Chocolate 17, Passionfruit 28 [Divide and Rule]
Title: Everything I Own
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide and Rule)
Flavor(s): Chocolate #17 (freedom), Passionfruit #28 (But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep)
Toppings/Extras: Brownie + Malt - Valentine Box (A thousand lives walk through my own/ I stand still and stand alone - ichthusfish) & Birthday prompt (There really is nothing quite like watching fools dig their own graves from shayna611)
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 8152
Notes: spring 1956, Edward Iveson/Julia Iveson, Diana Foyle, Ronald Whittaker. (Warnings for suicidal thoughts. Follows on directly from Other People’s Secrets. Malt for the summer challenge).
Summary: Julia comes to a crossroads, and none of the paths ahead seem to be the right one; meanwhile, Edward is at a loss.
***
Julia had once accused Edward of proposing to her only because he wanted a wife who couldn’t run away from him. She hadn’t meant it, but it was now proving to be uncomfortably true. She needed to go away for a few days, if nothing else, and couldn’t think of anywhere she could run to, at least not with a plausible excuse as to why. His cousin Amy would have her (or indeed Nancy, or Aunt Anne and Uncle Ted, or even Aunt Daisy if it came to it), but Julia drew the line at staying with Edward’s relatives while she thought about leaving him.
She knew, of course, that she was making too much out of what Marie Werner had told her, but it was more complicated than that. Whatever Edward might think about her being a spy, and no matter how little that weighed against everything they’d built together, or how she felt about him and Emily, she couldn’t allow herself to ignore it any longer. As it was, she’d done very little, and United Europe were a peaceful organisation, frequently not even taken as seriously as they hoped to be, but if she remained while Edward’s career progressed, if he became a cabinet minister, it wouldn’t have to be anything more to potentially destroy them.
She had to do something about it, and she couldn’t stay here like this, shrinking away from Edward in her disgust at herself. If she stayed, she’d give in sooner rather than later, and bury her head in the sand - or in his jacket more probably - and pretend to herself that it would all come right in the end. Well, it wasn’t all right now, and it certainly wouldn’t be if they carried on like this - if she carried on like this.
The first thing she had done, after two days of inward misery and shame, was to meet her current contact with the organisation. She hated to break with them, because she also owed them a great deal, particularly for helping her when she’d been left in Berlin after the war and couldn’t find the heart in her to make her way home again. Her younger brother had had connections to them, too. She’d always liked to think she was carrying on something he’d started. It was why she’d never been able to let go before.
However, she wasn’t doing them much good, either, half-heartedly telling them things she heard or observed, refusing to raid Edward’s study for documents or listen at keyholes. She had never promised them anything more than what they’d call weather reports. Her current contact, Alec, had been more forceful than the others, asking her to try harder, saying that times were changing, that things were getting worse by the day, but she’d just pointed out that there wasn’t much she could do with Edward in opposition.
Alec hadn’t taken her suggestion of withdrawing well. She’d have thought he wouldn’t even have been surprised, let alone disappointed, but he turned on her and accused her of sacrificing ideals for a comfortable life - which was true, she thought; it had always been true. Then he’d turned to threats: if she did pull out now he’d wait till after the election and then get some value out of her by telling everything to the press. It’d get the organisation some publicity at least.
“You couldn’t prove anything,” Julia said.
“I don’t need to. And if your husband doesn’t win, well, I can make sure he knows about you.”
That was less of a threat, since Edward had always known, but Julia couldn’t let her contact know that. She shrugged. “I doubt he’d believe you.”
“Maybe,” Alec said. “In fact, I’ve had a better thought. You let us down like that, and you’ll find out what it is. We’ll get our money’s worth after all. That’s a promise.”
Julia would have liked to laugh at him, but she felt uncomfortably sure he was serious. She had to get away and try and work out what to do before it was too late.
In the end, she went to Diana Foyle and begged her to invite her down to Devon the next week, where she was staying in a friend’s holiday cottage. She wasn’t sure how Diana would take it, but she didn’t think she would ignore a direct appeal for help.
“I don’t mind you coming at all,” said Diana. “It won’t be exciting, though. I usually go for long walks along the cliff-tops and read a lot - not very sociable, you know.”
Julia nearly laughed. “I want to get away and think, so it’s perfect. I’ll try not to be a bother.”
“That’s all very well, but won’t Edward think it a little odd? Must we be so cloak and dagger about it?”
Julia drew in an uneven breath. “I don’t mean to be unreasonable, but he’ll worry much less that way. And I really do need some time - I can’t explain, but it is important.”
“Yes,” said Diana, regarding her with wariness. “I’m sure. Just one thing: I’m happy to help, my dear, I honestly am, but if this is any sort of way to leave or to meet someone else - I don’t want to have any part in it.”
Julia leant forward. “No, of course not. I promise.”
“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” Edward said, as he carried Julia’s case out to the car. Julia had been in such an odd mood for the last few days, without any real explanation. She’d withdrawn in ways that were so unlike her that he was alarmed. Her decision to go away had only worried him more. Diana’s invitation had clearly been staged; he could tell that much.
Julia turned. “Ned, I told you. Nothing’s wrong. Am I not allowed to help Diana out and have a holiday? If Amy hadn’t wanted Emily, it would have been different. You needn’t worry. I shall certainly be back in time to show my face at as many meetings and events as you wish.”
“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” Edward said, his irritation showing through. He shut the boot a little too sharply. He looked over at her, as she headed back in through the door, going to fetch Emily. She’d been so carefully pretending that everything was normal that he didn’t know how to begin to say what he wanted. Even if he did, in this mood, she’d probably only lie in response. “Julia -” he began. When she turned, he shrugged. “Have a nice time,” he finished.
Perhaps he was being unreasonable, imagining things because he was on edge about the upcoming election. She might (understandably) still be annoyed about the business with Marie or even something else. Maybe she was annoyed with him for not working out what it was she was annoyed about.
“Thank you, Edward,” she said, and when he followed her into the hallway, as Mrs Crosbie came down the stairs with Emily, she let him kiss her on the cheek in farewell.
He swallowed, and tried again. “Julia -”
She raised an eyebrow as she crouched down to pick up Emily. “Yes? Oh, darling, say goodbye to Daddy.”
Edward gave up; what with Julia resolutely refusing to acknowledge there was a problem, and Emily to be fussed over, and Mrs Crosbie watching from behind, it wasn’t the moment. Anyway, it was disloyal and stupidly melodramatic of him to feel so afraid that she might not come back again.
All she needed was a little space and time to think, away from Edward. Julia had felt so sure of that, but now she only found herself going over and over the same seemingly insoluble problem and still getting nowhere. Whatever she did, she couldn’t behave well. If she called Alec’s bluff or ran away, she betrayed the United Europe movement, and if she gave into their requests and carried on as she was, then she must betray Edward as she never had before.
Be honest, she thought, either way she betrayed Edward. And leaving was the unselfish thing to do, wasn’t it? She might still be able to find other people in the movement, find somewhere to go, no matter how frightening matters were getting in some places on the continent. It was better than staying and ruining his career or forever going behind his back, stealing documents and listening at keyholes. She’d never done that yet and she’d sworn she never would.
Except, of course, she couldn’t leave. She didn’t want to leave Edward - hated the thought with every atom of her being - but even more, she could not, would not, leave Emily behind, and she could never take her with her. Even if she had somewhere safe to go, she couldn’t steal Emily from Edward.
So, she must stay, and try harder at giving the movement something useful. Edward didn’t trust her anyway - hadn’t the last week or so proved that already? With that, she thought again of Marie Werner, sitting in the living room, telling her how unthinkable she’d found the idea of spying on her husband. The circumstances weren’t the same, and Julia knew it, but the shame still threatened to crush her.
Diana had been out all day, meeting a friend. When she came in later, Julia glanced up briefly in greeting, and saw Diana’s face lose her smile as she raised an eyebrow at Julia.
“My dear,” Diana said, removing her hat and coat. “What have you been doing with yourself? Whatever it was, I don’t think it agrees with you.”
“Oh, I went for a walk and read a book,” said Julia, lifting her head and leaning back in the chair, her movements listless. She still had the book open in her lap, but she couldn’t have told Diana what it was.
“Did you?” Diana said. “Hmm. You have at least eaten, I trust?”
Julia nodded, although she’d only remembered to make herself a sandwich a little over half an hour ago.
“You know, I hate to be interfering,” Diana added, “but this is supposed to be my holiday and while I’m happy to have you here, it is a little off-putting to share a house with someone so set on making themselves miserable.” She sat down next to Julia on the hard, old sofa. “It isn’t too late to drive you down to the pub - they’ve got a phone there, if you wanted to call Edward.”
Julia shook her head, panicking at the idea. If she spoke to Edward, she’d go back; she wouldn’t be able to help it, and then she’d ruin him.
“Are you sure?” said Diana, leaning forward in concern. “I’m the last person to give you any advice when it comes to marriage - but you know there are reasons that Stephen and I talk as rarely as we can help. You and Edward - now, that’s another matter, isn’t it?”
Julia swallowed. “If I’m being a nuisance, I can go, of course. I didn’t mean to spoil things for you. And, honestly, I just had a quiet day - a little bit of a headache this afternoon, that’s all.”
“You’re welcome to stay for the week,” said Diana. “And I shan’t mention it again unless you want me to, but in my experience most things are a lot easier if you just talk it over with someone. If you won’t speak to Edward, then can you tell me?”
