On New Year’s Eve, Beaverbrook unexpectedly called me to extend his good wishes, and yesterday Agniya and I went to his place for lunch. There were only three of us, so the conversation was quite frank.

[Beaverbrook’s attitude was an exception. Maisky had become a pariah in London. He found most doors bolted, while his invitations were politely turned down. Formerly a frequent visitor, Harold Nicolson steered clear of the embassy: ‘Spending the Christmas holidays here and trying to get through a little work.’ Samuel Hoare excused himself, explaining that, since the outbreak of war, the Cabinet was sitting so late that he ‘reluctantly had to adopt the practice of not lunching out at all’, while Cadogan was ‘engaged for lunch on Thursday. As regards Friday – having been on duty here all through the Christmas “holiday”, I had arranged to go away on that day for 10 days or so.’

RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1495 l.4 d.1657 l.10 & d.1363 l.3, 5 and 8 Jan. 1940.

Bilainkin, the journalist for whom the doors of the embassy were always open, noted in his diary ‘the deep lines’ under Maisky’s eyes ‘when the clamour rose’ for a declaration of war against the Soviet Union: ‘As I walked away, along the icy cold and ice-covered “Millionaires’ Row”, I thought of its principal tenant, who had so eagerly striven for success in his mission, had nearly won it in the middle of last year, and then watched triumph being taken from his grasp.’

Bilainkin, Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent, 7 Feb. 1940, pp. 9, 21.