The Prime Minister's Secret Agent(87)

“Fine. We’ll walk.” They made their way past the gardens, where Mr. Fraser had turned over the rich black soil dotted with earthworms. Birds chirped in the trees, and in the apple orchard the sap was running.

They took muddy paths past grazing sheep down to the beach. There, they leaned against a large boulder, protected from the wind. The morning sky was tinged with pink.

“The Boss and the President have been in constant contact, via scrambled telephone,” John began. “But Mr. C. thinks that Roosevelt’s a slippery fish—wants to keep him focused on fighting Germany, not just Japan.”

“Well, Hitler made that fairly clear with his declaration of war against the U.S.—President Roosevelt didn’t have to lift a finger.”

“Still, the Boss has it in his head to go, and you know when his mind’s made up—”

“—there’s no stopping him.” Maggie picked up a small, flat rock from the shore and threw it. It skipped over the waves, until it finally vanished into the loch. “I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Well, first of all, the P.M. needs a secretary.”

“Again?” She laughed, in spite of herself. “But what about Mrs. Tinsley? Miss Stewart?”

“Geneva Conventions forbid women’s ocean travel in wartime.” John picked up a rock and skipped it, as well. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard, but Mrs. Tinsley’s also on compassionate leave. Her son died.”

“Oh,” Maggie said, remembering the picture of a handsome, serious young man in a naval uniform on Mrs. Tinsley’s desk at Number 10. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“So, not only does the Boss need a typist, but you’ve been cleared, because of your SOE training. You have, shall we say, special skills that may come in handy being in the Prime Minister’s entourage. And he also says he needs you to translate for him.”

“Translate? But we all speak English.”

“ ‘Two nations divided by a common language,’ says he. I think he just doesn’t want to make any gaffes. Or miss any Yankee cultural nuances.”

Maggie skipped another stone. “Tell him not to call anyone a ‘bloody Colonial’ and he’ll be fine.”

“There’s a train back to London this afternoon. I have two tickets.”

“Well, you’ll have to convince someone else to take the seat, I’m not going.” Then, “Besides, I have a cat now.”

“Mr. Churchill would no doubt approve.”

Maggie was silent. It had just been Thanksgiving. She missed the United States. She missed her Aunt Edith. After hearing about Pearl Harbor, she was filled with love for both her countries. And she had come to the decision that she would do whatever was in her power to fight Nazism.

She also had a sister behind enemy lines in Germany. And Mr. Churchill was probably the one person in the world who could get that sister out. If he wanted her help so badly, he would have to help Elise, too.

“Fine,” Maggie said. “I’ll come to London to speak to Mr. Churchill in person. But I’m not leaving my cat behind. We’re a team.”

“I understand.”

“And I have to make sure Sarah’s all right before I leave.”

“Of course.” John’s lips twitched with a hidden smile.

“This isn’t about you, you know,” Maggie snapped, throwing another rock. “And I have a few things I’d like to say to our Mr. Churchill.”


“I’m going back to London,” Maggie announced to Sarah. The latter was already dressed and doing her barre exercises.

“Good on you,” Sarah replied. “And I have a meeting today. With Captain Gordon.”

Maggie sank down into the armchair. K bumped against her legs and started to purr. “Of course, that’s your decision. It’s all voluntary. And, even at the last minute, you can decide not to do it—”

“If you could go back in time, would you do it again?” Sarah interrupted. “Volunteer, I mean?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Maggie stared at the fire. “I wish none of this had happened. I wish we could just turn back the clock and go back to better days—peaceful days.” Her hand went to the bandage. “And I’m sure everyone involved with this horrible war feels the same way—but we can’t. There’s no going back, there’s no putting our heads in the sand. Not unless we want to be slaves, and see the rest of the world enslaved as well. I think this war is terrible—the things I’ve learned, the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done … But despite that, I do believe it’s a necessary war. I even believe that it’s a just war.