Julia raised her head and tightened her hold on the book. “There isn’t anything to tell. I am sorry if I’m being a bit gloomy - I’ll try harder tomorrow.”
“Julia -”
“I know you mean to be kind,” said Julia, turning her head towards Diana, “and I am grateful. It’s just one of those things and I need to work through it on my own.”
She gave a slight smile, and drew back. “All right. I shall leave you alone - but the offer stays open. Both offers. Now, would you like some hot chocolate?”
“Yes, please,” said Julia, and managed a smile.
Being in the middle of an election campaign meant that things were busy enough for Edward to try and not think too hard about Julia not being there or why she had gone. Still, he was glad, on the Wednesday, to go home and have some peace again. He managed to remember to telephone Amy to say goodnight to Emily before he left the campaign office. When he got home, he gave the telephone in the hall a rather hopeful look. It was halfway through the week and if Julia was going to call, then surely it would be tonight? The cottage would be unlikely to have a phone, but there would be a public one somewhere in the village.
“Oh, Mr Iveson,” said Mrs Crosbie, emerging into the hallway, on the point of leaving. “I was running a little late, and here you are, early. Well, I’ve finished everything and your dinner’s in the oven -”
He said goodbye a little awkwardly, wondering uneasily if he had spoken aloud about wishing Julia would call. Then he turned as she was about to open the door. “Mrs Crosbie, there still seems to be a problem with the sink. Wasn’t somebody supposed to see to it last week? Didn’t they turn up?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Well, Mrs Iveson was going to, but she didn’t get around to it before that woman arrived, and then I didn’t like to press her. She seemed a little upset, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Edward hung up his overcoat. He didn’t mind her saying; it was rather a relief to know that someone else had noticed something amiss. “What woman?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs Crosbie. “Mrs Iveson went to the door. American, I think she was. The thing is, I took the liberty of phoning the plumber myself yesterday because I thought -”
He nodded, cutting in hastily, fastening in alarm on the first half of her speech and not the second. “Yes, of course. Quite right! Thank you.”
“Yes, well,” said Mrs Crosbie, departing with a rather offended backward glance at him. “I might see you tomorrow, then, Mr Iveson.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” said Edward, once she’d actually gone. Marie had left a note, but he hadn’t dreamed that she would have delivered it in person. Anyway, he thought, it couldn’t be that - Marie would never try to make trouble, and he didn’t believe Julia would listen if she did. On the other hand, as coincidences went, it was too uncomfortably large a one for him to ignore. What could either of them possibly have said to the other to cause even part of Julia’s sudden distress? Edward could only speculate uselessly, since Marie was on a boat back to America and Julia was somewhere in Devon and equally unreachable for the moment.
“Damn,” he said, and did the only thing he could do in the meantime, and went to investigate the contents of the oven.
He couldn’t stop himself from coming back to the question over and over as the evening progressed, even if it still got him nowhere. Determined to try and take his mind off it, he went in search of a book, but just as he found the one he’d been reading, there was a knock at the door.
“Mr Iveson,” said Ronald Whittaker, who was standing on the step when he opened it. “I’m sorry I’m a little late.” He glanced up, seeing Edward’s blank look, and stopped. “Oh. I’m sorry - is it not still convenient? I’m sorry, but I thought quarter of an hour shouldn’t be -”
Edward gave him a smile and held the door open wider for him. “No, no, it’s fine. Do come in. It’s just that I’m afraid I’d forgotten for the moment. I do seem to have a bad habit of forgetting my engagements.” Julia usually reminded him, he thought guiltily. “Now what was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Oh,” said Whittaker, still sounding uncertain as he followed Edward into the study. “Only a small matter. It’s probably a bit of a cheek, really, but I thought you could give me some advice. You see, I was speaking a week or two back in the town hall, and I was as prepared as I could be for all the local issues and so on, and then someone asked about our foreign policy - a matter of East Africa, I think. He had a brother out there. Anyway, all I could say was that I’d find out and of course I felt like a fool. Then you gave that speech the other day, and I thought - well, you can see. It is a bloody cheek, isn’t it?”
Edward laughed. “Nothing of the sort. Sit down. Would you like a drink?”
“Er, no thanks,” said Whittaker, looking around him as he took the nearest chair. “Mrs Iveson won’t mind?”
“I shouldn’t think so. She’s not here,” Edward told him. “She and my daughter are away, and so I finally have some peace and quiet and the house to myself - and, naturally, now I have it, I don’t appreciate it. Consider yourself a welcome interruption. So, what was this question?”
Julia was lying in the cottage’s spare room, suffering another largely sleepless night. She had finally dozed off, only to be woken again almost immediately by the first notes of the dawn chorus outside. “Oh,” she said in muffled annoyance from underneath the covers. Everything kept going round and round in her mind till her head wouldn’t stop aching. She couldn’t leave, she couldn’t stay, she couldn’t explain to Edward - what on earth was she supposed to do?
She was running out of time, and she still hadn’t come up with a solution. She turned over in the bed and buried her head in the old feather pillow, as if trying to hide from the answers she didn’t want. Then she sighed, and sat up, deciding that enough was enough. She would get up now and go for a walk along the cliff tops, or down on the beach, and see if that cleared her mind a little, or at least helped her sleep again.
It was growing lighter by the time she reached the beach, dawn breaking through the darkness and the clouds. The air was chilly and damp with the mist, but it felt better than being shut in the cottage. She let the breeze blow through her hair and closed her eyes, trying again to think.
What she had to do was to decide on the least worst option, that was all, and, really, she knew what that was: she should leave and then Edward and Emily would be free of her and her connections and untrustworthiness. Ignoring that was selfish.
As she always did once she reached that point, something in her rebelled: she didn’t want to, and she’d probably long since gone past any sort of logic over this. It seemed now to have no end and no beginning. I’d rather die, she thought. It would be easier. And Julia looked up then, out at the sea and trembled at the idea, because she could.
She walked out to meet the waves and the incoming tide, ironically feeling abruptly more alive again at the idea. It would only involve a moment’s foolishness on her part; it would be a tragic accident, and then everything would be resolved without betraying anyone, or at least no one would know she had betrayed them.
A sudden wilder wave washed the water over her feet, and the unexpected coldness of it jolted her back to herself. She closed her eyes, on the point of tears. She wouldn’t do this; she knew that really.
Except, she thought, almost dreamily in her exhaustion, as she took one more step forwards, she wouldn’t have to do anything, would she? All she had to do was stay standing here, sand and shingle shifting dizzily under her feet, and the tide would take her.
She wouldn’t, of course, but just now it was a temptation; it felt almost a comforting idea. She wouldn’t, but she could. Everything ended one way or another, after all. She watched the colours of dawn stretch across the sky and nearly managed a smile. She should go back now, of course - she was shivering already at the cold and the last wave had reached her ankles - but she didn’t want to walk away from that sense of freedom.
“Julia!”
Julia didn’t turn. She pretended that she hadn’t heard. Once she acknowledged Diana, it would all come back - the feeling of being trapped, the need to make a decision she didn’t want to. Better to stay with this sense of abdication for as long as she could.
Diana arrived beside her, splashing through the water with a small sound of dismay that Julia might have found amusing at any other time. “Julia!” she said again, out of breath. She caught hold of Julia’s wrist. “Oh, God, you’re frozen,” she said. “Julia, come back with me at once!”
It was a relief to be told what to do. Julia risked looking at Diana, and then away again, unsure of anything. She let the other woman lead her back up the beach towards the path back to the cliff top.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Diana demanded, but then shot Julia another look, and sighed. “Never mind. Just hurry up and follow me before you catch your death.” She caught hold of Julia’s hand and pulled her on up, away from the sea. Julia was shivering uncontrollably now and needed the help, her feet and stockings drenched and everything else damp from the air and the sea spray.
Once they got to the top, Julia collapsed onto the grass, but Diana crouched down, and said, “No, no. It’s only five minutes or so to the cottage and you can’t stay there!” She surveyed Julia, and sighed again. Then she pulled off her raincoat and put it around Julia’s shoulders, helping her back to her feet. “No, come on, Julia. This way!”
Back in the spare bedroom, with the sunlight beginning to creep in through the cracks in the curtains, Julia continued to do as she was told, climbing out of her damp clothes, and pulling on her nightdress, finding it hard to keep her teeth from chattering.
“Here,” said Diana, returning with a cup of hot milk. “Now, you drink that. I’ve put some brandy in it. And then you can stay there and go back to sleep till a more reasonable hour, when I shall be expecting an explanation. I don’t need to lock you in, do I?”
Julia closed her eyes as she held onto the white china cup, the warmth of it being the first that seemed to have reached her in what felt like hours. Then she looked up again at Diana, wearing some hastily thrown on clothes, her fair hair hanging round her face instead of elegantly pinned up, and felt a pang of guilt. “I’m s-sorry,” she said, still shivering. “I didn’t mean - I swear, Diana, really -”
“All right,” said Diana more softly, sitting on the side of the bed. “Don’t say anything now. Just you drink that as soon as it’s cooled a little and get a bit of sleep for a change. You needn’t worry about anything else yet.”
Julia cautiously risked a sip of the milk. “Please, though - you won’t t-tell Edward?”
