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“You’re upset and you have every right to be. I had too many things to get done this morning, and I lost track of time. When I finally finished up, it was half past twelve and I knew you’d almost be closing out your meeting.”

She follows me to the counter and the stack of books I plopped there upon rushing in. She lifts them one by one. “Were these the ones you brought?”

I dive for them. Two books more and she’ll have Tey’s The Man in the Queue in her hands, and with one flip of the front cover, she’ll see the numbers from her note.

“Goodness,” I chirp, far too high and frantic. “Let me get these out of your way. It was too bad you missed, but I do understand.”

I don’t really, I want to say, and you didn’t answer my question at all—and you lied. But I leave those thoughts tucked deeply away. Instead, I do my job. I reach for a pencil to record her name, but my fingers are so cold I can barely hold it.

Ursula reaches out and puts her hand over mine. “I do apologize aga—” She grips my hand tight. “Gemma, your hands are like ice. How could they get so cold coming from the church?”

I pull my hand away, my mind racing to make up a better lie. “I rode south to deliver a book I forgot in the deliveries Wednesday. I misjudged the distance. Stupid of me, really.”

“Is that why you are so late?” She speaks softly so as not to catch Mr. Hastings’s attention. “You should tell him.”

“I will. Later.” I reach for the pencil again and make a mark on the ordering sheet. “There you go. I should have all the books in by the end of next week.”

“Again, I’m sorry, Gemma. I know how important today was to you.”

“I’m sure you were busy.” I let my voice lift just a touch to imply a question, to invite an answer.

Only two other customers are inside at the moment, and they are both across the store. I start to believe she’ll actually tell me the truth. Then her eyes land on the stack of Oxford Times sitting at the edge of the counter and that grim determination, touching almost on fear, flashes crosses her face again. But this time it’s so fleeting it’s gone an instant later when she fixes her gaze upon me once more.

She merely lifts a shoulder, and my hopes for something real are dashed. “Life is always busy, but I hope to read the book in time to join the discussion.”

“Wonderful.” I keep my voice steady. “I’ll see you next Wednesday?”

“Yes.” She tilts her head towards Mr. Hastings’s direction. “I should let you get to work.”

She leaves with a wave across the store to my boss, and I dive for the stack of papers. I scan the front page. There’s nothing interesting. Nothing that would incite such concern or fear in anyone. Funding for a film got cut. Parliament is in an uproar about some new transportation bill. The king is traveling north this weekend . . .

I slow myself and read every headline. Word for word. And there it is, along the paper’s right edge.

“German Scientist Fuchs Arrested for Atom Bomb Betrayal.”

Chapter 18

After apologizing to Mr. Hastings, catching up on some of the daily work, staying late to lock up the store, and giving the high traffic areas a thorough cleaning, I race to the Unicorn.

Peggy sits alone. “Freddie has a delivery to Woodstock so he can’t come, but Mimi and Dinah should be here soon. Sallie is babysitting tonight.” Peggy pushes at the empty chair next to her. “Is PC Charles coming by?”

I drop into the seat. “Not tonight. Sergeant Boyle has the flu, so he’s working double desk shifts.”

“Have you had supper?”

“Not yet.” I haven’t eaten since those three slices of cake this morning. “Here. Read this.” I push the paper to her.

“‘Parliament in Session.’ Is that a surprise?”

“This one.” I point to the column running on the right side of the page.

She reads the headline aloud. Her head snaps up. This time with a question in her eyes.

“Read the whole article.”

I sit for a few minutes, willing her to read faster but determined not to interrupt. In the meantime, I also order a sherry and a bowl of beef stew.

I can almost imagine each word as she reads it—about how the German scientist Klaus Fuchs, who worked at Oxford in atomic energy research, was recruited to the United States to lead the atomic project there, and how he was a key scientist in the US’s advancements in hydrogen energy, and how he has just been arrested for passing on those secrets to the Soviets—to such a degree of precision and quantity that his intelligence alone might be responsible for their recent “hydrogen superbomb,” which they successfully tested last August and was either reported or leaked to the world in December.