief smile. “We could use another hand here, if you’re willing.”
“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” said Julia, and held out the scarf to Diana. Talking to Caroline was certainly not what she’d had in mind. “I was just - passing. I came to give you this. Didn’t you notice you’d left it?”
Diana smiled. “Apparently not, but thank you.”
“I’ll take these on through,” said Caroline to Diana, picking up a bundle of printed papers. She gave Julia a kind smile. “You’ll excuse me, won’t you? I wish I could stay - it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. You’re all well, I trust?”
Julia forced a smile in return, and swallowed the contrary impulse to say that, no, they were all dying of something. “Of course. Thank you.”
As Caroline walked out, Diana raised an eyebrow at Julia. “Well?” she said.
“Well, what?” said Julia.
Diana flicked through the leaflets and then looked up again. “Nothing, but you looked as if you’d like to murder poor Caroline.”
“I’m sure I didn’t,” said Julia, and then, after a pause, added: “Well, I just wasn’t in the mood for Caroline this morning!”
Diana eyed her severely. “You know I’m fond of you, Julia, but I have an election to win. Caroline is trying to help me, as my friend. If you would like to stay and do the same, you’re welcome, but if not, I’m afraid I simply don’t have the time to spare.”
“I’m sorry,” said Julia, colouring. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Diana cast a concerned glance over her. “Is something wrong? It isn’t very like you.”
“No, no,” said Julia, realising as she should have done sooner, that this wasn’t something that she could talk to anyone else about, no matter how vague she was. “It was something else, really. You know how it is. And, honestly, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
She returned home in time to receive a telephone call from somebody’s secretary to tell her that Mr Iveson would very likely be late home. He had tried to call her himself, the secretary added, but she’d been out.
“Thank you,” said Julia, and felt quite sure it would also (coincidentally) mean he couldn’t possibly talk to her tonight, either, and she sighed, and then decided that, really, she was being at least a little ridiculous. She glanced at her watch, and hurried away instead to fetch Emily from nursery. This afternoon, she thought, they could go to the park. There were, after all, more important things in life than letting her sometimes morbid feelings about the past get the better of her.
Edward had been sidetracked first by campaign matters, and after that, he still had to follow up the phone call he’d made last night and look into Marie’s business, too, and hunting down the right people was bound to take a while. He telephoned Julia first, to make his excuses, and had to own to being slightly relieved when she wasn’t there. She’d have inevitably been sceptical, which in this case, was hardly fair.
And once all that had been done, he had to speak to Marie again.
He met her in one of the offices, ushering her in, and pulling out the chair from the desk for her.
“How are you?” he asked.
Marie looked up at him, and then leant forward as he sat down on the other side of the desk. “Now, you must have news, or you wouldn’t have asked to see me. So don’t you dare start talking about the weather instead. Just tell me.”
“I wasn’t going to,” said Edward, although he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not that was true. Having Marie back around made him unaccountably nervous. “And, yes, I do.”
She smiled. “Well, your police seem to have decided that they believe in my alibi. So, I hope I haven’t been wasting your time after all.”
“I honestly don’t know,” said Edward, “but people took it seriously. I’m not privy to what goes on with these things, but wheels were definitely turning. I’m not sure you were wrong, even if it wasn’t murder - which I hope it wasn’t.”
Marie gave a tight little smile. “Thanks. I hope so, too. Everyone else seems to assume I don’t care. I was as fond of Richard as anyone, and I’ll miss him.”
“Well, I suppose I can’t do much else,” he said, “but let me know if anything else happens - or it all gets sorted. I now know who to go to again if anybody tries to make trouble for you.”
“That almost sounds reassuring.”
Edward said, politely, “And, of course, if there’s ever anything else I can do -”
“I’ll let you know,” she said, “but mostly I promise to stay a few thousand miles away if they’ll only let me out of here. Don’t worry.” She stood, and held out her hand to him.
Edward got to his feet. “I didn’t say -”
“You didn’t have to,” she said. “Your face last night! My God. Edward, you do know how obviously you gave yourself away, don’t you? It’s not any of my business, of course, but what did you tell that nice wife of yours?”
Edward drew back from her. “You’re right, Marie. That isn’t any of your business.”
“No,” she said, “only if we have to meet again, it might be as well if I don’t contradict whatever you did say. Besides, I know how polite and English you get, and I thought if she was too polite and English to ask -”
Edward had to work to hide his amusement at how far wide of the mark she was. “I can assure you, you don’t need to worry about that. And I don’t see why that would be a concern.”
“Except if this tangle isn’t as straightened out as we think,” she said, “and I have to get back in touch with you again. I mean, just give me a clue here, Edward. Did you say to her that we had a little affair once, it was all very nice, but it was over years ago, or am I merely an old acquaintance? And what did I ask to see you about? You can always mime, if you prefer.”
Edward glared at her. “I still don’t see - but, yes, she knows. As to this business, I haven’t spoken to her about it. I wasn’t sure - I thought it might even come under the Official Secrets Act before we were done.”
“My God,” said Marie, looking at him as if he were a particularly unusual specimen of something, “that’s not what you said, is it? The poor woman.”
Edward came in later than he had expected, and went in search of Julia, feeling apprehensive. He found her in the sitting room, finishing off the hem of a dress for Emily, just biting off the cotton thread as he entered. She looked rather too deliberately virtuous, he thought, as if a tableau especially staged for his arrival. Julia had fits of deciding to play roles - being the ideal hostess, that sort of thing. It was usually only for public display but occasionally also for his benefit, and he always found it disconcerting to come home to. He had long since decided that he preferred it when she was threatening to throw things.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know what you’re going to say -”
Julia smiled at him. “I wasn’t going to say anything, except that your dinner is in the oven, no doubt drying up nicely. I hope it’s still edible, but there’s not much I can do about it. Unless you’ve already eaten?”
Edward nodded, feeling guilty, but he’d had a last minute meeting with Harding, who often liked to combine business with pleasure. “Sorry. And Julia -”
“Hmm?” she said, apparently more intent on tidying away her needle and thread than listening to him.
“I will do as you suggested, and tell you what I can about this business with Marie Werner, but not now. And it’s just - it is sensitive, and - well, the trouble is, it involves other people’s secrets, not mine.”
