Passionfruit 23, White Chocolate 14, Sangria 6 [Divide and Rule]
Title: Wish Me Luck (As You Wave Me Goodbye)
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Passionfruit #23 (I anchor my ship for a little while only), Sangria #6 (what one refuses in a minute/ No eternity will return), White Chocolate #14 (condescension)
Toppings/Extras: Malt - Birthday prompt (I wish I could just be brave - likelolwhat) + Gummy Bunnies - hc_bingo square "rejection".
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3441
Notes: Sept/Oct 1941; Edward Iveson/Peggy Venn. (Some WWII backstory basically.)
Summary: Edward loses an opportunity and has no one to blame but himself.
***
“Mr Iveson,” said one of the security men, knocking on the door, “there’s a young lady asking for you. A Miss Venn. What shall I do with her?”
Edward Iveson lifted his head and blinked, only gradually resurfacing from the paperwork. “I’m sorry? Who did you say?”
“I’ll send her packing, shall I?” he said, halfway out the door already.
Edward stood hastily. “No, no, it’s all right - I know her. She used to work in my office. I’ve more or less finished anyway - I’ll see her on my way out. Tell her I won’t be more than five minutes.”
He tidied his desk and locked the files away, then reached for his hat and his coat, carrying it over his arm as he made his way down into the lobby.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Peggy Venn when he reached her. “I had to come in and sort out some paperwork, and I thought I’d drop by and say hello. Someone told me you were here. Of course, I forgot I wouldn’t be allowed in. I thought I was going to get arrested for a minute. That’d be a right mess, wouldn’t it?”
Edward gave her a smile and ushered her out into the street. “I’m afraid you’ve missed seeing anyone else. There’s only me left.”
“You’ll do,” she said, and gave a short smile, looking away from him as they walked out of MI5’s headquarters on St James’s Street and past the cunning disguise of the ‘To Let’ sign outside and on towards the park, in search of a convenient bench. Her hair shone golden brown as they walked in and out of the last of the sunshine.
Reading between the lines, Edward could guess why she was here. All these things were need to know, but he’d had to authorise her transfer to the SOE. They must be sending her out somewhere, France most likely. Peggy, he knew, came from Dorset, somewhere near Weymouth, but her father was a Channel Islander, and she’d spent enough time over there when she was young to speak French easily. That was why they’d wanted her. He’d rather blithely assumed, though, that she’d most likely be involved in wireless operations at this end, not getting sent out into the field.
“You’re going away, then?” he said, as quietly as he could, stopping beside a bench as she sat down, finding the most discreet way he could of confirming those suspicions. “I hadn’t realised.”
Peggy nodded.
He couldn’t think of anything to say. How great the risks varied depending on what they wanted her to do, but any way you looked at it, Peggy’s life expectancy was suddenly a matter of weeks or months if she wasn’t careful. Everybody was taking risks these days, but he didn’t like to think of her in such obvious danger. She’d been the most efficient and cheerful secretary they’d had in his office. They’d all missed her since she’d left, or he certainly had.
“So, you see, I thought maybe -” She stopped and looked at him. “How about I buy you a drink, sir? You can see me off, so to speak.”
Edward pretended to be watching one of the birds, walking about on the grass in front of them. It was a daring offer, coming from her, and his hesitation was ungallant. He couldn’t however, pretend it didn’t mean anything, and he wasn’t at all sure what he felt about that.
“You’re probably busy, of course,” said Peggy, for him. “Shouldn’t have asked, should I?”
Edward got to his feet and held out a hand to her. “No, no. It’s not that. I merely think that I should buy you a drink, or better still, see about buying you dinner.”
“Well,” she said, smiling in relief, “I can hardly say no to that, can I?”
He took her to the nearest hotel with a restaurant - the big hotels were all still operating, if sometimes by dubious means, and while there were restrictions on courses, they weren’t otherwise rationed.
Peggy leant forward after they’d been seated and said, “Maybe we should just have gone for chips somewhere.”
He looked up, and coloured, because he hadn’t thought about both the formality of the place, or the possible implications. “We could leave now, if you’d rather.”
