Unofficial and Deniable. John Davis Gordon

to Harvest House; and he found it a turn-on to watch her sweating on the machine. He bought himself a mountain bike like Josephine’s and on weekends they rode in Central Park and around Manhattan Island, sometimes across the Hudson River into New Jersey. In the fall they took a week off work and rode into upstate New York to see the riotously beautiful autumn colours. They rode almost five hundred miles in seven days and when they returned to Manhattan they were so glowing with health they did not want to stop.

      ‘Then let’s not. Let’s say to hell with work and just keep going all the way to Florida …’

      That night, lying in the hot whirlpool bath in Madam Velvet’s dungeon, sipping cold wine, she said, ‘Know what I want to do one day? Have a farm. Maybe only twenty acres, but in beautiful country like where we’ve just been, with a tumbling stream and some forest and pastures for grazing a few horses and a cow or two, and a big pond for ducks and geese who’ll all have names, and a few chickens to give us eggs. And the horses will be mares so we can breed good foals, and we’ll have a tractor so we can grow alfalfa for them. And we’ll exhibit our animals at the livestock fairs and win prizes.’ She smiled. ‘I love New York, it’s so stimulating, but really I’m a country girl.’ She added, ‘Our house won’t be very big, more like a cottage really, because I don’t like housekeeping, but it’ll be very pretty. And my study will be upstairs, so I have a view of the pastures and the pond while I write.’

      It was a pretty thought. ‘Well,’ Harker said, ‘we can achieve all that, but what about my work?’

      ‘Well,’ Josephine said reasonably, ‘you’ll be able to do a great deal of your publishing work at home, of course, but our country place will be close enough to Manhattan for you to be able to drive down once or twice a week so you can keep your finger on Harvest’s pulse – that’ll be no sweat, particularly if you have a chauffeur. Daddy’s got two, neither of them have enough to do and he’s promised me the use of one of them if I move closer to him upstate.’

      In the late autumn Josephine decided it was time to take Harker up to Massachusetts to meet her father. The country was beautiful. The gates to the Valentine property loomed up majestically against green pastures, a winding avenue of old oaks led up to an imposing mansion, the walls covered in ivy. Harker switched off the engine outside the ornate front door.

      Josephine said, ‘Just be your ever-charming self. You’ve been in tighter corners than this.’

      Harker expected the big front door to burst open, the old man to come beaming out. But no: the door was locked. It was a butler who opened it.

      The library was the size of a badminton court, the walls lined with laden bookshelves, the big room divided by more bookcases; a mezzanine floor was above, equally lined and laden. Denys Valentine, about sixty years old, tallish, thick-set, grey-haired, handsome, stood in front of his big marble fireplace, before the crescent of leather armchairs, whisky glass in hand, and said with a self-conscious smile, ‘Josephine’s told me a bit about you, of course, on the telephone. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘A great pleasure.’

      Harker had been invited to sit down but he preferred to remain standing because his host was doing that. He knew he was being assessed and he felt on his mettle. ‘Equally, Denys,’ he said with a smile, and waited.

      Denys Valentine cleared his throat, then said resolutely, ‘Josephine has indicated to me that you and she are … more or less living together.’ He cleared his throat again.

      Harker resented this: he and Josie were mature people, for Chrissakes.

      ‘That’s true. But she continues to maintain her own apartment, where she works every day. We only see each other in the evenings.’

      Denys Valentine said, with another thin smile, ‘And in the mornings.’

      Harker looked at him, also with a thin smile. ‘That’s true, yes.’ He added: ‘And I’m confident I speak for Josephine when I say we are very happy.’

      Valentine turned a steely eye on Harker. ‘But I am not happy. If you’ll forgive me for saying so.’ He paused. Then: ‘I don’t think any father likes his daughter living in sin.’

      Harker had to conceal his smile. ‘Sin?’ He shook his head politely. ‘I don’t believe that’s how it is, Denys. To be happy, to be in love, can hardly be a sin.’

      Denys Valentine looked at him. ‘Out of wedlock it is a mortal sin, I’m afraid, the scriptures are clear. “Cursed are the fornicators.” Quote, unquote.’

      Harker had to stop himself smiling. What do you say to that? So he nodded politely.

      ‘Well, Jack?’

      ‘Well what, Denys?’

      ‘What are you going to do about it?’ Valentine paused, then went on, ‘To me it is clear. You must either desist or you must marry. Immediately.’

      Harker looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. ‘And which of those two options would you prefer to see happen?’

      Valentine shifted, then turned to the liquor cabinet. ‘How’s your glass?’

      ‘Fine at the moment.’

      ‘Please help yourself when you’re ready.’ He poured whisky for himself and said: ‘I want what’s best for Josephine. Clearly it is not good for her – for her immortal soul – to be living in sin. But alas that doesn’t mean that getting married is necessarily good for her either.’ He turned back to Harker. ‘I must be frank and tell you that I have great difficulty in reconciling myself to your previous career, Jack.’

      Harker frowned. ‘You mean you don’t like the fact that I was in the South African military?’

      ‘But more that that,’ Valentine said, ‘I am a pacifist. When I was drafted into the army during the Korean War I was a conscientious objector at heart. I don’t believe in taking human life – that’s my Catholic belief, my family’s belief. The only reason I didn’t appeal against being drafted was because my law degree and a few of my father’s friends in politics guaranteed me a non-combatant role in the Judge Advocate’s department, doing court-martials.’

      Harker smiled politely. ‘Josephine has never indicated that she’s a pacifist.’

      Valentine said resolutely, ‘The only circumstance that justifies the taking of human life is to protect the lives of those whom one has a legal and moral duty to defend – like your children. However …’ He smiled thinly. ‘You’re completely finished with the army now, thank the Lord – Josie tells me you don’t miss it at all. However,’ Valentine said, ‘there remains the matter of whose army you were in – namely the South African.’ He glanced at Harker. ‘I have great difficulty with this. Josephine has tried to explain that you were fighting communism, and evidently she has accepted your … she has adjusted to the anomalous situation. But so far I regret I am unable to do so.’ He cleared his throat. ‘All my family are dedicated to democracy. To me it is incomprehensible that an honourable soldier can fight on the side of South Africa’s apartheid regime.’ He looked at Harker and spread his hands. ‘I’m sorry if I offend.’

      Harker said quietly: ‘Would you rather your honourable soldier fought on the side of Godless communism which does not permit any form of democracy?’

      Denys Valentine gave him a wisp of a smile. ‘Two tyrants fighting each other makes neither right. But since you ask, I am sure that the life of the average worker, the man-on-the-street in Russia, is more just and congenial by far than that of the average black man in South Africa.’

      Harker said grimly, ‘I do not defend South Africa’s apartheid, Denys. However, I assure you that it is much better by far than the destructive, chaotic poverty and bloody tyranny that communism and the Gold War have forced on the rest of Africa. And I assure you that the only political power capable – or willing – to take on communism in Africa these days is South Africa, I assure you that it is highly advisable to allow South Africa to defeat the communist tyrant before apartheid