“No,” said Diana, “or at least not until I’ve heard what you’ve got to say for yourself. Although I like your concern now, given what I might have had to tell him if I hadn’t -” She stopped, swallowing, and then shook herself. “Well, as I said. We’ll worry about all that later.”
Julia stared down at the cup again. She was close to tears again. She’d exhausted herself, she recognised. She really had no one to blame but herself. “Th-thank you.”
When Julia woke again, it was still light and she blinked, feeling disorientated. She still felt tired, and her head ached, but she also felt distinctly more human. She sat up, remembering as she did so, what had happened earlier, what she could have done, and putting her hands to her face as she recognised the enormity of it. How could she have let herself get to such a point? Then she shut her eyes and drew in her breath as she steeled herself to get up and face Diana again.
“Julia,” said Diana, looking up as she walked into the cottage’s crowded and dark living room. “How do you feel?”
Julia took a tentative step inside and then shut the door behind her. She struggled to find something to say in response. “I’m sorry,” she managed eventually. “I - I suppose I should say thank you.”
“Oh, sit down,” said Diana. “All I want for now is some sort of explanation. We’ll come back to me having you eternally in my debt some other time.”
Julia sat down gratefully, finding that she still felt shaken.
“That was a joke,” Diana said, watching her. “The last part, I mean, not the first.”
“I -” said Julia and simply failed to get any further. She looked back at Diana.
Diana moved out of her chair and across to Julia. “How would you like a cup of tea and some bread and butter? You’ve missed both breakfast and lunch, after all.”
“Thank you,” said Julia. By the time that had been accomplished, she felt a little more like herself and, hugging one of the embroidered cushions, she attempted to explain again. “I didn’t mean anything,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep and thought some air might help. I would have come back anyway, you know. I would have done.”
Diana rested her chin on her hands and surveyed her thoughtfully. “My dear,” she said eventually, her tone unusually soft, “I don’t know what you intended, but you wouldn’t have done if you’d stayed there for much longer. I thought I warned you to be careful along the shore round here - it’s very easy to get cut off by the tide and then -” She gave an elegant shrug of her shoulders and then leant back in her chair.
“Oh,” said Julia, and thought that she did remember Diana saying something about it, along with a whole lot of other information on arriving. She had to blink back tears again. She seemed to have brought herself to an odd state of exhaustion where almost anything could make her cry. “I honestly had forgotten. Diana, I promise that wasn’t why I asked to come with you. I wouldn’t do that.”
Diana bit her lip, evidently thinking before she spoke again. “I did wonder for a moment, but I believe you. But, forgive me, it was rather odd - that’s why I followed you down there. I had it in my head that you might use this as a chance to run away - leave Edward. I don’t know why, but I did. Just as well, it turns out, although I take it that isn’t true, either?”
“I came here to think about it,” said Julia, and it sounded so odd and unreal to say it aloud. “But whatever I decided, I wouldn’t have done that. I was trying to work myself up to it - how on earth to tell him, if I did.”
Diana was still watching her, careful of her responses. “You know, while I’d be a hypocrite to offer advice on the subject, I can’t see why the hell you’re even thinking about it if the idea makes you that miserable. Tell me you’ve been unhappy, Edward’s been unkind, tell me there’s someone else, and that’s your business, but this - what is this even about?”
“Me,” said Julia, with a tremulous laugh. “Oh, I can’t explain, but there are reasons. What was stupid was getting myself so wound up that I couldn’t think straight. And it’s not Edward, don’t think that.”
Diana shook her head. “Then for heaven’s sake, go home and talk to him. Anything else is beginning to remind me of the kind of overwrought plays I detest.”
“You may be right,” said Julia, too tired to argue, though she knew there was still no way she could explain any of this to Edward.
“Of course I am. If you’ve reached the point of - of - well.” Diana paused, catching her breath, still shaken by the day’s events herself. “It’s not that I don’t sympathise, my dear, but it’s not the answer. I was in a similar place once myself, and now look at me - they let me make scathing speeches to pompous old men and be paid for it. I think that’s a much better alternative.”
Julia pressed herself back into the seat, feeling guilty. She knew Diana had had a good deal more to put up with than she had, and still did. “Yes, of course,” she said. And since both leaving and any more drastic options were obviously impossible, that left only one thing to do. It was perfectly simple after all. All she had to do was to accept who she was. Julia leant her head against the side of the chair with a sigh. Other people seemed to think that was a good thing, but as far as she was concerned, it meant only defeat.
If it wasn’t all so miserable, it would be funny, Julia thought, as she returned home. She couldn’t help breathing out in relief just to be back again, knowing that she wasn’t going to leave. She could have saved all that time and trouble, scaring Diana and no doubt worrying Edward, and stayed here.
She called out, in case Edward was around, although she didn’t expect him to be. There was no answer, so she set her face, and walked into his study, where she set about going through the drawers, searching for something she could use, just to show good faith to Alec and the movement. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew. Edward was always careful about what he brought home and what he left here. Still, she’d thought about it seriously on the way back and had decided the best thing to do was to see if she could find anything that would give the UE an insight into the Shadow Cabinet, given that it might become the real one very soon.
She managed to find some minutes and a letter to Edward from Amyas Harding, and photographed them carefully, before filing them away again. She replaced the camera in its cupboard and took the film with her, putting it into her coat pocket as she set out to leave it in its designated place.
She could do it, she thought. It wasn’t new or surprising; it was just about being realistic about the cost of what she wanted to keep.
That accomplished, Julia walked into the hallway for the second time, an hour and a half after the first, carrying her suitcase. As she put it down, she bit back a startled cry at realising that Edward was standing there in the hallway, close to the telephone. He turned on hearing her, seemingly equally surprised.
“Julia,” he said, finding his voice first. He sounded wary, she thought.
She put the suitcase down. “Edward,” she said, and thought suddenly that she might cry again. She’d spent so much of this week trying to work out how to leave him, one way or another, and all she’d learnt was that she never would now. She gave him a tentative smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, more warmly. “I mean, to see you. You’re early, that’s all.”
Julia gave a slight laugh. “Oh, I’d had enough time away, and I thought this way we could go and collect Emily together tomorrow - have dinner with Amy and see everyone properly before they have to go.”
“Good idea,” said Edward, and then moved forward to put a hand to her shoulder, and kiss her cheek, but he still seemed uncertain of something. He drew back and looked at her closely. “Julia,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s time you explained?”
Julia swallowed. “I told you, Edward. Must I apologise for having a holiday?”
“No, of course not,” said Edward, “but you had such a look on your face when you left - I thought you weren’t coming back.”
She closed her eyes and felt cold again, as if still breathing in the chilly, damp air, and feeling the cold spray and the waves and water around her legs. She shivered. “Ned, no. That was never - it was only something - something I can’t talk about - but that’s just not true. And anyway, it’s all over now, I promise.”
Edward reached out to her, and then pulled her in against him, his arms around her, and she breathed out in relief. She felt, though, that wariness in him still, a slight tenseness in his body, and she didn’t have anything to say to reassure him. She merely hung onto him in return and felt then, a moment or two later, the resistance easing out of him.
“And if I could talk about it,” she said, turning her head slightly, somewhere between exhaustion and an odd sort of defiance, “I wouldn’t want to, not now, not yet. I don’t want - I don’t want to talk.”
He kissed her head and smoothed down her hair. “No, no, not now. It’s all right.”
Julia thought it probably wasn’t, not really, but it was easy to pretend it could be. She shifted in his hold, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him. He gave a small sigh of relief, and leant against her, before kissing her in return, more passionately than she’d expected. She found herself pressed against the coats on the coat rack, feeling the uneven softness of the lining and the awkwardly placed buttons behind her.
“I should take my case upstairs,” she murmured to him, after a moment.
“Yes, of course,” he said, but it was the case that stayed downstairs.
“We’re early,” said Edward, glancing at his watch as Julia reached for her coat.
She raised an eyebrow. “Not very, darling, and I don’t suppose Amy will mind. Besides, I don’t want to wait any longer to see Emily. I didn’t manage to phone every evening, with it not being in the house, and I’ll be happy again when I know she’s all right.”
“Well, I did manage it,” Edward told her with a sudden smile. “Amy says there were tears at bedtime the first night, but she’s been fine other than that. As far as I can gather, there seem to have been several pirate voyages and something involving a giant cat that I don’t think I can have been following properly.”
Julia laughed as she checked herself in the mirror in the hall and buttoned up her blue jacket. “Of course. But I do want to see her, Ned, so don’t let’s stand here -”
“Julia,” said Edward, interrupting, his expression serious again. He caught at her wrist, leading her back into the sitting room. “We have a few minutes, and we must talk. I don’t want to spoil things last night, but I’m rather afraid if we don’t now, we never will.”
Which, thought Julia, feeling rebellious, would be fine by her. She only looked back at him, though, and waited.
“What were you doing this week?” he asked, shutting the door behind them and then turning to face her. “And please don’t lie this time. I know Diana didn’t invite you, and I know - I know that Marie called here. I also know what happened Thursday and I know -” He hesitated, looking away from her again. “I know what you did when you came home.” Before she could say anything, he added, “The first time.”
Julia had expected him to ask again about her reasons for going, but the rest made her blink in surprise, and she stared back at him. “Well,” she said, eventually when she regained her breath, “in that case, I don’t see that I need to tell you anything! Have you been having me watched?”
