The Restoration Garden: A Novel - 20

Irene

It was nearly dawn when Roger dropped me off outside of James’s flat. The Luftwaffe had ceased their terrifying attack, but my hands still shook as I fumbled for the key to let myself in. James must have noticed my disappearance last night. He would have questions. I wouldn’t have answers. My once-beautiful dress was in shambles, the delicate lace shredded at the seams. I hadn’t had the chance to look in a mirror, but I had no doubt my hair and face were just as tattered.

I’d tried to come up with a plausible explanation for where I’d been, but there was no good reason for me to go anywhere without him when I’d been entirely dependent from the minute I’d set foot in this city. Especially not when the bombs fell.

I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. What if I didn’t go in? What if I just ran away? What if I returned to the safety and security of Havenworth and begged forgiveness?

No. There would be no forgiveness if I didn’t make things right. I had jeopardized my father’s lifework. Possibly even the fate of this war. Roger had offered me a way out of the mess I had created. I had to do this. I twisted the doorknob and walked inside.

James wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. For a moment I thought maybe he hadn’t yet come home and I wouldn’t have to explain where I’d been.

“Irene?” I heard him call out from the bedroom. “Is that you?”

I opened the bedroom door to find him sitting up, dressed in nothing but his drawers. At one time, the sight of his bare torso would have made me lose my breath, but now the only feeling I had was confusion.

I didn’t want to believe all the awful things Roger had said about James. Roger was a creep and a liar. But the James I’d seen last night was not the man I thought I knew. How would I live with myself if James was working for the Nazis and I did nothing about it?

“Where did you go last night? I looked everywhere for you.” His words were slurred from last night’s indulgences, but the hurt sounded real.

“For a short walk,” I answered quickly. “I had a burst of inspiration and wanted to draw the creeping jasmine under the moonlight. But then I heard the sirens. I tried to look for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. A kind stranger directed me to a safe refuge in the tube station nearby.”

“Quite a memorable way to end a party, wasn’t it? I’m sure Leslie will be disappointed he was upstaged by the Luftwaffe. Not to worry, though. Only the East End was affected. The Germans wouldn’t be so crass as to attack Buckingham Palace or anywhere close to it. We’re safe here.”

A chill slid over my skin. Could he really be so callous about what happened last night? “That’s very reassuring. I was so worried about you.”

He yawned and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I had some business to take care of. By the time I returned to Leslie’s, everyone had scattered. I hope you didn’t worry too much.”

“It was hard not to worry when I heard the explosions.”

“You don’t ever need to worry about me.” He flipped back the covers, urging me to slide in next to him. I hesitated a fraction of a moment, all the awful things Roger had told me replaying in my mind. I wanted to run away as far and as fast as I could. But I had no choice but to obey. “I know how to take care of myself. Whatever happens, I’ll be just fine.”

It was spoken like a promise, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a threat.

James didn’t leave me alone for the next three days. He insisted we needed time together to cheer my mood. I couldn’t tell him my mood had everything to do with my fear and anger and confusion at the impossible situation I was in.

He took me to Kew Gardens and Hyde Park. All the places I had wanted to visit. But I took no joy or inspiration from the outings. Every time he held my hand or kissed my cheek, I wondered whether he knew what Roger had asked of me. Whether he knew of my betrayal the same way I knew of his.

I didn’t want to believe he was capable of the things Roger had accused him of. It would mean I’d been as foolish and obstinate as Father believed. I’d been the one to give away his secrets and jeopardized everything he worked for. All because I’d allowed myself to fall for James’s lies.

But even now, while my stomach lurched from his touch, my heart fought against the truth of it. I still desperately wanted to believe James was the man I’d fallen in love with. The man I had trusted with my heart and my body. The man I had pledged to love and honor for the rest of my life. But how could I trust anything to be real anymore?

There had been nothing unusual or suspicious in James’s activities since the night of Leslie’s party. No strange documents in the mail or secret meetings in dark alleys. I had no idea what I was supposed to be looking for. I doubted James would be stupid enough to leave out something obvious for me to stumble upon, even if he didn’t know I was spying on him. With every day that ticked closer to my next meeting with Roger, I grew increasingly worried that I would have nothing for him.

“Are you not feeling well?” James asked one morning over breakfast.

