A Simple Country Tragedy Page 3

  “Intelligence?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

  He nodded, licking his lips. “When Roger and I were brought back together, we were told that I was to be his handler, or perhaps more accurately, his supervisor. And Roger…well, he was trained to be a spy, working with my department, which was, as I said, British intelligence.”

  It was as if I’d been struck. I wasn’t sure if I had heard him correctly. I blinked once, twice…but Patrick still sat there, watching me carefully, the wrinkles on his forehead prominent in the candlelight.

  “Maybe this is too much right now,” Lily said, worry creasing her own brow, and she tugged gently on the sleeve of her husband’s navy blue sweater. “Perhaps we should have some tea and the trifle, and give poor Helen a few moments to – ”

  “No,” I said, feeling strangely lightheaded. “It’s all right. I…it makes sense, in a way. I always knew his work was something dangerous. So dangerous that he didn’t want me anywhere nearby, so as to keep me safe.”

  It was a great deal to comprehend. I knew it would take me some time before I was able to easily accept it.

  Roger…a spy. How mindboggling.

  “It killed him not to be able to tell you,” Patrick said. “But his greatest concern was that if he did tell you, he would be putting you in danger. Any information that might drive his enemies toward you was never spoken of. He wanted to protect you in any possible way that he could.”

  It both tore me up, as well as warmed me to hear that about Roger. “I suppose I always knew that he was keeping things from me in order to protect me, and that it was a way that he showed how much he cared about me…but there is still a part of me that also wishes I could have known, so I could have helped him somehow – ”

  “There is no way you could have helped him,” Patrick said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to discourage you, but it’s quite true. There was nothing you could have done for him. If anything, what might have been a temporary relief for him, telling you something, would have surely caused him many hours of stress and concern afterwards. I knew that part of Roger well, and his concern for you was primary.”

  I understood. It was hard to hear, but I did understand, deep down. It troubled me that I could not have comforted him, as his wife, but I had to realize that I hadn’t just married a man. I married a man with a difficult position in life, and he had taken great risks by marrying me in the first place. I could see that now.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?” I asked, hopeful.

  He pursed his lips, exhaling through his nose. “Well…to be honest, there isn’t a great deal I can say, no. I’m already putting you at great risk by telling you all this in the first place. Are you certain you would want to know more?”

  “Of course,” I said. “There is still so much I don’t know. Yes, he was a – a spy,” I said, tripping over my words slightly. That was going to take some getting used to saying…if I ever spoke of it again outside this room. “But that doesn’t explain his death, or why it happened. Not fully.”

  Patrick nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said. “I will tell you, but just for the sake of my friendship with the man…and because he loved you so very dearly.”

  I smiled gratefully at him.

  “In the months leading up to…well, everything that went on, Roger was beginning to unearth information about our enemies that was deeply troubling,” he said, worry drawing the wrinkles in his face out even more. I noticed a scar just underneath his eye gleaming in the dim light from the candles. “I was under the impression that our enemies had been working diligently to infiltrate our networks, leeching information from lower soldiers, disguising themselves, hiding among us…and Roger learned that was, in fact, correct. At least, most of it.”

  A chill ran down my spine. While I had been safe and secure back in Plymouth, wondering when I might be able to see my husband again, he was here in London, sniffing out enemy infiltration.

  We had lived such different lives, utterly disconnected from one another.

  “With very little help from anyone else, Roger managed to discover an undercover German operative who had made his way into the chain of command above me. Roger came to me late one night, his face as pale as a ghost, sweating profusely…and when I asked him what was causing him so much distress, he quickly shut my door, and dragged me into the closet in my office.”

  Patrick rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze distant as he reflected on the events he described.

  “He told me in a hurried whisper that he’d located the spy, someone I’d never met before, who was using some sort of alias, and that he was working in Klein’s office. Klein was the man I reported to, and this German spy had somehow wormed his way into his confidence. At first, it was incredibly hard to believe. Klein was a decorated soldier himself. He could tell if a man was lying just by looking at him. So I questioned Roger, finding it incredibly hard to believe what he was telling me. Roger insisted, and after revealing this, he fled my office…”

  Patrick shook his head, rubbing his temples with his fingertips.

  “If I had known what was to come next, I never would have let him leave without me, or at least without another soldier to keep watch on him…” Patrick said, clearly straining to get the words out.

  “Patrick, sweetheart…” Lily murmured.

  Patrick shook his head. “It’s all right, my love. Helen needs to hear this.”

  He straightened, cleared his throat, and pressed on.

  “The next three days passed, and I heard nothing from Roger. I was beginning to worry, when I was called into Klein’s office, just before leaving for the day. It was February 18th. It was snowing. It was bitter and cold. Klein told me that our office had been compromised, and that we were all going to be moved to new places of employment throughout the city. He gave me a list of names that I was meant to give the newest instructions to, and I realized quickly that Roger’s name was not on the list. When I challenged him on it, Klein told me quite plainly…’There was an air raid in London last night. Late at night. We lost some good men.’ I looked at him blankly, and protested. The last bombing had been weeks before, and we had done what we could to keep that in confidence, as well. No one had perished in that raid, but there certainly was no bombing the night before. Klein’s eyes were blazing, and he said simply, ‘Roger died in the bombings that occurred last night.’ I challenged him once again, but he cut me off. ‘Yes, he did’ he said, deathly serious.”

