Free A Man Lies Dreaming by Lavie Tidhar Page B

of it, the hunger was so strong. He ate with quick strong strokes, like a swimmer – like that good Aryan boy Johnny Weissmuller, who played Tarzan in the pictures.
    When he was done he put the plate down and in seconds a waiter whisked it away. Wolf picked up his drink and took a sip. ‘You look well,’ he said.
    ‘I feel well,’ Diana said, and laughed. She touched his arm. ‘It really
is
so good to see you, Wolf. You have always been
such
an inspiration, to both of us, you know. Oswald values you highly.’
    ‘Is he here?’
    ‘He’s around. He would be delighted to see you.’
    ‘And I, him,’ Wolf said, politely.
    ‘Good!’ She clapped her hands. ‘But do let me show you around first, Wolf! It’s not often we get such distinguished company.’
    ‘You’re too kind, really.’
    Wolf found himself dragged along in her wake. Her hand on his arm was surprisingly strong. She had always liked him more than she should have, he thought. The way her sister had. Now he was her prize, for one night. She was determined to show him off, the way she did her jewels. But unlike gold, Wolf’s value had not gone up in the intervening years.
    ‘Ah, Lady Mosley. What a delightful party.’
    ‘Thank you
so
much! Wolf, this is Mr Fleming. He’s a stockbroker.’
    The man was handsome, with the bearing of a military man. ‘Call me Ian, please.’ He had a strong grip when they shook hands.
    ‘Mr Fleming almost bought our old flat from us, do you know!’ Diana said. ‘In the end we bought the whole place and did it up instead.’
    ‘A great gain for all of us,’ Fleming said, smiling. He looked at Wolf. That same look he always got. ‘You remind me of someone.’
    Wolf shook his head. ‘I get that a lot,’ he said.
    ‘You are German!’
    ‘Austrian, actually.’
    ‘I studied in Austria. Kitzbühel.’
    ‘Did you,’ Wolf said. It was not exactly a question.
    ‘I’m sure you look like someone.’
    ‘Believe me, I am no one.’
    Fleming peered at him closely. ‘Have you been in a fight?’ he said.
    ‘Really, Mr Fleming!’ Diana turned to Wolf, apologetic. ‘Mr Fleming was a journalist, you see. He was in Moscow, in fact, in ’33. At the time of the …’ she hesitated.
    ‘The Fall?’
    Wolf noticed that the Fleming fellow had lost his smile. His eyes took on a cold aspect. Wolf knew that look, too.
    Recognition.
    ‘Excuse me,’ Fleming said. He turned rather abruptly and went to join a group of City men by the half-open windows.
    ‘How rude!’ Diana said. ‘I am so sorry, Wolf.’
    ‘I take it he is not a supporter of the BU, either?’
    Diana shrugged. ‘This is a private party, not a political one.’
    ‘I see that is Lord Rothermere of the
Daily Mail
there, talking to the writer – Williamson?’
    ‘Henry Williamson, yes. Wonderful writer.
Wonderful
. Have you read
A Chronicle of Ancient Sunlight
? No, well, anyway, of course yes, both of
them
are supporters, naturally.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘Was that your point?’
    ‘I was just curious.’
    ‘Do you know,’ Diana said, whispering mischievously, ‘It is rumoured Mr Fleming is sleeping with Baron O’Neill’s wife? While not knowing meanwhile that she, at the same time, is also having an affair with Lord Rothermere’s heir?’
    ‘A busy lady.’
    ‘Busy
indeed
!’ And Diana burst into laughter. ‘Poor Fleming,’ she said. ‘But he’s young.’
    Wolf was rescued at that moment with the arrival of a young man as grey and unremarkable as his suit. Clearly, not a guest, but an employee. The man – a boy, really – whispered in Diana’s ear.
    ‘Yes, thank you, Alderman,’ she said. She turned to Wolf, apologetically. ‘Oswald is in his study, upstairs. He wishes to see you. Would you …?’ She gestured with her palm.
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Just follow Alderman. It is
so
lovely to see you, Wolf.’
    ‘You too, Lady Mosley.’
    ‘Diana,
please
!’
    Wolf took her hand and kissed it, gallantly. ‘Diana,’ he