“I’m fine,” I replied, busying myself with the kettle.

“Something’s clearly bothering you. You’ve barely eaten in days. Every time you think I’m not watching, you rub your temples like you’re suffering a headache. Please tell me what it is.”

I sucked in a breath, terrified I’d raised his suspicions with my distant attitude. I needed to be more careful. But how was I supposed to pretend to be a loving wife when every second spent with him felt like torture?

“You’re not keeping anything from me, are you? I’d hate to think there are secrets between us.”

My heart pounded so fast, I thought it would leap straight out of my chest.

“It’s just . . . there was a man on the street the other day handing out pamphlets that claimed that Britain only entered the war because of a Jewish conspiracy to erode our national sovereignty and turn us into communists. Do you think that’s true?” It was the first thing that came to my mind, but even as I said it, I felt unbearably vile. I was well aware of the growing antisemitism in this country. Blaming innocent people for the actions of a government was abhorrent and deeply unjust. But if James truly held fascist sympathies, these were the very kinds of views he might embrace.

He tilted his head with a half smile that would have made me weak with desire only a week ago. Now, all I could see was condescension. “I didn’t realize you’ve taken an interest in politics.”

“After everything you told me about your time with the RAF and with Michael . . .” I didn’t need to fake the way my voice caught in my throat.

“There are a lot of people who believe Bolshevism is the biggest threat to Britain, and that fascism is the only defense we have.”

“Is that what you believe?”

He rose from the table and retrieved the cup on the top shelf I had been struggling to reach. “I believe it does us no good to talk about things that upset you.”

It wasn’t an answer. He was too smart for that.

“Where will we go today?” I asked, deciding to change tactics. Every conversation felt like a game, each of us trying to ensnare the other into revealing our tightly held secrets.

“My uncle has called me back into the office, unfortunately. The bombings have caused quite the chaos in Parliament.”

I smiled contritely, hoping he wouldn’t sense the relief that had just washed over me. “I understand. You have important things to do.”

He kissed my cheek. “I’ll make it up to you soon, I promise.”

I turned my back to him on the pretense of preparing my tea. It was all I could do not to shudder at his touch. Unfortunately, that didn’t deter him. He cupped my shoulders with his hands. “You’re upset.”

“Of course not. I already told you I understand you have to work. How else would we have any food on the table?”

“Lonely, then?”

My sharp intake of breath gave me away.

“I’m certain Catherine or Leslie would be happy to keep you company. They both adore you. Or you could visit your family.”

I dropped the teaspoon I was holding, scattering granules of sugar along the countertop. “What?”

“I know it’s been hard for you to be away from your family. Especially your sister.” He rubbed his hands along my arms, as though that would somehow undo the stabbing pain of his words. “A visit might do you some good. Especially until the Luftwaffe relents with their attacks.”

“You’re sending me away?” I was grateful he couldn’t see my panicked expression.

He spun me around, forcing me to look at him. “Have you forgotten I know what it’s like to lose one’s family? I would give anything to have my parents back. I don’t want you to deny yourself the chance to see your father or your sister.”

“You’re speaking as though you expect something terrible to happen.”

As much as I wanted to avert my gaze, I forced myself to look at him and search for any hints or clues of something sinister beneath those smiling eyes, but I didn’t see any. “Not at all, but there is a war on. No one can predict what will happen. But if not a visit, at least call them. I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

I sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.”

He plucked the toast and raced out the door, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen, more uncertain than ever.

After James left for work, I counted to fifteen. And then I followed him.

He headed toward the tube station, striding purposefully through the crowds. I stayed a full block behind him so that I wouldn’t be spotted, but that level of precaution wasn’t necessary. He never once turned around.

Keeping up with him as he boarded the tube proved trickier. I rode a car down from his, nearly missing my chance to get off the train when I realized he’d exited. We were in the East End, near the docks. It was a part of town I hadn’t been to yet, and it seemed like I had stumbled into an entirely different universe.

This area had been decimated by the attacks over the last few nights. Entire buildings reduced to piles of rubble while smoke plumed in giant tufts from the still-burning fires. The acrid smell was overpowering. And yet, while some people were sorting through the mess, most were simply out and about, carrying on with their lives as if nothing had happened.

