A Diner in Liverpool: Evening
The cashier called out George and Peter's order from behind the counter as he set the red baskets of food down next to the glass pie stand. Peter looked over to Smiley who was deep in thought before he slid off of the bar stool he was sitting on and grabbed their meals. George quietly thanked him as he set it down on the bar top beside him. The man was still staring out the window, no doubt pulling apart everything that Westerby had told them; trying to calculate his next move.
Peter apprehensively approached the open doorway of Westerby's office. The rustling of papers and office supplies could be heard from inside the room and Peter knew that Jerry had already begun to pack up his desk. He had been told just that morning that the man was leaving the Circus. It had been so abrupt he thought he must have been fired by Alleline.
"Oh, hello Peter," he said, offering him a smile. This didn't stop him from packing. Peter watched as he stuffed a cardboard box used for transporting fruit full of books and manila envelopes.
"Jerry, did they fire you?" He asked, remembering what happened to Connie Sachs a little less than a month ago. As he heard it, one day she was told to pack up her things and leave. This had been only two weeks since Smiley and Control had been pushed out. He knew that there was a battle of loyalties going on since the new regime change; he just wasn't sure how bad it was going to get.
Westerby briefly glanced up at him as he smoothed a piece of masking tape over the lid of the cardboard box he had in front of him. "No, I'm not sacked," he said, cracking a slight smile. "Not exactly, early retirement is all." He knew what everyone must be thinking, and in a certain light it was true, still he was too drained to care. The past few months, dealing with the inquiries on Control, were too much for him.
"Any reason why?" Peter asked; still not entirely convinced this was the whole truth.
Jerry's lips thinned in consideration then, his brow slightly knit. "You know, my wife's remodeling the house, I barely even lived in the old model in the first place. All the kids have grown up and moved out, my oldest daughter's getting married soon… so, I don't know really," he said with a tired shrug, "I suppose I just don't want to miss anymore of that. Or, perhaps I'm just tired."
Peter nodded; what Westerby told him was a common story for those who worked at the Circus. Most of the agents however never decided to call it quits, letting their outside lives pass by them without a second thought. What was important to them was the job. "Understandable. Well, we'll all miss you," he said sincerely.
"Thanks," he replied, leaning on the now cleared desk. "You all are going to have to find someone else who'll stay up all night on the ticker tape for you."
Peter nodded, "Right then, I'll see you around."
Pushing his food around his plate, Peter mulled over what Westerby had said about the night Jim Prideaux was blown. Smiley was the first person he called but he was still in Berlin, wrapping things up with a contact. Then Jerry called Bill who was at his club; him being the first one to come into the Circus. Peter stilled his movements. Something was not quite right with this timeline of events.
"Bill Haydon said that he got the message at his club," he voiced his thoughts aloud. "That was 3:00am. The tickertape wouldn't have been running at that time…" Peter then visibly jumped forwards in his seat as if he got smacked in the back of the head. "Oh my God- oh my God-"
"Peter," Smiley interrupted him, seeing where he was trying to take this hasty conclusion. "Peter, it's not what you think," he sighed heavily, looking down into his food. This was embarrassing for him. He knew that the truth had to come out sometime, still that didn't stop him from trying to avoid it for as long as possible.
"Why, what do you mean?" Peter asked, only half deflated from his previous moment of exhilaration.
"Because, Bill was at my house that night," he said, then turning his head to gauge Peter's reaction. The younger man's brow was knit in confusion, not fully understanding how Smiley knew this information.
"Whatever for?" He asked then, unable to work this problem out in his mind.
"Ann," George sighed. He felt his body grow stiff, but he continued speaking. "Bill was her lover. They were having an affair while I was in Berlin," he explained calmly.
Peter stared down into his plate of French fries for a moment as he registered what Smiley had just told him. "God… I'm sorry," he said, unsure of what else to say.
"Thank you," George half sighed, folding his hands together and placing his elbows atop the bar counter in front of him. His gaze was trained somewhere far off as he said this.
"Is that why she left?" He asked, knowing it wasn't the first time Ann had done so.
"That was partly the reason," he answered, a brief image of Ann's empty side of the closet and cleaned out dresser coming to mind. A moment of silence passed between the two of them before Smiley said, "When I asked her why she was going, she told me it was because I was too detached from the world… that that had always been my problem." This was the same thing she had told him the last time she left; he remembered her actual words being that he was dispassionate… at least when it was concerning her.
Peter slowly lowered his fork to his plate as he took in what George had just told him. He diverted his gaze out the window then, his eyes trained on the green pharmaceutical sign across the street as it sporadically shorted on and off. Now he was certain he didn't know what to say. He immediately remembered back to the other night when they talked about Sylvia. Such moments of pure honesty were rare between them and he never knew what to do when they surfaced. He wondered if Sylvia would be any better in responding to them than he was.
"So we're back to square one then," Peter said finally. "Don't you think it's strange that Westerby was told that Jim Prideaux is dead?"
"Indeed," Smiley agreed, having already thought this out. "That's why we need to find Jim Prideax."
George slowly wandered around the small bedroom, glumly taking note of everything that Ann had taken with her. Nearly everything in her closet was gone, the hangers stripped bare, along with all her shoes and jewelry. He knew just by looking around their room that she was not intending to come back this time.
Reaching out a weary hand, he pushed the open dresser drawer closed with the tips of his fingers. It slid easily into place, not having the usual load of clothes in it to weigh it down. Slipping out of his shoes, George sat down on the unmade bed. He had been down this road before, but after nearly twenty five years of marriage he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to sleeping alone.
Everyone else outside the Circus seemed to walk in a different world; one without fear or suspicion of betrayal. They knew very little about the dangers that loomed over them. That was how the Circus wanted it. Ann never fully understood the nature of his job; nor did she want to.
Setting his alarm for the morning, George headed to the bathroom to get a glass of water. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long while, his body unmoving and his expression blank, before turning out the light and heading for bed.
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