if.thespywholovedme-第7部分

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e　letter　went　on　to　say　that　it　had　been　a　wonderful　summer　and　he　would　never　forget　me。　But　now　his　life　had　changed　and　he　would　have　a　lot　of　work　to　do　and　there　wouldn't　be　much　room　for　〃girls。〃　He　had　told　his　parents　about　me；　but　they　disapproved　of　our　〃affair。〃　They　said　it　wasn't　fair　to　go　on　with　a　girl　if　one　wasn't　going　to　marry　her。　〃They　are　terribly　insular；　I'm　afraid；　and　they　have　ridiculous　ideas　about　'foreigners；'　although　heaven　knows　I　regard　you　as　just　like　any　other　English　girl　and　you　know　I　adore　your　accent。〃　They　were　set　on　his　marrying　the　daughter　of　some　neighbor　in　the　country。　〃I've　never　told　you　about　this；　which　I'm　afraid　was　very　naughty　of　me；　but　as　a　matter　of　fact　we're　sort　of　semi…engaged。　We　had　such　a　marvelous　time　together　and　you　were　such　a　sport　that　I　didn't　want　to　spoil　it　all。〃　He　said　he　hoped　very　much　we　would　〃run　into　each　other〃　again　one　day　and　in　the　meantime　he　had　asked　Fortnum's　to　send　me　a　dozen　bottles　of　pink　champagne；　〃the　best；〃　to　remind　me　of　the　first　time　we　had　met。　〃And　I　do　hope　this　letter　won't　upset　you　too　much；　Viv；　as　I　really　think　you're　the　most　wonderful　girl；　far　too　good　for　someone　like　me。　With　much　love；　happy　memories；　Derek。〃
　Well；　it　took　just　ten　minutes　to　break　my　heart　and　about　another　six　months　to　mend　it。　Accounts　of　other　people's　aches　and　pains　are　uninteresting　because　they　are　so　similar　to　everybody　else's；　so　I　won't　go　into　details。　I　didn't　even　tell　Susan。　As　I　saw　it；　I'd　behaved　like　a　tramp；　from　the　very　first　evening；　and　I'd　been　treated　like　a　tramp。　In　this　tight　little　world　of　England；　I　was　a　Canadian；　and　therefore　a　foreigner；　an　outsider…fair　game。　The　fact　that　I　hadn't　seen　it　happening　to　me　was　more　fool　me。　Born　yesterday！　Better　get　wise；　or　you'll　go　on　being　hurt！　But　beneath　this　open…eyed；　chin…up　rationalization；　the　girl　in　me　whimpered　and　cringed；　and　for　a　time　I　cried　at　night　and　went　down　on　my　knees　to　the　Holy　Mother　I　had　forsaken　and　prayed　that　She　would　give　Derek　back　to　me。　But　of　course　She　wouldn't；　and　my　pride　forbade　me　to　plead　with　him　or　to　follow　up　my　curt　little　note　of　acknowledgment　to　his　letter　and　the　return　of　the　champagne　to　Fortnum's。　The　endless　summer　had　ended。　All　that　was　left　were　some　poignant　Ink　Spot　memories；　and　the　imprint　of　the　nightmare　in　the　cinema　in　Windsor；　the　marks　of　which　I　knew　I　would　bear　all　my　life。
　I　was　lucky。　The　job　I　had　been　trying　for　came　up。　It　was　through　the　usual　friend…of…a…friend；　and　it　was　on　the　Chelsea　Clarion；　a　glorified　parish　magazine　that　had　gone　in　for　small　ads　and　had　established　itself　as　a　kind　of　marketplace　for　people　looking　for　flats　and　rooms　and　servants　in　the　southwest　part　of　London。　It　had　added　some　editorial　pages　that　dealt　only　with　local　problems…　the　hideous　new　lamp　standards；　infrequent　buses　on　the　Number　11　route；　the　theft　of　milk　bottles…things　that　really　affected　the　local　housewives；　and　it　ran　a　whole　page　of　local　gossip；　mostly　〃Chelsea；〃　that　〃everybody〃　came　to　read　and　that　somehow　managed　to　dodge　libel　actions。　It　also　had　a　hard…hitting　editorial　on　Empire　Loyalist　lines　that　exactly　suited　the　politics　of　the　neighborhood；　and；　for　good　measure；　it　was　stylishly　made　up　each　week　（it　was　a　weekly）　by　a　man　called　Harling　who　was　quite　a　dab　at　getting　the　most　out　of　the　old…fashioned　type　faces　that　were　all　our　steam…age　jobbing　printers　in　Pimlico　had　in　stock。　In　fact　it　was　quite　a　good　little　paper；　and　the　staff　liked　it　so　much　they　worked　for　a　pittance　and　even　for　nothing　when　the　ads　didn't　materialize　in　times　like　August　and　over　the　holidays。　I　got　five　pounds　a　week　（we　were　non…union：　not　important　enough）；　plus　mission　on　any　ads　I　could　rustle　up。
