The Prime Minister's Secret Agent(70)
Maggie was disappointed and tried not to show it. “Well, let’s get you settled. Would you like a cup of tea? Dinner?”
“Something to eat would be lovely, thank you. It smells marvelous.”
“That’s good—if you’re hungry, that means you’re feeling better.”
Sarah curled up in the worn armchair by the fire as Maggie banged and clattered in the tiny kitchen, ladling out bowls of venison stew. “Just glad it’s not mutton,” Maggie muttered, thinking of the sheep being poisoned with anthrax and repressing a shudder.
“Sorry?” Sarah called.
“Oh, nothing—No wine, I’m afraid, but I do have some of Mr. Fraser’s cider put away, would you like a glass of that?”
“Yes, please.”
When Maggie came out with Sarah’s half-pint of cider, she found K on her friend’s lap, purring and rubbing his cheek against her.
“Well, I see someone’s making friends,” Maggie said, setting the glass down. She tried not to be jealous.
K ignored Maggie, instead getting up on his hind legs and using his front paws to knead at Sarah’s bosom.
“You know, K,” Sarah said, smiling down at him, “I’m usually treated to cocktails and dinner before I let any taxi tigers make moves like this.”
“Shall I remove him?” Maggie asked.
“Oh, no,” Sarah said, petting his silky head. “Yes, you are a fine and handsome old thing,” she said to the cat, rubbing under his chin. “But it’s amazing what you can get away with. If any human tried this without so much as a by-your-leave, I’d have cut his hand off, just so you know.”
The women began to eat their stew. Sarah finally had a chance to look around her and take in Maggie’s living quarters. “Oh, Maggie, this is charming.”
“And wait until you see the views tomorrow morning—mountains, the shore, and even a bit of the loch. When you’re a bit stronger we’ll take a walk down to the shore—it’s absolutely beautiful. And until then, you will be a princess in a tower, with plenty of tea, healthy food, books to read …”
“So, is this handsome fellow the only man in your life?” Sarah teased, stroking K.
“Yes, he is,” Maggie said, setting down a small bowl of stew on the floor. K eyed it, then begrudgingly wandered over to Maggie. After a brief standoff, he rubbed his furry face against her legs. “That’s my K,” Maggie said, scratching behind his ears. He butted his head into her leg, hard. All was forgiven.
She scooped K up and went back to sit near Sarah. “Cats and knitting,” Maggie said. “That seems to be my lot in life right now.”
“Socks come in pairs,” Sarah said.
“Well, people don’t. Or at least they don’t have to. My life was just too complicated in London. But now it’s simple—I work, I have a cat, I knit. I am Diana, the Virgin Huntress.”
“But Diana’s celibate!” Sarah cried, in mock horror.
“Believe me, I know.”
“That’s awful.” Sarah dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and took a sip of cider. “Honestly, with two men in love with you, I don’t see why you had to choose at all, Mags. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ménage à trois?”
Maggie choked. “Sarah!” Then, “Do you have someone special?”
“Not really. There was for a while, but …” Sarah rose and went to her bag, returning with a silver case of clove cigarettes and a lighter.
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “With your cough?”
“Oh bother, you’re probably right. This being an invalid is a rather trying role.”
“You must miss performing. Will you rejoin the ballet when you’re well?”
Sarah shrugged. “Maybe. I was feeling frustrated already. Now I think …”
“What?”
“I’d like to do something to help the war effort. I’m not sure. Remember how back in London, I was torn about doing something so frivolous while there’s a war on?”
Maggie remembered that day in Regent’s Park well. “I do. And I also remember what I said then—that we need beauty and art—a reminder of all that’s worth fighting for.”
“Well, I’m not sure it’s enough for me now,” Sarah said. “Paris has been invaded … My grandmother was shot. Shot. I’m not sure I can just dance anymore. I want to do something.”
Maggie chose her words carefully. “Whatever you decide to do, you know you’ll always have my wholehearted support … Your French is very good, you know.”