“Of course not,” she said. “I was just going to say these places are too full of people in our line of work, only not the nice ones. I read some of those files, you know.”
Edward grinned. “Well, we’ll try and keep ourselves to ourselves.”
“I shocked you, didn’t I?” she said, after a pause while they studied the menu, such as it was.
He surveyed her cautiously over the top of the menu. “Surprised me,” he corrected, though her term was probably nearer the truth. He hadn’t thought of her in this way before, and he was ashamed of himself. There was no reason why he shouldn’t have done, except she’d merely been one of the secretaries. He liked her, though, he knew that much, and he’d certainly felt her absence these last few weeks.
“It’s just that they make it pretty clear what might happen,” she said. “The things I might need to do, if that’s what it takes. And I thought it would be better - I thought -”
“It’s all right,” he said hastily, embarrassed. “Believe me, dinner with you is better than anything else I’m doing this week.”
Peggy watched him, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, I don’t think you understand, sir. Or are you only trying to be polite?”
“Yes, sorry,” he said, since he’d known what she meant when she’d asked to buy him a drink. He could understand why now that she’d tried to elaborate, incoherent as her words were. It didn’t take a genius to work out what she meant, and he’d been trying to avoid giving her an answer. He didn’t know where to look. “Look, Miss Venn - Peggy - I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She gave a small, lopsided smile, and said, “But I still get dinner, don’t I?”
“Of course,” he said, and felt more embarrassed than ever. He didn’t know what else to say, though. “I mean, I’m flattered, honestly, I am. I just - wasn’t expecting this.” He stopped at that point, aware that he was only making things worse. Anyone else would have gone along with what she wanted, he thought uncomfortably. Why the hell was he being so awkward and ungracious?
Peggy merely nodded hastily, and studied the menu. “What d’you reckon we can have here that hasn’t come via the black market?”
“Oh, God,” said Edward, hating that he’d hurt her. “Peggy, I didn’t say no.”
She bit her lip and then looked up again. “I think you did, sir. Let’s not talk about it any more, shall we?”
The rest of the meal was much easier, mostly down to Peggy, determined to cover over her error. Edward was too distracted by regret, wondering if he could tell her he’d changed his mind without it sounding worse. He decided he couldn’t, but they were interrupted anyway by the sound of the all too familiar sirens.
“Bloody hell, not now,” said Peggy. “That wasn’t expected, was it?” Then she coloured sharply. “Pardon my French.”
Edward couldn’t help laughing at her embarrassment over the swear word, everything else considered, and stood, holding out his hand to her, as they and everyone else made their way down into the hotel’s air raid shelter.
They’d been down there for a couple of hours, mostly in silence, but for a fellow diner who was clearly drunk and kept trying to lead everyone in an unsuccessful sing-song. Edward wished he’d get on and pass out like the man on the other side of him, who was busy snoring, but he refused to oblige. It wasn’t like most smaller shelters, or even being down in one of the Tube stations. Everyone here had the vaguely shifty air of having been interrupted in the middle of something, even if it was only dinner.
“You know,” said Peggy in an undertone, leaning against Edward in her tiredness, “the funny thing is, despite everything else I said, I mostly didn’t want to be alone tonight. Got my wish and then some, didn’t I?”
Since the wretched man started up another rousing chorus at that point, Edward couldn’t disagree. Some of the others were bored or anxious enough to try and join in this time.
“Oh, Lord,” said Edward, with a sigh. “And, yes, I’d say you did. Peggy, I’m sorry, I really am.”
She gave a smile. “It helps, you know,” she said, sounding as if she was about to drift off, too. “The singing. With the fear. If you can get over being musical, I suppose.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong,” he said. Being pretentious and looking down on secretaries and people who were only trying to find their own way of getting through this. He closed his eyes and said under his breath, “I hate this war.” Not that everybody didn’t, really, after nearly three years, but there were some people who seemed to get a kick out of some aspects, and he merely hated it all. He shifted slightly, barely having moved for the last hour, and then owned to himself that that wasn’t true. He did get something out of what they did; he just wished that he didn’t.