Julia nodded, but there was a worrying spark in her eye. “Oh, yes. Given how little I can be trusted, it might be very unfair, mightn’t it? And incidentally a rather convenient excuse for avoiding a difficult topic. I do see, don’t worry, darling.”
“Good Lord, Julia, sometimes you’re impossible!”
She picked up her things, and stood up. “How funny. I was thinking the very same thing about you. Now, do excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
Once she’d gone, Edward sighed a bit, and set about tracking down his book, unsure where it had been put in preparation for the party, and eventually found it in the bureau. Even as he picked it up, he heard the door open again, and turned around.
“I’m sorry,” said Julia, standing there. “I let you annoy me - and what I meant to say was that, of course, I would like to know what this is about, but, as you say, other people’s secrets - and there are more important things.”
The universe seemed to be conspiring against her, Julia thought, when two days later, a knock at the door turned out to be Mrs Werner for the second time.
“Mrs Iveson,” said Marie Werner. “We meet again. I have a note to leave for Mr Iveson, and I’d be grateful if I could have a word with you while I’m here. If I may come in?”
Julia stifled her instinctive dismay, because while it wasn’t fair to say that Caroline was more than enough to be going on with, she really would rather have taken the note and left it at that. However, she stood back and held the door for Marie. “Of course.”
“You’re wishing me at the devil, I suppose,” said Marie, following her in, and removing her hat before shrugging off her coat. “I was arguing with myself about whether or not to try and catch you, or just post that message. But then I decided to leave it to fate, as to whether or not you were in, and here we are. I won’t stay long, I’ll promise you that much.”
Julia still didn’t know what to say, so she merely led her unexpected guest into the sitting room and asked her if she would like some tea or coffee.
“I said I won’t stay too long,” said Marie. “So, no thanks, but it’s sweet of you to offer. First things first,” she said, handing a small envelope to Julia, “if you’ll see that your husband gets this? There’s nothing private in it. You can read it yourself if you like.”
Julia coloured. “I wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Marie, sitting down, and glancing around the room with interest. “Well, here’s the other thing, and I’m probably being unforgivably interfering, but there are a few things I’d like to explain.”
Julia looked up in alarm. Whatever had happened between Edward and this woman once was not something she wanted to hear anything more about, or at least, not from anyone who wasn’t Edward.
“I said it would be awkward, didn’t I?” said Marie. “But I don’t like keeping people in the dark for no good reason, especially if anybody from intelligence is involved. And Edward was muttering something about the Official Secrets Act.”
The last thing Julia wanted was to be disloyal to Edward, but Marie’s remark about intelligence gave her pause, and she managed only a half-hearted, half-formed protest. “I don’t think -”
“Well,” said Marie, “it’s my secret and I can tell anyone I want. There’s nothing to hide, anyway. The thing is, my husband Richard died suddenly a few days ago and all sorts of people seemed suddenly to be taking an interest - thinking it might be murder, and looking at me, and maybe I panicked.”
Julia couldn’t quite unbend yet, though it wasn’t what she had expected. “I’m sorry,” she said, still sounding stiff.
“Thank you, honey. The long and the short of it is, I got myself in a state, and started wondering who was responsible and if they might want a handy scapegoat, and didn’t like that idea much, so I came to Edward for help.”
“I see,” Julia said, though she wasn’t sure she did.
Marie gave a small smile. “I wouldn’t have, but there was something he knew - something that finished us off, if I’m honest - and either he did manage to push things in the right direction, or I was only worrying over nothing after all. Richard and I might not have been as close as some, but it shook me up some to lose him, especially like that. And now it’s all over and I can go back home. I’ll be too far away to come calling again, you needn’t worry.”
“I wouldn’t -” Julia began, and then wasn’t sure what to say that wasn’t either a blatant lie or plain rude. She stopped, and gave a slight, embarrassed laugh. “I don’t really mind, but as you say, there is something awkward about it. Not that that matters compared to what you must have been through this week - I hope you get home without any more trouble.”
Marie nodded. “Oh, so do I. Anyhow, you’ve been gracious, and I hope I didn’t cause any mischief coming here like this.”
“No,” said Julia, standing along with her guest, relaxing now in her relief. “Of course not. And, anyway, it’s a lot better than forever running into Caroline!” Then she coloured at her indiscretion. “Oh, dear, please forget that I said that. I shouldn’t. It really has nothing to say to anything -”
Marie merely looked back at her in confusion. Then she said, cautiously, “Now, wait, that’s not the infamous first wife, is it?”
“I don’t think you could call Caroline infamous,” said Julia. “I don’t think she has it in her. But, yes, and I really shouldn’t -”
“Was it deliberate?” said Marie with sudden interest. “That marriage and the divorce. I seem to recall wondering at the time. It all sounded kind of odd to me.”
Julia shook her head. “Oh, no, it makes sense once you know Caroline. The worst thing is, she’s so happy for us - still!”
“Well, don’t bite my head off if I congratulate you, too,” said Marie, “but I’ll only do it this once, I promise. It’s been a hell of a week, but I won’t say I’m sorry to have met you and seen that things worked out for Edward. Like I said, it was this sort of intelligence nonsense that finished us, and I’d rather have done that in my own way. It would have been kinder.”
Julia frowned. “Intelligence nonsense?”
“Oh, people wanting to use us to get at Richard. There was nothing else to do but finish it already,” said Marie with another shrug. “Even aside from the morality, where would it end? Just look at Richard - I still can’t be sure somebody didn’t do something, though I’ll choose to think not.”
Julia found it suddenly difficult to breathe. “No,” she said, hoping her reaction didn’t show. “What else could you do?” (What else would any decent human being do? Except for her, of course.)
She showed Marie out, and then went back into the sitting room, shutting the door behind her, and sat on the floor by the sofa. Marie might not have understood why Edward would feel the need to invoke the Official Secrets Act at home, but Julia did. It was sensitive information, this - and someone had tried in some way to use his relationship with Marie once before and he wouldn’t risk that happening again, ensuring he would never mention it to her, even had he wanted to.
