Page 76 of The Undercover Bookshop

Lady Marchmont answers. “Saturday.”

“Saturday, as in three days from now? So soon?”

“Soon?” Mr. Wainright chirps. “I’d have you gone now.” He casts a long look to Lady Marchmont, then shifts his focus to Miss Bagot. “But I’ve been convinced that extracting you with a few days’ notice is less conspicuous than whisking you away tonight. Less jolting, too, I’m told.”

I thank each of the women. They nod in turn.

Miss Bagot shifts forward. “You’ll ask for Saturday morning off work, perhaps to do some shopping as stores are closed on Sundays, and we’ll pick you up first thing that morning.”

“What about Mr. Hastings and the store?”

Lady Marchmont answers this time. “I’m sorry, Gemma. I know you care for him and he speaks very fondly of you, but you can’t say a word to him. You will simply be gone. And when Mrs. Hastings goes to your room to check on you, all your things will be gone too.”

Miss Bagot continues Lady Marchmont’s train of thought. “You’ll pack in the evenings, and a little before dawn on Saturday, we’ll have our movers come and take away your belongings. It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

“With no goodbyes?”

“With no goodbyes.”

I speak to Lady Marchmont again, as I find her most comforting at this moment. “Where will I go?”

“London.”

Mr. Wainright interjects, “I hardly think—”

Miss Bagot cuts him off. “No, it’s perfect. Her ladyship and I have discussed this. She would be easier to locate in a smaller village, and London provides us with more coverage and more of a needle-in-a-haystack scenario too.” She looks back to me again. “I am also willing to take Ursula’s words into consideration and trust the risk isn’t high.”

I nod. If I speak I might cry.

“She clearly cared for you, Miss Brown. I don’t think that care ended when she left. She’s powerful, so if she says you are safe, she has probably put the word out to her people that you are.” Miss Bagot’s tone is soft and consoling. “London is the best we can offer.”

“Fine. London.” Mr. Wainright pulls out a fountain pen and starts to take notes in a leather journal. “And would you like to choose your new name or shall we?”

“I want to.” My mind fills with Charlie. “Nora.”

“Nora,” he repeats as he writes. “And a last name?”

I wonder if I can get away with it. I glance at Lady Marchmont and hope she doesn’t stop me. “Marple.”

“Marple,” he repeats as he writes. “Nora. M-A-R-P-L-E.”

Lady Marchmont catches my eye and winks. “Trading one detective for another, are we, Miss Brown?”

I smile because she’s right, not because it’s light, or funny, or brings me any joy. After all, I’ve also just chosen the last name of the detective who remains alone—a spinster for life.

Chapter 29

Saturday, 4 March 1950

On Thursday I asked for Saturday morning off from work to do some shopping, just as instructed.

“Of course.” Mr. Hastings grinned unexpectedly. “To be honest, Mrs. Hastings will love it. While it was a horrible circumstance, I think she enjoyed working in the store while you were out last week. It felt like the old days, for both of us, before our children came along. When we first opened, she worked here every day with me.” He chuckled. “We felt young again.”

I thanked him. His comment felt like a gift, though I couldn’t tell him that. I simply hope he’ll remember that feeling—that they both will—when they can’t find me. I know they’ll be crushed; they’ll feel I’ve used them shamefully. But I don’t want their business to suffer too. That’s too high a cost for them to pay.

Lady Marchmont is the first to arrive at my bedsit this morning, well before dawn. Standing at the window, I see her wave at me from the sidewalk. She points to the right, and I know she means for me to come open the door for her. I do, but as I walk down the stairs I realize her Rolls wasn’t in the street behind her, nor was her beautiful Austin-Healey.

I open the door to the back stairs. “How did you get here?”