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Georgina spoke for some moments longer, while Maisie encouraged her with a ready smile, leaning forward to show excitement about the expedition and that she was keen to wish her well. Then having submitted her written report, Maisie gathered her belongings, ready to leave, but Georgina touched her on the arm.

“I’ve something for you. Call it a gift from Nick.” She held out a parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. “No prizes for guessing, it’s a painting. But one you will find quite extraordinary, I think.”

“A painting, for me?”

“Yes. I found it in the lock-up. A completed watercolor. Quite extraordinary, you know, because he had rolled a note along with it, explaining the subject. It reminded me of you, and I remembered you saying something about bare walls in your new flat, and I thought you might like it so I had it framed for you. Of course, if it isn’t to your liking, you can give it away.”

MAISIE UNLOCKED THE front door of her flat and called out. “Anyone home?”

Sandra emerged from the box room, a duster in her hand.

“Settling in, Sandra?”

“Yes, miss. I can’t thank you enough. I hope me being here won’t be too much of an imposition.”

“Not at all. We can’t have you living in a hostel until your wedding in June, can we?”

Sandra smiled, beckoning to Maisie. “Come and have a look. Eric helped me move a bed and dressing table in. Got them cheap we did—at a house sale, you know.”

Maisie looked into the room that had already been made cozy by the new lodger.

“And now that I’ve got a job in that dress shop, I can do night classes as well—typewriting’s the thing, you know. I was just about to go and sign up.”

“Right you are, Sandra. I’ll see you later.” Maisie smiled as the younger woman gathered her coat and hat and left the flat. Though she had wondered about her decision to extend the offer to Sandra to live with her until her marriage, she was delighted to lend a helping hand, as others had in turn helped her in the past. And in the way that fortune and providence gravitate toward each other, Sandra had found a new job soon after accepting Maisie’s offer.

LATER, AFTER SHE had hung the painting on the wall above the fireplace, Maisie dragged one of her two armchairs and set it in front of the fire. Sipping tea from a tin mug, she read the note that Nick Bassington-Hope had left with the painting he’d completed a year before.

Winter, but you would think it’s the first day of spring. The sun is shining, and everything has that look of readiness for rebirth. I had just returned from Lydd when I saw the subject for this painting, and something made me want to paint her. Despite the freezing cold, she walked along the beach and stopped to look out across the Channel, almost as if she were looking into the future. Can’t explain it, but I had the feeling that this was a woman on the brink of something fresh, something new, a woman leaving the past behind. So, what with the promise of spring in the air, I came straight back to the cottage and began to work.

Maisie wondered what Nick had seen on that day, for the picture could well have been a photograph taken on her last visit to Dungeness, as she walked on the shingle and looked out to sea. She finished her tea and sat for some time, studying the painting, thinking about the man who had caught a moment of reflection. Her moment of reflection. She read the note again and closed her eyes. Readiness for rebirth. Winter warming to spring; the land new again after battles have raged; a child dead, and a baby born. It was time to move on, to dance with life again.

Also by Jacqueline Winspear

Maisie Dobbs

Birds of a Feather

Pardonable Lies

Acknowledgments

As always, deepest thanks to my writing buddy, Holly Rose, for keeping me on track with my writing, and for limitless encouragement. More especially, Hol, thank you for your yellow high-lighter—where would Maisie and I be without it? Gratitude must also go to my “old china plate,” Tony Broadbent: thank you for our wonderful conversations about “old London” and for giving me even more research materials with which to breathe life into Maisie’s time and place—my bookshelves runneth over! In addition, my Cheef Resurcher (who knows who he is) has once again been on his toes, bringing golden nuggest of historical significance to my attention.

The Imperial War Museum has fascinated me since childhood, and continues to inspire and intrigue me, not least when I am using the archive and library—thanks must go to the ever-helpful staff, who so efficiently find books and correspondence to support my understanding of the Great War and its aftermath.

To my agent, Amy Rennert—love and gratitude for your powerful blend of experience, knowledge and grace; to my editors, Jennifer Barth (in New York) and Anya Serota ( in London, thank you both for your skillful and sensitive editing, for your insights and that shared uncanny ability to read my mind.

And thanks to my family—for everything: my husband, John Morrell; my brother John and sister-in-law, Angella; my wonderful parents, Albert and Joyce Winspear, who visited Dungeness with me, tramping across the shingle on a bitterly cold day while I made notes for Messenger of Truth—that’s what you call support!

About the Author

JACQUELINE WINSPEAR is the author of three previous Maisie Dobbs novels: Maisie Dobbs, Birds of a Feather and Pardonable Lies. Maisie Dobbs won the Agatha, Alex and Macavity Awards, and Birds of a Feather won the Agatha Award. Originally from the United Kingdom, Jacqueline Winspear now lives in California.

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Copyright © 2006 by Jacqueline Winspear

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Winspear, Jacqueline, [date]Messenger of truth : a Maisie Dobbs novel / Jacqueline Winspear.—1st ed.   p. cm.ISBN: 978-0-8050-7898-51. Dobbs, Maisie (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Women private investigators—England—London—Fiction. 3. World War, 1914–1918—Veterans—Fiction. 4. Arts, English—England—London—Fiction. 5. London (England)—Fiction. I. Title.PR6123.I575M47 2006823'.92—dc22

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