The Restoration Garden: A Novel - 25

Irene

“That was quite the evening,” James said as we left the restaurant.

I wrapped my arms around my waist even though the mid-October air was still warm, and kept my gaze fixed to the pavement. Dusk was coming earlier with each passing day, making even the simplest journey a treacherous affair. “Your uncle is a nice man.”

“He’s a churlish grump, but I owe him a debt for keeping me gainfully employed. And he seemed to like you.”

“Did he?” After Catherine and I returned from the bathroom, I’d attempted to make up for my misstep, avoiding any talk of politics. In fact, I had barely talked at all the rest of the evening.

“As well as he likes anyone. Which isn’t to say very much. But you’re my wife now and forever, so his opinion is largely irrelevant.”

Now and forever. The words sent my pulse racing again. Even when this was all over and I found the evidence Roger needed, I still had no way to free myself from James. “I hope I made a good impression. I wouldn’t want to reflect poorly on you.”

“I thought you were rather insightful and measured. I hadn’t known you held such sophisticated views.”

I smiled, even as the nausea churned in my stomach. “I’ve been reading the newspapers and listening to the wireless. I think it’s important to stay up to speed on current affairs.” How long could I keep up this charade? Every day, it grew harder to pretend I was still a naive, lovestruck girl, when every word out of my mouth felt like barbed wire being yanked from my throat. One of these days I was going to slip up, and he would find out I’d betrayed him.

If he didn’t already know.

“Catherine seemed rather upset at the end of the evening. Did something happen between you two?”

My heel struck an uneven section of pavement, and I stumbled forward. James caught me by the elbow. My encounter with Catherine had left my nerves rattled. Had I made a mistake in trusting her? Or had my desire to spare my friend from suspicion clouded my judgment?

“A little too much wine with dinner,” I said.

The air raid sirens wailed, drowning out whatever he meant to say next. It wasn’t panic that took hold of everyone on the street so much as dread. The constant alarms, the sleepless nights, the endless fear that slithered into our dreams. The attacks had been happening for weeks now. I didn’t know how much more of this I could handle.

“I think we should go to a shelter tonight,” I said, noticing an air raid warden across the street, directing people toward a nearby church.

“There’s no need. We’ll be fine at the flat.” He took my hand in his, sliding his long, powerful fingers between mine in a viselike grip.

“Please, James. The planes sound closer this time. I’m scared.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scolded. “We’re not sleeping on a dirty, hard floor like peasants. I’ve told you already, the bombs won’t drop in Mayfair.”

An explosion rang out in the distance, vibrating the ground beneath us.

“You can’t possibly know that,” I said stupidly when the ringing in my ears ceased enough to speak.

His hand squeezed mine even tighter. “I know more things than you realize. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

He yanked me forward, giving me no choice but to follow, even though he was wrong. I had every reason to be afraid. His facade had been slipping lately, revealing terrifying hints of the man he truly was. Eventually, one of us was going to crack.

When we arrived home, he was still in a sour mood. He slammed the door shut, doffing his coat without offering to help with mine like he normally did. My moment of defiance had irritated him. I needed to be more careful, but the bombings had taken a toll on my patience.

“Please don’t be cross with me,” I pleaded. “I know you’re right, but it’s hard not to be frightened.”

He angled his head as he smiled at me, pleased that I was once again his meek young wife. “We’ll go to Café de Paris tonight. It’s underground and much more pleasant than a church basement.”

We hadn’t been out to any nightclubs in the weeks since the bombings started. The idea of it now was too exhausting to contemplate. “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.” I yawned for effect, but it quickly turned into a real one.

His jaw tensed, a sign his annoyance had returned. “Have it your way. But I’m going. Leslie’s been insistent on a night out.”

“Of course. You should have fun with your friends.”

Once he left, I contemplated heading for a shelter, but he would be even more suspicious if he came home to find me gone. Instead, I lay in bed awake for most of the night, listening for the attacks, even after the all-clear sirens had rung. It had all been for nothing, though. James never did come home that night.

I slept in late the next morning, only to be startled awake by an urgent banging. I rose with a groan and slipped on my robe. Trepidation weighed heavy in my legs as I approached the source of the noise. Who could possibly be visiting at this hour?

I unlocked the bolt and opened the door. “Catherine? What are you doing here?”

Her face was unusually bare of makeup, and her hair pulled into a neat chignon. If it weren’t for her exceptional height, she would’ve been nearly unrecognizable. “I came to give you these.”

She handed me a plain navy metal tin, roughly the size of two hatboxes, with a small white envelope resting on top. On the side of the tin was a small white six-pointed star, just as I’d seen on the cargo boxes the day I first followed James to the shipyards.