Peggy heard, though. She shifted against him and said, “Don’t we all?”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
She gave a sigh, and said, “I don’t suppose I’d have even got to be a secretary in that office without it - or this. And it’s maybe not what I would have chosen, but at least I’m being useful. That means a lot.”
“Good, then,” he said, and then couldn’t help grudgingly adding, “I suppose.” He didn’t add that he had to like her putting herself in danger, or that he wasn’t sure how useful it would be, in the end.
Peggy said nothing, and then started singing along with the chorus of It’s A Long Way To Tipperary.
“Must you?” said Edward.
“Seems to be the only thing going this evening.”
It might have been deserved, but he was still stung. “I didn’t say no,” he said in her ear. “I merely said that - well, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.”
“And now Jerry’s put paid to the whole idea anyway,” said Peggy. “So there we are. It doesn’t matter now, sir.”
They got the all clear sooner than they’d expected, and emerged out of the hotel into the unlit streets; Edward taking Peggy’s hand as they made their way along, gradually losing everyone else.
“I’m just round this corner,” said Peggy. “Got my own torch. You might as well go back.”
Edward shook his head. “I’ll see you there; of course I will.” It wasn’t as if it was safe out at night in the black out. Then he took her hand again and said, “Look, you said back there you didn’t want to be alone. Well, if you want me to stay, I will - not like that, though, not now, of course.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said. “Go on and get yourself home, Mr Iveson.”
It was funny, because if the air raid hadn’t interrupted them, he felt sure he would have made his excuses and left after the dinner - and regretted it later, he was equally sure - but in between something had changed, and he was reluctant to let go of her quite yet. “I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it. Do you still want some company?”
She walked beside him. “I’m dead on my feet now, honest.”
“So am I,” he said. “What if I don’t want to make my way home at this hour? I might never get there alive.”
Peggy gave a weak laugh, and said, “Then I suppose you’d better come in with me.”
There were no doubt people hanging onto each other for comfort all over London tonight, Edward thought, although most of them were probably being a bit more active and literal about it.
Peggy’s hotel turned out to be a grubby, hidden place that only just earned itself the name. Her room was small and the ugly green wallpaper was stained with cigarette smoke while the few items of furniture were mismatched and worn. Edward eyed his surroundings with distaste. Not here, he thought, and even if it hadn’t already been too late, he could hardly have taken her back to his quarters. See, he thought, managing a moment of weary bad temper, if she’d only said first, if she’d warned him, he could have found something much better.
Still, it was all too late anyway, in more ways than one. He should have opened his eyes when she was working with him, not waited till now when it might prove awkward anyhow, what them being in completely different branches of the intelligence service now.
There were narrow twin beds in the room, and Peggy sat down on one, putting a hand to her head. He needn’t at least make any arguments about being a gentlemen and leaving her the bed. He looked around him in the dim light and thought it was an unlovely room: everything in it seemed to resent all its occupants, past, present and future.
Edward removed his jacket and sat down on the other bed, the mattress lumpy under the counterpane. Springs creaked, and he thought again, No, not here.
Peggy lay down on top of the counterpane, still fully dressed. She turned over to look at him. “Look, we both have to try and get some sleep.”
“I was serious,” said Edward. He could understand her being puzzled. He didn’t understand why he’d insisted himself. It wasn’t a last ditch determination to take her up on her offer, and it wasn’t really even truthfully about not leaving her alone. He didn’t want to say goodbye, and he wanted to do something; to make amends somehow. This probably wasn’t much use, either, was it? He sighed and offered to turn out the light, at which she nodded.
He thought about it for a while, and then said quietly, “Miss Venn?” He paused, waiting for her answer, and amused at himself. It might be an odd situation, but they’d certainly already progressed far enough to render such formality ridiculous. “Peggy, I suppose I should say.”
“Yes?” she murmured.
He lay down himself, hoping at least that the wretched place washed the bedclothes properly between guests. “I wanted to say - I may have been ungracious, but I admire you for going. Selfishly, I wish you weren’t. I wish you were still with us.”
“Do you mean that?” she said, and he could hear her sounding pleased, and felt ashamed of himself that it took so little.
