Life's hidden surprises.

                                      Life’s hidden surprises

It was a rainy, gray day with dark ominous clouds hanging over Saint Pauls. At noon my mother’s burial service was scheduled to begin. For the last two hours my father and his four children had stood in line at the entrance of the great cathedral greeting numerous mourners shaking hands and speaking words of condolences. Some had come early to ensure front places and spend a quiet moment in prayer. I was, at the time, nineteen and in the process of preparing for my entrance requirement to study at Cambridge. I had two older brothers and a younger sister. 

It was an extremely well attended funeral. My mother had worked for many years in the upper echelon of British intelligence. My father was a senior administrator in the British government. The mourners filing in were mostly men that lived in the shadows of public life, some were accompanied by their wife’s. We saw the Prime minister's office  represented by three members of the cabinet.There were about fifteen mourners that represented my mothers German family. I noticed my father stood erect, showing no emotion and extending his hand in what appeared to be a ratter mechanic way. Although I had a feeling he loved my mother,  maybe it was that he greatly admired her; his lack of being able to show his emotions was renowned. Standing there gave me the time to reflect on my mother’s life.

She was born in Germany in 1902 under the name of Indrid, she had an older brother. Their father owned a large steel plant in the North of Germany. The family lived in a large, well appointed house in the town the steel mill was located. Their bourgeois life was shattered when in 1914 the German government declared war on Russia but at the same time invaded France. Although Indrid's father favored the prevailing political views he did not want his children involved in any possibility of a conflict. A year prior to the country’s declaration of war he had sensed trouble was in the air so he sent his two children, Ingrid and her older brother, who at that time was sixteen, off to England to stay with a cousin. Their cousin had no children and was delighted to look after them and find a suitable school to continue their education. Her father thought it would be only a temporary period and his children would soon return to the homeland. But the turbulence of the 14-18 years of war completely decimated his family.Their father and mother lost their lives in a bombing raid and my brother, once the war started, headed back to Germany to sign up. He was killed on the Western front. 

Ingrid remained in England and was violently opposed to Germany's political stance; she even attended a few anti-German raillies. Her cousin advised her to change her name. She did, and became Emma Kinkston (previously known as Indrid Karl). In 1921 she entered Cambridge University to study law. A year later she met my father, an older student in his last year. Their relationship blossomed with a strong desire to marry. But my parents insisted he first obtained his diploma and found a job before they married. In the meantime our family, a few German relatives, and friends celebrated their engagement. 

My father left Cambridge with honors and accepted a job as junior under secretary for the British government. Two years later my mother also graduated with honors. They were married that year. My father's parents had died three years previously and he, being the only child, inherited his parents' large house in Regents park terrace. Mother accepted an offer from a prestigious west end law firm. Married life started in comfort and luxury with a full time maid. Within four years two sons had been born. A full time nanny was added to the household. My father was extremely intellectual and took himself very seriously, not prone to socializing, theater going or dancing which I know would have pleased my mother. He seemed to spend most of waking hours on government business. I understand in the initial years of their marriage this devotion to work did not greatly disturbed my mother as she was busy making a name for herself in the law firm she joined. By his work ethic and intelligence my father soon rose through the ranks to become a very senior government official. In the mid 1930’s the British government started to worry about the political movements in Germany and mandated British intelligence to employ top people with a knowledge and understanding of that country. My father thought his wife, Emma, would be interested as she sometimes complained she had lost all touch with her mother country. She was intrigued and a year later was appointed the assistant to Germany’s section head in British Intelligence. This enabled her to travel a few times to Germany and observe the country first hand. She was deeply disturbed by what she saw. 

Then Britain's world was turned upside down with the declaration of war with Germany. My mother's job was thrust into the spotlight and she was appointed to the war committee at British Intelligence. From all accounts her foresight and dedication to the job will never be forgotten. People were coming to her funeral in respect for her services to the war effort. It was during this period she had a third child (me) which delighted my father but slightly surprised him as it was rumored they only occasionally made love. During these war years both parents, my brothers told me, seemed always exhausted and too occupied with their heavy responsibilities.

The line was thinning as the service was about to begin. Among the last mounersI I saw a tall elegant man with slightly graying hair dressed to perfection in a dark suit and white shirt. As he approached my father and extended his hand the stranger said a few words.

 “My sorrow for you and your family runs deep. You don’t know me, I am George Harrison. During the war I worked with your wife.I was a CIA  agent. She was a woman of exceptional talents. The day after tomorrow I am having a small gathering for her most intimate friends at the Dorchester. I request your presence with your family at 7.00. Please come. I saw my father carefully examine the man before agreeing. 

The service was a somber and beautiful moment with a few very touching eulogies. Only the immediate family went to the graveyard for the final goodbye. 

