The Body at the Tower - By Y. S. Lee Page 0,6

understood why.

“My dear.” Anne offered her a clean handkerchief. “Regardless of the assignment, you are our first concern here. We would not require you to do anything that made you…”

“Afraid?”

“Yes.”

Mary sniffled and wiped her eyes. She had no idea whether Anne was correct. Her surmises seemed … airy. Mystical. Preposterous. Yet she couldn’t reject them outright.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The light coming through the window was a rich gold that warmed and softened everything in the room: the waning of an unusually glorious summer day. It was warm, but Mary’s hands were cold and numb.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” said Anne eventually. “And I’ll have a dinner tray sent up.” The dinner hour: that was what the bell had announced.

Mary nodded. “Thank you.”

Anne stood and rested her hand lightly on top of Mary’s head, just for a moment. “Don’t stay up all night thinking,” she said. “Trust your instincts.”

A moment later, Mary was alone.

Three

Sunday, 3 July

The Agency’s headquarters

When Mary re-entered the office the following afternoon, again dressed as “Mark”, she had the distinct impression she was interrupting. It wasn’t clear what: Anne and Felicity sat in their customary chairs and greeted her with their usual brevity. Yet there was something in the careful blankness of Anne’s expression, a latent glitter in Felicity’s eyes, that made her hesitate. A moment later, it was gone.

Anne motioned her to sit down. “What made you decide to accept the assignment?” Her voice was dry, almost neutral, yet tinged with concern.

Mary sat up straight. “I thought a great deal about our conversation,” she began carefully. “I hadn’t been able to identify my fear until you suggested it to me. I didn’t want to think about it, and I certainly didn’t want to believe your theory – but I think you were right.” She met Anne’s eyes freely and offered her a small smile. “I must learn to conquer my fears, rather than try to ignore them.”

Felicity shot a quick glance at Anne, then looked back at Mary.

“So you’re still afraid,” said Anne.

“Yes. But now I know it – and with that fear in mind, I choose to accept this assignment.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

There was a long silence. Anne and Felicity both stared hard at her, as though expecting her to crack. To change her mind.

Mary held their gazes, waiting.

Finally, Felicity nodded. “Very well; you’ve chosen. We shall—”

“There’s just one more thing.”

Anne raised one fine eyebrow. “What is that?”

Mary swallowed. “I shall need to live in lodgings, if I am truly to pass as ‘Mark Quinn’. I took a room at a lodging-house in Lambeth this morning.”

Both women were silent with astonishment.

After several long seconds, Mary said tentatively, “I’ll begin with the practical reasons: the workers I meet on the building site might ask whereabouts I live. It would be rather unusual for ‘Mark’ to live in St John’s Wood, and it would be useful to have a generally-known address. If anybody enquired into the address, a lodging-house would give nothing away – whereas it would be extremely odd for me to live at a girls’ boarding school.”

“And there are reasons apart from the practical?” prompted Anne.

Mary took a deep breath. “It will be simpler if I don’t alternate between being myself and being Mark. I will make a more convincing boy, if I am not a girl as well. And…” Her voice wobbled, and she waited a moment before going on. “And when I was younger, and passing as a boy, I never left the role. I should like to re-create that situation.”

Anne frowned. “Why? Why deliberately return yourself to a frightening and dangerous past?”

Mary hesitated. “I don’t know quite how to explain it. I think – I believe – that it might help me to stop fearing it.”

Anne looked thoughtful. “Strong reason,” she murmured. “Any others?”

And, Mary thought, if I don’t return to the comforts of the Academy, I’ll be less inclined to give up or give in part way. “No,” she said.

There was a pause, during which the two women looked at each other. After several moments, Anne nodded once. “I shall organize our information network so that you can communicate with us while under cover. There’s a pub near Westminster where you may leave a written message, in code, by giving a password. But to collect messages, we’ll use somewhere in Lambeth itself. We’ve a contact in a baker’s shop in the Cut who might prove useful…” She looked at Mary.