“Of course I do.” Then he ruined it by trying to explain further. “And I also wanted to say that tonight - it wasn’t -” He caught himself, and turned so that he was staring upwards, into the darkness. “I imagine you know about my divorce?”
“Office talk. Yes.”
“Well, once that came through, I - I suppose I had an affair. I don’t know exactly how to put it - but I couldn’t be happy with that, and I wouldn’t want to go down that road again. I’m not so sure you wouldn’t regret it too, if we did.”
He couldn’t see her face in the darkness, and it felt like an age before she said anything. He wondered if she’d gone to sleep.
“I think you shouldn’t say anything else,” she said. “Turning me down doesn’t get any better however many different ways you find to say it. And I think you must have just insulted some other poor woman, too.”
“I’m sorry,” said Edward.
Peggy sighed. “No need. I shouldn’t have asked anyway. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t think of it like that, though, I promise. I only thought - now or never and why not? It was only when we were down in the shelter that I saw how wrong it was. Turn up and say I might be gallivanting off to die somewhere; would you go out with me for the evening? I don’t think either of us can talk.”
“I didn’t think that,” he said, and he decided that, as to the rest, she was right, and it was time to stop making things worse with excuses.
He woke in the morning on hearing his name, and opened his eyes in momentary confusion. “Oh, God,” he said, on seeing Peggy watching him, and remembering everything. Why had he come back here? What a way to run the risk of all the scandal for nothing. It wasn’t fair to her, and he didn’t think an air raid constituted a good excuse for ignoring that.
“And good morning to you, too, sir,” she said, busy fastening the buttons of her jacket.
Edward put a hand to his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. And in the circumstances, you can’t possibly call me ‘sir’.”
“What?” she said, evidently not realising that she had. “Well, I’m sorry to wake you up, but I left it as long as I could. You’ll need to be going, won’t you?”
Edward sat up properly and watched her bustle about, gathering up the few items she’d left out. He felt an abrupt sense of regret that was sharp enough to feel like panic. What sort of idiot was he? His uncertainty of the evening before seemed like utter folly now. He wished he could turn the clock back, and wished for the air raid to have come some other night, but there was no way to alter it or to make amends now. He sighed, and got up and went to the bathroom to do what little he could to clean himself up and feel more human, and then came back to find Peggy pinning her hair back in front of the mirror.
“Peggy, I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m an ungracious idiot. You should have picked on someone else. Lynam always had a thing for you, you know.”
She turned. “Oh, me and half a dozen others, so I don’t think so.” She lost some of the determined, cheerful composure she’d been maintaining. “You’re right, though, you really must be an idiot, sir. I mean, Mr Iveson. Edward.”
Edward hunted around for his tie, and at the same time, desperately, for something to say that would make it better instead of worse. “Oh, God, Peggy, I meant that I regret it already. Not saying yes, I mean. I have no right to ask, but when you get back, I’d like to see you again. I think we can do better than this, if you still want to try.”
Peggy gave a small nod, reaching for the cap to complete her uniform. “I’ll have to go.”
“Of course,” he said, moving across to her, and kissing her on the cheek. “That’s for luck, as promised.”
She let go of the hat and leant against him for a moment, her head angled down, so that he couldn’t see her expression. He’d been holding back so much for so long, he realised, a blanket of reserve carefully wrapped about him. Edward stepped away, minutely but enough to cause her to look up, and then he kissed her again, more fully this time, up against the ugliest wallpaper he’d ever seen.
“I’ve got a train to catch,” said Peggy, once he pulled back from her. “I really have to go.”
He nodded, ashamed of himself; giving too little last night, too much this morning, maybe too late. “I know, I know. I can’t be late for work, either.”
She kissed him again, a brief, firm farewell and slipped out of his hold. “I suppose I’ll have to come back now, won’t I?”
“Quite,” he said, as she walked out of the door, straightening her uniform again. Edward leant against the wall. “But you won’t,” he said under his breath. It wasn’t just the risk - and that was high enough - but he’d seen it before with some of their own officers and the double agents out in the field. It was hard to come down from the constant secrecy, the danger, the adrenaline rushes; harder still to try and share it with someone who wasn’t there and didn’t know. She’d leave him behind, one way or the other, and the Peggy he knew wasn’t coming back.
