‘I will get around to it, dear,’ she said aloud.
‘How is everybody in the Group?’
‘Oh, they were a bunch of pussycats as always. Guy Liddell asked after you. And, you know, people made a few suggestions that I might look into later.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
Joe’s voice was flat. He pushed his hand into the birdcage to change the droppings-covered newspaper at the bottom. It sent the finches into a fluttering frenzy for a moment. The noise made the first ray of pain penetrate into Rachel’s head.
Suddenly, Joe’s manner infuriated her. It was always like a dogfight with him. He circled around a subject in figures of eight, and only when there was no escape would he fire his emotions at you in a single machine-gun burst. And even then, there were things he would simply not speak aloud.
‘Joe, if you have something to say, please say it. I need to go to work soon.’
It was the wrong way to go about it, she knew. She had tried to get him to open him up before and pushing him never worked; he just became quiet or disappeared to his club.
‘Look, Rachel, I just think…’
‘What?’
‘Maybe we should take some time off. You’ve been under so much pressure, and we haven’t been to the Atlantic Coast for a while. My doctor was saying that it could do me good.’
Gertrude came in with a full English breakfast on a tray. Rachel thanked her, but knew immediately there was no chance of getting it down.
‘I don’t know,’ Rachel said after the housekeeper was gone. ‘It feels too early to take leave, with the new job and everything.’
‘I’m sure Miss Scaplehorn will understand.’
‘Have you met the woman, Joe? She is not the understanding kind. I would love to go, but … it just isn’t a good time. I’m sorry.’
The bacon smelled delicious, so she hazarded a nibble. An acidic taste rose into her mouth immediately. She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and waited for the heaving in her stomach to subside.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Rachel,’ Joe said slowly, ‘but is there something I should know? Something keeping you here?’
For the past few months, she had suspected Joe of seeing other women. It might not even have been a flesh and blood woman. There were places in the East End where spirits and mediums conjured alluring feminine phantasms out of ectoplasm for the discerning gentleman who worried about disease. Or it could simply have been a secretary in Blenheim.
Rachel was not sure which option was the worst, and so she kept the jealousy locked up in a cage, where it stayed still unless disturbed.
She opened her eyes and gave him a pained smile.
‘Just this terrible headache, dear. Would you be a darling and get me some aspirin so I can face Miss Scaplehorn?’
Joe nodded, touched Rachel’s hand briefly as if an afterthought, and went upstairs to fetch her medicine.
* * *
Rachel managed to get to the third invoice when somebody placed a hot cup of tea on her desk. Startled, she looked up and saw Roger Hollis.
‘How are you, Rachel?’
She picked up the teacup and smelled it. ‘You made it too strong. And without any lemon. But thank you.’
‘I suppose you would have preferred proper chai. But you’re welcome.’
Rachel massaged her forehead and sipped the hot tea.
‘I’m sorry about last time, Roger. I was tired, and didn’t want anyone explaining things to me. Especially things I did not want to hear. What are you doing here, anyway? No flowers for anyone this time?’
For a moment, Roger was consumed by a hacking, painful coughing fit and had to wipe his mouth with a handkerchief. The other Finance clerks turned to look. The cold weather had not been good for his health. In all likelihood, he did not care anymore and was just waiting for his transition to Summerland.
‘In fact, I am here to see you,’ Roger managed.
‘Then you can clearly observe that I am taking your good advice.’
‘I couldn’t help hearing about last night. I spoke out of turn earlier. I want to make it up to you.’
Of course. Philby would have already turned her escapade into the talk of Blenheim, with that gift of gab of his.
‘All right,’ she said. Miss Scaplehorn was looking at them pointedly over the thick rims of her glasses. ‘Let’s go somewhere else. It is only a few minutes until the lunch break anyway.’
* * *
They huddled on couches in a corner in the staff room—it was empty with everybody at the canteen for lunch. Rachel drank her tea and offered Roger some dry biscuits from a tin. She took three herself, and then a fourth: her stomach felt able to handle them.
Roger nibbled a brown disc delicately.
‘Rachel, before you say anything, I heard Philby’s version of what happened. He loves to embellish, so I am giving you the benefit of the doubt. I have been thinking, and I may be able to help you.’
‘Well, I have a few hundred purchase orders that need stamping if you are free after this.’
‘I am being serious, Rachel. I thought about what you said, and there is someone I know in the Summer Court who agreed to look into this imaginary mole. One of the Young Turks, in fact. It’s all rather … unofficial, but he thinks there might be something to it.’
‘Why doesn’t your Spook friend just request my report?’
‘Yes, well, you know how it is, not everything gets put into the reports. Besides, like I said, it is all a little unofficial. So I was wondering if there is anything else you remember about this FELIX, anything else that might help.’
Rachel stared at Roger’s familiar, boyish face, his friendly smile.
I could let it go, she thought. Someone would take care of it. I could go to Liddell, accept the transfer back to the Irish Section, tidy up here and no one would ever know.
Then the anger she had felt at the Harrises’ came back. Bloom is untouchable, Max had said. For all she knew, Roger was working for the forces who chose to shield Bloom from discovery. This was her operation, Kulagin’s gift to her, her chance to show the Service what she was made of and maybe get her job back.
‘No, I’m afraid there is nothing I can think of,’ she said. ‘Much as it pains me to admit it, Harker was probably right about it being misinformation. Even a broken clock shows the correct time twice a day.’
Besides, it would be exactly like Roger to do her a favour to win her affections before his time in mortal flesh ran out, their long platonic friendship be damned. Sometimes she felt that the carefree way he flaunted his affairs was meant to make her jealous. Maybe she was just flattering herself.
I could use a little flattery, Rachel thought.
‘Rachel, you do realise that this is not the worst position for you to be in. I really want to help you.’ He frowned. ‘At least with table manners, if nothing else. You have crumbs on your lips. Here.’
He handed her a clean handkerchief. For an instant, they both held on to it, their fingers almost touching. Then she pulled it to her and dabbed her lips with the silky cloth. Absurdly, she felt guilty at the touch. She put it down on the low table between them, next to her empty cup.
Even if what he offered was genuine, she could not accept it. It meant getting too close.
‘I appreciate it, Roger, I really do. I understand that you want to climb up a spirit spy’s trouser leg, and I wish you all the best. I just can’t help you get any higher. I’m sorry.’