　So　I　quietly　tucked　the　fragments　of　my　heart　somewhere　under　my　ribs　and　decided　to　get　along　without　one　for　the　future。　I　would　rely　on　brains　and　guts　and　shoe…leather　to　show　these　damned　English　snobs　that　if　I　couldn't　get　anywhere　else　with　them　I　could　at　least　make　a　living　out　of　them。　So　I　went　to　work　by　day　and　cried　by　night　and　I　became　the　most　willing　horse　on　the　paper。　I　made　tea　for　the　staff；　attended　the　funerals　and　got　the　lists　of　the　mourners　right；　wrote　spiky　paragraphs　for　the　gossip　page；　ran　the　petition　column；　and　even　checked　the　clues　of　the　crossword　before　it　went　into　type。　And；　in　between；　I　hustled　round　the　neighborhood；　charming　ads　out　of　the　most　hardbitten　shops　and　hotels　and　restaurants　and　piling　up　my　twenty…per…cents　with　the　tough　old　Scotswoman　who　kept　the　accounts。　Soon　I　was　making　good　money…twelve　to　twenty　pounds　a　week…and　the　editor　thought　he　would　economize　by　stabilizing　me　at　a　salary　of　fifteen；　so　he　installed　me　in　a　cubbyhole　next　to　him　and　I　became　his　editorial　assistant；　which　apparently　carried　with　it　the　privilege　of　sleeping　with　him。　But　at　the　first　pinch　of　my　behind　I　told　him　that　I　was　engaged　to　a　man　in　Canada；　and；　when　I　said　it；　I　looked　him　so　furiously　in　the　eye　that　he　got　the　message　and　left　me　alone。　I　liked　him；　and　from　then　on　we　got　on　fine。　He　was　an　ex…Beaverbrook　reporter　called　Len　Holbrook；　who　had　e　into　some　money　and　had　decided　to　go　into　business　for　himself。　He　was　a　Welshman　and；　like　all　of　them；　something　of　an　idealist。　He　had　decided　that　if　he　couldn't　change　the　world　he　would　at　least　make　a　start　on　Chelsea；　and　he　bought　the　broken…down　Clarion　and　started　laying　about　him。　He　had　a　tip…off　on　the　Council　and　another　in　the　local　Labour　Party　organization；　and　he　got　off　to　a　flying　start　when　he　revealed　that　a　jerry…builder　had　got　the　contract　for　a　new　block　of　Council　flats　and　that　he　wasn't　building　to　specification…not　putting　enough　steel　in　the　concrete　or　something。　The　Nationals　picked　up　the　story；　with　tongs　because　It　stank　of　libel；　and；　as　luck　would　have　it；　cracks　began　to　appear　in　the　uprights；　and　pictures　got　taken。　There　was　an　inquiry；　the　builder　lost　his　contract　and　his　license；　and　the　Clarion　put　a　red　Saint　George　and　Dragon　on　its　masthead。　There　were　other　campaigns；　like　the　ones　I　mentioned　earlier；　and　suddenly　people　were　reading　the　little　paper　and　it　put　on　more　pages　and　soon　had　a　circulation　of　around　forty　thousand　and　the　Nationals　were　regularly　stealing　its　stories　and　giving　it　an　occasional　plug　in　exchange。