***
Notes: SOE = Special Operations Executive
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Passionfruit #23 (I anchor my ship for a little while only), Sangria #6 (what one refuses in a minute/ No eternity will return), White Chocolate #14 (condescension)
Toppings/Extras: Malt - Birthday prompt (I wish I could just be brave - likelolwhat) + Gummy Bunnies - hc_bingo square "rejection".
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3441
Notes: Sept/Oct 1941; Edward Iveson/Peggy Venn. (Some WWII backstory basically.)
Summary: Edward loses an opportunity and has no one to blame but himself.
***
“Mr Iveson,” said one of the security men, knocking on the door, “there’s a young lady asking for you. A Miss Venn. What shall I do with her?”
Edward Iveson lifted his head and blinked, only gradually resurfacing from the paperwork. “I’m sorry? Who did you say?”
“I’ll send her packing, shall I?” he said, halfway out the door already.
Edward stood hastily. “No, no, it’s all right - I know her. She used to work in my office. I’ve more or less finished anyway - I’ll see her on my way out. Tell her I won’t be more than five minutes.”
He tidied his desk and locked the files away, then reached for his hat and his coat, carrying it over his arm as he made his way down into the lobby.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Peggy Venn when he reached her. “I had to come in and sort out some paperwork, and I thought I’d drop by and say hello. Someone told me you were here. Of course, I forgot I wouldn’t be allowed in. I thought I was going to get arrested for a minute. That’d be a right mess, wouldn’t it?”
Edward gave her a smile and ushered her out into the street. “I’m afraid you’ve missed seeing anyone else. There’s only me left.”
“You’ll do,” she said, and gave a short smile, looking away from him as they walked out of MI5’s headquarters on St James’s Street and past the cunning disguise of the ‘To Let’ sign outside and on towards the park, in search of a convenient bench. Her hair shone golden brown as they walked in and out of the last of the sunshine.
Reading between the lines, Edward could guess why she was here. All these things were need to know, but he’d had to authorise her transfer to the SOE. They must be sending her out somewhere, France most likely. Peggy, he knew, came from Dorset, somewhere near Weymouth, but her father was a Channel Islander, and she’d spent enough time over there when she was young to speak French easily. That was why they’d wanted her. He’d rather blithely assumed, though, that she’d most likely be involved in wireless operations at this end, not getting sent out into the field.
“You’re going away, then?” he said, as quietly as he could, stopping beside a bench as she sat down, finding the most discreet way he could of confirming those suspicions. “I hadn’t realised.”
Peggy nodded.
He couldn’t think of anything to say. How great the risks varied depending on what they wanted her to do, but any way you looked at it, Peggy’s life expectancy was suddenly a matter of weeks or months if she wasn’t careful. Everybody was taking risks these days, but he didn’t like to think of her in such obvious danger. She’d been the most efficient and cheerful secretary they’d had in his office. They’d all missed her since she’d left, or he certainly had.
“So, you see, I thought maybe -” She stopped and looked at him. “How about I buy you a drink, sir? You can see me off, so to speak.”
Edward pretended to be watching one of the birds, walking about on the grass in front of them. It was a daring offer, coming from her, and his hesitation was ungallant. He couldn’t however, pretend it didn’t mean anything, and he wasn’t at all sure what he felt about that.
“You’re probably busy, of course,” said Peggy, for him. “Shouldn’t have asked, should I?”
Edward got to his feet and held out a hand to her. “No, no. It’s not that. I merely think that I should buy you a drink, or better still, see about buying you dinner.”
“Well,” she said, smiling in relief, “I can hardly say no to that, can I?”
He took her to the nearest hotel with a restaurant - the big hotels were all still operating, if sometimes by dubious means, and while there were restrictions on courses, they weren’t otherwise rationed.
Peggy leant forward after they’d been seated and said, “Maybe we should just have gone for chips somewhere.”
He looked up, and coloured, because he hadn’t thought about both the formality of the place, or the possible implications. “We could leave now, if you’d rather.”
“Of course not,” she said. “I was just going to say these places are too full of people in our line of work, only not the nice ones. I read some of those files, you know.”
