Theodore stared at her in silence, his expression drawn with anguish. Slowly, he shook his head back and forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t trust me with this.”
Her heart squeezed agonizingly in her chest. “I struggled with it. Honestly. But I didn’t want to put you in a position of having to report her—and I think you would have felt compelled to do it, because of your position in the government.”
“Damn right I would have! And you truly believed that they wouldn’t have found out? That a woman romantically involved with a top German Nazi, making his way toward our borders, wouldn’t be found out?”
“But they let her into the country,” Vivian argued. “She said they didn’t ask her any questions.”
“Only because they wanted to keep an eye on her and see where she might lead them. She’s being watched. So are you, and so am I.”
Vivian panicked. “But there’s nothing going on. April and I have been together constantly. I would know if she was up to something. She’s my twin. I’d see it.”
He stood up and strode to the fireplace, where he braced both hands on the mantelpiece and bowed his head. “Dammit, Vivian.”
“Are they going to arrest her?”
“Not yet. They think she might lead them to other fifth columnists in London.” He turned to face Vivian. “But I shouldn’t even be telling you this, considering what you’ve kept from me. I shouldn’t trust you.”
Racked by guilt and regret, she rose to her feet, crossed to him, and laid her open hands on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could go back and change it, but I can’t. But you can trust me. I give you my word.”
“Can I?” he asked doubtfully.
“Yes, because I don’t believe she is guilty of anything. If you want to ask her about it, then go ahead.”
He spoke in a low voice that was edged with steel. “That is not the duty with which I have been charged.”
Vivian lowered her hands and stepped back. “What do you mean?”
He strode toward the window. “They’ve asked me to search her room and watch her comings and goings—with your help, of course. You see, I told them you knew nothing about her affair. As it turns out, I was lying for you. Unwittingly, of course—but still, I lied to my own government.”
Vivian sank onto the sofa. “That was never my intention, for you to sacrifice your integrity in that way.”
“And yet, I have done exactly that.”
She trembled. “I swear to you, Theodore. April is not a Nazi sympathizer. We’ve spoken about Hitler, and she loathes everything he stands for, and she seems quite confident that her German officer feels the same way, deep down. She says they discussed it privately, and that he is only doing his duty for his country, and that he wants this war to come to an end, just like we do.”
“I think you’re biased. You’d believe anything she said.”
“No, that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” he replied bitterly. “Your sister didn’t tell you where she was for over a year. She let you believe that she was dead, and then she arrives home and you forgive her immediately.”
“She did write,” Vivian argued. “The letters got lost, or perhaps intercepted.”
“And you believe that as well.”
Vivian huffed with frustration. “Yes, of course I do.”
He regarded her with a stern look. “Well, I cannot say the same, because her description of Lieutenant Ludwig Albrecht does not match with the man I learned about this evening. They showed me photographs, provided me with detailed accounts of his activities and movements. He is a dangerous man and an enemy to us. God help us all if he is the one leading the troops onto our shores. And if April genuinely believes he is a decent man, then she is blind as a bat and a bloody fool.” Theodore said nothing for a few seconds while a muscle twitched at his jaw. Then he regarded Vivian intensely. “I need you to give me your word that you will not tell her that she is being watched or that she is suspected of treason. For now, there is no proof of any crime here in England. But if she is secretly helping the enemy, or intends to, we need to know exactly how, so that we can locate other traitors she may be working with. Is there anything you can tell me now . . . anything suspicious she has said to you or letters or papers she may be hiding for some dubious purpose?”
The time for secrets was over. Vivian knew that if she had any hope of restoring her husband’s trust and confidence, she must confess everything.
“There are photographs,” she said, sitting up with her back ramrod straight. “She keeps them hidden in a secret compartment in one of her traveling cases. But they are just romantic pictures. She said they’re all she has of him.”
“A hidden compartment, you say.”
“Yes.”
“Was there anything else in there?”
“No, and she showed it to me quite openly, even how to operate the mechanism . . . what button to push.”
“I’ll need you to show that to me, and the photographs as well.”
Vivian blinked a few times. “Now?”
“No. Tomorrow, when you go out with her, I will search her room. You can tell me what I should be looking for and how to get into that secret compartment.”
Vivian covered her eyes with her hands. “I despise this. It feels so wrong.”
His expression softened, and he moved to sit beside her. “Let us hope that it will come to nothing—that the situation is exactly as you say, and she has not betrayed her country. But I implore you, Vivian, do not reveal what I just told you. You must put your country first, and I must be able to trust you. Can I? Do you give me your solemn vow?”
She met his gaze wearily. “Yes, you can trust me. And I’m sorry for not telling you about those photographs sooner. She made me promise.”
He said nothing for a long moment. They sat stiffly, staring at their hands.