“I found them this morning,” she said. “The box was dropped off a few days ago by a courier. This isn’t the first time a package like this has arrived for James, but I’ve never bothered to open them. I assumed he was using my address out of convenience while he was with the RAF. Now I wonder if it wasn’t just so he wouldn’t draw suspicion to himself.”

The tin was heavier than I anticipated, and cumbersome to hold. “Thank you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said darkly.

She walked off without another word. I didn’t bother to chase after her, knowing it pained her greatly to betray James.

The tin was sealed tight. I eventually managed to pry it open with a butter knife. Of all the things that might have been inside, I did not expect to find a dozen children’s dolls. Each one was exactly alike, with blond hair and a green dress. They looked like the kind of dolls Margaret liked to play with—the ones where you could manipulate the skinny plastic limbs into the silliest of positions.

I retrieved my loupe and opened the envelope next. Like the other letters, there was no return address, but the post office stamp indicated it had been sent from London.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun

Another poem, written in black ink. The lines were familiar, but I couldn’t remember the title or the author.

With the loupe pressed close to my left eye, I scanned the page carefully. The hidden message was above the “i” in “soft-dying day.”

EUSLIV Oct 15, 2:30. We no longer need the girl. Get rid of her.

I leaned back against the sofa, a terrible dread swirling in my stomach. “EUSLIV” was the train code for Euston to Liverpool. The train my father was supposed to be on.

I called Roger, despite his earlier warning never to do so unless it was an emergency.

“We need to meet,” I said. “It’s urgent.”

“Saint James’s Park. Near the canal.”

I arrived there fifteen minutes later, but Roger wasn’t in sight. After weeks of clandestine meetings, I’d learned he never liked to show himself first. He was always watching. Waiting.

I paced next to an iron park bench, causing the dry dirt to cast a slight stain on my shoes.

“That’s a hell of a way to draw attention to yourself.”

I stopped abruptly, turning to see Roger standing behind me, with an expression that was somehow amused and annoyed at the same time. There was a bruise around his eye that had faded to a putrid yellow, and it appeared he hadn’t seen a razor in days.

I waited for a group of women to stroll past before I opened my purse and removed the tiny doll I’d wrapped in a pillowcase. “He’s not just receiving hidden messages. I think he’s using the microdots to send information to Germany, too. It took me a while to find, but there’s a microdot on the inside of a skirt with a photograph of a map. The doll was inside of a box that had the same symbol that was on the cargo boxes when I followed James to the shipyards last month.”

Roger was turning the small package over in his hands, wise enough not to unwrap it. “That’s very clever of you.”

“I am clever,” I shot back. “Despite what you think of me.”

For the first time since we’d met, he appeared genuinely surprised. His forehead wrinkled with a frown. “I have never not believed you were clever,” he said in a voice so quiet, it was nearly a whisper.

“You did. You thought I was a fool for marrying James. And maybe I was.” My throat was inexplicably tight, tears biting at the corners of my eyes. His nostrils flared with a sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t say anything. “But I’m the one who’s found every piece of evidence you have on James. Not you. I’m the one risking my safety. So don’t you dare act like I’m a little dog trained to do your bidding, earning a pat on the head for fetching you a stick.”

I fought back the urge to cry. He didn’t deserve to see how his condescension upset me.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low whisper. “I was an ass.”

I sucked in a breath. “You’re always an ass.”

“Perhaps, but I have never once thought of you as anything other than brave and cunning and honorable. I hate that I’ve had to involve you in the way I did, but I had no other choice. James has used his money and connections to elude MI5 at every turn. He’s a danger to this country and everyone around him. Including you. Whatever mistakes you made are well in the past. You’ve managed to outwit him in ways no one else can.”

We were standing close—too close. I smelled the faint trace of cigarettes on his breath. My pulse quickened, though not with fear. With something else I wasn’t ready yet to admit. My heart was too easily led by praise and attention. I wasn’t going to be a fool again. “I’m glad you’re happy with the results. Hopefully this is enough to satisfy MI5 that I am not a threat to anyone.”

He cleared his throat, taking a step back to put some space between us once more. “You might not be a threat, but we still don’t know who’s behind all this.”

“We know it’s not George Atherton.”

His thick eyebrows shot up. “What makes you believe that?”

“In all the time I’ve been watching James, he’s barely spent any time working for his uncle. I think he only gave him the job title to keep him out of trouble, but he doesn’t trust him. We had dinner with his uncle last night. I pretended like I was a Nazi sympathizer. He looked at me like I was a rat sneaking across the floor to steal his crumbs.”

“He could have been keeping up appearances in a public space.”

I shook my head. “No. It was genuine. Catherine was there, too.” I bit my lip, unsure whether to say anything else. I’d dragged her into this more than was fair already, but what choice did I have? “Apparently James has been using her as the go-between for his communications. When she realized that, she gave these to me.”

