“…This organization has long stood up to the tyranny of the British government, ruled by corrupt politicians who have no greater aspiration than to sit in Parliament and tell us how it is that we should live our lives,” Neil said. “Well, it is time for that to end. Just as our brothers and sisters in Germany and Russia and all over Europe are struggling in the wake of war, we must demand an end to the government’s warmongering!”
Marie sat up straight. She’d expected him to change bits and pieces of it to address the war, but this was vastly different. Just a few weeks ago, at her last meeting, they were raging against the scourge of fascism spreading across Europe. Now Germany was their brother and the British were the ones agitating for war?
“Responsibility for this war lies at the feet of Prime Minister Chamberlain, who allowed us to fall prey to our own hubris. Do not allow the politicians to convince you that the cause of this is anything more than the pride of a few stubborn men sitting in their ivory towers. We must stand up against the government. Stand up against those who would bring war to our doorsteps!”
Around her, people began clapping as they sensed Neil was building to the end.
“We welcome our brothers and sisters in arms and say we stand with you! We know what it is to hurt. We know what it is that must be done!”
Neil pushed back from the podium, triumphant, waved to the crowd, and stepped off the stage. People were on their feet applauding as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his brow. He shot her a grin, broader than any he’d offered her all night. “I made some changes.”
“Neil, you were asking the people here to rise up against the government. In a time of war!” she shouted over the din.
He stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket and shrugged one shoulder. “We want to see the government overthrown. ‘Workers of the world unite; you have nothing to lose but your chains.’ ”
People around them had begun to sit down, drawing attention to the fact that the last speaker seemed to be having an impassioned conversation with a young woman. The attention would’ve made her uncomfortable on any given day, but now, with things as they were, she wanted to hide.
“Can we step outside, please?” she asked, keeping her voice low as the applause was replaced by the buzz of anticipation for the next speaker.
Neil looked around, as though only just realizing how many eyes were on them. “Come on,” he said, pulling her by her elbow toward a side door.
They pushed outside into the night. It was pouring, and they huddled under an awning that provided two feet of protection from the elements.
“Why did you change the speech?” she asked. “In August, all anyone could talk about was how we needed to defeat Germany and the fascists. Now the war is Britain’s fault and Germany is our brother in arms?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re deliberately misunderstanding the politics of the situation. You don’t know—”
“I’m not misunderstanding things, Neil. I’m fully capable of understanding.” I practically write your speeches for you.
“Moscow decreed that we were no longer meant to focus on Germany as the enemy. We should be striving for peace, and the blame for all of this lies directly at the feet of the prime minister.”
“You changed your politics because Moscow told you to? You’re in London, Neil,” she said.
“It’s what I have to do, kleine Maus. You understand that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a little tender. “Sometimes doing things you don’t want to?”
He tucked her into his chest so he could rest his chin on the top of her head. She breathed deep, the scent of wool and Brylcreem mixing with wet leaves underfoot. But even as they stood there, a question with hazy edges formed in her head.
“Or else what?” she asked.
“What?”
“You said, ‘It’s what I have to do,’ as though someone is going to take something from you if you don’t follow instructions,” she said.
He peeled away from her, setting her from him at arm’s length, and smoothed his hand over his hair even though not a strand was out of place.
“That man you met earlier? Harvey? He thinks I could have a career in politics after the war,” said Neil.
“Neil, that’s wonderful!”
“Yes,” he said, his head hanging down. “Yes, it is.”
She frowned. “Why aren’t you happier about this?”
“I’ll have to join up. Probably the army. That way I’ll have a service record and all of the respect that comes with it. No one will vote for a man who didn’t fight if he was capable, not even if his politics mean he disagrees with it,” he said.
“You don’t want to fight,” she said slowly.
“I’ll do my bit, but there are other things I’d rather be doing. And there are things I would have to give up. People.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You’re German, kleine Maus.”
Immediately she understood his halting words. She took a step back, bile rising in her throat. “Harvey wants you to give me up.”
“You must understand that me being with a German woman… after two wars…”
“You’re saying that you need to put me to the side just so you can maybe stand for office if you make it through this war. You kissed me, Neil.”
He toed the ground with his brogue like a chastised child. “Just once. And this is my career. I could become one of the youngest members of Parliament ever to serve the North London boroughs. But not if there’s anything that will make voters think twice about me.”
“And I’m something to make people doubt your judgment.”
He refused to look at her. “The CPGB is still fighting for constituents across the country.”
To hear him lay out in such uncertain terms that his political ambitions were more important than her stung. It was as though the man who’d stopped by her desk to flirt and make her blush had dissolved and the true Neil stood before her. One who was as ambitious as he was craven.
“I thought better of you,” she said.
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm. “Kleine Maus.”
Through gritted teeth, she ground out, “Why do you call me that? It’s a nickname people use when they feel affection for one another.” Not when they see someone as a burden.
He spread his hands before him. “The first day I saw you, you were sitting behind that big desk looking so small. Just like a little mouse. It just popped into my head.”
The cracks around her heart he’d been tapping at all evening shattered. That nickname—the one that had made her hope for so long—had been nothing more than a joking acknowledgment that he thought her small and meek. She’d spent so much time wishing that he’d notice her as a woman. Instead, he thought of her as nothing more than an amusement he could set aside when he no longer needed her.
“Marie, I do like you.”
“But not enough to fight for me when people like Mr. Lambeth say you should set me aside,” she said.
He threw up his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say. That I’ve secretly been in love with you for years and that I’d marry you no matter whether there’s a war on or not?”