All at once, Vivian felt as if something had been lost forever—the pure, unwavering belief that their souls were connected and that Theodore was her entire world, and she was his. She had betrayed that belief by keeping a secret from him, and now he knew there was another person with whom she shared an intimate, unbreakable connection. Was he jealous? Was that the right word? Or did he understand? Vivian was disappointed that she did not know the answer to that question. If their souls were truly connected, wouldn’t she know?
Her body felt like stone. She knew he loved her, deeply and resolutely, and would do anything to protect her and their unborn child. She was confident of that. But that’s what pierced her heart like a knife, because her husband did not know for sure that she would do the same for him. She could see it in his eyes. If it came right down to it, who would she choose to save? April or Theodore?
She didn’t know the answer to that question herself, and that’s what crushed him. It crushed her too.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
September 6, 1940
Autumn had always been Vivian’s favorite season. She loved the colors and the fragrance of freshly fallen leaves. A single breath of crisp fall air could rejuvenate her soul. But this year was different. The constant state of fear and uncertainty over the future got under her skin, and thoughts of the coming winter filled her with dread, for if the Germans found their way across the Channel, it could be the bleakest winter their nation had ever known.
Her pregnancy was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it kept her and Theodore united. It was difficult for Theodore to carry a grudge about what had happened with April when they shared such a profound, important bond.
On the other hand, her pregnancy made her sick in the mornings and physically tired for much of the day. All she wanted to do was stay in bed when she felt nauseous and take naps in the afternoons, but there was work to be done for the war effort—tea and sandwiches to serve to the factory workers and firemen, and fundraising was needed for all sorts of important causes. In addition, Vivian had to keep an eye on April. Whenever she went out, Vivian asked where she was going,
and a wave of anxiety always closed in when April’s reply was something flippant, like “Nowhere in particular. Just for a ride in the park.”
Vivian worried that April was being followed by government agents, and she prayed that her sister wouldn’t do anything foolish or sinister that could land her in prison. What Vivian wanted more than anything was to prove everyone wrong, to show them that April was not a traitor to her country.
Every day, she fought the urge to warn April, to make sure she didn’t incriminate herself, but she had to bite her tongue because she’d made a promise to Theodore. He was her future and the father of her child. She couldn’t betray his trust a second time. There would be no recovery from that. As a result, the conflict that raged inside her heart was unbearable.
The sound of the front door opening downstairs caused Vivian to sit up in bed. She checked the clock and realized she’d slept late. It was now past ten.
Tossing the covers aside, she slipped out of bed, padded to the window, and pulled open the curtains. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the brightness before looking down at the street.
Sure enough, there was April, mounting her bicycle and riding toward the Strand. Where was she off to? Vivian hated it when April left without telling anyone where she was going.
Scurrying to her dressing room, Vivian pulled off her nightdress and donned a brown tweed skirt and white blouse. She quickly ran a brush through her hair, slipped her feet into a pair of low heels, and made her way downstairs. There was no one about, so she ventured downstairs to the kitchen, where she found Mrs. Hansen scouring a stew pot.
“Good morning,” Vivian said, catching her housekeeper by surprise.
Mrs. Hansen dried her hands on her apron and turned. “Mrs. Gibbons, you’re awake at last. How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you, although I could do very well with a piece of dry toast. But please don’t let me interrupt your work. I’ll get it myself.”
Mrs. Hansen turned to resume her scouring while Vivian found her way around the kitchen. She located the bread knife and cut herself a slice, then laid it on the roaster.
“I don’t suppose you know where April went a few minutes ago?” she asked. “I just saw her ride off on her bicycle.”
“I’m afraid I can’t say. The last time I saw her, she was reading the newspaper in the breakfast room, and she didn’t mention anything about going anywhere.”
“Ah, well, it’s a lovely morning,” Vivian casually replied. “She probably wanted to take full advantage of the sunshine.”
“As she should. It’s best to never squander morning sunshine in London. That’s what my dear father always used to say to me. ‘Because it’ll be cloudy by noon.’”
“He was right about that,” Vivian politely replied.
She took her toast and a cup of milk upstairs to the breakfast room and rang Theodore at his office to let him know that April had gone out. As soon as she hung up the telephone, Mrs. Hansen appeared with a pot of tea on a tray.
Two hours later, April finally trotted in the front door. Vivian was just about to leave for her shift with the WVS.
“You’re back,” she said to April, who seemed out of breath.
“Yes. Just in the nick of time. Let me go and change my blouse, and I’ll come with you.”
April darted up the stairs, and Vivian noticed that she carried a large shoulder bag with something bulky inside. April held it close and tight.
“Where were you?” Vivian asked intrusively.
“Nowhere. Just out.” April reached the second-floor landing, and all Vivian could hear was the sound of her sister’s footsteps on the next flight of stairs. April’s bedroom door swung shut with a loud bang.
Vivian waited impatiently, pacing back and forth in the front hall, chewing on a thumbnail, wondering if she should go up there and demand to know what was inside the bag.