It wasn’t, she thought suddenly, not being trusted that hurt, but the uncomfortable fact that she wasn’t trustworthy. She never had been. When she’d met Edward, she’d approached him with the intention to try and get information out of him for the organisation. She might have been terrible at it, but it was what she’d been doing at the Embassy reception, and Edward had known from the start. It was his idea, so much of the rest of it, but he could make that proposal because that was already who she was.
Julia had grown used to the other, hardly even active, part of her life being there. It troubled her sometimes, especially of late - her current contact had grown increasingly annoyed by the fact that she didn’t really have anything much to offer - but she’d almost come to accept it as normal, justified even. She had a loyalty to the organisation - she didn’t know what she’d have done without them when she’d been left alone in Germany. Her brother had been connected to them, too, and it had seemed like doing something - fighting back at otherwise invisible assailants.
But now what? she thought. What happened this time, if they won the election? Since they’d been out of power, Edward’s standing in the party had grown, and there was a good chance he’d be in the cabinet this time around. Then she would have to betray one of them, wouldn’t she?
She pressed her hand to her mouth, feeling the shame as a physical thing, keeping her down on the floor, crushing her. She’d have to stop - she’d have to. She couldn’t face Edward again until she did.
“Mrs Iveson,” said Mrs Crosbie, opening the door and poking her head round it. “You said to remind you -” She stopped and blinked. “Mrs Iveson?”
Julia lifted her head. “I - I dropped something,” she said, managing to pick herself up with some dignity. “What was it you wanted?”
“You said to remind you,” Mrs Crosbie said. “You didn’t want to forget to phone the plumber again - about the tap in the kitchen.”
Julia felt that she’d left the message in another world. “Oh, dear. I had forgotten,” she said. “And thank you, Mrs Crosbie, but look at the time - I had better go for Emily, don’t you think? I’ll just have to write myself a very large note.”
She made her escape, trying to think. She was over-reacting again, she told herself. It wasn’t as if Edward hadn’t known when he married her. It had been his idea, after all.
“Oh, but that doesn’t matter!” she said to herself, under her breath, but still audibly enough to startle an elderly gentleman walking his dog in the other direction. She ignored that. It didn’t matter whose idea it had been, or how long it had been going on for. She’d seen it as it was for the first time in an age, and it couldn’t go on. She couldn’t let it.
Edward reached home late again, although at least it was no more than an hour this time. However, he stepped into the hallway to find Julia there, wearing a smart dress and an impatient glare.
“Oh,” he said. “I see I’m late for something.”
Julia raised an eyebrow. “I’m so glad you noticed. Yes, we are late for dinner at Lord Howe’s, which I would have thought you could have remembered, since it you were the one who was set on getting the invitation. Something about a column in his paper, even though you know I think he’s detestable.”
“I’m sorry,” said Edward. “I shall go and get ready as quickly as I can, and I’ll assure them it was all my fault, don’t worry.”
Julia had left his suit out ready, and he was as fast as he could decently be. He hurried back down the stairs, and said, “There. I shouldn’t think we’ll be anything more than fashionably late. I’m sorry, though. It’s merely that everything is a little manic at the moment. In fact, I need to go into Kent tomorrow and I was thinking, if you could possibly come too -”
“Well, I can’t,” said Julia, following him out the door. “You really should have asked sooner.”
Edward locked the door and turned towards her. “Julia?” he said. “I know I should have remembered - but there’s something else, isn’t there? What’s got into you?” He reached out a hand to touch her face, but she visibly flinched away from him, and he hastily moved on towards the car, unable to think how to respond, except to pretend that he hadn’t noticed.
“Are you saying it’s unreasonable of me to be angry because you’re late for a dinner engagement for the umpteenth time this year?”
He recognised that as one of those questions to which there was no good answer, and concentrated on starting the car instead. “Look,” he said tentatively, after racking his brains for something that might have produced this worrying mood, “is this still about - well, about Mrs Werner? Because I will explain; I merely haven’t had the chance yet.”
“No,” said Julia. “And, anyway, you were right. You have your secrets, and I have mine. That’s simply how things are, isn’t it?”
Edward glanced over at her again, concerned, and trying to think what to say, before giving up and driving on. It might be true, he thought, but it oughtn’t to be.
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide and Rule)
Flavor(s): Chocolate #2 (rivalry/jealousy), Papaya #2 (wouldn’t you like to know)
Toppings/Extras: Brownie
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 6975
Notes: April 1956; Edward Iveson/Julia Iveson, Diana Foyle, Marie Werner, Caroline Sheldon, Ronald Whittaker.
Summary: The past comes back to trouble Edward and Julia.
***
Julia almost missed the knock at the door. The party was in full swing and while it was hardly what anyone would call a wild affair, the guests were busy talking and that there was music playing in the living room. She caught something, however, and went to investigate, trying to think who could be making such a late arrival, but when she opened the door, she found a stranger standing there.
The woman stepped into the hallway, as Julia invited her in, and then she widened her eyes slightly as she heard the sounds of the party. She gave a small, wry smile. “I guess this isn’t the best time, is it?”
“Oh,” said Julia. “Oh. Then I’m sorry - what did you want?” She watched the woman with more interest, but she still had no idea who she could be. She was American, judging by the accent, and some years older than Julia - hard to tell how many, but probably older than she looked at first glance. Her coat was expensive, her hat smart and underneath it, she was dark-haired and dark-eyed.
The stranger gave her another apologetic smile. “I wanted to see Mr Iveson. I’d come back another day if I could, but it’s urgent. He is here?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Julia. “Come on in. I’ll take you into the study and see if I can find him for you. Last time I saw him, he was being lectured by Sir Robin Mayhew, so I expect he’ll appreciate being rescued.”
The woman held out a hand to her. “And you must be Mrs Iveson? It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yes, I am,” said Julia, as she shook her hand briefly, and then hoped she hadn’t sounded too proprietorial. But it was odd, she thought. “I’m Julia Iveson. Who shall I say you are?”
The other woman was about to answer, when she suddenly looked past Julia. Julia turned instinctively, and saw Edward emerge into the hallway, shutting the dining room door behind him.
“Julia,” he said, moving across. “I thought I heard the door.” Then he turned to greet the visitor, and if Julia had been feeling unsettled before, the abrupt change in his expression did nothing to reassure her. He stopped at first in blank surprise, and then looked from one to the other with sudden guilt and alarm. “Good Lord,” he said, and then: “Marie - Mrs Werner. How - how nice to see you again.”
