Mr.Churchill's Secretary(57)
They sat together in what was growing to be an uncomfortable silence.
The lights in the auditorium soon dimmed, and Anthony Eden walked onto the stage. Maggie recognized him from the office, medium build, with a thick black mustache, black eyes, and a square jaw. As his speech on the importance of keeping up morals while under attack came to an end, she shrugged back into her light coat.
John asked, “There’s a nice café nearby. Er, would you like to get a cup of coffee?”
“Are we going to discuss—that matter?”
“Of course.”
At the café they sat on rickety wooden chairs. John leaned down and put a matchbook under the marble-topped table to steady it. Maggie glanced around. The walls were papered with faded pink roses and blue hydrangea, and the waitresses looked tired and harried. Maggie and John ordered two cups of coffee.
Maggie stirred a splash of what was passing for milk into the thick, red ceramic mug to make the watery brown water drinkable. “Brownian motion,” she said, warming her hands on the cup. “When you stir in the milk it swirls around and disperses, but if you stir backward, it will never come together again. You can’t stir things apart.”
“God’s a Newtonian, then?”
“I believe in free will, actually.”
“But you’re a mathematician!”
“They’re not mutually exclusive concepts.” She took a sip. “I really do miss American coffee.”
He looked wounded. “British coffee’s good.”
“No, it’s not. Come on, you’re all so particular about your tea. Surely you could take the same care with coffee. It’s delicious when it’s done right—all dark and rich.”
He drew himself up. “Well, I’m sorry it’s not to your liking. There’s a war on, you know.”
“It’s fine, John.” They sat in strained silence for a while. Obviously, this was a terrible idea.
“You know, Americans can’t make proper tea.”
Oh, for God’s sake. She stared, incredulous.
He looked vaguely flustered. “I just meant that the coffee …” Then, off her look, “This isn’t about coffee, it’s that you can’t go around criticizing other countries when you’re a guest there. Here.”
“John,” Maggie said. “Taste the coffee. I mean, really. It’s terrible. This is not about national pride. Bad coffee is bad coffee is bad coffee. Besides, not only am I a citizen, but I’m a homeowner. And a taxpayer. And I work for the Prime Minister.”
“Oh, forget it.” He took a big gulp of the muck and tried not to grimace. “So what did you think of Eden’s speech?”
All right, let’s try again. “Interesting. But I have to admit I was still thinking about the … puzzle.”
His dark brows drew together.
She lowered her voice. “The code. You know, the one in the advert? I’ve been working on it all afternoon.”
“Right. And?”
She sighed. “And … well … nothing. Nothing yet, that is.”
“Maggie—do you actually think there’s a possibility …”
“Yes?”
“A possibility … well, that you’re seeing things that aren’t there? After all, there are censors—people trained to pick up that kind of information.”
“Oh, you mean the Oxbridge men?” she snorted. Then, “Look, I’m working on my own time, so I don’t see what business it is of yours.”
There was a long silence, and Maggie checked her watch. “Do you need to get back to the office?” she asked, finishing the last of her coffee and blotting her lips with the napkin, leaving a faint red kiss. “Or do you have Saint Paul’s Watch tonight?”
“No. I mean …” John took a deep breath. “Maggie, I—” There was an odd gesture, a stiffened shoulder and then the rolling of one hand into the other.
Oh, dear Lord. She found herself blushing furiously. “Is this your idea of a date?”
John looked down into his coffee.
“I don’t even see why you’d want to go on a date with someone like me, anyway,” she said. “You don’t even take me seriously when I bring up the possibility of there being—” She lowered her voice. “You don’t take me seriously about anything.”
“I do too take you seriously. I said I’d look into it and pass it on to Snodgrass. I lent you the codebook, for God’s sake. You’re the one who didn’t leave the clipping with me.”
“You thought I was getting carried away because I’m sitting in on meetings with Frain. Just because you’re not in on it …”