As we sped in a chauffeur driven car to the 7.00 gathering my father explained to my sister and I that our host Mr Harrison was an extremely rich man. He also confirmed that during a good part of the war he represented the CIA in London. My older brothers and their wives would meet us there. It was a relatively small gathering of intimate friends of my mothers that had worked with her during the war years. I was fascinated as I had heard many stories about that period from my brothers. Here I was putting faces to names that had circulated in our family. At that time I was only a baby and had the impression the nanny was my mother as we seldom saw my mother. In talking to people I was touched by the admiration and respect they had for her. I could see my father had also been touched by the phrases circulating about his wife. Mr Harrison was a charming host and was most attentive to making sure he spoke to all his guests. He seemed particularly interested in talking to me. We spent about five minutes together. In that time he told me he was extremely friendly with my mother and knew many sides of her character. I was very interested as most of my life she had remained a showery figure. He was about to plunge into a longer conversation but stopped as I assumed this was not the time as he had several other guests to talk to. He left me with an invitation to have lunch with him the next day at the hotel. 

There I was sitting opposite Mr. Harrison not knowing quite what to say. He was a good looking man with a kind, well structured and refined face. His whole comportment clearly showed he was used to being in a commanding position. 

He started the conversation. 

“I asked you to lunch principally to talk about your mother. During the war we worked very closely together. Against all my principles and also, no doubt, the state of living in constant fear of death due to the war. We were assigned several dangerous missions. I fell deeply in love with your mother. She initially had a period of hesitation before she fell into my arms. When she finally did I knew she had fallen passionately in love with me. We were reckless in our love making as we knew we had limited time in each other's arms, only the occasional weekends away from the intense pressure from our work. We clearly understood this relationship could not last once the war was over. We were both married with children. Our short time together represented a period of peace and beauty. It took away all the horror of killings that perpetrated our daily lives. Then came the unforgivable mistake. It confirmed our love for each other, but would have dramatic consequences. Your mother was pregnant. On the night of this declaration we drank a whole bottle of champagne. In the early hours of the morning after an intense night of love making we decided on the following. Your mother would take the child into her family. Her husband would, no doubt, be happy but a bit surprised as they had irregular sexual activity. I agreed to absolute secrecy until her husband died. Your mother was very concerned about protecting your father. She assured me he was a gentle and kind man that lived for his work. She found him an easy man to live with.  

I would set up an American trust fund for the child under the control of my lawyer. At the age of twenty-five the child would be entitled to all the assets of this fund. 

Four months later peace was declared. We had one night to say goodbye. When we took our last meal together the desert was filled with tears and sadness. I truly loved your mother, she was a remarkable woman. I sit before you as your biological father. 

I was speechless. It took me several seconds to recover my thoughts. “Are you sure ?

“I am 99% certain. But take my handkerchief and spit into it. I will anonymously send you the results of our DNAs. I know this must come as a shock to you, but please I beg you to keep it a secret until the death of your father. 

You have my word, but would you like me to sign something. 

Yes. I think it might be more prudent. I will ask for a sheet of paper. I signed.

We left the luncheon with a brief hug. On parting he said after your father’s death I pray we will see each other.

I went home thinking that the luncheon seemed to be a scene out of some novel. The secret would be hard to keep. 

A few days after my twenty five birthday I received a letter from a New York lawyer informing me my trust funds were entirely at my disposal. (At the date of this letter they represented several millions dollars) Please contact us.

I had just started my first job in a bank and for the next couple of days was completely dis-originated by the letter. My father was still alive, the secret must be guarded. Two years later my father died. His funeral reminded me of my mothers. He had been distant but kind and thoughtful to his children. We were all going to miss him. The day after I gathered my two brothers and their wifes and my younger sister, like me not yet married, into the family living room. 

“Thank you all for coming early. It will be an important day as our father’s lawyer will be here in an hour to discuss our father’s last will and testament. Before he arrives I have something to say. You may remember we all met a Mr. Harrison the American that worked with our mother. He was present at mother’s funeral. During the war our mother had a secret love affair with him, the result being he is my biological father.  He told me at a luncheon I had with him after her funeral just before he left for America.”

I heard several gasps. 

He told me that when the war ended he never again had any contact with her. He only heard news about our family through his old CIA friends.The evening they said goodbye they agreed to two important considerations.  

One,complete secrecy. My birth certificate would state our father’s name.The truth would only be told after our father’s death.

Two, Mr Harisson would set up a trust fund for me that I would inherit at the age of twenty- five. On my twenty-fifth birthday I was notified by his lawyer that the assets of this trust were at my disposal. As of today I have not touched this money. It represents several millions of dollars.”

There was complete silence in the room. All I saw were several mouths open.

David Nutt                                                                 September 2024