“No, of course not,” said Edward. “Julia! It was merely - oh, let’s say that all these facts fell into my possession, but what I don’t know is why. They must be connected, surely, but I simply don’t see. Please, Julia.”
Julia folded her arms. “But how could you know any of that? Well, Thursday - I suppose Diana must have telephoned you after all. I can understand why she would, but - oh, I wish she hadn’t! It wasn’t at all what it must have sounded like.”
“Then I’m relieved to hear it,” said Edward. “And I don’t think she did it lightly. As for Marie, Mrs Crosbie mentioned it. She said that you had been upset and forgotten to call the plumber.”
“So I did,” said Julia, instantly distracted. “Oh, dear! And I meant to do it before I left! I suppose you haven’t, despite your sudden omniscience?”
“Mrs Crosbie has, and the sink has been fixed, but that really isn’t the point -”
“Only because you don’t do the washing up,” said Julia.
Edward moved forward. “Julia, I’m serious. Don’t try to change the subject. It’s as you said to me - just tell me something here, or what am I to think?”
“What about the last thing?” said Julia. “There’s no possible way you could know that unless you were having me watched!”
He put a hand to his head, a gesture of both frustration and weariness. “I was here, that was all. I had been working from the study, and I had a headache - I hadn’t slept well - so I went to lie down for half an hour, and, of course, fell asleep till you woke me coming in.”
“And so, naturally, instead of calling out, you crept down the stairs and spied on me?” said Julia.
Edward shrugged. “I heard something - that was what woke me - but I wasn’t sure. And when I came downstairs, I could see you. In the study.”
Julia closed her eyes, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Though, really, she thought, anyone else would have stormed in and demanded an explanation then and there, wouldn’t they? But Edward stood back and merely watched as she rifled his study. She lifted her head again, and looked at him.
“It was part of the agreement,” he said, shifting defensively. “It was, though, disconcerting to see it.”
Julia swallowed back sudden anger. All that worrying, all week, and Edward thought she went through his study on a regular basis, anyway? “That was the first time,” she said, as steadily as she could. “I’ve never done that before - never! I don’t care what you thought, but that was never what I agreed to, or what I wanted to do. I gave the organisation things I heard and thought - and nothing else!”
“I didn’t exactly think you did it often,” said Edward, as if that made it better. “I’d imagine if you did, you’d be a little more practised - you’d have thought to close the door at least.”
Julia quivered with something between anger and sheer disbelief. “Oh, Ned, darling, thank you for the advice! Just in case you’re lurking somewhere in the house, watching me, I suppose!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking back at her helplessly.
She sat down. “That was the only time I’ve ever done that,” she said again, more calmly, though her fingers as she laid them on her lap weren’t steady. She was still feeling angry with him for it. She’d already begun to suspect she’d done the wrong thing, and now she found that he could have stopped her, if he’d only said something. “And you were there?”
He nodded, crouching down beside the chair. “Yes. I’m afraid so. And then you left - and before you came back, Diana telephoned.”
Julia closed her eyes. Yesterday, he’d been in the hallway, standing by the telephone. She put her hand to her mouth.
“Why, Julia?” he said again. “Tell me something at least.”
She drew in her breath, and looked at him. “There are some things you can’t tell me, aren’t there? Official things. Well, this is the same for me. Really, it wasn’t anything new - it wasn’t anything at all - I just got myself in a state over it, and then I forgot about the tides and scared Diana. That’s all. Don’t you think we should go, before we end up being late?”
“Julia,” he said, not moving and ignoring her efforts at ending the conversation, “don’t use me as an example. I was wrong, not telling you about Marie. You were right; it was all just, well, cowardice, I suppose.”
Julia shrugged. “Oh, that. It isn’t that, I promise. Mrs Werner explained to me, anyway - trying to be kind, I think. It’s all right, Edward. It really doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” he said, beginning to sound irritated, and he reached for her hand. “Julia, that isn’t enough, not for this.”
“You don’t like it when it’s the other way around, do you?”
He quirked his mouth slightly in acknowledgement. “Who does?” he said, with fleeting dry humour. “But this - I can’t leave it here. Is it over? I don’t know that, and until I do, it would be irresponsible, callous even, of me to ignore it. If you can’t tell me, you could see someone else -”
“Edward,” said Julia, getting to her feet, “I’ve told you all that I can, and if you want to know, all I’ve been doing is just what you knew about all along - what you asked me to do when you first made this arrangement between us. Are you going to complain now?”
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t get up, and she knew that thrust had gone home. She felt momentary satisfaction at the fact, and then a pang of guilt. “Edward, we really must go, don’t you think?”
He was silent in the car, though he kept looking across at her, as if he wanted to start the subject up again, but Julia kept her gaze resolutely ahead, not giving him any encouragement. What else could she tell him, anyway?
Eventually, Edward said, “Well, you could at least be more careful if you’re going to do that sort of thing. I could have been anyone.”
“Inside the house?” said Julia, raising an eyebrow. “Really? The only other person it could have been was Mrs Crosbie, and Mrs Crosbie doesn’t lurk in the hallway. She knocks on doors and talks to people - and she would have replied when she heard me call out. That, Edward, is what normal people do.”
“Oh, well, far be it from me to inconvenience anyone who might be in the house stealing things, sorry,” he said, half under his breath.
Julia stared ahead again, colouring slightly, and refused to reply.
“I didn’t mean you,” he added hastily. “It was just - nothing. Julia!”
She swallowed and clenched her hands into fists on her lap. “Yes. Yes, you did, and you’re right, of course.”
“Oh, God,” said Edward, rather too impatiently. “Julia, can’t you be reasonable for two minutes together?”
She turned finally towards him. “You know, I think that from now on, you should concentrate on driving, I’ll concentrate on ignoring you, and then when we arrive at Amy’s we might manage to be civil to each other and everyone else. Does that sound reasonable enough to you?”
It was impossible to keep up the quarrel at Amy’s, with the whole family there and Emily so excited to see them and eager to share her adventures, but it didn’t go away. There was an underlying strain between them, and Edward wasn’t sure what to do about it. He still wasn’t even sure exactly what it was that had happened. He guessed that the organisation had made some demand on her, but what it had been or how it could possibly have had any connection to Marie’s reappearance was beyond him.
Julia was still trying to pretend nothing was wrong, so perhaps he was building mountains out of molehills, but he couldn’t overlook what Diana Foyle had told him. Perhaps she had misread things, but she was one of the sharpest people he knew and not easily shaken by a mere accident.
Edward thought about the wheels he’d set in motion to help Marie, angry enough to consider how he might use those same contacts to bring down the British branch of the UE. They were small and not very well organised, and he was certain it wouldn’t be difficult with a word or two in the right places. The trick would be to manage it without implicating Julia, and, depending on what it was she’d done, that might now be impossible.
He sighed and pushed such ethically questionable thoughts aside again before he got too irate with both Julia for maintaining such a stubborn silence, and himself, because so much of it was undeniably his fault. He stared ahead, sitting on the bed, unseeing, as he pulled off his tie, while Julia was at the dressing table.
“Edward,” she said, and he glanced over at her. She gave him a small smile, and then pulled her hair out of the way, tilting her head as a gesture to indicate that she wanted help with the clasp of her necklace. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” he said, his spirits rising, as he crossed over. He was ruefully amused at the fact that he’d missed a tentative effort at conciliation from her all evening, lost in his worry. The necklace was one he’d given her years ago for their first Christmas and he knew she didn’t usually wear it with that green dress (it had the wrong sort of neck, she said). As for the gesture . . . he smiled to himself, as he unfastened the clasp, and kissed the back of her neck where it had been.
Julia turned towards him instantly, the tension in her shoulders lessening visibly. “Oh, Ned. I’m sorry; I really am. It’s just that I couldn’t tell you - I still can’t - and then I was so angry with myself and I took it out on you. All I was trying to do was put things right - and the terrible thing is, I let myself get into such a state that I think I may have made everything worse. But it wasn’t anything you did; this was my fault.”
“No, no,” he said, and then made himself continue. There was an offer he had to make, and he had to do it in earnest, or they couldn’t go on. It would be too unfair. “Julia, I don’t know what’s been happening, but I suspect you were right about it being my fault in the first place. Listen, if I stood down - if I resigned - would it help?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “But you can’t. I wouldn’t ask you to - I wouldn’t want you to.”
“I could, however,” said Edward, with a slight smile. “Easily. That’s one way in which I am fortunate. I would rather not, obviously, but there are other things I could do. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Julia closed her eyes, and shook her head.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I asked you to do this, and all because I wanted an excuse to hide behind, something with which to justify my selfishness. I might regret walking away from politics - perhaps - but that I can certainly live with. Whereas if something happened to you, or even if this - whatever this is - came between us, that I don’t think I could live with. So, I am serious, Julia. Say the word.”
She hadn’t opened her eyes. “I don’t think it would help,” she said, evidently still locked inside the problem that she wouldn’t share with him. “But I do appreciate you offering.”
“Well, consider it,” he said. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t thank me. I don’t think I could have any respect left for myself if I didn’t at least suggest it.”
Julia stood up and kissed him on the cheek. “It won’t help,” she said, her voice flattened by weariness. “Not now. I wish it could. No, you see, Ned, I’ve been unrealistic about things, but I’m learning at last.”
She walked on then, heading into the bathroom, and Edward sat back down on the bed in momentary defeat, before his expression hardened into one of determination. He would have to find out what she meant somehow - and put a stop to it if he could.