“My God, Edward,” said Marie, following him into the study. “Some things don’t change. You’re still terrible at this game. And I’m sorry. I had no intention of coming to see you, let alone butting in on a party, but I had to.”
Edward cast a last, anxious look at the door and then forced himself to give his attention to Marie, instead of wondering what Julia must be thinking. He remained by the door, clasping his hands behind his back as he surveyed her. She’d changed surprisingly little, really. She was older, of course, but he had probably altered more. She was nervous, though, looking around the room, and then playing with a paperweight on the desk, and that was new.
“Something’s wrong?” he asked. “I take it there must be.”
“You haven’t heard, then,” she said, and then gave a small shrug. “Obviously not. It’s Richard. He’s dead - just this morning -” She halted. “I know this must sound odd, but it’ll make sense presently, if you’ll hear me out.”
“I’m sorry,” said Edward.
Marie gave a nod, and composed herself. “Thank you. The thing is, the authorities aren’t happy about it.”
“They think it’s foul play?”
“They’re not sure it’s natural causes anyway.” She raised her head. “I don’t see why. It’s surely inevitable for someone who lived like Richard to keel over at sixty, if not sooner. But, yes. And so they’re suspicious of the spouse. In their eyes, I’m the wronged wife who’s set to inherit everything. I suppose I’d look at me funny, too, if I were in their shoes.”
Edward still didn’t see anything he could do, so he waited for her to continue.
“Darn, I sound heartless,” she said, “and I’m not, I swear. It’s just easier this way.”
Edward took a small step forward. “I wouldn’t ever think you were. But you still haven’t explained why you’re here. I’ve got no influence with the police - though I’m sure they’ll soon see the truth.”
“No, no,” she said. “I didn’t think you had. It’s just an uncomfortable thought I keep having. If anybody killed Richard, it wasn’t me, and it was certainly a neat business and that got me thinking. He wasn’t a politician, but he was a player. You remember our last meeting, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Edward found himself colouring faintly, despite the sixteen years distance from that occasion. Seeing her again brought it all back again with uncomfortable clarity. “I take it you mean - asking you to spy on him.”
She nodded. “If someone thought that worth trying once, and it didn’t work out that way, what are the chances they’ll try again some other way? Maybe I’m just letting my imagination run away with me, but what if it was to do with somebody’s spy games? Because I don’t want to be locked away as the nearest convenient scapegoat.”
“I see.”
Marie looked up again. “You think I’m over-reacting? I probably am. The man at the Embassy certainly did when I even tried to hint about it - I’m sure he thought I was trying to cover my guilt with some crazy story. But I kept on thinking about it and it looked less unlikely every time. Then I thought that you are the only other person I know who knows anyone ever made that offer. And you know who made it in the first place.”
“Yes, I think I understand,” said Edward. “And I believe Carlisle is still around somewhere - one of the fixtures of the building, last time I looked. I suppose I can ask him and make some noise about it - or threaten to if anything happens. I don’t know what else I can do, though. It’s hardly going to help you if they bring up our former association.”
She raised an eyebrow at his attempt to be tactful. “My God, Edward, have you gotten even more mealy-mouthed with age, or is it only that I’ve forgotten what you’re like?”
“If you’ve got an address you can give me,” said Edward, choosing to ignore that, though he stiffened his shoulders nevertheless, “I’ll see what I can do and then let you know. But I don’t know -”
Marie pulled a pen from the desk and wrote it down for him. “Thanks, Edward. I’m sure it’s just the reaction. I’m all to pieces, and I haven’t felt like this since John. I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t let that happen again. And I certainly didn’t mean to come here and interrupt your party. You’re cursing me, no doubt.”
“Don’t be silly, Marie,” he said. He would rather she hadn’t turned up again, but now that she was here, he could only be pleased to see her, despite the attendant awkwardness. He took the piece of paper, and put it in his pocket. “You were kind to me once, and I’m grateful. I’ll do whatever I can.”
She gave a sudden, rueful smile, and looked more like the Marie he remembered. “As I recall, honey,” she said, “it was more than once.”
Julia, having first ensured that the guests weren’t feeling the absence of both their hosts, went upstairs to check on Emily. Her young daughter had been sleeping undisturbed by a crowd of politicians and civil servants downstairs, but she stirred slightly when Julia came into the room.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Julia said, crossing over to kiss her. “It’s only me.”
Emily didn’t wake, she merely fell still again, a small hot body buried under the bedclothes. Julia tried to straighten those, almost absently, refraining from the temptation to smooth back Emily’s hair, for fear she would rouse her. “Oh,” she added in an undertone, “and Daddy is downstairs talking to some mysterious woman, but I don’t think we should worry about that either, do you?”
Edward returned to the living room after Marie had gone, in search of Julia. He seemed to be able to find everyone but his wife, so he stopped to talk to Diana Foyle. “Diana. Have you seen Julia?”
“She was here, but I think she said something about popping up to see Emily,” said Diana. “Edward, while you’re here, Mr Whittaker’s just been telling me how much he would like to have a word with you. Not now, perhaps, but some other time.”
Edward turned towards the younger MP, and gave a smile. “Yes, of course. Whenever is convenient.”
“And when you do, tell him not to be so gloomy about everything,” Diana added, and then at Edward’s enquiring look, she explained: “He doesn’t think we can win the next election after all.”
“Well, it is a possibility, one must admit,” said Edward, amused despite himself. “It did happen last time. I was looking over the latest figures only yesterday, and it probably will be a narrow thing -”
Diana cut in. “Oh, God, let’s not go over that again. I swear I’ve had the same conversation with everyone in the room. It reminds me why I’m going away next week.”
“Now?” said Whittaker in surprise.
She laughed. “Only for a few days - a week at most. I’ve got a friend who’s got a cottage on the Devon coast, and I retreat there every so often before going back into the fray. Besides, my constituents don’t really have much choice. The only other serious candidate is Mr Flintwick-Allan, who may possibly not even be alive any more; it would be hard to tell. He stands up and announces that obviously he is superior to an interfering female and then my constituents sensibly ignore him. I think they quite like the feeling of notoriety I give them.”
