about why, after everything, she’d be heading down into the Library at this hour.
6
* * *
MIRIAM WISHED SHE WAS THE SORT of person to run off in the dead of night, secure passage across the Channel, and make her way through enemy lines to hunt down her parents, but she wasn’t. She could barely walk to the village without a mental rehearsal of the ways it wasn’t a dangerous thing to do.
But lacking the courage of a soldier didn’t mean Miriam’s hands were tied. What she might lack in valor, Miriam felt she more than made up for in ambition.
Edith had as good as said she was doing something to try to help Miriam’s parents. Probably several members of the Société would involve themselves, both those who believed in Miriam’s family’s innocence and those who believed they could prove the reverse.
But they didn’t have every known text on diabolism at their fingertips.
Miriam did.
Furthermore, this was personal for her; a passion project. As much as Edith might care for Miriam’s parents, it couldn’t ever be the same for her. Miriam loved her mother and her father, not because of the secrets they carried or their role in the fate of the war effort, but because of who they were, and what they meant to her.
She had to clear their names.
Usually, Miriam was able to fold her anger into little neat packages, but this rage was too big, too messy for that. How could anyone dare accuse them? Her mother hadn’t been sad about Hitler’s election, she’d been furious; her father had become withdrawn and started going to services at his synagogue again, after years of intermittent attendance at best.
He’d brought Miriam with him, too. When she’d asked why she had to go, her father had replied, almost sharply: “If they hate us for being Jews, we’ll be as Jewish as we can be!”
She refused to believe that either of them had become collaborators.
Miriam was never one to put off work, but in order to avert suspicion on Edith’s part, she made sure to be at least reasonably social the rest of her aunt’s visit. She even walked with Edith and Jane into Hawkshead to look at what was in the few shop windows, though the trip didn’t seem to afford any of them much pleasure.
Jane was usually at her brightest when Edith visited, but she had been in a strangely dour mood ever since the night of their Test. In better days, Miriam would have intruded into Jane’s room to winkle out of her what weighed so heavily upon her mind, but the truth was Miriam was too afraid of what might be said if she did.
“You’re up to something,” said Jane, the last morning of their aunt’s visit, when the two girls passed on the stairs.
“What?” Even to her own ears, Miriam sounded startled, not innocent. “I mean, why do you say that?”
Jane leaned back like a movie star, head tilted, arms crossed; if she’d been smoking a forbidden cigarette, the look would have been complete. Miriam just stood there, right foot on the stair above, her hand gripping the railing for strength.
“You’ve had your nose in a book even more than usual.”
Miriam winced. “I didn’t mean to be so obvious.”
“Did Edith say something to you? After their fight, I mean?”
Miriam wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss Edith’s disclosures with Jane at all, but certainly not in the stairwell. “Just that she was sorry for everything.”
“She apologized to me, too.”
Miriam tried to throw Jane off her scent with what she thought would be the blandest possible explanation. “It’s just that, well . . . we passed our Test. It’s time to get to work on our Practical.”
“Oh!” Jane blushed. “Yes, of course. Me, too. I mean, I feel the same! I’ve just been a bit distracted.” Her eyes flickered to the kitchen, where Nancy and Edith were talking.
“She’ll be gone soon enough,” said Miriam, and then realizing how that sounded, added, “and you’ll be able to focus more easily on your endeavors. The two of you enjoy one another’s company so much, and get it so infrequently . . . no one could blame you for wanting to take advantage of it while you can.”
Miriam was surprised by Jane’s annoyed shrug.
“It’s interesting, isn’t it? They say we’re growing up so fast, but how would they know? They’re still children themselves.”
Miriam realized Jane was disappointed by something, but it felt presumptuous to ask what it might be. “True enough,” she replied,