by Blythe Baker
I thanked the cabbie and dragged my suitcase up the steps.
The name Gordon was painted on a small plaque just above the black mailbox, which hung beside the door.
I reached out and pressed the doorbell directly below, and heard it sound from somewhere deep within the antiquated building.
Barking answered the chime, which was quickly followed by a voice. “Coming, coming. Hold on just one moment. Bailey, please.”
I heard a lock flip, and the door was pulled open a moment later.
A man who was built incredibly like Roger had been was crouched over, straddling the back of a small horse…no, a hound of some sort.
“Sorry about that,” the man said, smiling up at me. “You must be Helen.”
2
Patrick Gordon was a handsome man in his mid-forties. He had dark hair that was trimmed the same way Roger’s always was, a mark of his service in the military. His eyes were a piercing blue, reminding me of Sam Graves.
He let go of the great, black hound’s collar with one hand and held it out to me. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Patrick Gordon.”
I took his hand and shook, smiling at him. “It’s nice to meet you as well. And who is this?”
“Oh, this? Bailey. He’s harmless. He likes company just as much as we do,” Patrick said.
“Hello, Bailey,” I said, allowing him to sniff the back of my fingers. His cool, wet nose tickled, and it drew a genuine smile to my face.
Patrick stood there with his hand on his waist. “He doesn’t do much good when it comes to sussing out troublemakers, though, because all he wants to do is lick their hands and receive the elusive ear pets. Now…” He swung his leg back over the dog, and gave him an affectionate bop on the rear. “Off you go, Bailey. Let the poor woman inside.”
Bailey turned around, very much like a horse, and lumbered back out of sight.
Patrick grinned at me, and stooped to take my suitcase from my hand. “Please, come in. The last thing I’d want is for you to get caught in the rain.”
“Thank you very much,” I said.
He stood aside and allowed me to pass through the door.
Their home was charming. An antique rug lined the front hall, and an old train lantern hung just inside the door, illuminating the space. Paintings of the countryside hung on the walls, and a coat rack behind the door revealed both adults and children’s jackets, all of which appeared to be damp with rain still.
“Honey, is that her?” came a woman’s voice down the hall.
“Yes, dear,” said Patrick, smiling at me and waving to follow. “All the way from Gloucestershire.”
A woman leaned out of a doorway down the hall. Her cornflower blonde curls were pinned up in a pretty updo, and she held in her arms a large ceramic bowl, in which she was mixing a wooden spoon rather furiously. “Oh, good. I was hoping she would get here between the storms. Welcome.”
“This is my wife, Lily,” Patrick said.
Lily was a stunning woman. She appeared to be all legs, and she had impeccable fashion sense. She even wore low kitten heels, black to match the hem of her red dress.
“Excuse my appearance.” Lily smiled. “I was just finishing up the pound cake to throw in the oven.”
“It’s quite all right,” I said.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Patrick said. “We’re having a family favorite this evening. Bangers and mash.”
My stomach growled. “That does sound good.”
“Wonderful,” Patrick said. “Here, why don’t I show you to your room where you’ll be staying first, and then we can have dinner?”
“All right,” I said.
He led me up to a room on the second floor. It was a small space with a narrow bed. An adorable pink dollhouse stood in one corner, and stuffed toys filled the shelves along the wall. At the foot of the bed, a box overflowing with frilly dresses was only partially able to close, the colorful fabrics peeking out.
“I apologize for not having a proper space for you to stay in,” Patrick said. “This is our daughter Amelia’s room. She’s agreed to share a room with her brother for the week.”
“How kind of her,” I said. “I know how difficult brothers can be.”
Patrick grinned. “She’ll appreciate hearing you say that. She’s already complained about his toys all over the floor.”
I smiled.
“Well, feel free to change if you wish. Otherwise, we will see you downstairs in a few moments. The washroom is at the end of the hall, the door on the right,” Patrick said with a grin, starting to pull the door closed behind him.
“Patrick?” I said.
He stopped, leaning his head back into the room. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” I said, hoping to convey the depth of my gratitude. “For allowing me to come and stay with you.”
His smile warmed even further. “You are quite welcome, Helen. We are happy to have you.”
He closed the door then, giving me a moment to collect myself.
I decided to change out of my dress, as it was still rather damp from the rain on the way to the station that morning. Freshening up in the washroom, I felt far more like myself…
Even if I was still having a hard time recognizing myself in the mirror.
I made my way downstairs a few moments later, and heard the happy cries of children.
A young girl ran past the stairs, shrieking with delight, her blonde pigtails bouncing as she hurried along. She darted into a doorway beside the bottom landing.
A little boy, perhaps only a year younger than she, charged after. He had the same dark hair as his father. “Ready or not,” he cried. “I’m coming for you!”
His sister giggled as he followed after her into the room.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, Patrick walked out of the doorway they had just passed through, a pair of oven mitts on and carrying a ceramic pan filled with steaming sausages. “All right now, be careful. The oven is very hot, and your mother is wielding a knife. We don’t want her to accidentally add you both to the trifle.”