　Well；　I　settled　down　in　my　new　job　as　〃Assistant　to　the　Editor；〃　and　I　was　given　more　writing　to　do　and　less　leg…work；　and　in　due　course；　after　I　had　been　there　for　a　year；　I　graduated　to　a　by…line；　and　〃Vivienne　Michel〃　became　a　public　person　and　my　salary　went　up　to　twenty　guineas。　Len　liked　the　way　I　got　on　with　things　and　wasn't　afraid　of　people；　and　he　taught　me　a　lot　about　writing…　tricks　like　hooking　the　reader　with　your　lead　paragraph；　using　short　sentences；　avoiding　〃okay〃　English；　and；　above　all；　writing　about　people。　This　he　had　learned　from　the　Express；　and　he　was　always　drumming　it　into　my　head。　For　instance；　he　had　a　phobia　about　the　11　and　22　bus　services　and　he　was　always　chasing　them。　I　began　one　of　my　many　stories　about　them；　〃Conductors　on　the　Number　11　service　plain　that　they　have　to　work　to　too　tight　a　schedule　in　the　rush…hours。〃　Len　put　his　pencil　through　it。　〃People；　people；　people！　This　is　how　it　ought　to　go：　'Frank　Donaldson；　a　wideawake　young　man　of　twenty…seven；　has　a　wife；　Gracie；　and　two　children；　Bill；　six；　and　Emily；　five。　And　he　has　a　grouse。　〃I　haven't　seen　my　kids　in　the　evening　ever　since　the　summer　holidays；〃　he　told　me　in　the　neat　little　parlor　of　number　36　Bolton　Lane。　〃When　I　get　home　they're　always　in　bed。　You　see；　I'm　a　conductor；　on　the　11　route；　and　we've　been　running　an　hour　late　regular；　ever　since　the　new　schedules　came　in。〃　'　〃　Len　stopped。　〃See　what　I　mean？　There　are　people　driving　those　buses。　They're　more　interesting　than　the　buses。　Now　you　go　out　and　find　a　Frank　Donaldson　and　make　that　story　of　yours　e　alive。〃　Cheap　stuff；　I　suppose；　corny　angles；　but　that's　journalism；　and　I　was　in　the　trade　and　I　did　what　he　told　me　and　my　copy　began　to　draw　the　letters…from　the　Donaldsons　of　the　neighborhood　and　their　wives　and　their　mates。　And　editors　seem　to　love　letters。　They　make　a　paper　look　busy　and　read。
　I　stayed　with　the　Clarion　another　two　years；　until　I　was　just　over　twenty…one；　and　by　then　I　was　getting　offers　from　the　Nationals；　from　the　Express　and　the　Mail；　and　it　seemed　to　me　it　was　time　to　get　out　of　S。W。3　and　into　the　world。　I　was　still　living　with　Susan。　She　had　got　a　job　with　the　Foreign　Office　in　something　called　〃munications；〃　about　which　she　was　very　secretive；　and　she　had　a　boy…friend　from　the　same　department；　and　I　knew　it　wouldn't　be　long　before　they　got　engaged　and　she　would　want　the　whole　flat。　My　own　private　life　was　a　vacuum…a　business　of　drifting　friendships　and　semi…flirtations　from　which　I　always　recoiled；　and　I　was　in　danger　of　being　a　hard；　if　successful；　little　career　girl；　smoking　too　many　cigarettes　and　drinking　too　many　vodkas　and　tonics　and　eating　alone　out　of　tins。　My　gods；　or　rather　goddesses　（Katharine　Whitehorne　and　Penelope　Gilliatt　were　outside　my　orbit）；　were　Drusilla　Beyfus；　Veronica　Papworth；　Jean　Campbell；　Shirley　Lord；　Barbara　Griggs；　and　Anne　Sharpley…the　top　women　journalists…and　I　only　wanted　to　be　as　good　as　any　of　them　and　nothing　else　in　the　world。
　And　then；　at　a　press　show　in　aid　of　a　Baroque　Festival　in　Munich；　I　met　Kurt　Rainer　of　the　V。W。Z。
　　
　Five：　A　Bird　With　a　Wing　Down
　
　THE　rain　was　still　crashing　down；　its　violence　unchanged。　The　eight…o'clock　news　continued　its　talk　of　havoc　and　disaster…a　multiple　crash　on　Route　9；　railway　tracks　flooded　at　Schenectady；　traffic　at　a　standstill　in　Troy；　heavy　rain　likely　to　continue　for　several　hours。　American　life　is　pletely　dislocated　by　storms　and　snow　and　hurricanes。　When　American　automobiles　can't　move；　life　es　to　a　halt；　and　when　their　famous　schedules　can't　be　met　they　panic　and　go　into　a　kind　of　paroxysm　of　frustration；　besieging　railway　stations；　jamming　the　long…distance　wires；　keeping　their　radios　permanently　switched　on　for　any　crumb　of　fort。　I　could　imagine　the　chaos　on　the　roads　and　in　the　cities；　and　I　hugged　my　cozy　solitude　to　me。
　My　drink　was　nearly　d