The dancer was familiar with the darker side of men. She had a protective streak, which at the moment extended to only Gertie. And the gal was tough as nails and naturally suspicious of everyone. A perfect bodyguard.
The problem was Frances hated all things Italian, including Marcie, even though Marcie would insist Sicily wasn’t part of Italy.
“Is there a problem?” Major Ricca asked, but Vi barely heard him.
Getting Frances to like Marcie might be like asking a leopard to change its spots. But what if she attacked the problem from the other direction?
“Vi?” Ansel’s voice made her look up.
“I remembered something I need to tell Marcie. It has to do with the play and changes to the dance choreography. May I write her a quick note, in case I don’t see her right away, and before I forget?”
“I don’t see why not,” the major said when Ansel glanced at him.
After she was given a pen and paper, Vi quickly wrote what she needed to, basically asking Marcie to warn Frances she might have to redo all the choreography if Vi was slow to recover, and suggesting that maybe she should also teach Frances Lydia’s lines in case she came down with the “same thing” as Vi had.
Satisfied that the prospect of learning Lydia’s lines would be enough to encourage Frances to keep Marcie alive for a few days at least, she handed the note to Ansel.
Ansel immediately gave it to the major, which came as no surprise—good thing she hadn’t said anything personal, though what secrets had she left? After the major read it, he handed it back to Ansel, who folded it and tucked it into his shirt pocket.
“I’ll have your gear here in the morning,” Ansel told her. “Will Marcie know what all you’ll need?”
“She should.” Vi frowned. “Can’t I have my things tonight? I don’t want to sleep in my uniform.”
He glanced at the major before replying. “I’m sorry, but no.”
Understanding slowly dawned. “You’re going to go through everything first because you still think I’m a spy.”
“We take our job seriously, Miss Heart,” the major said, making no apologies.
Ansel wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Recognizing she had no choice in the matter, she nodded her permission anyway. “That’s fine. Be as thorough as you like; I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Of course not.” Major Ricca then turned to Corporal Merritt. “Miss Heart is ready to see her room now.”
Her room turned out to be what likely had been a servant’s room on the top floor. The armed guard by her door nodded to her politely, his expression as blank as the walls. He was a private, if she read his sleeve correctly. Likely the lowest man on the totem pole. Still, he had a gun, and she didn’t, so the odds were in his favor, no matter his rank.
The corporal showed her in and then left her alone, locked in for the night. She looked around. As prison cells went, she supposed she should be grateful. Even though the room had been stripped of everything but the bed, the walls had nice wallpaper with darker patches where pictures had once hung, and there were blackout curtains on the windows instead of bars.
She switched off the overhead light, and the room plunged into darkness. Almost instantly, a queer claustrophobic feeling swept over her. It was as if all the air in the room were vanishing, taking her ability to breathe with it. A wave of despair and panic rapidly built within her. She groped her way over to the windows. Yes, there was a blackout order, but surely it would be all right to move the curtains aside if she kept the light off. She couldn’t bear to be alone in all this blackness.
Pulling back the curtain, she immediately inhaled a deep breath and looked up. It took a moment, but then the familiarity of the night sky began to anchor her. Pinpricks of hope started to pierce her loneliness like tiny stars. She could tell from the shadows that the moon was on the other side of the building. But it didn’t matter. Its gentle light was a constant in the universe, and would be the same whether it shone down on the soldiers in the North, or her family back home, or Jimmy asleep in his bed.
Her pulse calmed. She was still in a terrible fix, but she had talked her way out of being shot, at least for the