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide and Rule)
Flavor(s): Chocolate #17 (freedom), Passionfruit #28 (But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep)
Toppings/Extras: Brownie + Malt - Valentine Box (A thousand lives walk through my own/ I stand still and stand alone - ichthusfish) & Birthday prompt (There really is nothing quite like watching fools dig their own graves from shayna611)
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 8152
Notes: spring 1956, Edward Iveson/Julia Iveson, Diana Foyle, Ronald Whittaker. (Warnings for suicidal thoughts. Follows on directly from Other People’s Secrets. Malt for the summer challenge).
Summary: Julia comes to a crossroads, and none of the paths ahead seem to be the right one; meanwhile, Edward is at a loss.
***
Julia had once accused Edward of proposing to her only because he wanted a wife who couldn’t run away from him. She hadn’t meant it, but it was now proving to be uncomfortably true. She needed to go away for a few days, if nothing else, and couldn’t think of anywhere she could run to, at least not with a plausible excuse as to why. His cousin Amy would have her (or indeed Nancy, or Aunt Anne and Uncle Ted, or even Aunt Daisy if it came to it), but Julia drew the line at staying with Edward’s relatives while she thought about leaving him.
She knew, of course, that she was making too much out of what Marie Werner had told her, but it was more complicated than that. Whatever Edward might think about her being a spy, and no matter how little that weighed against everything they’d built together, or how she felt about him and Emily, she couldn’t allow herself to ignore it any longer. As it was, she’d done very little, and United Europe were a peaceful organisation, frequently not even taken as seriously as they hoped to be, but if she remained while Edward’s career progressed, if he became a cabinet minister, it wouldn’t have to be anything more to potentially destroy them.
She had to do something about it, and she couldn’t stay here like this, shrinking away from Edward in her disgust at herself. If she stayed, she’d give in sooner rather than later, and bury her head in the sand - or in his jacket more probably - and pretend to herself that it would all come right in the end. Well, it wasn’t all right now, and it certainly wouldn’t be if they carried on like this - if she carried on like this.
The first thing she had done, after two days of inward misery and shame, was to meet her current contact with the organisation. She hated to break with them, because she also owed them a great deal, particularly for helping her when she’d been left in Berlin after the war and couldn’t find the heart in her to make her way home again. Her younger brother had had connections to them, too. She’d always liked to think she was carrying on something he’d started. It was why she’d never been able to let go before.
However, she wasn’t doing them much good, either, half-heartedly telling them things she heard or observed, refusing to raid Edward’s study for documents or listen at keyholes. She had never promised them anything more than what they’d call weather reports. Her current contact, Alec, had been more forceful than the others, asking her to try harder, saying that times were changing, that things were getting worse by the day, but she’d just pointed out that there wasn’t much she could do with Edward in opposition.
Alec hadn’t taken her suggestion of withdrawing well. She’d have thought he wouldn’t even have been surprised, let alone disappointed, but he turned on her and accused her of sacrificing ideals for a comfortable life - which was true, she thought; it had always been true. Then he’d turned to threats: if she did pull out now he’d wait till after the election and then get some value out of her by telling everything to the press. It’d get the organisation some publicity at least.
“You couldn’t prove anything,” Julia said.
“I don’t need to. And if your husband doesn’t win, well, I can make sure he knows about you.”
That was less of a threat, since Edward had always known, but Julia couldn’t let her contact know that. She shrugged. “I doubt he’d believe you.”
“Maybe,” Alec said. “In fact, I’ve had a better thought. You let us down like that, and you’ll find out what it is. We’ll get our money’s worth after all. That’s a promise.”
Julia would have liked to laugh at him, but she felt uncomfortably sure he was serious. She had to get away and try and work out what to do before it was too late.
In the end, she went to Diana Foyle and begged her to invite her down to Devon the next week, where she was staying in a friend’s holiday cottage. She wasn’t sure how Diana would take it, but she didn’t think she would ignore a direct appeal for help.
“I don’t mind you coming at all,” said Diana. “It won’t be exciting, though. I usually go for long walks along the cliff-tops and read a lot - not very sociable, you know.”
Julia nearly laughed. “I want to get away and think, so it’s perfect. I’ll try not to be a bother.”
“That’s all very well, but won’t Edward think it a little odd? Must we be so cloak and dagger about it?”
Julia drew in an uneven breath. “I don’t mean to be unreasonable, but he’ll worry much less that way. And I really do need some time - I can’t explain, but it is important.”
“Yes,” said Diana, regarding her with wariness. “I’m sure. Just one thing: I’m happy to help, my dear, I honestly am, but if this is any sort of way to leave or to meet someone else - I don’t want to have any part in it.”
Julia leant forward. “No, of course not. I promise.”
“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” Edward said, as he carried Julia’s case out to the car. Julia had been in such an odd mood for the last few days, without any real explanation. She’d withdrawn in ways that were so unlike her that he was alarmed. Her decision to go away had only worried him more. Diana’s invitation had clearly been staged; he could tell that much.
Julia turned. “Ned, I told you. Nothing’s wrong. Am I not allowed to help Diana out and have a holiday? If Amy hadn’t wanted Emily, it would have been different. You needn’t worry. I shall certainly be back in time to show my face at as many meetings and events as you wish.”
“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” Edward said, his irritation showing through. He shut the boot a little too sharply. He looked over at her, as she headed back in through the door, going to fetch Emily. She’d been so carefully pretending that everything was normal that he didn’t know how to begin to say what he wanted. Even if he did, in this mood, she’d probably only lie in response. “Julia -” he began. When she turned, he shrugged. “Have a nice time,” he finished.
Perhaps he was being unreasonable, imagining things because he was on edge about the upcoming election. She might (understandably) still be annoyed about the business with Marie or even something else. Maybe she was annoyed with him for not working out what it was she was annoyed about.
“Thank you, Edward,” she said, and when he followed her into the hallway, as Mrs Crosbie came down the stairs with Emily, she let him kiss her on the cheek in farewell.
He swallowed, and tried again. “Julia -”
She raised an eyebrow as she crouched down to pick up Emily. “Yes? Oh, darling, say goodbye to Daddy.”
Edward gave up; what with Julia resolutely refusing to acknowledge there was a problem, and Emily to be fussed over, and Mrs Crosbie watching from behind, it wasn’t the moment. Anyway, it was disloyal and stupidly melodramatic of him to feel so afraid that she might not come back again.
All she needed was a little space and time to think, away from Edward. Julia had felt so sure of that, but now she only found herself going over and over the same seemingly insoluble problem and still getting nowhere. Whatever she did, she couldn’t behave well. If she called Alec’s bluff or ran away, she betrayed the United Europe movement, and if she gave into their requests and carried on as she was, then she must betray Edward as she never had before.
Be honest, she thought, either way she betrayed Edward. And leaving was the unselfish thing to do, wasn’t it? She might still be able to find other people in the movement, find somewhere to go, no matter how frightening matters were getting in some places on the continent. It was better than staying and ruining his career or forever going behind his back, stealing documents and listening at keyholes. She’d never done that yet and she’d sworn she never would.
Except, of course, she couldn’t leave. She didn’t want to leave Edward - hated the thought with every atom of her being - but even more, she could not, would not, leave Emily behind, and she could never take her with her. Even if she had somewhere safe to go, she couldn’t steal Emily from Edward.
So, she must stay, and try harder at giving the movement something useful. Edward didn’t trust her anyway - hadn’t the last week or so proved that already? With that, she thought again of Marie Werner, sitting in the living room, telling her how unthinkable she’d found the idea of spying on her husband. The circumstances weren’t the same, and Julia knew it, but the shame still threatened to crush her.
Diana had been out all day, meeting a friend. When she came in later, Julia glanced up briefly in greeting, and saw Diana’s face lose her smile as she raised an eyebrow at Julia.
“My dear,” Diana said, removing her hat and coat. “What have you been doing with yourself? Whatever it was, I don’t think it agrees with you.”
“Oh, I went for a walk and read a book,” said Julia, lifting her head and leaning back in the chair, her movements listless. She still had the book open in her lap, but she couldn’t have told Diana what it was.
“Did you?” Diana said. “Hmm. You have at least eaten, I trust?”
Julia nodded, although she’d only remembered to make herself a sandwich a little over half an hour ago.
“You know, I hate to be interfering,” Diana added, “but this is supposed to be my holiday and while I’m happy to have you here, it is a little off-putting to share a house with someone so set on making themselves miserable.” She sat down next to Julia on the hard, old sofa. “It isn’t too late to drive you down to the pub - they’ve got a phone there, if you wanted to call Edward.”
Julia shook her head, panicking at the idea. If she spoke to Edward, she’d go back; she wouldn’t be able to help it, and then she’d ruin him.
“Are you sure?” said Diana, leaning forward in concern. “I’m the last person to give you any advice when it comes to marriage - but you know there are reasons that Stephen and I talk as rarely as we can help. You and Edward - now, that’s another matter, isn’t it?”
Julia swallowed. “If I’m being a nuisance, I can go, of course. I didn’t mean to spoil things for you. And, honestly, I just had a quiet day - a little bit of a headache this afternoon, that’s all.”
“You’re welcome to stay for the week,” said Diana. “And I shan’t mention it again unless you want me to, but in my experience most things are a lot easier if you just talk it over with someone. If you won’t speak to Edward, then can you tell me?”
