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“I’d love to,” Margot said immediately. She could not refuse him, and it would be something to look forward to, a wonderful change after Berlin. “Yes, please. But you won’t forget about Roger Cordell, will you?”
“Thank you, my dear. And of course I won’t forget about him.” At last the tension in him eased, and his tight muscles unknotted.
* * *
—
In the morning, as well as she had slept, Margot felt unsettled about the powerful memories that still hung heavily in her mind. After breakfast, she thanked her parents and left for home. But when asked, she told the taxi driver to take her to her grandparents’ house.
As she rode, she thought about sharing her fears, her impressions of what was brewing beneath the polite chatter, and talk of the future. Her father had dismissed it, but she knew that, even had he taken it seriously, he would not have wanted to alarm her. But it made her feel as if he did not believe her—or did not trust her. It was no comfort; it was the opposite, although she had long grown past the need for comfort rather than truth. Perhaps she had not shown him that? She had accepted his protection rather than his support in facing hard truths. That was her fault at least as much as his. She hoped her grandfather would listen.
When she was outside the familiar gate, she climbed from the taxi and paid her fare. The driver put her suitcases on the ground just as Lucas came out of the front door, Josephine on his heels. Margot’s heart sank. She should have telephoned. It had never occurred to her that they might not be in, and now here they were, clearly on their way out.
Lucas took one look at her face and told the taxi driver to put her cases in the hall.
“I’m sorry,” Margot said, suddenly aware of how much she took them both for granted. She had come to Lucas because, since May, she had learned so much more about him, and her respect had taken wing. But it was still largely based on his work during the war, even if he discussed so little of the details. State secrets lasted a lot longer than a mere fifteen years. What did she expect from him?
“Come inside,” Jos
ephine directed her. “We have no appointment; we always have time to see you. Tell us about your trip to Berlin.”
Margot followed her inside. Without her needing to explain, Josephine went into the kitchen and Lucas took Margot into the sitting room. He left the French doors closed. Autumn was in the air; there was a certain chill.
“You look worried,” he observed, indicating the chair for her to sit down, then sat opposite her. “Was it the wedding itself, or is there something amiss with Roger Cordell?”
“Not really.” She found herself equivocating, even though she had not intended to. She was not used to total honesty with her grandfather. She had never felt at ease with him, as Elena had for as long as she could recall.
Lucas was waiting for her. Was he used to listening to confessions? Tales of spying, of fear, suspicion, or danger? She knew now that he had worked for British Military Intelligence, but not any more than that. And it had been her father who had told her, not Lucas himself. Charles had only discovered it in May. It had revealed to him an entire side of his father’s life, his work and his experiences, even his very nature, that Charles had not known. In one hour, the disrespect he had shown his father, when he believed Lucas had sat out the war pushing papers in some government office, had been transformed into profound respect. It had thrilled him to see his father as a hero, but it was also disturbing. Decades of perception had to be changed. Some things vanished at once, others, woven through tiny memories, shedding light on things he had taken for granted all his adult life.
Some of that had rubbed off on Margot, but it was now peeling back like layers of skin.
Lucas was still waiting. Josephine would arrive in a moment, probably with tea and biscuits.
“I overheard a conversation at the party, after the wedding,” Margot began. “It was between army officers, and they were talking about a group of people calling themselves the Fatherland Front.” She stopped because she saw in his face a flash of recognition. “You’ve heard of them.”
“Yes, Cordell has already told me of his concern. But this is important. Margot, I want your opinion, too. Cordell was very brief, and of course the information was encoded. Please try to remember what they said as exactly as you can.”
“Then it’s true.” It was as if the door to the garden had been opened and the cold air let in.
“Yes, but exactly what they are planning is not yet known. Tell me what you overheard as exactly as you can recall,” he repeated.
“I didn’t hear much.”
He sat still, silently waiting.
Her mind was sharp on one thing, blurred on others. “They were talking about Chancellor Dollfuss and Austria becoming more or less part of Germany, and it being for everyone’s good and…inevitable.”
Lucas sat motionless. “In what way? Try to think…Be precise.”
The chill bit deeper.
He leaned forward. “Margot—”
“I’m thinking, trying to get it exactly. They said Austria was culturally the same as Germany in all that was important, and together they could be the strongest power in the world…for an indefinite period of time.”
Lucas asked, without a shred of humor, “Led by whom? Not Dollfuss, I presume.”
“No, they said he would argue with them or…I don’t remember exactly, but if he disagreed, he would crack like a chicken’s egg.”
