War Damage Read Online Free Page A

Freddie’s sort of thing,’ said Regine, and to Alan: ‘You could do a wonderful programme on Diaghilev.’
    â€˜That’s a good idea.’ Noel pricked up his ears. His art gallery specialised in modern and contemporary art, but everything to do with the arts fascinated him.
    â€˜Is it?’ said Alan.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Noel. ‘Go on. I’ll join you in a minute.’ He turned back to Neville, with whom he was discussing a forthcoming auction.
    â€˜Ian Roxburgh will probably be along later,’ said Neville. ‘Did you meet him here before? I’d like to know what you think of him. He’s been in the Far East, knows a lot about China. Seems to think he could get hold of some vases for me …’
    Noel raised his eyebrows.
    â€˜Freddie brought him along originally,’ said Regine. ‘Earlier this year.’ She tried to remember exactly when it had been. These days the two seemed thick as thieves. Of course she wasn’t jealous, that would have been absurd, but … she wasn’t crazy about Ian Roxburgh.
    Phil came into the library with his drinks tray. ‘Cynthia’s here,’ he murmured to Regine, raised his eyebrows and jerked his head in the direction of the garden.
    Regine found Cynthia in a cluster of people, including the Jordans. At her side, shorter than she, stood a sleek, besuited figure.
    So Cynthia had finally brought him. Together in public … that must mean … was it going to be official? Was he actually going to …?
    She approached them, Cynthia made the introductions and Regine shook hands with Ernie Appleton, as though it were the most usual thing in the world to find a government minister standing on her lawn. Cynthia said: ‘We’ve just dropped in for a moment, we can’t stay long.’
    But Muriel Jordan began to talk about the Berlin airlift, transparently trying to draw the politician out. He merely smiled enigmatically as she gave him the benefit of her views on the current crisis, but when she moved seamlessly on to the rumours about the Board of Trade Cynthia and her companion moved indoors, and Muriel turned to Regine. ‘How extraordinary! You don’t mean to tell me—’
    Regine looked blankly at the older woman. ‘Cynthia works at the Board of Trade too, you know,’ she said repressively. ‘But what were you saying about the Berlin airlift, Muriel?’
    Ignoring the question, Muriel contorted her face into a knowing grimace, literally eagle-eyed. ‘Oh, really !’ she said with laboured theatrical sarcasm. ‘Is that what it’s called! As if he isn’t in enough trouble already.’
    Regine had no idea what the last comment meant. ‘How long do you think the Berlin airlift can go on?’ she persisted rather desperately, longing to be talking to Cynthia. She hated Muriel’s endless tedious complaints about everything and her manner of casting blame on all and sundry – and all the time she pretended to be so holy.
    In any case, being against the bad news that surged across the papers every day was about as much good as railing against bad weather. The atom bomb was terrifying, but Regine hadn’t spent nearly two years in Shanghai for nothing. She knew that with war raging nearby, it was perfectly possible for life to continue in a normal, indeed thrilling way and that if you were dancing on the edge of a volcano it was better not to look down into its fiery heart. ‘No one will want to go to war over Berlin,’ she said. ‘Things are bound to get better soon.’
    â€˜You’re unbelievably frivolous, Reggie. Talk about après moi le déluge !’
    Happily Cynthia and her escort re-emerged, accompanied now by Freddie. Regine wondered what on earth Cynthia saw in this paunchy, balding politician. And yet the very fact he was a member of the government lent him an aura … of sorts. ‘We must be off,