“Da-a-ad,” teased both of the children.
Patrick laughed, looking over at me. “Feeling refreshed?” he asked.
“I am, yes, thank you,” I said. “Can I help with anything?”
“Not at all,” he said. “You are our guest. Come along. The table’s almost all set.”
He walked down the hall, away from the stairs, and I followed after.
Taking a left, he walked into another room, and I found myself a moment later in a beautiful dining room.
Everything seemed to be antique, almost as if it had been taken right from a royal palace. The silverware was gleaming, and the dinnerware looked like the very best china. A candelabra stood in the center of the table, filled with dripping, flickering candles.
“This is such a beautiful room,” I said.
Patrick laughed. “If you don’t mind repeating that when Lily comes into the room, I would greatly appreciate it. She designed this room in an old fashioned style. She is quite the historical master.”
“It’s as if I stepped back in time,” I said.
“That was the intent,” Patrick said. “Now, we’ve set this place just for you.” He gestured to the seat to the left of the head of the table. “Robert was the one who suggested you take his seat for the evening.”
“Yeah,” said a voice near the door. “I did.’
I turned and saw a little boy grinning up at me, a dark hole in place of his two front teeth.
“You must be Robert,” I said. “You are very kind to let me have your seat. Thank you.”
He beamed. “You are welcome, Miss.”
Lily joined us a moment later, escorting little Amelia, who was still giggling furiously.
“Say hello to our guest, Amelia,” Lily said, giving me an apologetic, amused smile.
Amelia climbed up into her chair, which was directly beside mine. “Hello, Miss. What’s your name?”
�
��Helen,” I said. “And you are Amelia.”
She nodded firmly. “Yes. Do you like trifle? Because Mummy is making trifle for dessert.”
“Oh, I love trifle,” I said. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve had it.”
Amelia grinned. “Good. Mummy’s trifle is the best trifle.”
Lily plopped Robert down at the table, and took the seat directly across from me. Patrick then took the head of the table.
We said a prayer, and then Lily and Patrick both began to fill my plate with considerably more food than I would ever be able to eat.
“Please, you must be famished,” Lily said. “Eat as much as you’d like.”
“Oh, this is more than plenty,” I said. “And it all looks wonderful.”
It was. I hadn’t eaten hardly anything all day. The potatoes were warm and buttery. The sausages were well seasoned, with a hint of spice. For as simple as it was, it was incredibly flavorful, and satisfying.
“Well, now, I must say…this dinner is well overdue,” Patrick said with a smile as he sliced another sausage in half. “Every time you were in London seeing Roger, we were never able to make our schedules work. I am terribly sorry about that.”
The food in my mouth suddenly tasted like ash, and it took a sip of cold water to force it down. We were going to start talking about Roger already…I supposed I should have expected as much.
“It’s quite all right,” I said. “Roger spoke of you often, Patrick. Meeting you both has made me wish we had met sooner as well.”
“Oh, I do wish that Roger would have moved you to London,” Lily said. “Though I understand why he didn’t. It certainly is much safer out in the countryside. And none of us thought that the war would last as long as it has…”
“Wars are nothing more than a tool to make money,” Patrick said. “And we who fight them are nothing more than pawns in their greed.”
It was quite strange to speak so openly about Roger with people who actually had known him. Everyone in Brookminster only knew me, and what I spoke of him. And even though I had been married to him, Lily and Patrick were speaking about him as if they had known him better than I had.
With a pang of sorrow, I realized it was very likely the truth.
“But serving in the military isn’t all bad,” Patrick said, perhaps noticing the more somber expression on my face. “If there was no value in it, I would have left long ago.”
“When did you join the military?” I asked.
“Oh, just out of school,” he said. “That’s where I met Roger, you know. We went to training together, and were stationed together in the same base for some time. When I turned twenty-five, I was moved into an office position, and he was taken away for some sort of further surveillance training. We lost touch for some time, but when both of our offices were brought together in London when the war broke out, we reconnected.”
“I see,” I said.
“He talked about you all the time, you know,” Lily said. “Whenever he was here for dinner, he always commented on how you would have loved the décor, or the food, or the company. You were always on his mind.”
My cheeks flushed pink, and I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
Lily’s face fell, and she looked over at her husband with regret. “Oh, my heavens…how insensitive of me. I’m terribly sorry, Helen. Here I am, thinking that talking about Roger like this would be of comfort to you. I can clearly see how wrong I was about that.”
“No, it’s all right,” I said, even though in my heart, I didn’t believe the words that I said. If anything, I was starting to realize just how distant from Roger I really was.
I looked around the room, and my eyes fell on their children.
Roger and I likely would have had a child by now, had the war never broken out, I thought.