  Patrick licked his lips, his eyes attempting to bore a hole into the table.

  “That was meant to be the story, but from what Klein alluded to, Roger’s discovery was found out by the spy…and it was in fact the spy that killed him…not any air raid.”

  I sat back in the seat, his words ringing in my ears.

  Something in me had suspected that the stories I’d been told were not true. There had been reports of air raids in London more than once during the war, but when I received the phone call telling me that Roger had been killed in one…something had felt…wrong.

  “But the newspaper,” I said. “It confirmed what I’d been told by the soldier that called me. There had been bombings, and some soldiers had perished.”

  Patrick shook his head. “Entirely invented. Even the names of the other soldiers were false.”

  My head was starting to feel as if it were being stuffed full, and threatened to pop. The blood pounded in my skull, and a dull ache began behind my eyes. “But why?” I asked. “Why lie about it to everyone?”

  “Klein and others were unwilling to allow the enemy spy to know that we’d become aware of the weak link on our security, or of his infiltration. It was feared that the truth would send him into hiding, which it most certainly would have. They decided it was best to permanently obscure the details about Roger’s death. As far as anyone outside this room knows, Roger was killed in the bombings.”

  “We are the only ones who know?” I breathed.

  Patrick nodded. “Us an
d about three others, Klein included.”

  “And what happened to the spy?” I asked.

  Patrick exhaled, looking away. “That’s where this all gets trickier. After I was informed about the truth, I was excluded from any further investigations. I have been forbidden from asking about it, as it is now being handled internally. Unfortunately, you and I will likely never get the full truth about what has transpired since then.”

  “We don’t even know if they caught the spy?” I asked.

  Patrick shook his head. “No, but I would be terribly surprised if they haven’t. They were very discreet about his death, and about revealing it. And if they haven’t found him, they will soon enough.”

  “What if he kills again?” I asked. “What will they do then?”

  “Helen, I know this is deeply troubling. Trust me, there have been many nights where I’ve lain awake, wondering if this spy might ever learn of my connection to Roger and decide to come after me in revenge. But Roger’s whole job was to infiltrate the Germans, and learn the truth about them. That was why he was so worried about protecting you from any and all information. If they learned that you knew anything, they surely would have come after you.”

  “I had wondered about that myself…” I mumbled.

  Patrick nodded. “I understand how this must be incredibly discouraging to you. But at least you know the truth now. Your husband died a hero, trying to do what he could to keep our country safe. As much as I dislike saying it, his death was as honorable as if he had been killed in battle.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” I said.

  Lily suddenly came to life once again, reaching across the table to pick up my empty glass. “All right, we have the whole week to discuss these things. Patrick, I think poor Helen needs some time to think through all you have told her. It’s quite a lot to digest.”

  Patrick looked over at me, his mouth slightly open. “Yes, I suppose so,” he said. “Why don’t we have a break?” I don’t want your entire trip here to be so morose.”

  My heart heavy, I tried to smile anyways. “Yes, I agree.”

  “Good,” Lily said, clearly relieved. She stood up from the table. “I’ll go finish up the trifle, and we can all go back to having a pleasant evening, all right?”

  “Very well, darling,” Patrick said.

  Lily nodded and hurried from the room.

  “These things make Lily jumpy,” Patrick said. “Roger has been a frequent topic of discussion here at our home. I’ve had many colleagues come to visit, wondering what really happened to him. They, like you, were not fooled by the articles in the paper…even if their superiors swore by the accuracy of the statement. They just couldn’t believe that a soldier like Roger would have been taken out that way. The bombing excuse took the blame entirely off of Roger, though…and so I’ve stood by it, lying over and over again to those who have come to me with – well, hello there, Robert. Come in, come in.”

  Little footsteps echoed in the hall, and a small, wide-eyed face appeared in the doorway of the dining room.

  The conversation was at its end, and part of me was relieved.

  “Here we are,” Lily said, leading Amelia back into the room, the trifle in a lovely glass bowl, tucked beneath her other arm. “Now, who’s hungry?”

  4

  I found myself at the Gordon’s residence the next morning all alone.

  Lily had made a delicious, hearty breakfast, which Patrick consumed rather hastily before hurrying out the door in his military best. He kissed Lily, Amelia, and Robert all on the cheek, and gave me a warm smile as he picked up his briefcase from beside the front door.

  “Now, I need to take the children off to school,” Lily said. “You are free to stay here and rest, if you’d like. Or go and explore the city. Whatever you choose, I will leave you the key, and I will just see you when I get back.”

  London held no attraction for me, and so I chose to while away the morning in the comfort of their home. I stayed in Amelia’s room, mostly, reading through some of the books I’d brought with me for entertainment.