“You’re very lucky, then,” said Whittaker.
Edward raised an eyebrow at Diana, who returned his look, unrepentant. “You’ll learn that Mrs Foyle takes these things as seriously as the rest of us, if not more so.”
“Oh, I do,” said Diana, putting a reassuring hand to Whittaker’s arm. “It’s only when I’m among friends - and when I’ve had those damned figures quoted to me so often I could recite them myself.”
Edward smiled. “Anyway, do excuse me. I need to find Julia.”
Having left Emily still happily asleep, Julia arrived beside Diana, looking around the room with a frown. “Where’s Edward, do you know?” Was he still, she wondered, in the study with the unknown woman?
“I don’t know,” said Diana, “but he was looking for you. It’s just as well your house isn’t any larger, or however would you manage?”
Julia smiled. “It’s not usually a problem, thank you. I didn’t see him in the other room, that’s all.”
“Well, I think he gave up on you and went to make a telephone call,” said Diana. “I’m sure I heard him say something like that to Mr Harding.”
Julia laughed. “Then I’ll stay here, and I’m sure he’ll turn up again eventually.” She sighed slightly. “I’d have thought people would have started to leave by now.”
“Is that a not very subtle hint?” said Diana, raising both eyebrows.
Julia said, “Oh, dear, I didn’t really mean - and not you anyway.”
“Don’t worry,” said Diana. “I spy Mr and Mrs Arlington coming this way, and I rather suspect they’ve only been waiting to bid you goodnight before going. And you know how it is with these things - one pebble should start off the avalanche nicely.”
Diana was right, and it thankfully wasn’t too long before the guests had gone. Julia sent Mrs Crosbie on home, telling her the clearing up could wait, leaving her at last alone with Edward. She stole a glance at him as she gathered up the full ash trays.
“So,” she said, when he didn’t take the initiative. “Who was she?”
Edward turned enquiringly, in the middle of putting the dirty glasses onto one of the trays.
“And don’t say ‘who’,” said Julia, before he could. “You know perfectly well that I mean the mystery American lady who turned up in the middle and wanted to talk to you.”
Edward arranged the glasses with rather more concentration than the action warranted. “It’s a little complicated.”
“Well, I suggest you try,” Julia said, “because I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look quite as guilty as you did when you saw her in the hallway. So either you once did something terrible to the poor woman, or there was something between you. Whichever it is, you don’t want to leave me to imagine lurid things, do you?”
“I don’t think now is the time.”
Julia thumped the ash trays down on the table unwisely. “Oh, really! Well, I assume that you once had an - an affair, because I don’t see why else you should look like that. Now, would you like to elaborate, or is that sufficient for the late hour?”
“Honestly, Julia, sometimes you can be so - indelicate!”
Julia had been feeling unsettled by the encounter, but not seriously. That, though, she thought, was really too much. She had to fight the temptation to throw one of the ash trays at his head. “I am?” she said, bristling. “Well, you sound positively Victorian - antediluvian - and thoroughly hypocritical, considering that she’s your mystery woman, not mine!”
“Let’s get rid of these things first,” he said, “and I’ll tell you upstairs. If you go on like that, you’ll wake Emily.”
If the ash trays hadn’t been full, thought Julia, she would have thrown one. And if he hadn’t been right.
“Well?” she said later, sitting up in the bed, hugging the eiderdown, and watching him while he fussed about hanging up his clothes. She kept her voice low.
Edward glanced over at her. “It’s as you said, really.”
“You had some kind of affair,” she said for him. “Didn’t you?”
He nodded. “It didn’t last very long, and I haven’t seen her for nearly seventeen years. I don’t mean to make excuses, of course, but I met Marie - Mrs Werner - about the time the divorce came through, and she was - well, it was all a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”
But it did, Julia thought. It mattered because this woman - Marie - had turned back up and Julia had been left feeling utterly ignorant of Edward’s past again. After all this time, she thought, painfully. Rationally, she could understand it, and she’d always assumed that he must have seen someone after Caroline and before she came along, but a large part of her seemed intent on being irrational. There was something else, too. “Was she married then? She was, wasn’t she? You had an affair with a married woman?”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said, holding back irritation. “Or, well, yes, but -” He stopped and then got into the bed. “Whatever the truth, it has no bearing on the present. You must know that.”
Julia nodded, and gave him a brief smile, because she knew he wasn’t the only one being a little unreasonable at this particular moment. She was more disturbed than she cared to admit, though. She’d always thought of Edward as being, if anything, stricter in these matters than she was. Now she knew that wasn’t the case, or it hadn’t always been. “I do know,” she said. “And I agree, except - the thing is, she’s turned back up now. So, please - tell me what she wanted.”
“I don’t think,” said Edward carefully, “that I can say.”
Julia lifted her head. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t think I should,” he said. “It’s rather sensitive.”
Julia bit back her temper again. “I’m not asking for every last detail, Edward - I just need to know something. How do you think I felt earlier when she arrived and I had no idea who she was? You never even mentioned her, not in almost seven years -”
He had the nerve to look surprised. “But, Julia, how could I? It isn’t the sort of thing one brings up in casual conversation - and it was over long ago, Marie was thousands of miles away. Why should I? In any case, Marie was still married, and it would have been unfair to her to say anything unless I had to.”
“I know our agreement,” said Julia, “but that’s no reason you couldn’t tell me something like that.”
Edward looked at her, about to say something else, and then evidently thought better of it. “I don’t think this conversation is getting us anywhere, do you?”
Oh, yes, thought Julia, yes it is. It was sobering to find out how much he still didn’t trust her. She lay down and turned her back on him, and said, if a little indistinctly, “Yes, quite right. Good night, Edward.”
“Julia -”
“I think,” she said, “that I’ve already talked to quite enough politicians for one evening, thank you.”
Julia closed her eyes and tried not to allow herself to be upset, but she was. No doubt Edward had been thrown by Marie Werner’s unexpected reappearance as much as she had, and perhaps, given more time, he would explain. However, it hurt not to be trusted with his secrets. Worse still, it was disconcerting and humiliating to find she could still be so ignorant of his past.