Julia raised her head and tightened her hold on the book. “There isn’t anything to tell. I am sorry if I’m being a bit gloomy - I’ll try harder tomorrow.”
“Julia -”
“I know you mean to be kind,” said Julia, turning her head towards Diana, “and I am grateful. It’s just one of those things and I need to work through it on my own.”
She gave a slight smile, and drew back. “All right. I shall leave you alone - but the offer stays open. Both offers. Now, would you like some hot chocolate?”
“Yes, please,” said Julia, and managed a smile.
Being in the middle of an election campaign meant that things were busy enough for Edward to try and not think too hard about Julia not being there or why she had gone. Still, he was glad, on the Wednesday, to go home and have some peace again. He managed to remember to telephone Amy to say goodnight to Emily before he left the campaign office. When he got home, he gave the telephone in the hall a rather hopeful look. It was halfway through the week and if Julia was going to call, then surely it would be tonight? The cottage would be unlikely to have a phone, but there would be a public one somewhere in the village.
“Oh, Mr Iveson,” said Mrs Crosbie, emerging into the hallway, on the point of leaving. “I was running a little late, and here you are, early. Well, I’ve finished everything and your dinner’s in the oven -”
He said goodbye a little awkwardly, wondering uneasily if he had spoken aloud about wishing Julia would call. Then he turned as she was about to open the door. “Mrs Crosbie, there still seems to be a problem with the sink. Wasn’t somebody supposed to see to it last week? Didn’t they turn up?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Well, Mrs Iveson was going to, but she didn’t get around to it before that woman arrived, and then I didn’t like to press her. She seemed a little upset, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Edward hung up his overcoat. He didn’t mind her saying; it was rather a relief to know that someone else had noticed something amiss. “What woman?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs Crosbie. “Mrs Iveson went to the door. American, I think she was. The thing is, I took the liberty of phoning the plumber myself yesterday because I thought -”
He nodded, cutting in hastily, fastening in alarm on the first half of her speech and not the second. “Yes, of course. Quite right! Thank you.”
“Yes, well,” said Mrs Crosbie, departing with a rather offended backward glance at him. “I might see you tomorrow, then, Mr Iveson.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” said Edward, once she’d actually gone. Marie had left a note, but he hadn’t dreamed that she would have delivered it in person. Anyway, he thought, it couldn’t be that - Marie would never try to make trouble, and he didn’t believe Julia would listen if she did. On the other hand, as coincidences went, it was too uncomfortably large a one for him to ignore. What could either of them possibly have said to the other to cause even part of Julia’s sudden distress? Edward could only speculate uselessly, since Marie was on a boat back to America and Julia was somewhere in Devon and equally unreachable for the moment.
“Damn,” he said, and did the only thing he could do in the meantime, and went to investigate the contents of the oven.
He couldn’t stop himself from coming back to the question over and over as the evening progressed, even if it still got him nowhere. Determined to try and take his mind off it, he went in search of a book, but just as he found the one he’d been reading, there was a knock at the door.
“Mr Iveson,” said Ronald Whittaker, who was standing on the step when he opened it. “I’m sorry I’m a little late.” He glanced up, seeing Edward’s blank look, and stopped. “Oh. I’m sorry - is it not still convenient? I’m sorry, but I thought quarter of an hour shouldn’t be -”
Edward gave him a smile and held the door open wider for him. “No, no, it’s fine. Do come in. It’s just that I’m afraid I’d forgotten for the moment. I do seem to have a bad habit of forgetting my engagements.” Julia usually reminded him, he thought guiltily. “Now what was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Oh,” said Whittaker, still sounding uncertain as he followed Edward into the study. “Only a small matter. It’s probably a bit of a cheek, really, but I thought you could give me some advice. You see, I was speaking a week or two back in the town hall, and I was as prepared as I could be for all the local issues and so on, and then someone asked about our foreign policy - a matter of East Africa, I think. He had a brother out there. Anyway, all I could say was that I’d find out and of course I felt like a fool. Then you gave that speech the other day, and I thought - well, you can see. It is a bloody cheek, isn’t it?”
Edward laughed. “Nothing of the sort. Sit down. Would you like a drink?”
“Er, no thanks,” said Whittaker, looking around him as he took the nearest chair. “Mrs Iveson won’t mind?”
“I shouldn’t think so. She’s not here,” Edward told him. “She and my daughter are away, and so I finally have some peace and quiet and the house to myself - and, naturally, now I have it, I don’t appreciate it. Consider yourself a welcome interruption. So, what was this question?”
Julia was lying in the cottage’s spare room, suffering another largely sleepless night. She had finally dozed off, only to be woken again almost immediately by the first notes of the dawn chorus outside. “Oh,” she said in muffled annoyance from underneath the covers. Everything kept going round and round in her mind till her head wouldn’t stop aching. She couldn’t leave, she couldn’t stay, she couldn’t explain to Edward - what on earth was she supposed to do?
She was running out of time, and she still hadn’t come up with a solution. She turned over in the bed and buried her head in the old feather pillow, as if trying to hide from the answers she didn’t want. Then she sighed, and sat up, deciding that enough was enough. She would get up now and go for a walk along the cliff tops, or down on the beach, and see if that cleared her mind a little, or at least helped her sleep again.
It was growing lighter by the time she reached the beach, dawn breaking through the darkness and the clouds. The air was chilly and damp with the mist, but it felt better than being shut in the cottage. She let the breeze blow through her hair and closed her eyes, trying again to think.
What she had to do was to decide on the least worst option, that was all, and, really, she knew what that was: she should leave and then Edward and Emily would be free of her and her connections and untrustworthiness. Ignoring that was selfish.
As she always did once she reached that point, something in her rebelled: she didn’t want to, and she’d probably long since gone past any sort of logic over this. It seemed now to have no end and no beginning. I’d rather die, she thought. It would be easier. And Julia looked up then, out at the sea and trembled at the idea, because she could.
She walked out to meet the waves and the incoming tide, ironically feeling abruptly more alive again at the idea. It would only involve a moment’s foolishness on her part; it would be a tragic accident, and then everything would be resolved without betraying anyone, or at least no one would know she had betrayed them.
A sudden wilder wave washed the water over her feet, and the unexpected coldness of it jolted her back to herself. She closed her eyes, on the point of tears. She wouldn’t do this; she knew that really.
Except, she thought, almost dreamily in her exhaustion, as she took one more step forwards, she wouldn’t have to do anything, would she? All she had to do was stay standing here, sand and shingle shifting dizzily under her feet, and the tide would take her.
She wouldn’t, of course, but just now it was a temptation; it felt almost a comforting idea. She wouldn’t, but she could. Everything ended one way or another, after all. She watched the colours of dawn stretch across the sky and nearly managed a smile. She should go back now, of course - she was shivering already at the cold and the last wave had reached her ankles - but she didn’t want to walk away from that sense of freedom.
“Julia!”
Julia didn’t turn. She pretended that she hadn’t heard. Once she acknowledged Diana, it would all come back - the feeling of being trapped, the need to make a decision she didn’t want to. Better to stay with this sense of abdication for as long as she could.
Diana arrived beside her, splashing through the water with a small sound of dismay that Julia might have found amusing at any other time. “Julia!” she said again, out of breath. She caught hold of Julia’s wrist. “Oh, God, you’re frozen,” she said. “Julia, come back with me at once!”
It was a relief to be told what to do. Julia risked looking at Diana, and then away again, unsure of anything. She let the other woman lead her back up the beach towards the path back to the cliff top.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Diana demanded, but then shot Julia another look, and sighed. “Never mind. Just hurry up and follow me before you catch your death.” She caught hold of Julia’s hand and pulled her on up, away from the sea. Julia was shivering uncontrollably now and needed the help, her feet and stockings drenched and everything else damp from the air and the sea spray.
Once they got to the top, Julia collapsed onto the grass, but Diana crouched down, and said, “No, no. It’s only five minutes or so to the cottage and you can’t stay there!” She surveyed Julia, and sighed again. Then she pulled off her raincoat and put it around Julia’s shoulders, helping her back to her feet. “No, come on, Julia. This way!”
Back in the spare bedroom, with the sunlight beginning to creep in through the cracks in the curtains, Julia continued to do as she was told, climbing out of her damp clothes, and pulling on her nightdress, finding it hard to keep her teeth from chattering.
“Here,” said Diana, returning with a cup of hot milk. “Now, you drink that. I’ve put some brandy in it. And then you can stay there and go back to sleep till a more reasonable hour, when I shall be expecting an explanation. I don’t need to lock you in, do I?”
Julia closed her eyes as she held onto the white china cup, the warmth of it being the first that seemed to have reached her in what felt like hours. Then she looked up again at Diana, wearing some hastily thrown on clothes, her fair hair hanging round her face instead of elegantly pinned up, and felt a pang of guilt. “I’m s-sorry,” she said, still shivering. “I didn’t mean - I swear, Diana, really -”
“All right,” said Diana more softly, sitting on the side of the bed. “Don’t say anything now. Just you drink that as soon as it’s cooled a little and get a bit of sleep for a change. You needn’t worry about anything else yet.”
Julia cautiously risked a sip of the milk. “Please, though - you won’t t-tell Edward?”
“No,” said Diana, “or at least not until I’ve heard what you’ve got to say for yourself. Although I like your concern now, given what I might have had to tell him if I hadn’t -” She stopped, swallowing, and then shook herself. “Well, as I said. We’ll worry about all that later.”
