That Wild Lie (The Gollantz Family Saga Book 2) by Naomi Jacob

Author:Naomi Jacob [Jacob, Naomi]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: the Great War, First World War spies, Jewish history, Jewish families, antique business, secrets and lies, marriage and family, historical family saga
Publisher: Wyndham Books (Family Saga)
Published: 2015-04-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Max put down his empty cup, turned on his elbow and prepared to telephone Angela. He felt vaguely excited and happy, and yet felt that his happiness was so tender, so fragile, that he must handle it very gently for fear it should break into pieces before his eyes. It might, if held in too strong a light, if examined too closely, vanish and leave him with nothing except disappointment.

Twice he lifted the receiver, and twice he put it back on its hook, then lifted it again and gave the number of Mrs. Drew’s house in Cambridge Gardens.

He waited, was told that he should be put through to Angela ‒ that she was awake and had expected him to telephone.

He waited. ‘Is that you, Max?’

‘Good morning, Angela. How are you? This is a delightfully sudden impulse!’

‘Is it? When do you want to start, Max?’

‘When can you be ready ‒ ten, half-past?’

‘Ten, please. I’m ready now.’

‘Aren’t you going to praise me for coming so quickly? I drove all night.’

‘Did you? Kind Max ‒ I’m glad you came, I wanted you very badly.’

‘You’re not ill? Not ‒ unhappy?’

‘I’m not ill ‒ I don’t think I’m unhappy ‒ not really.’

There was a pause, then her voice came again. ‘Don’t worry. I haven’t done anything ‒ irrevocable. At ten, Max, and thank you so much.’

He waited, tried to speak to her, but she had rung off. Max stared at the telephone as if it was capable of answering questions, then flung back the clothes, and snatching up his towels went into the bathroom. He felt that his fears had become realities. His happiness had vanished. Her voice had been dull, miserable. Hermann had been right, her impulse to come home was something more than a desire to see the English country again.

He dressed hurriedly, gave orders for his car to be brought round, tried to eat breakfast and pushed it away after a few mouthfuls. It tasted of nothing. He watched the hands of the clock ‒ creeping slowly ‒ he compared the clock with his own watch ‒ and wished that it might be half-past nine, with this awful waiting almost over.

Judson was attentive, Max wished that he had been less so. He wanted to be alone, to try and imagine what was wrong, to convince himself that nothing was wrong at all, he was fanciful, imaginative, idiotic. The clock hands crept forward. Then Judson told him that the car was at the door. Max felt like a prisoner who is reprieved.

He found her waiting for him in the breakfast-room. He came forward and held out his hands.

‘Angela ‒ my dear!’ There was consternation, hurt astonishment in his tone. ‘My dear ‒ you’re ill.’

‘No, Max, not a bit ill. I know I look horrible ‒ that’s due to a bad night. Shall we go?’

He laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘Tell me what it is ‒ please tell me.’

She pressed her lips tightly together, he felt that she was afraid that they might tremble, and did not speak for a moment, then said, ‘Do you mind if I don’t talk here.

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