Yet what ate at her the most was something else again - irrationally, underneath it all, she was furiously jealous. Not of Marie now, or Caroline, or anybody else, but quite savagely so of them for having known him years ago when she hadn’t; when she couldn’t have done. This felt worse than Caroline. He’d told her about Caroline, and she knew how he felt about her, but Marie was an unknown, as were Edward’s feelings for her.
It would be no use trying to explain that to Edward. She had made the attempt once, when talking about Caroline, and he’d only given her an alarmed look and pointed out that she must have been still at school when he had married Caroline. Which wasn’t the point, Julia thought. She wished she’d met him sooner - not quite that soon, obviously, Edward was right about that much - but they could have run into each other during the war and not had to wait for that awful interview about her brother’s death.
Besides, she thought, wasn’t Caroline was more than enough for anyone to have to put up with, without this? It was completely unfair and never happened the other way around. Honestly, thought Julia, it would serve Edward right if Michael Campbell walked in. Except, she admitted, being a realist at heart, that Michael had always had trouble remembering her name even when he had been going out with her, and in the unlikely event that he ever did turn up again, he would probably have forgotten her altogether.
That made Julia sigh to herself, and she turned over again, facing Edward. “I was thinking about throwing one of the ash trays at you,” she told him, which wasn’t really much of an apology, but she didn’t think he deserved a proper one yet. She also thought he’d understand, and he seemed to: he gave a slight smile in the gloom, or she thought he did. “And in the morning,” she said, “please, think about it; think about whatever you can tell me. I need to know something. It isn’t fair otherwise.”
“Julia, will you please go to sleep?” he said, but he touched her face lightly, and that was a yes, she knew.
Tidying with Mrs Crosbie the next morning, Julia found that Diana Foyle had left her scarf behind. Even though she could hardly tell Diana her problem, the idea of at least speaking to someone else appealed more than anything else she had in mind for the morning. She made a telephone call to Diana’s house to locate her, and then set off, tracking her down in a church hall, where she was busy folding leaflets, and, much to Julia’s dismay, with Caroline Sheldon helping. It was, Julia thought, trying to stifle unfair annoyance, as if it were a conspiracy.
“Oh, Julia, how nice,” said Diana, looking up with a brief smile. “We could use another hand here, if you’re willing.”
“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” said Julia, and held out the scarf to Diana. Talking to Caroline was certainly not what she’d had in mind. “I was just - passing. I came to give you this. Didn’t you notice you’d left it?”
Diana smiled. “Apparently not, but thank you.”
“I’ll take these on through,” said Caroline to Diana, picking up a bundle of printed papers. She gave Julia a kind smile. “You’ll excuse me, won’t you? I wish I could stay - it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. You’re all well, I trust?”
Julia forced a smile in return, and swallowed the contrary impulse to say that, no, they were all dying of something. “Of course. Thank you.”
As Caroline walked out, Diana raised an eyebrow at Julia. “Well?” she said.
“Well, what?” said Julia.
Diana flicked through the leaflets and then looked up again. “Nothing, but you looked as if you’d like to murder poor Caroline.”
“I’m sure I didn’t,” said Julia, and then, after a pause, added: “Well, I just wasn’t in the mood for Caroline this morning!”
Diana eyed her severely. “You know I’m fond of you, Julia, but I have an election to win. Caroline is trying to help me, as my friend. If you would like to stay and do the same, you’re welcome, but if not, I’m afraid I simply don’t have the time to spare.”
“I’m sorry,” said Julia, colouring. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Diana cast a concerned glance over her. “Is something wrong? It isn’t very like you.”
“No, no,” said Julia, realising as she should have done sooner, that this wasn’t something that she could talk to anyone else about, no matter how vague she was. “It was something else, really. You know how it is. And, honestly, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
She returned home in time to receive a telephone call from somebody’s secretary to tell her that Mr Iveson would very likely be late home. He had tried to call her himself, the secretary added, but she’d been out.
“Thank you,” said Julia, and felt quite sure it would also (coincidentally) mean he couldn’t possibly talk to her tonight, either, and she sighed, and then decided that, really, she was being at least a little ridiculous. She glanced at her watch, and hurried away instead to fetch Emily from nursery. This afternoon, she thought, they could go to the park. There were, after all, more important things in life than letting her sometimes morbid feelings about the past get the better of her.
Edward had been sidetracked first by campaign matters, and after that, he still had to follow up the phone call he’d made last night and look into Marie’s business, too, and hunting down the right people was bound to take a while. He telephoned Julia first, to make his excuses, and had to own to being slightly relieved when she wasn’t there. She’d have inevitably been sceptical, which in this case, was hardly fair.
And once all that had been done, he had to speak to Marie again.
He met her in one of the offices, ushering her in, and pulling out the chair from the desk for her.
“How are you?” he asked.
Marie looked up at him, and then leant forward as he sat down on the other side of the desk. “Now, you must have news, or you wouldn’t have asked to see me. So don’t you dare start talking about the weather instead. Just tell me.”
“I wasn’t going to,” said Edward, although he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not that was true. Having Marie back around made him unaccountably nervous. “And, yes, I do.”
She smiled. “Well, your police seem to have decided that they believe in my alibi. So, I hope I haven’t been wasting your time after all.”
“I honestly don’t know,” said Edward, “but people took it seriously. I’m not privy to what goes on with these things, but wheels were definitely turning. I’m not sure you were wrong, even if it wasn’t murder - which I hope it wasn’t.”
Marie gave a tight little smile. “Thanks. I hope so, too. Everyone else seems to assume I don’t care. I was as fond of Richard as anyone, and I’ll miss him.”
“Well, I suppose I can’t do much else,” he said, “but let me know if anything else happens - or it all gets sorted. I now know who to go to again if anybody tries to make trouble for you.”
“That almost sounds reassuring.”
Edward said, politely, “And, of course, if there’s ever anything else I can do -”
“I’ll let you know,” she said, “but mostly I promise to stay a few thousand miles away if they’ll only let me out of here. Don’t worry.” She stood, and held out her hand to him.
Edward got to his feet. “I didn’t say -”
“You didn’t have to,” she said. “Your face last night! My God. Edward, you do know how obviously you gave yourself away, don’t you? It’s not any of my business, of course, but what did you tell that nice wife of yours?”
