Mary Grace and I discussed the incident afterwards.
“Something upset her,” I said. “It was when she was talking about the past.”
“I think something must have happened. Some tragedy that she was reminded of, and it was connected with the Golden Jubilee.”
“That was years ago. I should have thought she wasn’t born then. She said the Golden Jubilee … and then seemed anxious to tell us that it was the Diamond one. It must have been the Diamond. If she had been at school, which she rather implied, she would be over sixty and they don’t have people in the Ministry over that age. I wonder what it was that happened?”
Marian became a cause for speculation at that time because both Florette and Peggy had been very much aware of the shock she had had in the Café Royal.
Whenever Marian was absent we talked about it. They fantasized about her. Peggy thought she had been “crossed in love.” She had met a young man who was above her in station.
“You know how she is about station and that sort of thing? He promised her a grand future; she thought she’d have a beautiful home where she would be petted and made a fuss of for the rest of her life. Then, right at the altar, he jilted her. Then she married Mr. Owen.”
Florette said: “He was a good husband, but he was not her true love and she never forgot. She had this rich lover. He was a great musical hall star and all the women were crazy about him. He saw Marian and she was different from all the rest. Those actors fall in and out of love very easily. He seduced her and there was a child. She gave the child away and then one day at this Jubilee thing she saw her child, grown up into a beautiful young woman.”
“She couldn’t have been more than five years old at the time of the Diamond Jubilee,” I protested.
“Oh, it wouldn’t have been that then. It was some other procession. There was the coronation of Edward VII, wasn’t there? I reckon it would have been that.”
“Well, whatever it was,” said Mary Grace, “it was undoubtedly there and we must not try to probe. She might tell us in time. Let us be especially gentle with her until she does.”
So we were. I wondered whether Marian realized this. There was certainly something stricken about her and it became more apparent since that outburst at the Café Royal.
It was about three weeks later when we discovered Marian’s secret. It happened in an unexpected way.
We came in one morning to hear that an inspector had arrived at the Ministry. There was a good deal of gossip about this.
“He’s come to investigate,” said one of the women.
“Do you think there is a spy here?” asked another, looking round suspiciously.
“Something like that,” said the first speaker. “Well, it’s ever so exciting and there’s a war on anyway.”
As the morning progressed, I noticed that Marian was in a state of increasing uneasiness. Mary Grace noticed it too.
“I am sure she is worried,” she said to me. “I wonder what it is she has done … or is doing?”
“I could not imagine Marian as a spy, or involved in anything dramatic,” I said.
“You never can tell,” said Mary Grace. “I could not imagine it either, but sometimes the most unlikely people do these things.”
Two or three days passed. We heard that the inspector was to be at the Ministry until Thursday. No one had any idea what he was doing. Billy Bunter was now and then called to his office and came back looking more important than ever.
Poor Marian was in a nervous state, I could see. Every time the door opened and someone came into the department there would be panic in her eyes. I tried to think of what misdemeanors she could have committed, and came to the conclusion that they must be serious to have this effect on her.
Thursday came. The inspector was leaving that day. She was safe. I could sense her relief. But then, during that morning, Billy Bunter came to our table.
He said: “Mrs. Owen, the inspector would like a word with you.”
I saw the color rush into her face, and then she turned so pale that I thought she was going to faint. I wanted to run to her but restrained myself. Billy Bunter was smiling his urbane smile. We watched her as she followed him through the door, then we looked at her in dismay, too shocked to speak.
We just sat there, pretending to work, shifting our papers round and seeing nothing but Marian’s stricken face.
And then, at last, she returned.
We stared at her. We had not expected to see her. We had imagined her handcuffed and taken away to prison. Spying for the enemy. Or perhaps she had murdered someone years ago and it had just been discovered.
She was smiling as I had never seen her smile, and she looked at least ten years younger.
We waited breathlessly. There was a new air of confidence about her.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’ve been worrying about nothing.”
“What was it?” demanded Florette.
Marian looked around the table.
“I shall not tell you now,” she said. “I want you all to come as my guests to the Café Royal this evening. Is that all right? Free, are you?”
“Oh, you are mean, making us wait to know,” cried Florette. “We’re dying to hear.”
“You must be patient,” said Marian.
She picked up her papers with a happy smile on her face and began sorting them.
Florette was right when she said we were all eager to know. We all sat at our favorite table and Marian ordered sherries and then she started.
“You see, I was very worried. I’ll tell you frankly. I needed this job badly. I had my little pension, but I just could not make ends meet. Then the war came and they wanted people for work. This was the kind of job I fancied. I didn’t want anything menial. This was a nice office job where you met nice people.”
“All right,” said Florette. “You wanted the job. What else?”
“They didn’t want people over sixty. Well, I have a confession to make. I lied about my age.”
“Is that all?” demanded Florette.
“It’s lying,” said Marian. “It’s a terrible thing to do in wartime, and when this inspector came, I thought, he’s going to find out. He’s vetting us all and you know how thorough they are? I thought he’d turn me out and then what would I do?”
“And what happened?” I asked.
“Well, I went along and Billy left me with him. He was a nice man. He had a ledger open on his desk and he said, ‘Sit down, Mrs. Owen.’ I was shaking all over like a leaf. Then he said: ‘It’s this matter of age.’ Then I knew it had come. He was going to send me away, I thought, and I just wondered what I would do. It’s made such a difference. It was just what I wanted.”
“Yes, yes,” said Florette impatiently.
“‘According to your records,’ he said, ‘you are sixty-two.’”
She looked at us searchingly, to see what effect this information was having on us.
“You see, I’d let them believe I was ten years younger. Nobody had doubted it. You didn’t, did you?”
“Never thought of it,” said Peggy.
“None of us did,” I said.
“I never think about people’s ages,” added Mary Grace.
“Then he laughed,” went on Marian, “and I burst out, ‘I wanted the job. I needed the job. If they had known my real age, they wouldn’t have had me.’ ‘Well, Mrs. Owen,’ he said, ‘it’s always best to tell the truth. But I suppose you’re right. There would have been some question about employing you at that age. Well, you’re here now and Mr. Bunter tells me you are as good a worker as the rest. I don’t think Mr. Hitler is going to care very much whether you are too old for the job, do you?’ He laughed. That seemed very funny, so I laughed with him. I thought I’d burst into tears if I didn’t. ‘Let’s say no more about this, Mrs. Owen,’ he said. ‘I don’t blame you for knocking off those years. Nobody would guess.’ Then I came away.”