the metal a rap with his knuckles. “It’s below the knee, so there’s not much damage done. I was never a champion runner, anyway.”
“I’m terribly sorry.”
“There’s no reason for you to be. It happens. Men have come home with worse, and a lot of them haven’t come home at all.” He grinned. “And at least I’m still dashingly handsome.”
I gave a little laugh, a genuine one this time. Leave it to Felix to think of something like that.
“That you are,” I agreed. “Though you didn’t have to go to such lengths to make me admit it.”
He did indeed have the kind of face that drew the female eye, and he was forever giving one looks that clearly warned he was up to no good but drew one in like a moth to the flame nonetheless. He had always reminded me a bit of Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., though, when I had said so once, Colm and Toby had laughed and teased me until I blushed.
He drained the second cup of tea in one long drink.
“Thank you for that, love. Seeing you was the best medicine I’ve had in months.” He set his cup and saucer down on the table. “Alas, I suppose I’d better go. I’ve got an appointment to look at some lodgings. My landlady rented my place as soon as I enlisted. In the meantime, I’m staying at a hotel. Let me give you the number.” He scribbled his number on a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me.
“Are you … are you all right, walking?” I asked.
“Certainly. This leg services me nearly as well as the other one did.”
I thought I might offer to go with him, to help, but I knew he wouldn’t let me. Felix had never been the sort to rely on anyone, and he would be even less likely to do so now.
“Is the old man home?” he asked, putting on his hat. “I came to see you first, but I’ll stop at the house if he’s in.”
“No, Uncle Mick is out at the moment,” I said. “But do come back soon. He’ll be glad to see you.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you were here. I’ve missed you, Ellie.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
He gave me a wink, chasing away any heavier sentiments either of us might have been feeling, and turned toward the door. He walked carefully but very upright, the limp noticeable only now that I knew it was there.
After he had gone, I sat on the sofa looking at his empty teacup on the table. His visit had been like a taste of old times, but that taste had been tainted with the bitterness of what life had become.
War had already changed so many things, and there was no end in sight. I felt suddenly the weight of helplessness fall upon me.
No, I was not quite helpless. There was my work with Major Ramsey. Whatever I thought of him, some good could come of our association. Perhaps I might, in my own small way, have the chance to make some sort of difference.
I rose from the sofa and moved to the coatrack, where my jacket from the previous evening was hung. Reaching into one pocket, I found the piece of paper Major Ramsey had given me.
I hadn’t forgiven the man, of course, and I didn’t relish the thought of working for him. But I reminded myself that we must all make sacrifices if we were to win this war.
And, on the selfish side of things, a short time working for him was better than a year or two in prison.
Picking up the telephone, I rang the number. A young man answered on the second ring.
“May I speak to Major Ramsey?” I asked.
“Who is calling, please?”
“Ellie McDonnell,” I said, wondering what I should say if he challenged me.
“One moment please.”
I was prepared for a long wait—police and their ilk liked to leave one dangling like a worm on a line whenever possible—so I was surprised when he picked up a moment later.
“Major Ramsey.”
“This is Ellie McDonnell,” I said.
“Yes?”
He sounded almost impatient, as though I was wasting his time, and I fought the urge to say something quite rude. Instead, I thought of Uncle Mick and quelled my temper.
“You told me to ring you,” I reminded him.
He rattled off an address. “Eight o’clock tonight. Wear a hat with a veil.”
And then the line went dead.
I rolled my eyes. It was all so ridiculously clandestine that it felt like something out of a