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The Prime Minister's Secret Agent(86)

By:Susan Elia MacNeal


“Oh. So she told you about that.” Then, “Well, I’d just returned from Berlin—”

“She had just returned from Berlin!”

“She was seeing another man!”

“Because she thought you were dead!”

Suddenly, they realized all eyes were on them. They dropped their voices.

“Well, I may have mentioned before,” John said in a harsh whisper, “ ‘reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.’ ”

“Yes, but we didn’t know that. Maggie didn’t know that.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t take her long to move on.”

“She was gutted, absolutely gutted.”

“I’m sure,” John said, finishing his beer.

“Look,” Sarah continued in a low voice. “Her mother was a spy. Maggie was probably only conceived as part of some cover story. And when her mother went back to Germany, her father wasn’t enough of a man to stay and fight for her. She was raised by her spinster aunt, who seems perfectly nice, but not much of a maternal type, if you get my meaning.

“And then when she finally finds her father—he’s still … off. And she finds her mother—and she’s a top-ranking Nazi.

“She finds out that Churchill, a father figure to her, has been using her for her family connections. And you, the love of her life, she thinks you’re dead—another abandonment.”

“Yes, but—”

Sarah held up a chip. “Wait—I’m not done. And then you come back. And when you find out she did something human, you abandon her again.”

John was silent.

“She’s damaged,” Sarah said. “All she sees now is that love is mathematically improbable.”

John sighed. “I wasn’t really angry with her. It wasn’t her at all. It was just … everything. The war, losing friends, being shot, being behind enemy lines for so long …”

Sarah nodded. “And maybe, if you’re honest with yourself, it’s because the world moved on without you. We thought you’d died. Maggie moved on with another man. Mr. Churchill’s office moved on. David was promoted.” She wiped her hands on her napkin. “Perhaps, just perhaps, you’re angry because the earth didn’t stop rotating for you.”

“Good God,” John exclaimed. “I think you’re right. That makes me rather awful, doesn’t it? When you put it like that.”

“Yes, but you were angry. And hurt. And while the way you reacted wasn’t the most sensitive thing you might have done, it was—just like Maggie’s behavior—human.”

“So now what do I do?”

“You apologize.”

“I did apologize.”

“Well, you continue to apologize. And you say you’ll never do it again—and then you never do. And you’ll tell her you adore her and cherish her and you ask—you get down on your knees and beg if you need to—for another chance.”

John nodded, taking it in. His lips curled in a smile. “And how’s your love life these days?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “As you well know, near-death experiences aren’t exactly conducive to romance.”

“You’re returning to the Vic-Wells when you’re patched up?”

“I’m not sure. I might be done with that life.”

“You’re smart, you know. I’m sure you could do whatever you put your mind to.”

She smiled. “You don’t have to go to Magdalene or Wellesley to know things. In fact, you overeducated lot often seem awfully stupid on many occasions.”

“I am aware.” Then, “Do you think she’ll take me back?”

“She took in a stray cat recently, Johnny—so really, darling, you never know.”





Chapter Twenty-three


When Maggie opened her front door the next morning, she was astonished to see John sitting on her steps, reading a book. “You slept here?” she asked, one hand on a hip. She was dressed for work, in coveralls and boots.

He stood. “No—I ran into Sarah, had dinner with her, found a room at the Arisaig Inn, slept, shaved, and came back.”

“What are you reading?”

“T. H. White’s The Sword in the Stone.”

“I’m reading that too,” she said, coming down the stairs. “And grateful not to have been born a fish. Or a squire. Or a king, for that matter. Although in White’s world, just being human is bad enough.”

“Would you please take a walk with me?” John asked.

“No.”

She attempted to pass by, but he reached out and took her arm gently. “What I have to say to you, on behalf of the Prime Minister, is top secret. I am under oath that I will verbally deliver this message to you.”