“We’re glad you could make it, Maggie,” Chuck said as she hugged her friend.
“Of course!” Maggie said, a little too brightly, handing Chuck a gift wrapped in gilt paper. “Congratulations on Griffin’s baptism. Where’s the darling boy?”
“The little bunny’s napping right now.” Chuck led Maggie inside. “Poor thing’s completely knackered from his big day. May I get you something? Tea?” Around the table were John, David, Freddie, and Ernst, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Greene. The men rose at her arrival.
“How lovely to see you all again,” Maggie said stiffly. She spotted an open champagne bottle. “Fizz?”
“Coming right up, darling!” Nigel said.
“Sit down, darling,” Chuck said. Maggie obeyed, sitting next to Ernst at the linen-swathed table, across from David and Freddie.
John had a blank look on his face, hard and cold, the kind of look Maggie imagined he’d had as he flew into battle.
“We were just talking about Ernst’s next move,” David said, realizing Maggie’s discomfort and trying to smooth things over. “Since he’s a doctor, a surgeon at that, he’s volunteered for active medic duty. He’ll be working on the front lines.”
“Ernst, you’re a Jew, yes?” Mr. Greene asked.
“Yes, sir,” Ernst answered. “And if not for Elise and Maggie, I’d be in a concentration camp by now. Or worse. And, because of your son, and his connections with Number Ten, I’ll be able to use my skills to help save British soldiers.”
“David,” Mr. Greene said, “is that true? Did you arrange that?”
“I see no reason why Ernst should be stuck in an internment camp. So I put in a word with the P.M.”
The Greenes exchanged a significant look. “You’ve saved a Jew,” his father said.
His mother put a hand over her heart. “It’s a mitzvah.”
“That’s wonderful, Ernst,” Maggie said, accepting the glass of champagne Nigel offered.
“You must have left family behind in Berlin?” Mr. Greene said.
“Benjamin,” Mrs. Greene warned. “He might not want to talk about it.”
“I did,” Ernst replied. “My beautiful and brave wife, Frieda.”
“Frieda?” Mrs. Greene’s forehead creased. “Surely that’s not a Jewish name?”
“No,” Ernst said. “Frieda is Lutheran. And blond and blue-eyed at that. Which is why I think—I pray—she will be safe. David even arranged for her to know that I’m safe.”
“Well,” Mrs. Greene said, giving her husband a significant look, “it’s a brave new world, isn’t it?”
David grinned. “And John’s coming back to Number Ten, right, old boy?”
“My plans are … uncertain.” He refused to meet Maggie’s eyes. “But yes, at least for the present, I’ll be back working at Number Ten.”
David broke the awkward silence. “And what are you doing, Mags? Can you tell us?”
“I’m going to Scotland. Really and truly,” Maggie answered, draining the rest of her glass. “Taking a bit of a working sabbatical.”
“Well, you’ve earned it, certainly.” Chuck reached over to squeeze her hand.
“Please,” Maggie said, desperate to change the subject, “open Griffin’s gift.”
The gold paper fell away to reveal a tiny blue hat and scarf. “Oh, how lovely!” Chuck exclaimed. “Did you knit it yourself?”
Maggie nodded.
David leaned over to take a look. “A few off stitches there, Mags. Not that I could do better, of course.”
“Not off stitches, David—it’s code, actually. Morse code.”
“Ooooh!” Chuck said. “How fantastic! What does it say?”
“Well,” Maggie said, “on the hat is Griffin Nigel Ludlow, first of September 1941. And, on the scarf—where I had a bit more room—is a Christina Rossetti poem.” Maggie recited. “Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by.”
Chuck nodded, pleased. “You may become a believer yet!”
“Maybe.” Maggie gave a rueful smile. “I am, perhaps, more like our Prime Minister—who says that while he’s not a pillar of the Church, he is a flying buttress.”
Nigel cleared his throat. “Today, we celebrate young Griffin’s joining the Catholic faith. But let us also celebrate the fact that we’re together—Christian, Jew, and agnostic. British and German.”