“She’s always been a bit of a bleeding heart. That doesn’t mean her father holds the same views.”

“Would you please listen for once?” I growled. “There’s someone else behind this. There was a letter, too.”

“What did it say?”

“It said E-U-S-L-I-V. October 15, 2:30 p.m. It’s a train code. My father’s supposed to be on that very train.”

A grim expression came over him. “They must be planning something. Was there anything else?”

I bit my lip. Repeating the words aloud felt too close to an omen, as though I would be speaking them into existence. But Roger would find out soon enough. “Whoever James is working for knows about me. The message said I’m no longer useful and should be disposed of.”

Roger cursed with a violence I was prepared for. “I’m pulling you out. It’s too dangerous.”

“What?”

“Your life is in danger now. You can’t go back to James.”

“But what about MI5 and all the threats you made about sending me to prison?”

His mouth hardened.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

An expression I’d never seen in him before darkened his features. Shame. “That night I grabbed you at Leslie’s party, I didn’t tell you the entire truth.”

My breath hitched. Every instinct in my body teetered on the edge of fight or flight. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, causing the ends to stick up in all directions. “MI5 isn’t involved in this. After James was released from Holloway, my director told me to drop the case even though we had evidence he was attempting to pass information about your father’s work to the Germans. The top brass thought it was a waste of time and resources to follow someone who wouldn’t be convicted without absolute incontrovertible evidence. They redirected me to work on a different case, but I couldn’t leave it alone. Not when I knew James was guilty.”

My heart thundered in protest, disbelieving Roger’s terrible confession. “You went rogue?”

He nodded. “People like James get away with everything. It’s not right. When I saw you with him that first night, I knew you were the only way I could prove he was guilty and figure out who he was working for.”

I swallowed hard, despite the painful ache in my throat. “MI5 has no idea I’ve been working for you, do they?”

He turned away, too ashamed to meet my gaze. “I know. That’s enough.”

My head spun. How could I have been so foolish? All this time I’d believed the danger I was putting myself in was worth it because I was helping Father. But Roger had no intention of helping anyone but himself. I’d gone from trusting one liar to another.

“Irene—”

I slapped him. “Don’t you dare speak my name ever again.”

With my hand stinging, I stormed off, leaving him too shocked to stop me.

My mind raced as I hurried down the path, too distracted to notice anyone or anything around me. How could I be so stupid? All this time I’d let Roger push me around and manipulate me with fear. I was so tired of being afraid and powerless.

Hot tears burned my eyes. I wiped them with the heel of my palm, too distracted to realize someone had crept up behind me until my purse was yanked from my shoulder. I gripped the strap before my assailant could steal it, my rage fueling me with an extra dose of adrenaline. The thief was young—barely my age—with a desperate viciousness in his eyes. We tussled with the purse for another moment before he let go. But he didn’t give up.

He grabbed me by the arms and dragged me off the path, slamming me against a tree. His sweaty hand slapped against my mouth, cutting off my cry. He shoved his other arm against my throat, crushing my windpipe. I clawed at his arm and kicked wildly, but he was too strong. My lungs screamed for air. He wasn’t just trying to steal my purse. He was going to kill me.

The dark spots bursting in my eyes grew until the entire world was black.

I fell to the ground. My knee slammed into a hard knot in the tree root, but I could breathe.

“Get off her!”

Roger was here. He’d shoved my assailant off me. But Roger didn’t chase him down as he ran off. He let him go, instead turning all his attention to me. “Are you okay?”

Roger helped me to my feet, examining me with a look of unabashed worry.

“I told you . . . not . . . to follow me.” My throat was raw, the words barely coming out in a ragged whisper.

“I always follow you,” he admitted, inspecting me for more signs of distress while I clung to his arm to keep my knees from buckling.

“Always?”

He nodded. “I know I’ve put you in danger. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe.”

“You should have told me.” I wanted to scream, but my swollen throat wouldn’t allow it. I was so tired of everyone thinking they knew what was best for me. “You should have given me a choice.”

“I know.” He pulled me in close, wrapping his burly arms around me. I was too surprised to push him away. Or maybe, in truth, I needed the embrace more than I wanted to admit. I melted into him, letting him hold me until the violent tremble in my body finally receded. He released me, giving me a moment to regain my dignity. I hitched my purse higher on my shoulder and dragged myself away from Roger.

He chased after me. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“Back to James’s flat.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I just told you it’s over. You don’t have to do this anymore.”

“It’s not over! If MI5 isn’t going to stop James, then I have to.”

“A man just tried to kill you.”

“And that’s exactly why I need to go back. Whatever was in that message is a threat against my father. He’s supposed to be on that train next week. I have to find out what James is planning. I have to stop him. Because no one else will.”