Julia stared down at the cup again. She was close to tears again. She’d exhausted herself, she recognised. She really had no one to blame but herself. “Th-thank you.”
When Julia woke again, it was still light and she blinked, feeling disorientated. She still felt tired, and her head ached, but she also felt distinctly more human. She sat up, remembering as she did so, what had happened earlier, what she could have done, and putting her hands to her face as she recognised the enormity of it. How could she have let herself get to such a point? Then she shut her eyes and drew in her breath as she steeled herself to get up and face Diana again.
“Julia,” said Diana, looking up as she walked into the cottage’s crowded and dark living room. “How do you feel?”
Julia took a tentative step inside and then shut the door behind her. She struggled to find something to say in response. “I’m sorry,” she managed eventually. “I - I suppose I should say thank you.”
“Oh, sit down,” said Diana. “All I want for now is some sort of explanation. We’ll come back to me having you eternally in my debt some other time.”
Julia sat down gratefully, finding that she still felt shaken.
“That was a joke,” Diana said, watching her. “The last part, I mean, not the first.”
“I -” said Julia and simply failed to get any further. She looked back at Diana.
Diana moved out of her chair and across to Julia. “How would you like a cup of tea and some bread and butter? You’ve missed both breakfast and lunch, after all.”
“Thank you,” said Julia. By the time that had been accomplished, she felt a little more like herself and, hugging one of the embroidered cushions, she attempted to explain again. “I didn’t mean anything,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep and thought some air might help. I would have come back anyway, you know. I would have done.”
Diana rested her chin on her hands and surveyed her thoughtfully. “My dear,” she said eventually, her tone unusually soft, “I don’t know what you intended, but you wouldn’t have done if you’d stayed there for much longer. I thought I warned you to be careful along the shore round here - it’s very easy to get cut off by the tide and then -” She gave an elegant shrug of her shoulders and then leant back in her chair.
“Oh,” said Julia, and thought that she did remember Diana saying something about it, along with a whole lot of other information on arriving. She had to blink back tears again. She seemed to have brought herself to an odd state of exhaustion where almost anything could make her cry. “I honestly had forgotten. Diana, I promise that wasn’t why I asked to come with you. I wouldn’t do that.”
Diana bit her lip, evidently thinking before she spoke again. “I did wonder for a moment, but I believe you. But, forgive me, it was rather odd - that’s why I followed you down there. I had it in my head that you might use this as a chance to run away - leave Edward. I don’t know why, but I did. Just as well, it turns out, although I take it that isn’t true, either?”
“I came here to think about it,” said Julia, and it sounded so odd and unreal to say it aloud. “But whatever I decided, I wouldn’t have done that. I was trying to work myself up to it - how on earth to tell him, if I did.”
Diana was still watching her, careful of her responses. “You know, while I’d be a hypocrite to offer advice on the subject, I can’t see why the hell you’re even thinking about it if the idea makes you that miserable. Tell me you’ve been unhappy, Edward’s been unkind, tell me there’s someone else, and that’s your business, but this - what is this even about?”
“Me,” said Julia, with a tremulous laugh. “Oh, I can’t explain, but there are reasons. What was stupid was getting myself so wound up that I couldn’t think straight. And it’s not Edward, don’t think that.”
Diana shook her head. “Then for heaven’s sake, go home and talk to him. Anything else is beginning to remind me of the kind of overwrought plays I detest.”
“You may be right,” said Julia, too tired to argue, though she knew there was still no way she could explain any of this to Edward.
“Of course I am. If you’ve reached the point of - of - well.” Diana paused, catching her breath, still shaken by the day’s events herself. “It’s not that I don’t sympathise, my dear, but it’s not the answer. I was in a similar place once myself, and now look at me - they let me make scathing speeches to pompous old men and be paid for it. I think that’s a much better alternative.”
Julia pressed herself back into the seat, feeling guilty. She knew Diana had had a good deal more to put up with than she had, and still did. “Yes, of course,” she said. And since both leaving and any more drastic options were obviously impossible, that left only one thing to do. It was perfectly simple after all. All she had to do was to accept who she was. Julia leant her head against the side of the chair with a sigh. Other people seemed to think that was a good thing, but as far as she was concerned, it meant only defeat.
If it wasn’t all so miserable, it would be funny, Julia thought, as she returned home. She couldn’t help breathing out in relief just to be back again, knowing that she wasn’t going to leave. She could have saved all that time and trouble, scaring Diana and no doubt worrying Edward, and stayed here.
She called out, in case Edward was around, although she didn’t expect him to be. There was no answer, so she set her face, and walked into his study, where she set about going through the drawers, searching for something she could use, just to show good faith to Alec and the movement. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew. Edward was always careful about what he brought home and what he left here. Still, she’d thought about it seriously on the way back and had decided the best thing to do was to see if she could find anything that would give the UE an insight into the Shadow Cabinet, given that it might become the real one very soon.
She managed to find some minutes and a letter to Edward from Amyas Harding, and photographed them carefully, before filing them away again. She replaced the camera in its cupboard and took the film with her, putting it into her coat pocket as she set out to leave it in its designated place.
She could do it, she thought. It wasn’t new or surprising; it was just about being realistic about the cost of what she wanted to keep.
That accomplished, Julia walked into the hallway for the second time, an hour and a half after the first, carrying her suitcase. As she put it down, she bit back a startled cry at realising that Edward was standing there in the hallway, close to the telephone. He turned on hearing her, seemingly equally surprised.
“Julia,” he said, finding his voice first. He sounded wary, she thought.
She put the suitcase down. “Edward,” she said, and thought suddenly that she might cry again. She’d spent so much of this week trying to work out how to leave him, one way or another, and all she’d learnt was that she never would now. She gave him a tentative smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, more warmly. “I mean, to see you. You’re early, that’s all.”
Julia gave a slight laugh. “Oh, I’d had enough time away, and I thought this way we could go and collect Emily together tomorrow - have dinner with Amy and see everyone properly before they have to go.”
“Good idea,” said Edward, and then moved forward to put a hand to her shoulder, and kiss her cheek, but he still seemed uncertain of something. He drew back and looked at her closely. “Julia,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s time you explained?”
Julia swallowed. “I told you, Edward. Must I apologise for having a holiday?”
“No, of course not,” said Edward, “but you had such a look on your face when you left - I thought you weren’t coming back.”
She closed her eyes and felt cold again, as if still breathing in the chilly, damp air, and feeling the cold spray and the waves and water around her legs. She shivered. “Ned, no. That was never - it was only something - something I can’t talk about - but that’s just not true. And anyway, it’s all over now, I promise.”
Edward reached out to her, and then pulled her in against him, his arms around her, and she breathed out in relief. She felt, though, that wariness in him still, a slight tenseness in his body, and she didn’t have anything to say to reassure him. She merely hung onto him in return and felt then, a moment or two later, the resistance easing out of him.
“And if I could talk about it,” she said, turning her head slightly, somewhere between exhaustion and an odd sort of defiance, “I wouldn’t want to, not now, not yet. I don’t want - I don’t want to talk.”
He kissed her head and smoothed down her hair. “No, no, not now. It’s all right.”
Julia thought it probably wasn’t, not really, but it was easy to pretend it could be. She shifted in his hold, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him. He gave a small sigh of relief, and leant against her, before kissing her in return, more passionately than she’d expected. She found herself pressed against the coats on the coat rack, feeling the uneven softness of the lining and the awkwardly placed buttons behind her.
“I should take my case upstairs,” she murmured to him, after a moment.
“Yes, of course,” he said, but it was the case that stayed downstairs.
“We’re early,” said Edward, glancing at his watch as Julia reached for her coat.
She raised an eyebrow. “Not very, darling, and I don’t suppose Amy will mind. Besides, I don’t want to wait any longer to see Emily. I didn’t manage to phone every evening, with it not being in the house, and I’ll be happy again when I know she’s all right.”
“Well, I did manage it,” Edward told her with a sudden smile. “Amy says there were tears at bedtime the first night, but she’s been fine other than that. As far as I can gather, there seem to have been several pirate voyages and something involving a giant cat that I don’t think I can have been following properly.”
Julia laughed as she checked herself in the mirror in the hall and buttoned up her blue jacket. “Of course. But I do want to see her, Ned, so don’t let’s stand here -”
“Julia,” said Edward, interrupting, his expression serious again. He caught at her wrist, leading her back into the sitting room. “We have a few minutes, and we must talk. I don’t want to spoil things last night, but I’m rather afraid if we don’t now, we never will.”
Which, thought Julia, feeling rebellious, would be fine by her. She only looked back at him, though, and waited.
“What were you doing this week?” he asked, shutting the door behind them and then turning to face her. “And please don’t lie this time. I know Diana didn’t invite you, and I know - I know that Marie called here. I also know what happened Thursday and I know -” He hesitated, looking away from her again. “I know what you did when you came home.” Before she could say anything, he added, “The first time.”
Julia had expected him to ask again about her reasons for going, but the rest made her blink in surprise, and she stared back at him. “Well,” she said, eventually when she regained her breath, “in that case, I don’t see that I need to tell you anything! Have you been having me watched?”
“No, of course not,” said Edward. “Julia! It was merely - oh, let’s say that all these facts fell into my possession, but what I don’t know is why. They must be connected, surely, but I simply don’t see. Please, Julia.”
