Free Letters for a Spy by Stephen Benatar

of his son!”
    Again we were silent.
    “And what makes matters even worse,” said Mr Gwatkin presently, “William had recently become engaged. The last time I saw him—would you believe it?—I had just drawn up a marriage settlement.”
    I nodded in sympathy but said nothing.
    “And if we’re talking about irony,” he added, “it doesn’t even stop there .” He leant towards me, confidentially. “William had finally got around to making out his will! How’s that for a nice, neat, tidying-up sort of touch? Special timing or what?”
    “Well, it just seems so … so monstrously unfair,” I answered. Lamely.
    And I shook my head in expected disbelief—although in fact I already knew about the will. Presumably William had seen to it because he had so recently become engaged. I didn’t argue the point but I actually thought the timing of the will was less ironic than that of the engagement.
    Because I remembered the letter:
    “Dear Sir,
    “ Re your affairs
    “We thank you for your letter of yesterday’s date returning the draft of your will approved. We will insert the legacy of £50 to your batman and our Mr Gwatkin will bring the fair copy with him when he meets you at lunch on the 21 st inst. so that you can sign it there.
    “The inspector of taxes has asked us for particulars of your service pay and allowances during 1941/2 before he will finally agree to the amount of reliefs due to you for that year. We cannot find that we have ever had these particulars and shall, therefore, be grateful if you will let us have them.
    “Yours faithfully,
    McKENNA & Co.”
    “Yes, you’re right,” said Mr Gwatkins. “Monstrously unfair! And shall I tell you something still more unfair? The Inland Revenue! Quibbling to the last over what’s deductible! It hardly matters whether people have just become engaged or made out wills or are off to sacrifice their lives for King and country … just so long as, first , they’ve shown their hearts to be truly in the right place—by way of filing their income tax returns! Now, doesn’t that make you meditate for a while on some of life’s priorities?”
    Gracious! Was this the man I had started out by thinking timid? From reticence to rhetoric, from shyness to superfluity! He was like someone called upon to give an after-dinner speech, suffering initially from nerves but growing garrulous as he became emboldened. I might like and respect him all the more for this abrupt outpouring of humanity; yet even so … quite suddenly I’d had enough.
    It was time for me to go.
    And he must have sensed my discomfiture. Greek tragedy reverted to something a little more sedate—possibly something set in a drawing room, a drawing room with French windows. The Importance of Being Earnest ? Mr Gwatkin took a single sheet of notepaper from one of his desk drawers and offered me a fountain pen. I preferred to use my own. He then provided a file for me to rest my paper on; and whilst I considered what to write he made out a receipt. (I had wanted to include the cost of postage but he was adamant in not allowing this.)
    I finally wrote:
    “Dear Mr Martin, we’ve never met but I wanted to say how sorry I was to hear about William. If there’s to be a memorial service may I ask you to buy some flowers with the enclosed or—if not—to forward the money to a favourite charity? Both you and William are greatly in my thoughts.”
    There seemed no point in saying more. I simply signed it, folded the sheet over—having visibly inserted the three ten-shilling notes—and watched Mr Gwatkin place the paper in an envelope. He licked the flap; then sealed it with the red wax.
    Obviously he would already have sent his own condolences. Therefore, with any luck, it could be some time before he again needed to get in touch with Mr Martin. If such were the case, would it be possible—even probable—that whenever the two of them next got into contact they might have forgotten about myself? Dear God.