Edward drew back from her. “You’re right, Marie. That isn’t any of your business.”
“No,” she said, “only if we have to meet again, it might be as well if I don’t contradict whatever you did say. Besides, I know how polite and English you get, and I thought if she was too polite and English to ask -”
Edward had to work to hide his amusement at how far wide of the mark she was. “I can assure you, you don’t need to worry about that. And I don’t see why that would be a concern.”
“Except if this tangle isn’t as straightened out as we think,” she said, “and I have to get back in touch with you again. I mean, just give me a clue here, Edward. Did you say to her that we had a little affair once, it was all very nice, but it was over years ago, or am I merely an old acquaintance? And what did I ask to see you about? You can always mime, if you prefer.”
Edward glared at her. “I still don’t see - but, yes, she knows. As to this business, I haven’t spoken to her about it. I wasn’t sure - I thought it might even come under the Official Secrets Act before we were done.”
“My God,” said Marie, looking at him as if he were a particularly unusual specimen of something, “that’s not what you said, is it? The poor woman.”
Edward came in later than he had expected, and went in search of Julia, feeling apprehensive. He found her in the sitting room, finishing off the hem of a dress for Emily, just biting off the cotton thread as he entered. She looked rather too deliberately virtuous, he thought, as if a tableau especially staged for his arrival. Julia had fits of deciding to play roles - being the ideal hostess, that sort of thing. It was usually only for public display but occasionally also for his benefit, and he always found it disconcerting to come home to. He had long since decided that he preferred it when she was threatening to throw things.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know what you’re going to say -”
Julia smiled at him. “I wasn’t going to say anything, except that your dinner is in the oven, no doubt drying up nicely. I hope it’s still edible, but there’s not much I can do about it. Unless you’ve already eaten?”
Edward nodded, feeling guilty, but he’d had a last minute meeting with Harding, who often liked to combine business with pleasure. “Sorry. And Julia -”
“Hmm?” she said, apparently more intent on tidying away her needle and thread than listening to him.
“I will do as you suggested, and tell you what I can about this business with Marie Werner, but not now. And it’s just - it is sensitive, and - well, the trouble is, it involves other people’s secrets, not mine.”
Julia nodded, but there was a worrying spark in her eye. “Oh, yes. Given how little I can be trusted, it might be very unfair, mightn’t it? And incidentally a rather convenient excuse for avoiding a difficult topic. I do see, don’t worry, darling.”
“Good Lord, Julia, sometimes you’re impossible!”
She picked up her things, and stood up. “How funny. I was thinking the very same thing about you. Now, do excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
Once she’d gone, Edward sighed a bit, and set about tracking down his book, unsure where it had been put in preparation for the party, and eventually found it in the bureau. Even as he picked it up, he heard the door open again, and turned around.
“I’m sorry,” said Julia, standing there. “I let you annoy me - and what I meant to say was that, of course, I would like to know what this is about, but, as you say, other people’s secrets - and there are more important things.”
The universe seemed to be conspiring against her, Julia thought, when two days later, a knock at the door turned out to be Mrs Werner for the second time.
“Mrs Iveson,” said Marie Werner. “We meet again. I have a note to leave for Mr Iveson, and I’d be grateful if I could have a word with you while I’m here. If I may come in?”
Julia stifled her instinctive dismay, because while it wasn’t fair to say that Caroline was more than enough to be going on with, she really would rather have taken the note and left it at that. However, she stood back and held the door for Marie. “Of course.”
“You’re wishing me at the devil, I suppose,” said Marie, following her in, and removing her hat before shrugging off her coat. “I was arguing with myself about whether or not to try and catch you, or just post that message. But then I decided to leave it to fate, as to whether or not you were in, and here we are. I won’t stay long, I’ll promise you that much.”
Julia still didn’t know what to say, so she merely led her unexpected guest into the sitting room and asked her if she would like some tea or coffee.
“I said I won’t stay too long,” said Marie. “So, no thanks, but it’s sweet of you to offer. First things first,” she said, handing a small envelope to Julia, “if you’ll see that your husband gets this? There’s nothing private in it. You can read it yourself if you like.”
Julia coloured. “I wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Marie, sitting down, and glancing around the room with interest. “Well, here’s the other thing, and I’m probably being unforgivably interfering, but there are a few things I’d like to explain.”
Julia looked up in alarm. Whatever had happened between Edward and this woman once was not something she wanted to hear anything more about, or at least, not from anyone who wasn’t Edward.
“I said it would be awkward, didn’t I?” said Marie. “But I don’t like keeping people in the dark for no good reason, especially if anybody from intelligence is involved. And Edward was muttering something about the Official Secrets Act.”
The last thing Julia wanted was to be disloyal to Edward, but Marie’s remark about intelligence gave her pause, and she managed only a half-hearted, half-formed protest. “I don’t think -”
“Well,” said Marie, “it’s my secret and I can tell anyone I want. There’s nothing to hide, anyway. The thing is, my husband Richard died suddenly a few days ago and all sorts of people seemed suddenly to be taking an interest - thinking it might be murder, and looking at me, and maybe I panicked.”
Julia couldn’t quite unbend yet, though it wasn’t what she had expected. “I’m sorry,” she said, still sounding stiff.
“Thank you, honey. The long and the short of it is, I got myself in a state, and started wondering who was responsible and if they might want a handy scapegoat, and didn’t like that idea much, so I came to Edward for help.”
“I see,” Julia said, though she wasn’t sure she did.
Marie gave a small smile. “I wouldn’t have, but there was something he knew - something that finished us off, if I’m honest - and either he did manage to push things in the right direction, or I was only worrying over nothing after all. Richard and I might not have been as close as some, but it shook me up some to lose him, especially like that. And now it’s all over and I can go back home. I’ll be too far away to come calling again, you needn’t worry.”
“I wouldn’t -” Julia began, and then wasn’t sure what to say that wasn’t either a blatant lie or plain rude. She stopped, and gave a slight, embarrassed laugh. “I don’t really mind, but as you say, there is something awkward about it. Not that that matters compared to what you must have been through this week - I hope you get home without any more trouble.”
Marie nodded. “Oh, so do I. Anyhow, you’ve been gracious, and I hope I didn’t cause any mischief coming here like this.”
