She blushed. “I was just saying—”
But he cut Marie off with a decisive swipe of his hand through the air. “It’s coming. The Germans want nothing more than to knock us back, and the people need to be prepared for it.”
Marie stopped abruptly, and Neil’s heel ground against the road as he swung around so they were facing one another.
“What?” he asked.
“Can’t we talk about something else? It seems as though all anyone can do is mention the war and we aren’t even in it,” she said. “I’m tired of it.”
He laughed. “What else are we supposed to talk about, silly girl?”
“Do not call me a silly girl,” she bit out, surprised at her own intensity.
In the streetlight, she saw Neil’s mouth open as though he could hardly believe that the woman he called kleine Maus had snapped at him. After a moment he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that.”
“It’s just that, well, you know I wasn’t born here,” she started to say.
His concern softened into a smile. “Is that all?”
She searched his face. “Do you know what happened during the last war? Thousands of Germans living here were forced to leave their homes. Put in camps. They lost their freedom. It ruined people’s lives.”
“That won’t happen to you. You were practically born here,” said Neil.
“Practically born here” was not “born here,” but how did she explain that to a man who had never been taken by his uncle at the age of twelve to the local police station to register himself as an alien resident? He might be a student of German, loving the language and the culture and the people, but Neil wasn’t actually German. He had the undeniable right to live in this country, while she was here because of the goodwill of the government. Marie suspected goodwill wouldn’t go far during wartime.
Neil reached out a hand and tucked a wisp of her stick-straight hair behind her ear. Her lips parted, shocked at the achingly intimate gesture.
“You worry too much,” he said.
“I don’t,” she whispered.
“I think perhaps…” But instead of finishing the thought, he kissed her. Their first kiss—soft, careful, and measured. It was a dreamy kiss, but the center of it held a question of more. She leaned into him in answer, gripping at the lapels of his jacket. He clasped her tighter to him as his lips pressed harder against hers, moving to suck on her bottom lip. She whimpered, her knees going weak, but she didn’t pull back. She’d waited so long for this, hiding smiles as he walked into the offices, thinking about him when she looked over his speeches at the little desk in her bedroom.
Finally, Neil pulled back, his breath coming a little fast as he paused, their lips a mere inch apart. “Well, that was unexpected.”
She flushed, flustered as her mind whirred back into gear. Unexpectedly good? Unexpectedly bad? What if she’d done something wrong?
As though reading her mind, he leaned in again and kissed her swiftly and softly.
Good enough. It must have been good enough.
Her fingers unlocked, and she slowly let her hands fall to her sides.
Neil scooped up her hand, tucked it back onto his arm, and gave her a small smile. “Come on, kleine Maus. There’s a glass of sherry waiting for you and a pint of ale for me at the Stag and Hound.”
four
The scrape of metal chairs against the cheap laminate floor of one of the Royal Imperial University’s many teaching rooms pierced Marie’s ears as she flipped her notepad closed and stuck her Biro through the metal coils at the top. She rocked her head side to side, seeking relief for the tired muscles in her neck and the headache that throbbed against her right temple. She’d been sitting in this room for nearly six hours now—lunch had been brought in by a pair of women pushing metal trollies laden with sandwiches—but Herr Gunter was bound to march her back to the department offices and plant her in one of the chairs across from his desk to take dictation.
With a sigh, she hauled herself to her feet, centering the cloth-covered belt of her light blue cotton dress. Without a glance back at her, Herr Gunter began to make his way out of the symposium room.
In the corridor, the stale scent of captive cigarette smoke dissipated and her headache eased a bit. Tante Matilda would probably take one look at her and send her to her room, a cold compress on her forehead and the lights dimmed low. It would be good to be mothered a bit after the long week.
It was nearly six o’clock, and the courtyard around which Royal Imperial’s main campus was built was nearly empty save for a few undergraduates hurrying through the lightly misting rain with their books tucked under their arms. Most professors and lecturers were already on their way back to their country homes by train or by car. It was not, Marie had learned, fashionable to remain in London for the weekend if one were a serious academic. Far better to sequester oneself in the dimly lit study of a cottage, scribbling away at one’s next article for publication.
Herr Gunter, however, was a different sort of breed. He liked the bustle of London, he’d told Marie when he’d arrived at the university just over a year ago. Therefore her boss was wholly unconcerned about keeping her past the hour that most commuters left for Paddington, Marylebone, and Waterloo.
“Fräulein Bohn, I wish to dictate my notes from the symposium,” Herr Gunter threw over his shoulder as they approached the department offices.
“Of course, Herr Gunter.”
“And I should like the notes to be typed and on my desk by Monday morning,” he said.
From inside the department office, a telephone began to ring. Herr Gunter opened the door, and Marie saw that it was the phone on her desk. “I’ll just be one moment,” she said, hurrying around to pick up the receiver.
“German Department.”
“Marie! Finally!” Hazel’s voice came out sharp across the line.
“Hazel, what’s the matter?” she asked as Herr Gunter unlocked his office and disappeared inside.
“You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?” she asked with a frown.
“I’ve been trying to ring you for hours. It’s happened. Germany marched on Poland.”
Marie’s notepad and pen slipped from her hands. “What? When?”
“Early this morning. The news broke a few hours ago. It’s all over the evening newspapers and the radio bulletins. You really didn’t know?” Hazel asked.
“I’ve been locked in a room with ten professors of German language and their graduate students all afternoon,” she said, gripping the phone in both her hands. “I haven’t been outside.”
“Turn the radio on. The prime minister is due to speak any moment now.”
“Maybe it isn’t an invasion. Maybe it was just—”
“The Germans are bombing Polish cities. Troops are marching. There are tanks. Nora says there can be no doubt that this is the beginning.” Hazel paused, and when she spoke next, her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”
Marie sank onto the edge of her desk. It was happening. It was actually happening. A part of her had wanted to believe that Hitler wouldn’t be so rash as to start another war, but it was impossible to deny what she could see all around her. People had begun fashioning crude carriers for their gas masks, looping string around the cardboard box they came in. Across the street from her building, workmen had taped long Xs on the windows in hope that it would minimize damage in case of explosion. All around her, Britain was preparing.