Julia folded her arms. “But how could you know any of that? Well, Thursday - I suppose Diana must have telephoned you after all. I can understand why she would, but - oh, I wish she hadn’t! It wasn’t at all what it must have sounded like.”
“Then I’m relieved to hear it,” said Edward. “And I don’t think she did it lightly. As for Marie, Mrs Crosbie mentioned it. She said that you had been upset and forgotten to call the plumber.”
“So I did,” said Julia, instantly distracted. “Oh, dear! And I meant to do it before I left! I suppose you haven’t, despite your sudden omniscience?”
“Mrs Crosbie has, and the sink has been fixed, but that really isn’t the point -”
“Only because you don’t do the washing up,” said Julia.
Edward moved forward. “Julia, I’m serious. Don’t try to change the subject. It’s as you said to me - just tell me something here, or what am I to think?”
“What about the last thing?” said Julia. “There’s no possible way you could know that unless you were having me watched!”
He put a hand to his head, a gesture of both frustration and weariness. “I was here, that was all. I had been working from the study, and I had a headache - I hadn’t slept well - so I went to lie down for half an hour, and, of course, fell asleep till you woke me coming in.”
“And so, naturally, instead of calling out, you crept down the stairs and spied on me?” said Julia.
Edward shrugged. “I heard something - that was what woke me - but I wasn’t sure. And when I came downstairs, I could see you. In the study.”
Julia closed her eyes, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Though, really, she thought, anyone else would have stormed in and demanded an explanation then and there, wouldn’t they? But Edward stood back and merely watched as she rifled his study. She lifted her head again, and looked at him.
“It was part of the agreement,” he said, shifting defensively. “It was, though, disconcerting to see it.”
Julia swallowed back sudden anger. All that worrying, all week, and Edward thought she went through his study on a regular basis, anyway? “That was the first time,” she said, as steadily as she could. “I’ve never done that before - never! I don’t care what you thought, but that was never what I agreed to, or what I wanted to do. I gave the organisation things I heard and thought - and nothing else!”
“I didn’t exactly think you did it often,” said Edward, as if that made it better. “I’d imagine if you did, you’d be a little more practised - you’d have thought to close the door at least.”
Julia quivered with something between anger and sheer disbelief. “Oh, Ned, darling, thank you for the advice! Just in case you’re lurking somewhere in the house, watching me, I suppose!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking back at her helplessly.
She sat down. “That was the only time I’ve ever done that,” she said again, more calmly, though her fingers as she laid them on her lap weren’t steady. She was still feeling angry with him for it. She’d already begun to suspect she’d done the wrong thing, and now she found that he could have stopped her, if he’d only said something. “And you were there?”
He nodded, crouching down beside the chair. “Yes. I’m afraid so. And then you left - and before you came back, Diana telephoned.”
Julia closed her eyes. Yesterday, he’d been in the hallway, standing by the telephone. She put her hand to her mouth.
“Why, Julia?” he said again. “Tell me something at least.”
She drew in her breath, and looked at him. “There are some things you can’t tell me, aren’t there? Official things. Well, this is the same for me. Really, it wasn’t anything new - it wasn’t anything at all - I just got myself in a state over it, and then I forgot about the tides and scared Diana. That’s all. Don’t you think we should go, before we end up being late?”
“Julia,” he said, not moving and ignoring her efforts at ending the conversation, “don’t use me as an example. I was wrong, not telling you about Marie. You were right; it was all just, well, cowardice, I suppose.”
Julia shrugged. “Oh, that. It isn’t that, I promise. Mrs Werner explained to me, anyway - trying to be kind, I think. It’s all right, Edward. It really doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” he said, beginning to sound irritated, and he reached for her hand. “Julia, that isn’t enough, not for this.”
“You don’t like it when it’s the other way around, do you?”
He quirked his mouth slightly in acknowledgement. “Who does?” he said, with fleeting dry humour. “But this - I can’t leave it here. Is it over? I don’t know that, and until I do, it would be irresponsible, callous even, of me to ignore it. If you can’t tell me, you could see someone else -”
“Edward,” said Julia, getting to her feet, “I’ve told you all that I can, and if you want to know, all I’ve been doing is just what you knew about all along - what you asked me to do when you first made this arrangement between us. Are you going to complain now?”
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t get up, and she knew that thrust had gone home. She felt momentary satisfaction at the fact, and then a pang of guilt. “Edward, we really must go, don’t you think?”
He was silent in the car, though he kept looking across at her, as if he wanted to start the subject up again, but Julia kept her gaze resolutely ahead, not giving him any encouragement. What else could she tell him, anyway?
Eventually, Edward said, “Well, you could at least be more careful if you’re going to do that sort of thing. I could have been anyone.”
“Inside the house?” said Julia, raising an eyebrow. “Really? The only other person it could have been was Mrs Crosbie, and Mrs Crosbie doesn’t lurk in the hallway. She knocks on doors and talks to people - and she would have replied when she heard me call out. That, Edward, is what normal people do.”
“Oh, well, far be it from me to inconvenience anyone who might be in the house stealing things, sorry,” he said, half under his breath.
Julia stared ahead again, colouring slightly, and refused to reply.
“I didn’t mean you,” he added hastily. “It was just - nothing. Julia!”
She swallowed and clenched her hands into fists on her lap. “Yes. Yes, you did, and you’re right, of course.”
“Oh, God,” said Edward, rather too impatiently. “Julia, can’t you be reasonable for two minutes together?”
She turned finally towards him. “You know, I think that from now on, you should concentrate on driving, I’ll concentrate on ignoring you, and then when we arrive at Amy’s we might manage to be civil to each other and everyone else. Does that sound reasonable enough to you?”
It was impossible to keep up the quarrel at Amy’s, with the whole family there and Emily so excited to see them and eager to share her adventures, but it didn’t go away. There was an underlying strain between them, and Edward wasn’t sure what to do about it. He still wasn’t even sure exactly what it was that had happened. He guessed that the organisation had made some demand on her, but what it had been or how it could possibly have had any connection to Marie’s reappearance was beyond him.
Julia was still trying to pretend nothing was wrong, so perhaps he was building mountains out of molehills, but he couldn’t overlook what Diana Foyle had told him. Perhaps she had misread things, but she was one of the sharpest people he knew and not easily shaken by a mere accident.
Edward thought about the wheels he’d set in motion to help Marie, angry enough to consider how he might use those same contacts to bring down the British branch of the UE. They were small and not very well organised, and he was certain it wouldn’t be difficult with a word or two in the right places. The trick would be to manage it without implicating Julia, and, depending on what it was she’d done, that might now be impossible.
He sighed and pushed such ethically questionable thoughts aside again before he got too irate with both Julia for maintaining such a stubborn silence, and himself, because so much of it was undeniably his fault. He stared ahead, sitting on the bed, unseeing, as he pulled off his tie, while Julia was at the dressing table.
“Edward,” she said, and he glanced over at her. She gave him a small smile, and then pulled her hair out of the way, tilting her head as a gesture to indicate that she wanted help with the clasp of her necklace. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” he said, his spirits rising, as he crossed over. He was ruefully amused at the fact that he’d missed a tentative effort at conciliation from her all evening, lost in his worry. The necklace was one he’d given her years ago for their first Christmas and he knew she didn’t usually wear it with that green dress (it had the wrong sort of neck, she said). As for the gesture . . . he smiled to himself, as he unfastened the clasp, and kissed the back of her neck where it had been.
Julia turned towards him instantly, the tension in her shoulders lessening visibly. “Oh, Ned. I’m sorry; I really am. It’s just that I couldn’t tell you - I still can’t - and then I was so angry with myself and I took it out on you. All I was trying to do was put things right - and the terrible thing is, I let myself get into such a state that I think I may have made everything worse. But it wasn’t anything you did; this was my fault.”
“No, no,” he said, and then made himself continue. There was an offer he had to make, and he had to do it in earnest, or they couldn’t go on. It would be too unfair. “Julia, I don’t know what’s been happening, but I suspect you were right about it being my fault in the first place. Listen, if I stood down - if I resigned - would it help?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “But you can’t. I wouldn’t ask you to - I wouldn’t want you to.”
“I could, however,” said Edward, with a slight smile. “Easily. That’s one way in which I am fortunate. I would rather not, obviously, but there are other things I could do. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Julia closed her eyes, and shook her head.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I asked you to do this, and all because I wanted an excuse to hide behind, something with which to justify my selfishness. I might regret walking away from politics - perhaps - but that I can certainly live with. Whereas if something happened to you, or even if this - whatever this is - came between us, that I don’t think I could live with. So, I am serious, Julia. Say the word.”
She hadn’t opened her eyes. “I don’t think it would help,” she said, evidently still locked inside the problem that she wouldn’t share with him. “But I do appreciate you offering.”
“Well, consider it,” he said. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t thank me. I don’t think I could have any respect left for myself if I didn’t at least suggest it.”
Julia stood up and kissed him on the cheek. “It won’t help,” she said, her voice flattened by weariness. “Not now. I wish it could. No, you see, Ned, I’ve been unrealistic about things, but I’m learning at last.”
She walked on then, heading into the bathroom, and Edward sat back down on the bed in momentary defeat, before his expression hardened into one of determination. He would have to find out what she meant somehow - and put a stop to it if he could.
***