“Of course,” he said.
Freddie appeared in the doorway and leaned on the frame. “Does it live?”
Maggie tried to smile. “It does,” she replied hoarsely. “I assume I have you two gentlemen to thank for getting me back here in one piece? Thank you.”
Freddie blew a kiss and walked on.
“I must admit, Mags, you gave us quite a scare there,” David told her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that drunk. To be candid, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you squiffy.”
“I know, I know …”
“Well, you won’t get a lecture from me, although, in future, I do advise lining your stomach first and then alternating your drinks with glasses of water.” They listened to the faint noises of Freddie rattling dishes in the kitchen. Finally, David said: “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“What happened? John? Hugh? Your mother? Berlin? Your AWOL father? Schrödinger’s cat? Any of it?” He smiled. “Pick one—dealer’s choice.”
Maggie sank back down into the pillows and pulled the sheet over her head. “No,” she moaned. “I don’t want to talk. I never want to talk.”
“When you’re ready, then,” David said. “And I think a loud cry would do you a world of good, too.”
She poked her head back out from under the sheet. “I can’t—I can’t cry.”
“Maybe not now,” David said, rising and moving to the door. “But you will. And John, however pigheaded and obtuse he might be, isn’t angry with you. He’s just—well, he’s just angry. He’ll calm down in time. He’ll be able to see your side of things, too.”
“David?” Maggie called, as he left the room. “How did things work out for you? With your parents and Freddie and the apartment and all that?”
“It appears there’s one happy ending, at least for now. While all my schemes and ideas came to naught, and my parents still disapprove of my relationship—they refer to it as a ‘friendship’—with Freddie, they’ve decided to turn a blind eye, and let things go on as before.”
“Really?” Maggie said, pulling the sheet down and propping herself up on her elbows. “What changed their minds?”
“Ernst, actually,” David said, smiling. “As you know, it’s a trifle difficult to get Jewish immigrants into Britain, let alone German Jews. But I was able to pull a few strings—and since Ernst is a surgeon and wants to be an army doctor, the Government has cleared him for medical duties.”
“But you’re still not married,” Maggie pointed out. “And not in any position to have a child.”
“Talmud, Sanhedrin 37a states—For this reason was man created alone, to teach thee that whosoever destroys a single soul … Scripture imputes guilt to him as though he had destroyed a complete world. And whosoever preserves a single soul …, Scripture applies merit to him as though he had preserved a complete world.”
“So, in other words, you saved the world.”
David shrugged. “I do what I can.” He sat down on the edge of her bed. “You know, Maggie, I’m never going to love women. And while I realize it’s the road less traveled, it’s a great relief to know who I am. And to be who I am. And while it’s still dangerous, at least, as long as I mind my own business in public, Freddie and I should be all right.” He stood. “Oh, and your father rang.”
“You mean the always-ambiguous father I scarcely know?”
“That’s the one! I assured him you were recovering.”
“I don’t want to talk to him. About anything. He warned me not to go—and would just love to be able to say I told you so.” She gave David a grim smile. “I used to think I knew everything. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“It’s been a crazy few years, that’s for sure. With more crazy to come. But we’ll keep buggering on, as the Boss says. And maybe, someday, things will be all right again.”
“What is it your people say? ‘From your lips, to God’s ears.’ ”
“When you’re well enough to come out, I’ll make you some toast.”
“Thank you, David—for, well, for everything.”
That evening, Maggie took the Tube to Euston Station, where she would catch the overnight train to Fort William, and then on to Arisaig, a small town on the western coast of Scotland. Arisaig was the home of one of the SOE training camps. This time, however, Maggie was returning to be an instructor, not a student.