Edward grinned. “Well, we’ll try and keep ourselves to ourselves.”
“I shocked you, didn’t I?” she said, after a pause while they studied the menu, such as it was.
He surveyed her cautiously over the top of the menu. “Surprised me,” he corrected, though her term was probably nearer the truth. He hadn’t thought of her in this way before, and he was ashamed of himself. There was no reason why he shouldn’t have done, except she’d merely been one of the secretaries. He liked her, though, he knew that much, and he’d certainly felt her absence these last few weeks.
“It’s just that they make it pretty clear what might happen,” she said. “The things I might need to do, if that’s what it takes. And I thought it would be better - I thought -”
“It’s all right,” he said hastily, embarrassed. “Believe me, dinner with you is better than anything else I’m doing this week.”
Peggy watched him, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, I don’t think you understand, sir. Or are you only trying to be polite?”
“Yes, sorry,” he said, since he’d known what she meant when she’d asked to buy him a drink. He could understand why now that she’d tried to elaborate, incoherent as her words were. It didn’t take a genius to work out what she meant, and he’d been trying to avoid giving her an answer. He didn’t know where to look. “Look, Miss Venn - Peggy - I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She gave a small, lopsided smile, and said, “But I still get dinner, don’t I?”
“Of course,” he said, and felt more embarrassed than ever. He didn’t know what else to say, though. “I mean, I’m flattered, honestly, I am. I just - wasn’t expecting this.” He stopped at that point, aware that he was only making things worse. Anyone else would have gone along with what she wanted, he thought uncomfortably. Why the hell was he being so awkward and ungracious?
Peggy merely nodded hastily, and studied the menu. “What d’you reckon we can have here that hasn’t come via the black market?”
“Oh, God,” said Edward, hating that he’d hurt her. “Peggy, I didn’t say no.”
She bit her lip and then looked up again. “I think you did, sir. Let’s not talk about it any more, shall we?”
The rest of the meal was much easier, mostly down to Peggy, determined to cover over her error. Edward was too distracted by regret, wondering if he could tell her he’d changed his mind without it sounding worse. He decided he couldn’t, but they were interrupted anyway by the sound of the all too familiar sirens.
“Bloody hell, not now,” said Peggy. “That wasn’t expected, was it?” Then she coloured sharply. “Pardon my French.”
Edward couldn’t help laughing at her embarrassment over the swear word, everything else considered, and stood, holding out his hand to her, as they and everyone else made their way down into the hotel’s air raid shelter.
They’d been down there for a couple of hours, mostly in silence, but for a fellow diner who was clearly drunk and kept trying to lead everyone in an unsuccessful sing-song. Edward wished he’d get on and pass out like the man on the other side of him, who was busy snoring, but he refused to oblige. It wasn’t like most smaller shelters, or even being down in one of the Tube stations. Everyone here had the vaguely shifty air of having been interrupted in the middle of something, even if it was only dinner.
“You know,” said Peggy in an undertone, leaning against Edward in her tiredness, “the funny thing is, despite everything else I said, I mostly didn’t want to be alone tonight. Got my wish and then some, didn’t I?”
Since the wretched man started up another rousing chorus at that point, Edward couldn’t disagree. Some of the others were bored or anxious enough to try and join in this time.
“Oh, Lord,” said Edward, with a sigh. “And, yes, I’d say you did. Peggy, I’m sorry, I really am.”
She gave a smile. “It helps, you know,” she said, sounding as if she was about to drift off, too. “The singing. With the fear. If you can get over being musical, I suppose.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong,” he said. Being pretentious and looking down on secretaries and people who were only trying to find their own way of getting through this. He closed his eyes and said under his breath, “I hate this war.” Not that everybody didn’t, really, after nearly three years, but there were some people who seemed to get a kick out of some aspects, and he merely hated it all. He shifted slightly, barely having moved for the last hour, and then owned to himself that that wasn’t true. He did get something out of what they did; he just wished that he didn’t.
Peggy heard, though. She shifted against him and said, “Don’t we all?”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
She gave a sigh, and said, “I don’t suppose I’d have even got to be a secretary in that office without it - or this. And it’s maybe not what I would have chosen, but at least I’m being useful. That means a lot.”