  It didn’t take me long, however, to realize that I was just not going to be able to concentrate. Not after everything I’d learned the night before.

  I wandered downstairs, very aware of my footsteps echoing on the polished wooden floors. I felt strange, exploring their house, even the more public spaces, when Lily and Patrick were not home.

  Even still, I found a handsome study that doubled as a library. There was also a pleasant conservatory at the back of the house, overlooking the small, fenced garden where toys lay scattered in the grass, left over from some grand adventure of the imagination.

  I eventually found myself back in the sitting room near the front door, uncomfortable with sitting anywhere else.

  But that was all I wanted to do. Sit, and think.

  I wasn’t sure how to process everything Patrick had said. There was a small part of me, far deep down, that railed against what he had revealed. No, it can’t be true. Roger wasn’t a spy. Why would a spy have gotten married? Wouldn’t he have known that his death was likely? Why would he have put me through that?

  But what reason would Patrick Gordon have to lie to me? I could think of nothing.

  On top of that, I’d never known what Roger’s work truly was. And if it hadn’t been something as secretive or important as a spy, then why wouldn’t he have told me? Officers’ and generals’ wives knew what their husbands did, or at least knew a great deal more than I did about Roger.

  It made sense…I just was having a hard time believing it.

  It was half past one when the front door opened, and Lily’s voice echoed down the front hall. “Hello? Helen? Are you here?”

  I rose from my spot in the sitting room. “Yes, here I am,” I said.

  Lily appeared in the doorway, wearing an adorable hat with a felt flower attached to it. It looked homemade, given the jagged edge of some of the petals. She smiled at me as she pulled the hat off. “Have you had a pleasant morning?”

  “As pleasant as one in my position could have, I suppose,” I said, walking toward the doorway. I smiled at her. “I appreciate you opening your home to me. And allowing me to speak with your husband last night.”

  Lily’s face softened even further, and she smiled, her bright red painted lips stretching across her pretty face. “It is the very least we can do. As hard as it was to hear, I’m sure you are quite relieved to know the truth,” she said as she turned and started toward the kitchen, setting her hat atop a peg on the wall as she passed.

  I followed after her. “Well, I thought I would too…but instead, I’m having a hard time comprehending it all.”

  Lily stood at the sink, filling a tea kettle with water. “I thought you might. Giving you a night to sleep on it was best, but trust me…I can understand perfectly how difficult it is to accept what it is that our husband’s do…and to also accept that there is a great deal we will never know about it all.”

  She sat down at the small, round kitchen table, moving aside coloring pages and a box of crayons that Amelia had been hard at work on that morning at breakfast.

  I took the seat at the table across from her. “But it seems as if you know so much.”

  Lily shook her head. “No. I don’t, honestly. Even being married for twelve years now, I don’t know what Patrick’s day to day looks like. I’ve met some of the men he answers to, like General Klein, for example. But when people ask me what it is that my husband does, I simply tell them he is a commander in the military. Everyone is always very impressed, of course, as I’m sure you can relate.”

  “Yes, I can relate,” I said. “And there were always those who wanted to pry, asking too many questions. It always made me uncomfortable.”

  “I know what that’s like,” Lily said. “There are always those who are too nosy for their own good.”

  The tea kettle on the stove began to whistle, and she rose quickly to tend to it. “Would you care for some tea?” she
asked, glancing over her shoulder. “I always feel as if tea is a balm for the weary soul.”

  I smiled. “Yes, I would very much like some. Thank you.”

  She poured us some fresh, hot tea, and returned to the table, setting my cup down before me. “There we are…” she said, resuming her seat across from me.

  I sipped at the hot beverage, nearly scalding my tongue. It was comforting, however. I couldn’t be bothered to slow down as I chanced another sip.

  “I admire your bravery, you know,” Lily said. “I cannot even imagine what it must have been like for you…losing Roger. I know I would just be beside myself – ” she stopped suddenly, her eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I keep saying those sorts of insensitive things, don’t I?”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “It was hard. Incredibly so. To be honest, I found myself angry at Roger a lot of the time. I wanted to know why he had to be in London like he was, when he was. I was angry that I couldn’t have been with him when he died…or at least nearby. I hadn’t seen him in weeks leading up to his death, and it’s clear that I had absolutely no idea what was going on in his life. He probably hardly thought of me before he died.”

  Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. My cheeks flooded with color, and I moaned in regret.

  “How selfish am I?” I said, covering my face with my hands. “Roger was trying to save the country, trying to do his part for the war…and all I can think about is myself?”

  “It’s all right,” Lily said, reaching across the table. “You don’t have to feel bad about that. You loved him, and it’s clear you still do. It’s only natural to wonder these things.”

  I frowned, shaking my head. “How could he do this to me?” I asked. “I keep wondering…why did he even ask me to marry him if he knew something this terrible could happen?”

  Lily surprised me by smiling. “I thought that much would have been obvious,” she said. “He was madly in love with you. I knew he was going to propose to you the moment he showed up at our house and told us that he’d met someone.”