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"Don't let's spoil the whole afternoon," he said. "We'll go to the pictures."
They saw Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator and laughed their heads off, then she went back on duty.
Pleasant thoughts of Daisy occupied Lloyd all the way to Embankment station, then he walked up Northumberland Avenue to the Metropole. The hotel had been stripped of its reproduction antiques and furnished with utilitarian tables and chairs.
After a few minutes' wait Lloyd was taken to see a tall colonel with a brisk manner. "I've read your account, Lieutenant," he said. "Well done."
"Thank you, sir."
"We expect more people to follow in your footsteps, and we'd like to help them. We're especially interested in downed airmen. They're expensive to train, and we want them back so they can fly again."
Lloyd thought that was harsh. If a man survived a crash landing, should he really be asked to risk going through the whole thing again? But wounded men were sent back into battle as soon as they recovered. That was war.
The colonel said: "We're setting up a kind of underground railroad, all the way from Germany to Spain. You speak German, French, and Spanish, I see, but, more importantly, you've been at the sharp end. We'd like to second you to our department."
Lloyd had not been expecting this, and he was not sure how he felt about it. "Thank you, sir. I'm honored. But is it a desk job?"
"Not at all. We want you to go back to France."
Lloyd's heart raced. He had not thought he would have to face those perils again.
The colonel saw the dismay on his face. "You know how dangerous it is."
"Yes, sir."
In an abrupt tone the colonel said: "You can refuse if you like."
Lloyd thought of Daisy in the Blitz, and of the people burned to death in the Peabody tenement, and realized he did not even want to refuse. "If you think it's important, sir, then I will go back most willingly, of course."
"Good man," said the colonel.
Half an hour later Lloyd was dazedly walking back to the Tube station. He was now part of a department called MI9. He would return to France with false papers and large sums in cash. Already dozens of German, Dutch, Belgian, and French people in occupied territory had been recruited to the deadly dangerous task of helping British and Commonwealth airmen return home. He would be one of numerous MI9 agents expanding the network.
If he were caught, he would be tortured.
Although he was scared, he was also excited. He was going to fly to Madrid; it would be his first time up in an airplane. He would reenter France across the Pyrenees and make contact with Teresa. He would be moving in disguise among the enemy, rescuing people under the noses of the Gestapo. He would make sure that men following in his footsteps would not be as alone and friendless as he had been.
He got back to Nutley Street at eleven o'clock. There was a note from his mother: "Not a peep from Miss America." After visiting the bomb site, Ethel would have gone to the House of Commons, Bernie to County Hall. Lloyd and Daisy had the house to themselves.
He went up to his room. Daisy was still asleep. Her leather jacket and heavy-duty wool trousers were carelessly tossed on the floor. She was in his bed wearing only her underwear. Thi
s had never happened before.
He took off his jacket and tie.
A sleepy voice from the bed said: "And the rest."
He looked at her. "What?"
"Take off your clothes and get into bed."
The house was empty: no one would disturb them.
He took off his boots, trousers, shirt, and socks, then he hesitated.
"You're not going to feel cold," she said. She wriggled under the blankets, then threw a pair of silk camiknickers at him.
He had expected this to be a solemn moment of high passion, but Daisy seemed to think it should be a matter of laughter and fun. He was willing to be guided by her.