“Good, then,” he said, and then couldn’t help grudgingly adding, “I suppose.” He didn’t add that he had to like her putting herself in danger, or that he wasn’t sure how useful it would be, in the end.
Peggy said nothing, and then started singing along with the chorus of It’s A Long Way To Tipperary.
“Must you?” said Edward.
“Seems to be the only thing going this evening.”
It might have been deserved, but he was still stung. “I didn’t say no,” he said in her ear. “I merely said that - well, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.”
“And now Jerry’s put paid to the whole idea anyway,” said Peggy. “So there we are. It doesn’t matter now, sir.”
They got the all clear sooner than they’d expected, and emerged out of the hotel into the unlit streets; Edward taking Peggy’s hand as they made their way along, gradually losing everyone else.
“I’m just round this corner,” said Peggy. “Got my own torch. You might as well go back.”
Edward shook his head. “I’ll see you there; of course I will.” It wasn’t as if it was safe out at night in the black out. Then he took her hand again and said, “Look, you said back there you didn’t want to be alone. Well, if you want me to stay, I will - not like that, though, not now, of course.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said. “Go on and get yourself home, Mr Iveson.”
It was funny, because if the air raid hadn’t interrupted them, he felt sure he would have made his excuses and left after the dinner - and regretted it later, he was equally sure - but in between something had changed, and he was reluctant to let go of her quite yet. “I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it. Do you still want some company?”
She walked beside him. “I’m dead on my feet now, honest.”
“So am I,” he said. “What if I don’t want to make my way home at this hour? I might never get there alive.”
Peggy gave a weak laugh, and said, “Then I suppose you’d better come in with me.”
There were no doubt people hanging onto each other for comfort all over London tonight, Edward thought, although most of them were probably being a bit more active and literal about it.
Peggy’s hotel turned out to be a grubby, hidden place that only just earned itself the name. Her room was small and the ugly green wallpaper was stained with cigarette smoke while the few items of furniture were mismatched and worn. Edward eyed his surroundings with distaste. Not here, he thought, and even if it hadn’t already been too late, he could hardly have taken her back to his quarters. See, he thought, managing a moment of weary bad temper, if she’d only said first, if she’d warned him, he could have found something much better.
Still, it was all too late anyway, in more ways than one. He should have opened his eyes when she was working with him, not waited till now when it might prove awkward anyhow, what them being in completely different branches of the intelligence service now.
There were narrow twin beds in the room, and Peggy sat down on one, putting a hand to her head. He needn’t at least make any arguments about being a gentlemen and leaving her the bed. He looked around him in the dim light and thought it was an unlovely room: everything in it seemed to resent all its occupants, past, present and future.
Edward removed his jacket and sat down on the other bed, the mattress lumpy under the counterpane. Springs creaked, and he thought again, No, not here.
Peggy lay down on top of the counterpane, still fully dressed. She turned over to look at him. “Look, we both have to try and get some sleep.”
“I was serious,” said Edward. He could understand her being puzzled. He didn’t understand why he’d insisted himself. It wasn’t a last ditch determination to take her up on her offer, and it wasn’t really even truthfully about not leaving her alone. He didn’t want to say goodbye, and he wanted to do something; to make amends somehow. This probably wasn’t much use, either, was it? He sighed and offered to turn out the light, at which she nodded.
He thought about it for a while, and then said quietly, “Miss Venn?” He paused, waiting for her answer, and amused at himself. It might be an odd situation, but they’d certainly already progressed far enough to render such formality ridiculous. “Peggy, I suppose I should say.”
“Yes?” she murmured.
He lay down himself, hoping at least that the wretched place washed the bedclothes properly between guests. “I wanted to say - I may have been ungracious, but I admire you for going. Selfishly, I wish you weren’t. I wish you were still with us.”
“Do you mean that?” she said, and he could hear her sounding pleased, and felt ashamed of himself that it took so little.
“Of course I do.” Then he ruined it by trying to explain further. “And I also wanted to say that tonight - it wasn’t -” He caught himself, and turned so that he was staring upwards, into the darkness. “I imagine you know about my divorce?”