With his tailored suit jacket, James stood out among the coverall-clad men working on the docks. He had no business of his own here. At least not any legitimate business.

Unfortunately, neither did I. It was one thing to blend in on the street, but entirely different navigating the maze of the docks. My shoes struggled to find traction on the slick, water-soaked stone walkways. As my heel caught, I stumbled forward, arms flailing. I managed to catch hold of the railing before I fell to the ground.

One of the dockworkers rushed over. “You all right, miss?”

I nodded, barely catching sight of James as he disappeared into a large brick warehouse. “Yes, thank you. I’m just clumsy.”

“You don’t look clumsy,” he said. “You look like you’ve wandered into a place where you don’t belong.”

My shoulders stiffened. “I’m just here to bring my husband lunch.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed as he took in the distinct lack of a lunch kit in my hands. “Why don’t you tell me his name and I’ll bring it to him.”

“I’d rather bring it to him myself.”

“Visitors aren’t allowed on the docks. Especially not today.”

I swallowed hard, realizing how terribly I’d caught myself in my own web of lies. “That’s right. My husband did mention that, but I’d forgotten. I’d best go before he gets upset with me.”

I walked away quickly, keeping my head down the entire time. But instead of leaving, I wound my way around the back of the rows of warehouses to see whether there was another way in. To my luck, I found a door propped open with a cinder block.

I peered in but couldn’t see anyone inside. The warehouse was dark and filled with crates. The clatter of my heels against the concrete reverberated too loudly inside the large space. Nerves prickled my skin. How would I explain my presence to James if he caught sight of me?

Roger’s warning played back in my head. My only other choice was a prison cell in Holloway, if I was lucky. It would be easy for him to prove that I had given James the information about the magnetron. I slipped off my shoes, cursing the damned rationing of stockings, and continued forward through the maze of crates. Each one of them was stamped with a large, six-pointed star and the words “Continental Shipping” beneath.

“It’s just over here, as promised,” a male voice said, startling me so much that I stumbled back into the crate behind me. I held my breath to see if anyone had heard.

“It better be good this time.”

James.

I gathered my wits enough to sneak around the side of the crate as their footsteps echoed closer. A loud creak, followed by the sound of the crate door banging open.

“Bottles of Riesling. Straight from Rhineland.”

“Impressive,” James said. “I’ll give you fifty quid for the lot.”

“Twice that and I won’t smack you for the insult.”

“Eighty,” James repeated. “Do I need to remind you who you work for?”

I tiptoed to the edge of the crate to catch a glimpse of them. I didn’t recognize the other man, who wore a cap that obscured my view of his face. He and James were facing each other, oblivious to my presence. The threat of violence permeated the silence between them. Finally, the other man grumbled an acceptance while James laughed as though they’d just played a friendly game of chess.

“I trust you’ll make sure this gets to our friends in Valencia.” James handed him a small envelope that the man tucked inside his pocket.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

I waited until both men left before tracing my steps back the way I’d come. Too many thoughts and questions raced through my mind. Was this what Roger cared about? German wine? No, there had to be something else he wanted. Something more important than the wealthy indulging themselves.

The sun was blindingly bright as I sneaked out the door at the back of the warehouse. I bent down to put my shoes on, but something—someone—grabbed me and flung me against the wall. My back throbbed from the pain. I blinked away tears to see the dockworker who’d spoken to me earlier staring down at me. “I told you to get out of here.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m just leaving now.”

He leaned closer, the smell of sweat burning my nose. “Seems to me like you’re looking for trouble.”

“No. Please. Just let me go.”

“We don’t tolerate thieves around here.” His fingers dug in tighter to my arms until I struggled not to cry out. “You rich types think you’re above the law. Think you’re so special the rules don’t apply to you when the rest of us are working to the bone to keep you clothed and fed. Maybe I ought to hand you over to the police and see what they think.”

“I don’t . . .” I said quickly. “I don’t think I’m special. I thought my husband was having an affair, so I followed him here.”

The man laughed viciously and let me go. I rubbed my arms with relief. “Get out of here and don’t come back. But if I ever see you again, I’ll toss you into the Thames myself.” He pointed a finger at me, leaving no doubt he was serious.

I retrieved my shoes and slipped them on, then took off as fast as I could, not stopping until the docks were as distant as a memory.