Our Kind of Traitor by John le Carré Read Free Book Online Page A

with her bulging basket, came walking down the sand slope to where Perry and Gail had made their camp, bearing their crocodile and bouncy ball.
    ‘ Walking again,’ Gail overemphasizes for Yvonne’s benefit. ‘Not hopping, skipping or yelling. Walking , and looking as tight-lipped and bug-eyed as they had at the tennis court. Irina with her thumb in her mouth and a big scowl, Katya’s voice about as friendly as a speaking clock: “Will you swim with us, please, Miss Gail?” So I said – hoping to loosen things up a bit, I suppose – “Miss Katya, Mr Perry and I will be most honoured to swim with you.” So we swam. Didn’t we?’ – to Perry, who having nodded his assent, again insisted on putting his hand on hers, either in a gesture of support or to steady her down, she wasn’t sure which, but the result either way was the same; she was forced to close her eyes and wait several seconds before she was ready to resume, which she did in another gush.
    ‘It was a total set-up. We knew it was a set-up. The children knew it was a set-up. But if ever two girls needed a splash-about with a crocodile and a bouncing ball, these two did, right, Perry?’
    ‘Absolutely,’ says Perry enthusiastically.
    ‘So Irina battened on to my hand and practically frogmarched me into the water. Katya and Perry came after us with the crocodile. And all the time I was thinking: where on earth are their parents and why are we doing this instead of them? I didn’t ask Katya outright. I suppose I had some sort of premonition it might be a bad question. A divorce situation, something like that. So I asked her who the nice gentleman in the hat was, the one sitting on the ladder? Uncle Vanya, says Katya. Great, I say, who’s Uncle Vanya? Answer, just an uncle. From Perm? Yes, from Perm. No further explanation offered. Like: we don’t go to school in Rome any more. Have I foot-faulted yet, Perry?’
    ‘Not at all.’
    ‘Then I’ll continue.’
    *
    For a while, the sun and sea do their job, she goes on: ‘The girls splash and leap around and Perry is a complete riot as mighty Poseidon rising from the deep and making his sea-monster noises – no, honestly, you were , Perry, you were marvellous , admit it.’
    Exhausted, they stagger ashore, the girls to be dried, dressed and sun-creamed by Elspeth.
    ‘But within literally seconds they’re back, squatting on the edge of my towel. And one look at their faces tells me the gloomy shadows are still there, they’ve just been hiding. Right, I think: ice creams and fizzies. Perry, this is man’s work, I tell him, do your duty. Right, Perry?’
    Fizzies? she repeats to herself. Why am I sounding like my bloody mother again? Because I’m another failed actress with a six-acre voice that gets louder the longer I speak.
    ‘Right,’ Perry agrees belatedly.
    ‘And off he strides to get them, don’t you? Caramel-and-nut cones for everybody, pineapple juice for the girls. But when Perry comes to sign for them, the barman tells him everything is paid for. Who by?’ – she gallops on with the same false gaiety – ‘By Vanya! By the ever-so-kind fat uncle in the tam-o’-shanter stuck up on the ladder. But Perry , being Perry, you can’t be doing with this, can you?’
    Awkward shake of the elongated head to say he’s out of earshot on the cliff face, but has got the message.
    ‘He’s pathologically uncomfortable freeloading on someone else’s tab, aren’t you? And this is someone you don’t even know . So up the ladder Perry goes to tell Uncle Vanya, very kind of him and all that, but he prefers to pay his own way.’
    She dries. With none of her desperate levity, Perry takes up the story for her:
    ‘I went up the ladder where Vanya was sitting on his rubber ring. I ducked under the sunshade to say my piece and found myself staring at a very large black pistol butt sticking out from under hisgut. He’d unbuttoned his buckskin waistcoat in the heat, and there it was, bright as day. I