‘What has that to do with anything?’
‘Patients are always grateful to their nurses and some of them must have influence. Surely you can use that.’
‘I work at St Barts, in the City.’
‘A City man then. Perfect.’
‘The City men, as you call them, go home to the suburbs at night. They have transport and money to escape the raids. It’s the East End that suffers—you must know that—you’re living there. Its people are our patients, people from small terraced houses, from crowded tenements, people with very little and even less when the bombers have finished. They’re grateful certainly, but influential, no.’
‘You’ve changed, you know. You’ve become a hard woman.’
‘Because I can’t help you? You’re being foolish.’ She looked away from him. ‘If I have changed,’ she said slowly, ‘it can only be a good thing. At least for me. It means that for the first time in my life, I’m strong enough to defend myself.’
He had the grace to look uncomfortable, but it didn’t stop him from worrying at her.
‘Grayson Harte was never a district officer in India, was he? I knew from the first he was an imposter. I told you so, didn’t I?’
She said nothing, wondering why he should alight on Grayson’s name again. She wasn’t left in ignorance long.
‘I’ve been thinking.’ He stretched his long legs and relaxed back into the canvas sling. ‘The district officer role was just a blind. Harte was in Secret Intelligence, wasn’t he? Most of those beggars are working in London now, I’ll be bound. Harte may have had to stay in India for the gang’s trial, but he can’t be there still. He’s almost certainly close by and if we’re talking influence, who better than an SIS officer to help me?’
She swallowed hard. It was exactly what Connie had said, but she hadn’t wanted to listen to her and she didn’t want to listen to Gerald either. Contriving a meeting with Grayson was the last thing she’d expected to do, and the last thing she wanted.
‘Nothing to say? Harte always had a soft spot for you. Sweet on you, I thought at the time. And he proved your white knight in the end, didn’t he?’
There was a new bitterness to his voice. Even now, she thought guiltily, even now that she had Gerald beside her, flesh and blood and alive, she hadn’t thanked him for his final act of heroism in trying to save her life. She should do it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. Her sense of betrayal was just too great.
‘Who better to get me my papers?’ he taunted.
‘I don’t see Grayson.’
‘Now, I find that remarkable.’ He gave a smirk. ‘I thought he’d be a regular at the Nurses’ Home.’ She could have hit him but instead clenched her fists tightly. He looked down at her hands and the smirk grew. ‘What’s the matter? Didn’t it work out between you? That’s sad. But then comfort yourself with the thought that it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. You have a husband alive and Grayson is far too much of a gentleman to steal another man’s wife.’
‘I don’t see him,’ she repeated heavily.
‘But you could. If you chose.’ He leant over and took her hand. His touch was far gentler than she expected. Rhythmically, he stroked her forearm. She would have said it was a loving touch if she hadn’t known better. ‘And you could choose, Daisy.’
‘I haven’t seen Grayson Harte for months. We’ve gone our own ways.’
‘I’m sure you know where he works though.’ She didn’t answer and he took her silence as confirmation. ‘You could pay him a visit. Call on him for old times’ sake. Don’t mince your words—tell him your husband has reappeared and is an embarrassment, an embarrassment you’d like to get rid of. I’m sure he’ll find a way of obliging.’
‘I can’t turn up out of nowhere and demand papers for you. He’ll want to know why you’re here, how you got here. He’ll know you’ve deserted. What if he decides to turn you in?’
‘Dear Daisy, he won’t. Because, if he did, you would be implicated. You would be the wife of a deserter. Think how your nursing colleagues would react to that little piece of news, think what the hospital might do. About your job, for instance.’
‘You’re threatening my job?’
‘Not threatening, merely pointing out the salient facts—as a friend, of course. You really would be best to keep my unfortunate situation as quiet as possible, and Mr Harte will appreciate how necessary that is. He’s a master of discretion, I’m sure.’
She was caught. She could feel the underlying menace in every one of his words. If he didn’t get papers, didn’t get money and a way out of England, he wouldn’t go quietly. If he were taken into custody, he would shout his story to the sky and it would spread like a fungus, inching its diseased path into every crevice of her life. Including her workplace. And the job she loved would be in ashes, another dream destroyed.
‘If I go to him and he refuses to help—even if he doesn’t inform the authorities you’re in London—will you leave me alone?’
‘He can’t refuse.’ Gerald’s tone was adamant. ‘He has to help. My situation is desperate. Spies are his forte, aren’t they, and I’m surrounded by them. I have to get out now.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Surrounded by spies?’
‘Yes, spies. I’m almost certain of it.’ She recalled the anxious scanning of the park before he’d consented to sit down. It seemed he believed what he was saying. ‘There’s something odd about the two men who rent the room below me. For a start they’re both Indians. Well, one is Indian, the other’s Anglo. I met the Indian chap on the landing one day and he said he was a soldier. I saw his cap, it had the badge of the Pioneer Corps pinned to it, so I reckon he was telling the truth. But why isn’t he with his regiment? And if he’s left the army, why hasn’t he returned to India? There has to be something going on, some reason they’re hanging around. They’re watching me, I’m sure. They must know I’ve deserted.’
‘How can they know?’ The claim seemed utterly absurd and she wondered if Gerald’s ordeal had affected his mind as well as his body.
‘If they don’t actually know, they suspect. Think about it. I’m an able-bodied man of twenty-eight, yet I’m not with any of the Services and I’m not engaged in essential war work.’
‘And are they? They might be deserters too.’
He shook his head. ‘Deserters from what? The character from the Pioneers has a limp, so he’s unfit to fight. I know his unit was brought over from the Punjab to work on demolition. Clearing derelict buildings, that sort of thing. Some of them were skilled engineers. They’d need to be, using dynamite. He might have been one of them and suffered an accident. But that doesn’t explain why he hasn’t been put on a boat back to India. He’s not British and he shouldn’t be here.’
‘And the other man, the Anglo-Indian?’
‘Yes, what about him? What the hell is he doing in this country?’ Gerald’s voice rose and she could see panic bubbling beneath the surface. ‘Why hasn’t he been interned with everyone else, I ask you? Every foreigner, anyone who might assist the enemy, even the poor blighters who’ve escaped from Hitler, has been banged up.’
‘But why should these men be a threat to you?’ She hoped a quiet voice would calm him.
‘They are, I know they are.’
She had never known her husband so agitated, not even in the dark days of mischief in India. His voice had risen even higher and Daisy saw the woman who had just rescued her child’s boat look up, perplexed by the sound.
‘They