Mr.Churchill's Secretary(64)

Always,

Edith





NINETEEN





THE NEXT DAY, after a breakfast of powdered eggs and brackish tea at the University Arms, Maggie and David set out for Trinity College. Even with the wartime indignities—stripped metal off staircases, ad hoc vegetable gardens, air-raid shelters, and boarded-up windows—Cambridge was a beautiful place. The sky overhead was a pale blue worthy of John Constable, with wispy, cirrus clouds. The warm wind smelled fresh and loamy. All of the oxygen went to Maggie’s brain, making her feel light-headed and invigorated.

“The Wren Library,” David said, pointing at a building with soaring proportions that looked to be carved from ivory.

“How do you know? I thought you were an Oxford man!”

“Brief fling with a Cambridge coxswain. Travesty, I know.”

“Ah,” she said, realizing what David was confirming. “Yes.”

“I thought maybe you’d guessed, but I wasn’t sure.”

“When did you first realize your”—How does one phrase this?—“your preference?”

They were strolling alone in a Trinity courtyard; the only company was a burbling marble fountain and two tiny brown sparrows, who twittered and preened in the water.

“I believe the current term is ‘like that.’ ” He looked at her and smiled, letting her know it was all right to have asked. “For example, when did you know you were ‘like that’? And just for the record, I always knew.”

“My aunt Edith is”—she’d never said it out loud before—“ ‘like that,’ too. She’s had someone special in her life for years, another professor.”

“Ah.” David processed the information. “Was it strange at all?”

“No, not really. I mean, yes, it was strange, but only because I was raised by my aunt, who’s more or less a mad scientist, and not my parents. Not because of anything else. And just for the record, I knew about your … preference.”

“Really?” David cocked an eyebrow.

“Sarah mentioned she wanted to set you up with someone in the company—Dimitri, I think.”

“Ah, yes, Sarah,” he said. “Sarah’s always trying to find me dates—men from the Sadler’s Wells, usually.”

“And Paige knew,” Maggie said.

“Paige,” he said, shaking his head. “Paige certainly loved to flirt. And I was around and, well, safe, I suppose you’d say. Not that I minded, of course.”

“Yes, Paige certainly loved to be the center of attention.” They were silent, remembering. It was still raw.

“And John?”

“Yes, John knows. He’s my best friend, after all.”

“And there’s never been …” Maggie didn’t think so, but she just wanted to make sure.

“No, John likes girls, all right. Just doesn’t put too much time and effort into it. Too busy with work these days.”

Maggie decided not to mention the awkward evening at LSE and the night in the café’s basement—the night that had been overshadowed by Paige’s death.

Instead, she changed the subject. “So, how does it … I mean, is there someone in your life now?”

David made puppy eyes behind his glasses. “No, I’m all on my lonesome these days, I’m afraid. Although there was, at one time, a very nice chap from the Treasury department.”

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. “Fred Gibson?”

“Freddie,” David said with a wry smile. “Freddie, Freddie … Didn’t work out, though.” David sighed with mock drama. “And now, poor me, I’m all alone.”

“But how do you … meet?”

“My dear Maggie, do you think I only ever see you lot? Please!” He grinned. “I’m quite the man about town, you know.”

She laughed and shook her head. Of course. “And you always knew?”

“Always. I always knew. And my parents, bless their hearts, have always had enough sense to look the other way. They don’t ask too many questions, the dears.” David’s face quickly became serious. “But, Maggie, it’s not as though the age of Oscar Wilde is really so long ago.” Even though they were alone in the courtyard, his voice dropped to a low whisper. “It’s still considered a crime, and people are still being sent to prison. Or mental institutions, where they’re dosed with hormone injections. And since I’m working in Whitehall, of all places, it’s not exactly something I’ll ever be able to shout from the rooftops.”

Maggie patted his back. “Not right now. But maybe someday.”