“Office talk. Yes.”
“Well, once that came through, I - I suppose I had an affair. I don’t know exactly how to put it - but I couldn’t be happy with that, and I wouldn’t want to go down that road again. I’m not so sure you wouldn’t regret it too, if we did.”
He couldn’t see her face in the darkness, and it felt like an age before she said anything. He wondered if she’d gone to sleep.
“I think you shouldn’t say anything else,” she said. “Turning me down doesn’t get any better however many different ways you find to say it. And I think you must have just insulted some other poor woman, too.”
“I’m sorry,” said Edward.
Peggy sighed. “No need. I shouldn’t have asked anyway. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t think of it like that, though, I promise. I only thought - now or never and why not? It was only when we were down in the shelter that I saw how wrong it was. Turn up and say I might be gallivanting off to die somewhere; would you go out with me for the evening? I don’t think either of us can talk.”
“I didn’t think that,” he said, and he decided that, as to the rest, she was right, and it was time to stop making things worse with excuses.
He woke in the morning on hearing his name, and opened his eyes in momentary confusion. “Oh, God,” he said, on seeing Peggy watching him, and remembering everything. Why had he come back here? What a way to run the risk of all the scandal for nothing. It wasn’t fair to her, and he didn’t think an air raid constituted a good excuse for ignoring that.
“And good morning to you, too, sir,” she said, busy fastening the buttons of her jacket.
Edward put a hand to his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. And in the circumstances, you can’t possibly call me ‘sir’.”
“What?” she said, evidently not realising that she had. “Well, I’m sorry to wake you up, but I left it as long as I could. You’ll need to be going, won’t you?”
Edward sat up properly and watched her bustle about, gathering up the few items she’d left out. He felt an abrupt sense of regret that was sharp enough to feel like panic. What sort of idiot was he? His uncertainty of the evening before seemed like utter folly now. He wished he could turn the clock back, and wished for the air raid to have come some other night, but there was no way to alter it or to make amends now. He sighed, and got up and went to the bathroom to do what little he could to clean himself up and feel more human, and then came back to find Peggy pinning her hair back in front of the mirror.
“Peggy, I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m an ungracious idiot. You should have picked on someone else. Lynam always had a thing for you, you know.”
She turned. “Oh, me and half a dozen others, so I don’t think so.” She lost some of the determined, cheerful composure she’d been maintaining. “You’re right, though, you really must be an idiot, sir. I mean, Mr Iveson. Edward.”
Edward hunted around for his tie, and at the same time, desperately, for something to say that would make it better instead of worse. “Oh, God, Peggy, I meant that I regret it already. Not saying yes, I mean. I have no right to ask, but when you get back, I’d like to see you again. I think we can do better than this, if you still want to try.”
Peggy gave a small nod, reaching for the cap to complete her uniform. “I’ll have to go.”
“Of course,” he said, moving across to her, and kissing her on the cheek. “That’s for luck, as promised.”
She let go of the hat and leant against him for a moment, her head angled down, so that he couldn’t see her expression. He’d been holding back so much for so long, he realised, a blanket of reserve carefully wrapped about him. Edward stepped away, minutely but enough to cause her to look up, and then he kissed her again, more fully this time, up against the ugliest wallpaper he’d ever seen.
“I’ve got a train to catch,” said Peggy, once he pulled back from her. “I really have to go.”
He nodded, ashamed of himself; giving too little last night, too much this morning, maybe too late. “I know, I know. I can’t be late for work, either.”
She kissed him again, a brief, firm farewell and slipped out of his hold. “I suppose I’ll have to come back now, won’t I?”
“Quite,” he said, as she walked out of the door, straightening her uniform again. Edward leant against the wall. “But you won’t,” he said under his breath. It wasn’t just the risk - and that was high enough - but he’d seen it before with some of their own officers and the double agents out in the field. It was hard to come down from the constant secrecy, the danger, the adrenaline rushes; harder still to try and share it with someone who wasn’t there and didn’t know. She’d leave him behind, one way or the other, and the Peggy he knew wasn’t coming back.
***
Notes: SOE = Special Operations Executive