‘Would you like some coffee, Theo?’ Millie asked, chastising herself for being so foolish.
‘I would love some,’ said Theo. They were speaking English: Theo was fluent, of course. ‘And I like the look of those cakes over there.’
They talked politely of the women’s journey, Millie confessing that she had been sick in the aeroplane, and also that she had been terrified of being shot down by German fighters.
‘Isn’t it good to be in a neutral country, though?’ said Theo. ‘Here people aren’t afraid of being bombed at any time. Or not yet.’
‘Do you think Holland will be brought into the war?’ asked Constance.
Theo hesitated.
‘You can speak to Constance as to me,’ said Millie. ‘My father chose her to accompany me. He trusts her.’
As she said it, she wasn’t absolutely certain that was true. But she knew that her father trusted Sir Henry Alston, and it was clear that Alston trusted Constance, even if Millie herself wasn’t quite sure that was wise.
‘Well, Mrs Scott-Dunton, I believe it likely that Holland will be drawn in sooner or later.’
‘Ooh. Is your army planning to invade?’ asked Constance with a lack of subtlety that appalled Millie.
Theo waited to reply as a waitress delivered some cakes. ‘I can’t really answer that question. I’m sure you understand.’
‘That’s a shame,’ said Constance.
Theo smiled quickly. ‘Well, Millie, I presume you have a message for me from your father?’
Millie reached into her bag and withdrew a plain envelope, which she handed to Theo. He opened it and pulled out a two-page letter.
‘Should I read this now?’
Millie nodded, and watched as Theo scanned the note. Millie had read it herself and discussed it in detail with her father. It said that since Britain was at war with Germany, it was very difficult for the British government to negotiate directly with the leaders of a possible replacement regime to Hitler’s, should Hitler retire suddenly. But, it went on, Lord Oakford was confident that should a new German government wish to discuss peace terms, then he, personally, would ensure they would have a sympathetic hearing from the British Cabinet, a much more sympathetic hearing than they had received the year before.
‘My father asked me to add a couple of things,’ Millie said. ‘He knows about the talks between Captain Schämmel and British representatives here in Holland, and he says that the Cabinet was prepared to take Schämmel seriously, before they found out he was a fraud. He is a fraud, isn’t he?’
‘Oh, yes. He’s a Gestapo agent.’ Theo glanced at Millie. ‘You know what happened at Venlo? Your brother was there.’
‘I know. I saw Conrad in London a couple of days ago. Apparently he’s trying to meet you here.’
‘He succeeded,’ said Theo. ‘I spoke to him yesterday. He doesn’t know you are here, does he?’
‘Oh, no. And please don’t tell him. He would be furious if he found out.’
‘I’m sure he would,’ said Theo dryly. ‘What would you like me to do with this?’
‘Can you show it to your friends? I’ll wait for a response.’
Theo examined the letter again, nodded, folded it, and put it in his breast pocket. ‘I will do as you ask.’
‘Thank you,’ said Millie, finishing her coffee. ‘We’ll be here. We’re staying at the Kurhaus.’
‘I’ll walk part of the way back with you,’ Theo said.
Millie couldn’t help grinning.
Constance noticed. ‘Look here. I think I’ll just have a root around the harbour for a bit, and then take a stroll through the town. I’ll meet you back at the hotel later, Millie.’
‘Right oh,’ said Millie, thinking that Constance wasn’t so stupid after all.
They left the café and Millie took Theo’s arm. He led her along the harbour wall past the long line of boats. The wind had picked up and Millie pulled herself close against Theo for protection. There was a strong smell of fish, coming from the boats themselves and the nets neatly stacked on the quay. Three or four hardy seagulls battled against the breeze, searching out scraps of fish that they might have missed from the day before, their cries snatched from their beaks by the wind.
‘It’s nice to see you again, Millie,’ Theo said. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘And me you,’ said Millie. ‘Thank you for your letters. It’s horrid to think we are at war now.’
‘Very horrid,’ said Theo.
‘Are you staying in The Hague?’
‘I was last night. But now I will have to fly back to Berlin to discuss this letter. I should be back soon, perhaps the day after tomorrow.’
‘That’s a shame. I was rather hoping you would be able to stay here while we waited. Like we did in Zurich.’
‘I wish I could,’ said Theo. They were coming to the end of the wall by the small lighthouse. They looked back along the narrow strip of sand, grey rather than yellow in the gloomy November light. The grandly decorated Kurhaus with its distinctive dome preened itself behind the beach, and a little beyond that, the pier jabbed out into the sea.
‘Last time I was here they still had bathing machines,’ Millie said. ‘Do you remember those?’
‘You came here as a girl?’
‘For a couple of summers. It was fun. I loved the seaside, and it brought back memories for Mother, who used to come here herself when she was little.’
‘Now beaches are for fighting on,’ Theo said.
‘They are putting up all sorts of gruesome things on ours,’ Millie said. ‘Oh, I probably shouldn’t tell you that. Since you are a spy.’
‘I will send a message to Berlin by carrier seagull immediately. I just need to catch one.’
‘I think you will find the seagulls here are on our side,’ said Millie. ‘They have flown in from Suffolk.’
One of the birds a few yards from them squawked, wheeled and was swept back towards the town.
‘Sounded Dutch to me,’ said Theo.
Millie was tall, but she looked up at Theo. His cheeks were red in the wind, his dark hair flopping over his forehead. She had a strong desire to kiss him. He bent towards her.
And she turned away.
Theo stood back abruptly, stiffening. It was as if a wave of awkwardness had burst over them and the sea wall.
A wave Millie was determined to brush off. She turned back to Theo and reached for his hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, squeezing it. ‘I just think I shouldn’t kiss a German spy.’
Theo grinned, taking the opportunity to lighten the mood. ‘I suppose it’s not very patriotic. But we are allowed to enjoy each other’s company, aren’t we?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Millie. ‘We are.’ And she left her hand in his.
Amsterdam
Spuistraat 210 turned out to be a stylish modern building called the ‘Bungehuis’ in the centre of Amsterdam. Bedaux International occupied the second floor. Conrad approached the young woman behind the desk in the reception area and asked her if she spoke English.
‘Yes, certainly I do. How can I help you, sir?’
‘My name is de Lancey. I work for a merchant bank in London, Gurney Kroheim, you may have heard of us?’
The woman shook her head.
‘Ah, well. I am visiting the Netherlands on business. A colleague asked if I would drop by and collect some information on your company. Do you have some brochures, by any chance?’