“You’ll still be in London, yes?” he asked.
“I’ll be in London, yes.”
“And when do you start?”
“Well, I’m taking some time off—a month. I just need—you know—to think about everything that happened.”
“That makes sense,” John said. “You’ve been through a lot.”
She looked into his face; the bruises from the attack were still evident. “Ah, that British understatement.”
“What about your father?”
“He’s staying in London for a little while. We’re taking it slowly. Getting to know each other.”
“Ah.”
“It’s not easy. Still, I’m glad he’s alive, and I’m glad he’s here. But it’s …” She searched for the right word. “Complicated.”
“It generally is. And how are you doing after, well, you know …”
“The death of Claire?”
“Yes.”
Maggie sighed. “I’ve already mourned Paige, at the funeral with all of you. Claire? Well, I never really knew her.”
“I see,” John said.
There was a silence, a companionable one. “And as you know, the twins have left for their tour. And Sarah, Chuck, and I are moving in with David, right?”
“What? David?” Obviously, John hadn’t heard. “David and all those women …”
“Well, he has that huge flat in Kensington. We’ll be the three sisters he never knew he always wanted.”
“Perfect.”
“Much better than going, well, home. After everything that happened, I just couldn’t …”
“Of course,” John said. “No one would expect you to.” Then, “What about your house?”
“Ah,” Maggie said. “I’m renting it out.”
“Good, good, that takes care of that, then.” John’s brows knit. “And even after everything that’s happened, with your new job, your new flat, you’ll still want to stay in touch? Because I’d really like that. After everything that’s happened.”
“Especially after everything that’s happened. I can’t imagine not seeing you.”
“Well. Good.” He traced the line of her cheek with one finger.
“Yes. Good,” she said, smiling, as their lips met.
THIRTY-FIVE
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, Mrs. Tinsley and Miss Stewart were both delighted to see Maggie back at No. 10, if only to pack up her things.
“Now, you will be careful, won’t you?” Miss Stewart asked. “Goodness, we’ve been so worried about you.”
“And you left us with an extraordinary amount of work to do, let me say,” Mrs. Tinsley said. “Although,” she amended, “we’re gratified to see you’ve come back in one piece.”
“It was only a weekend at Chartwell,” Maggie said as she packed up her few belongings from the desk.
“Don’t be impertinent with me, young lady!” Mrs. Tinsley said.
“We’re terribly proud of you, Maggie,” Miss Stewart said, her blue eyes threatening to overflow.
“Oh, really,” Mrs. Tinsley snapped at Miss Stewart. “Must you praise her? It will only go to her head.”
“I just meant—”
“Enough is as good as a feast.” Then, to Maggie, “But you will come back once in a while, won’t you? Just to say hello.”
“Of course I will,” she answered, meaning it. I’ll miss you, too, she realized.
David stuck his nose into the office. “Almost ready to go, Magster?”
“One more minute, please,” Maggie said, then hugged each woman in turn. Miss Stewart squeezed her back and sniffled. Mrs. Tinsley gave Maggie’s shoulder a few awkward pats. “Well, really …” Mrs. Tinsley said, taking out her handkerchief and giving a good sniff.
There was one last task Maggie had to do.
She gave the folder marked TOP SECRET with the carbon of her report, as well as the journal of everything that had really happened, to Mrs. Tinsley. “For the archives,” she said.
Mrs. Tinsley nodded and accepted the folder.
“And I’ll take this one to him myself.”
Papers in hand, Maggie walked down the hall, for the last time, to Mr. Churchill’s office. She knocked at the heavy wooden door.
“Come in!” he boomed.
She walked in and placed the papers on his desk. “Here’s the after-action report, sir.”
“Ah,” he said, chewing on the ever-present cigar and looking at her over the tops of his spectacles. “Right. You’re off to work for Frain, then, are you?”
“Yes, sir.”