“I cannot imagine how difficult these last months have been for you, Helen,” Lily said. “Six months has gone rather quickly, but I wonder if it’s felt like a lifetime for you…”
My eyes stung, and I dearly wished that she would talk about something else. I wasn’t sure how to voice that without being terribly rude, however.
“It certainly has,” I said, trying to force a tight smile.
Lily reached out and laid her hand on top of her husband’s, and they shared a touching, intimate sort of look, as if reading one another’s thoughts.
It tugged on my heart, as I realized that Roger and I would never share a look like that ever again.
A stinging, poisonous sort of emotion began to seep through me, winding its way through my blood like a silent assassin.
Jealousy, I realized with a pang. I’m…jealous of them. Jealous of what they have.
Patrick sighed heavily, looking over at me, his hand still locked in his wife’s. “Helen, I hope that you don’t think we asked you to come stay with us just to make you feel bad,” he said. “Because that is the very last thing we would want to do.”
“Yes, of course,” Lily said. “If you don’t want us to talk about Roger any longer, than we certainly do not have to.”
I met her gaze with my own questioning one.
No, it was not that I wished to stop talking about Roger…that was far from it.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not it. Honestly, what I really want to know is what happened to him. What really happened to him.”
Patrick set down his fork, which echoed around the quiet room with a distinct clink. He looked over at Lily, whose eyes were wide and troubled.
Patrick’s jaw clenched, but he put on a smile in front of his children. “Well, I suppose I am not surprised. I was well aware that you were looking for more information in your letters…”
Lily got up from her seat, pushing it back as she rose. “Come along, Amelia, Robert…” she said, walking to Amelia’s chair and pulling it back from the table. “You can finish eating in the kitchen.”
“But why?” Robert asked, his little face screwing up with frustration. “I don’t want to eat in the kitchen.”
“Come along, dear,” Lily said, more firmly, her gaze sharpening as she looked at her son.
Amelia’s bottom lip was protruding. “But I want to eat with you and Daddy.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Patrick said. “But there is something very important that we must talk about with Mrs. Lightholder. Something that is only for grownups.”
“I’m almost a grownup,” Amelia said, sliding off her chair. “I’m almost seven.”
“Yes, you are very grown up,” Lily said, picking up both of their plates. “But this is a private conversation. You can come back in as soon as it’s time for dessert.”
She left the room, both children pouting at her heels.
Patrick looked apologetically over at me. “They are very good children,” he said. “But just like all children, they dearly wish to be involved in everything the adults are doing.”
“I do understand,” I said. “And I certainly don’t mean to trouble you and your family. That is the very last thing I wish to do, especially when you have been so hospitable, allowing me to stay with you.”
Patrick smiled, and it eased the knots in my chest ever so slightly. “Now, now, we are very pleased to have you here with us,” he said. “And I have had every intention of talking with you about all this. That is no imposition.”
His face fell, and he looked away.
“Though I do wish that I could answer every question that I’m certain you will have – ”
My heart lurched. He wished he could answer every question? “What do you mean by – ”
“There now,” Lily said, reappearing in the doorway, smoothing her skirt. “The children are all settled in the kitchen. Not very happily, mind you, but they’ll be all right.”
She resumed her seat at the table, a tight smile plastered on her face.
“What have I missed?” she asked, looking between Patrick and me.
Patrick cleared his throat. “Nothing much at all, dear.
I was just telling Helen that I wish I were able to answer every question she will likely have, but – ”
“I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “In your letters, you told me what happened to Roger. What caused his death.”
Lily and Patrick exchanged another troubled looked.
“Yes, well…I am the one who likely knows the most about what happened to Roger, yes,” Patrick said. “But even I am not privy to absolutely everything. Believe me, though…I’ve tried to find out as much as I could.”
“Then…what can you tell me?” I asked, becoming more disheartened by the moment.
Patrick pushed his dinner plate aside, and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I hope that you are ready to hear all this, Helen,” he said. “Because I am quite sure that Roger was not at all the man you thought he was.”
3
Roger was not the man I thought he was?
That statement was shocking. Quite profound…and quite unbelievable.
“I might surprise you,” I said. “I have spent a great many months pondering what happened to him, and I am certain there is nothing he could have done that was not something I have already considered.”
Patrick nodded. “Perhaps you are right. And if that is the truth, then I hope this won’t trouble you too greatly…”
Lily gave her husband an encouraging smile, squeezing his forearm affectionately.
“Roger Lightholder was not just a friend of mine. Yes, it’s quite true what I told you just a few minutes ago. We did meet in the first weeks of our military careers. We were the best in our class, leagues better than any of the other men we were serving alongside. Our superiors saw potential in us, and quickly removed us from the others in order to train us specially.”
Patrick paused thoughtfully.
“As I’m sure you know, your husband had a prestigious position, though there are very few who knew what that position was, precisely. Roger and I were separated some years later, where they trained me for an operatives position, and he was trained for something different.” He gave me a very pointed look. “They wanted him for the intelligence department.”