She could have screamed. How had she been so stupid? Shehad been so convinced he had been out as usual that it didn’t occur to her to check inside his room.
‘I could have sworn, through the floorboards, that I heard the chime of Big Ben. And then …’
‘And then?’ Persey prompted warily as she glanced at the wireless and the sheets of paper, wishing it would all disappear.
‘And then I thought I was going mad.’
Wordlessly he moved to the kitchen cupboards and retrieved a cut-glass tumbler, lifting the bottle and pouring himself a measure. He put it back on the kitchen table and looked at her before laughing to himself. He eyed her glass. ‘I did not know you drank alone these days.’
‘I do all kinds of things I shouldn’t do these days,’ she dared.
Stefan laughed. ‘I can see that,’ he said before sitting down at the table and glancing at the wireless. The creases surrounding his eyes when he smiled vanished. ‘So do I,’ he said darkly, looking into his glass.
‘How long were you standing there?’ she asked.
‘Long enough to hear Italy change sides,’ he replied. He raised his glass. ‘What is it Dido says? Down the hatch?’ He took a sip.
‘It’s good for us,’ Persey said. ‘The Allies, I mean.’
‘It’s good for all of us,’ he said, holding her gaze.
‘The war might end quicker. You might get to go home.’
He nodded, looked at her and then away. ‘Home. Yes.’ He drank from his glass, leant over and topped up hers with a finger of brandy. He exhaled.
Too late she remembered his home had been destroyed, his parents killed. She could have kicked herself. Instead, she picked up her glass, sticky around the side where she’d knocked it over. She wiped her fingers on her dress but it did no good. ‘Shouldn’t you arrest me?’ she probed, knowing he wouldn’t but wanting to know his thoughts regardless.
He looked up from his glass and blinked. ‘Arrest you? Because of the wireless?’
She nodded.
‘Or because of the notes you are making?’
‘Both,’ she said, knowing there was no possible excuse for them.
He shook his head. ‘What is this?’ he asked, indicating the writing.
‘Shorthand.’
He looked interested. ‘I can’t read this.’
‘That’s rather the point.’
‘I can’t arrest you,’ he said, his blue eyes trained on hers. ‘Even if I wanted to. I am only a translator, although I cannot translate this,’ he said with a hint of laughter.
‘But you’re not going to tell me to stop?’
His tone changed. ‘Do what you like, Persephone. You always do.’
‘What does that mean?’ she asked indignantly.
‘I am not going to tell a soul you have a wireless. I would not do that. Keep listening to the BBC. I will listen with you. Keep writing your notes. I will not even ask what they are for.’
She swallowed. ‘You don’t want to know?’
‘I have my suspicions. But, the less I know, the better, don’t you agree?’
She looked at him, accepting his challenge. ‘All right,’ she said.