“No,” said Julia, standing along with her guest, relaxing now in her relief. “Of course not. And, anyway, it’s a lot better than forever running into Caroline!” Then she coloured at her indiscretion. “Oh, dear, please forget that I said that. I shouldn’t. It really has nothing to say to anything -”
Marie merely looked back at her in confusion. Then she said, cautiously, “Now, wait, that’s not the infamous first wife, is it?”
“I don’t think you could call Caroline infamous,” said Julia. “I don’t think she has it in her. But, yes, and I really shouldn’t -”
“Was it deliberate?” said Marie with sudden interest. “That marriage and the divorce. I seem to recall wondering at the time. It all sounded kind of odd to me.”
Julia shook her head. “Oh, no, it makes sense once you know Caroline. The worst thing is, she’s so happy for us - still!”
“Well, don’t bite my head off if I congratulate you, too,” said Marie, “but I’ll only do it this once, I promise. It’s been a hell of a week, but I won’t say I’m sorry to have met you and seen that things worked out for Edward. Like I said, it was this sort of intelligence nonsense that finished us, and I’d rather have done that in my own way. It would have been kinder.”
Julia frowned. “Intelligence nonsense?”
“Oh, people wanting to use us to get at Richard. There was nothing else to do but finish it already,” said Marie with another shrug. “Even aside from the morality, where would it end? Just look at Richard - I still can’t be sure somebody didn’t do something, though I’ll choose to think not.”
Julia found it suddenly difficult to breathe. “No,” she said, hoping her reaction didn’t show. “What else could you do?” (What else would any decent human being do? Except for her, of course.)
She showed Marie out, and then went back into the sitting room, shutting the door behind her, and sat on the floor by the sofa. Marie might not have understood why Edward would feel the need to invoke the Official Secrets Act at home, but Julia did. It was sensitive information, this - and someone had tried in some way to use his relationship with Marie once before and he wouldn’t risk that happening again, ensuring he would never mention it to her, even had he wanted to.
It wasn’t, she thought suddenly, not being trusted that hurt, but the uncomfortable fact that she wasn’t trustworthy. She never had been. When she’d met Edward, she’d approached him with the intention to try and get information out of him for the organisation. She might have been terrible at it, but it was what she’d been doing at the Embassy reception, and Edward had known from the start. It was his idea, so much of the rest of it, but he could make that proposal because that was already who she was.
Julia had grown used to the other, hardly even active, part of her life being there. It troubled her sometimes, especially of late - her current contact had grown increasingly annoyed by the fact that she didn’t really have anything much to offer - but she’d almost come to accept it as normal, justified even. She had a loyalty to the organisation - she didn’t know what she’d have done without them when she’d been left alone in Germany. Her brother had been connected to them, too, and it had seemed like doing something - fighting back at otherwise invisible assailants.
But now what? she thought. What happened this time, if they won the election? Since they’d been out of power, Edward’s standing in the party had grown, and there was a good chance he’d be in the cabinet this time around. Then she would have to betray one of them, wouldn’t she?
She pressed her hand to her mouth, feeling the shame as a physical thing, keeping her down on the floor, crushing her. She’d have to stop - she’d have to. She couldn’t face Edward again until she did.
“Mrs Iveson,” said Mrs Crosbie, opening the door and poking her head round it. “You said to remind you -” She stopped and blinked. “Mrs Iveson?”
Julia lifted her head. “I - I dropped something,” she said, managing to pick herself up with some dignity. “What was it you wanted?”
“You said to remind you,” Mrs Crosbie said. “You didn’t want to forget to phone the plumber again - about the tap in the kitchen.”
Julia felt that she’d left the message in another world. “Oh, dear. I had forgotten,” she said. “And thank you, Mrs Crosbie, but look at the time - I had better go for Emily, don’t you think? I’ll just have to write myself a very large note.”
She made her escape, trying to think. She was over-reacting again, she told herself. It wasn’t as if Edward hadn’t known when he married her. It had been his idea, after all.
“Oh, but that doesn’t matter!” she said to herself, under her breath, but still audibly enough to startle an elderly gentleman walking his dog in the other direction. She ignored that. It didn’t matter whose idea it had been, or how long it had been going on for. She’d seen it as it was for the first time in an age, and it couldn’t go on. She couldn’t let it.
Edward reached home late again, although at least it was no more than an hour this time. However, he stepped into the hallway to find Julia there, wearing a smart dress and an impatient glare.
“Oh,” he said. “I see I’m late for something.”
Julia raised an eyebrow. “I’m so glad you noticed. Yes, we are late for dinner at Lord Howe’s, which I would have thought you could have remembered, since it you were the one who was set on getting the invitation. Something about a column in his paper, even though you know I think he’s detestable.”
“I’m sorry,” said Edward. “I shall go and get ready as quickly as I can, and I’ll assure them it was all my fault, don’t worry.”
Julia had left his suit out ready, and he was as fast as he could decently be. He hurried back down the stairs, and said, “There. I shouldn’t think we’ll be anything more than fashionably late. I’m sorry, though. It’s merely that everything is a little manic at the moment. In fact, I need to go into Kent tomorrow and I was thinking, if you could possibly come too -”
“Well, I can’t,” said Julia, following him out the door. “You really should have asked sooner.”
Edward locked the door and turned towards her. “Julia?” he said. “I know I should have remembered - but there’s something else, isn’t there? What’s got into you?” He reached out a hand to touch her face, but she visibly flinched away from him, and he hastily moved on towards the car, unable to think how to respond, except to pretend that he hadn’t noticed.
“Are you saying it’s unreasonable of me to be angry because you’re late for a dinner engagement for the umpteenth time this year?”
He recognised that as one of those questions to which there was no good answer, and concentrated on starting the car instead. “Look,” he said tentatively, after racking his brains for something that might have produced this worrying mood, “is this still about - well, about Mrs Werner? Because I will explain; I merely haven’t had the chance yet.”
“No,” said Julia. “And, anyway, you were right. You have your secrets, and I have mine. That’s simply how things are, isn’t it?”
Edward glanced over at her again, concerned, and trying to think what to say, before giving up and driving on. It might be true, he thought, but it oughtn’t to be.
***