The Unlikely Spy(138)

Sean was away, gone to Hunstanton to collect Neumann from the train. Mary turned from the window and resumed her pacing. Snatches of their conversation of that morning played over and over in her head like a gramophone record stuck in a groove: submarine to France . . . stay in Berlin for a while . . . passage to a third country . . . make my way back to Ireland . . . join me there when the war is over. . . .

It was like a nightmare--as if she were listening to someone else's conversation or watching it in a film or reading it in a book. The idea was ludicrous: Sean Dogherty, derelict Norfolk-coast farmer and IRA sympathizer, was going to take a U-boat to Germany. She supposed it was the logical culmination of Sean's spying. She had been foolish to hope that everything would return to normal when the war was over. She had deluded herself. Sean was going to flee and leave her behind to face the consequences. What would the authorities do? Just tell them you knew nothing about it, Mary. And what if they didn't believe her? What would they do then? How could she stay in the village if everyone knew Sean had been a spy? She would be run off the Norfolk coast. She would be run out of every English village where she tried to settle. She would have to leave Hampton Sands. She would have to leave Jenny Colville. She would have to go back to Ireland, back to the barren village she had fled thirty years ago. She still had family there, family that would take her in. The thought was utterly appalling but she would have no choice--not after everyone learned that Sean had spied for the Germans.

She began to weep. She thought, Damn you, Sean Dogherty! How could you have been such a damned fool?

Mary went back to the window. On the track, in the direction of the village, she saw a pinprick of light, bobbing in the downpour. A moment later she saw the shine of a wet oilskin and the faint outline of a figure on a bicycle, body hunched forward into the wind, elbows thrust out, knees pumping. It was Jenny Colville. She dismounted at the gate and pushed the bicycle up the pathway. Mary opened the door to her. The wind gusted, hurling rain inside the cottage. Mary pulled Jenny inside and helped her out of her wet coat and hat.

"My God, Jenny, what are you doing out in weather like this?"

"Oh, Mary, it's marvelous. So windy. So beautiful."

"You've obviously lost your mind, child. Sit down by the fire. I'll make you some hot tea."

Jenny warmed herself in front of the log fire. "Where's James?" she asked.

"He's not here now," Mary called from the kitchen. "He's out with Sean somewhere."

"Oh," Jenny said, and Mary could hear the disappointment in her voice. "Will he be back soon?"

Mary stopped what she was doing and went back into the living room. She looked at Jenny and said, "Why are you so concerned about James all of a sudden?"

"I just wanted to see him. Say hello. Spend some time with him. That's all."

"That's all? What in the world has got into you, Jenny?"

"I just like him, Mary. I like him very much. And he likes me."

"You like him and he likes you? Where did you get an idea like that?"

"I know, Mary, believe me. Don't ask me how I know it, but I do."

Mary took hold of her by the shoulders. "Listen to me, Jenny." She shook Jenny once. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Mary! You're hurting me!"

"Stay away from him. Forget about him."

Jenny began to cry. "I can't forget about him, Mary. I love him. And he loves me. I know he does."

"Jenny, he doesn't love you. Don't ask me to explain it all now, because I can't, my love. He's a kind man, but he's not what he appears to be. Let go of it. Forget about him! You have to trust me, little one. He's not for you."

Jenny tore herself from Mary's grasp, stood back, and wiped the tears off her face. "He is for me, Mary. I love him. You've been trapped here with Sean so long you've forgotten what love is."

Then she picked up her coat and dashed out the front door, slamming it behind her. Mary hurried to the window and watched Jenny pedaling away through the storm.





Rain beat against Jenny's face as she pedaled along the rolling track toward the village. She had told herself she would not cry again, but she had not been able to keep her word. Tears mixed with the rain and streamed down her face. The village was tightly shuttered, the village store and the pub closed for the night, blackout shades drawn in the cottages. Her torch was lying in her basket, its pale yellow beam aimed forward into the pitch darkness. It was barely enough light to see by. She passed through the village and started toward her cottage.

She was furious with Mary. How dare she try to come between her and James? And what did she mean by that remark about him? He's not what he appears to be. She was also angry with herself. She felt terrible about the insult she had hurled at Mary as she ran out the door. They had never quarreled before. In the morning, when things calmed down, Jenny would go back and apologize.

In the distance she could make out the outline of their cottage against the sky. She dismounted at the gate, pushed her bicycle up the footpath, and leaned it against the side of the cottage. Her father came out and stood in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag. His face was still swollen from the fight. Jenny tried to push past him but he reached out and wrapped his hands around her arm in an iron grip.

"Have you been with him again?"