the stand and stares at the plates, the glasses, the folded napkins. Tuxedo gallops down the hall and tangles himself around her legs, miiaaaaow.
“You didn’t go out, did you?”
“I would’ve gone nuts if I didn’t. I hope you like rabbit. Game isn’t rationed, apparently.”
“You’re an idiot and lucky to be alive. Is that a Bordeaux?”
“I couldn’t resist.”
She casts me a withering look and heads down the little hallway into her bedroom, followed by the cat. The flat, if you’re curious, comprises a single floor of what might once have been a spacious family house. There’s a small kitchen with a gas range and an oven but no icebox, the parlor in which we sat and smoked last night, and the hallway leading to the two bedrooms and tiny bathroom. The entire place is immaculate, plain and polished, devoid of the usual knickknacks you find in the homes of spinsters. I’m just spooning the potatoes into a bowl when Margaret reappears, carrying a purring Tuxedo, wearing a housedress of navy serge and a thick cardigan, belted around her waist.
“Nice rags,” I say. “Did you wear that to Apple Sauce?”
She drops the cat and sits in her chair. “Apple Sauce? Is that a restaurant?”
I set the potatoes on the table. “Never mind. Wine?”
“What a terrible idea.”
“Under the circumstances, I think it’s an excellent idea.” I lift the bottle and fill her glass, then mine. “It’s good for morale.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my morale.”
I sit down and raise my glass. “To Thorpe.”
“To Benedict.” She closes her eyes as she drinks and sets down the glass with a bit of a bang. “Speaking of which. The funniest thing. You’ll never guess who stopped by my desk this morning.”
“Plain fellow, pockmarked, bump on the head?”
“Exactly. Told me he’d heard the awful news about my brother, assured me they would do their best to negotiate some sort of release, which of course is absolute bollocks. Nobody gets released from Colditz, especially not intelligence agents.”
“No?”
“No. Political prisoners receive the worst possible treatment. The only reason they keep them alive is to get more information out of them.”
“Thorpe won’t reveal anything.”
“You don’t think so? Not even when they pull out his fingernails? Dunk him in water until he’s nearly drowned? Burn him with a hot—”
Slam, goes my fist on the table.
Margaret lifts her eyebrows. “I’m sorry to have to explain a few truths to you, my dear, but there it is. That’s what they do to men like Thorpe. Women too. Didn’t you know that?”
“There’s no proof—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lulu. Don’t be stupid. Anyway, even if they don’t torture him, or shoot him after some kangaroo trial, he won’t last the winter, not in Colditz. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be unkind, but it’s true. It’s where they send the worst prisoners, the incorrigibles. The escape artists. There’s no food left, no fuel to keep them warm. The guards are all brutes. He hasn’t a chance.”
“Except for us.”
“Us? What the devil are you talking about?”
“I mean you and me, working to save him.”
“Save him? What on earth?”
“Yes. Since the War Office isn’t going to help us—this Special Operations of yours—we could join efforts and—”
“Join efforts? Are you mad? What exactly do you plan to do, Mrs. Benedict Thorpe? Parachute into Germany and break down the gates with a siege gun?”
“Of course not. I thought you’d have a much better plan than that.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you work there, don’t you?”
Margaret sets down her knife and fork. “My dear girl. I believe you’ve been laboring under what they call a misapprehension. I’ve already explained. My brother’s the chap in the field, not me. I sit at my desk and shuffle papers about. Take dictation and type up reports and translate things.”
“But why? You’re brother and sister. You’re equally capable, I’m sure.”
“It’s true, they recruited us both. An old childhood friend of ours was putting together this department in the War Office and called on us to join him, because we both spoke German fluently, you know, having spent our summers there at my brother’s estate. But I was deemed unsuitable for fieldwork. They never told me why, of course. I suppose I can guess.” She picks up the bottle and refills her glass. “But there it is. Not only am I not in a position to parachute into Germany—even if I were so inclined—I’m apparently unfit for the job to begin with.”
“Nonsense. You’re exactly the kind of person—”
“And there’s the plain fact that it’s against department policy. Don’t you