She decided instead to ring Theodore at work again and let him know that April had returned. He told her that he would come home while they were out and ascertain for himself what was inside the bag.
Vivian heard April bounding down the stairs. She was tying a pretty silk scarf around her neck. Vivian quickly hung up the phone.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
“Yes, we don’t want to be late.”
They set off together, and for the first time since April’s return to London, Vivian suspected that her sister was hiding something from her.
That evening, shortly after Theodore arrived home from work, April went upstairs to change for dinner. Vivian leaped on the chance to ask him if he’d found anything suspicious in April’s bag that day. “Should I be worried?”
“No.” He sat down at the table and loosened his tie.
“But what was in the bag? It looked very full to me, and when I asked if she went to any shops, she said no—that she just rode her bicycle around the park and sat on the bench for an hour.”
“I’m sure that’s all she did, because I didn’t find anything.”
Vivian felt her cheeks grow hot. “But that doesn’t put me at ease. It only makes me wonder if she has another hiding place somewhere else in the house, because I’m positive there was something in that bag. What if the Germans are coming?”
“They won’t come,” he assured her.
“You don’t know that for sure. What if they shoot down all our planes and destroy all our ships? They’ll march right into London, and we won’t be able to stop them.”
Vivian turned her face away. Theodore leaned close and reached for her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll be all right.”
April walked in and halted when she saw that Vivian was crying. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine,” Theodore replied. “She’s just worried about the war.”
April’s expression softened. “I see. Well, I have something that might cheer her up.” She approached the table and revealed a large package she’d been hiding behind her back. It was wrapped clumsily in newsprint and tied up with string.
“I’m sorry this isn’t fancier, but I didn’t know how else to wrap it. I had no money for ribbons or bows.”
Vivian wiped a tear from her cheek and accepted the package, which was surprisingly light. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
She didn’t pause to think about the implications of the unexpected gift—that it might explain where April had gone that morning. That alone would have been enough to pull Vivian out of her funk, but she was too deeply entrenched in it.
With tears still flooding her eyes, she pulled one end of the string until the knot came loose, and the paper fell away to reveal a soft brown teddy bear with a red satin ribbon around his neck. A small heart was sewn onto his chest.
“He’s darling,” Vivian said jovially. “Where did you find him?”
“Remember when we were buttering all those sandwiches last week?” April replied. “The woman I stood next to told me that she enjoyed sewing toys for babies, so I asked if she would make something for you. I had to pedal all the way to Vauxhall to pick him up this morning.”
Only then did Vivian realize what it meant—that her sister had not been running errands for the Germans at all. She had been fetching a teddy bear for Vivian’s baby.
Her tears of gloom became tears of relief as she rose from her chair to hug April. “This means so much to me. Thank you. He’s beautiful. We’ll treasure him always.”
Mrs. Hansen entered the room with their dinner on a tray. She served up their plates and poured the wine and gushed over the darling little teddy bear.
“What will you call him?” Mrs. Hansen asked.
Vivian smiled and looked down at the soft brown bear. “I don’t know. Teddy seems like a proper name, but that’s your name,” she said to her husband.
He reached for his wine. “No one has ever called me Teddy. Not once in my life, so if that’s the name you like, then we should keep it.”
Vivian smiled. “Th
en it’s decided. His name will be Teddy.”
They all agreed it was a fine name for the little bear, and Mrs. Hansen returned to the kitchen.
“Speaking of names,” April said as she spread her napkin on her lap, “have you given any thought to what you’ll name your baby when the time comes?”
Vivian and Theodore looked at each other. “Can I tell her?” Vivian asked.
“Of course. Although we still might change our minds.”
Vivian turned to her sister. “If it’s a boy, we’d like to name him Edward, after Theodore’s late grandfather.”
“That’s lovely.” April raised her glass. “To baby Edward.” They all sipped their wine. “And if it’s a girl?”
“If it’s a girl,” Theodore said, “we’ll call her Margaux, after your mother.”
April laid her hand over her heart. “Maman would be so happy.”
Vivian felt an easy contentment, and it was a welcome respite after a day full of fears and suspicions. But it had all been for naught. Her sister had not been hiding anything from her except a teddy bear.
After dinner, Mrs. Hansen joined them in the parlor, where they huddled around the wireless to listen to the BBC broadcast. They passed the rest of the evening playing cards and dipping into a bottle of Theodore’s best cognac, which led to laughter and singing and a few precious hours when they were able to forget about the war.
Perhaps it was best that they didn’t have a crystal ball and weren’t aware that it would be the last peaceful night they would know for quite some time—the last night that they would sleep soundly in their beds, because the German bombers, who had not been able to conquer the RAF in the South of England, were about to turn their vengeful eyes elsewhere—toward the city of London, relentlessly and mercilessly, and under the cover of darkness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
September 7, 1940
It would later come to be known as Black Saturday, despite the fact that it was a perfect September day with cloudless blue skies and splendid sunshine.
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