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“This is how we stand?” she asks with considerable calm.

“Possibly.” I open the door. “Did you hit me?” It’s a risk to ask, I know, but I have nothing left to lose.

The corner of her lips curl into that small secret smile I’ve come to detest. “Don’t be fatuous. I wouldn’t draw such unnecessary attention to myself.”

I have trouble swallowing past the lump in my throat—I hadn’t expected the truth. I hadn’t expected the bite in her voice.

“I’m not going to hurt you, silly girl. I came to talk with you.” She waves her fingers, gesturing up the stairs. “May I come in?”

I step back, unable to say anything, and follow her up my own stairs.

She stops at the entrance to my bedsit. “This is charming. You’ve made yourself a cozy home here. I’m sorry to have ruined it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve come to tell you I’m leaving.”

“Seems everyone is today.” It’s all I can think to say.

“Who else is leaving?” Her words pitch up in surprise.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Ursula continues as if I hadn’t sidetracked us. “I’m taking the children to visit family in Berlin. When I get back—”

I lift a hand, palm out, between us. “Let’s not play games.”

She stares at me. All humor is gone, and I see the formidable woman beneath. She’s always been there, of course, peeking out between jokes, baking instructions, and winsome stories, but for the most part she’s been remarkably well hidden. It surprises me, just for a second, until I realize that must be how she survives. The next thought that races in is a swift reminder about the ruthlessness that comes along with such survival instincts. Her eyes tell that story as well.

“Games of this sort are unworthy of us. You are right. Especially now.”

“Now?”

“Now when I want you to trust me. As once you did.” She holds a hand up this time to stave off my protest. “I’m taking the kids and we are leaving. Rather Nina and Peter are leaving with me. Michael will stay at university in Scotland, but they’ll do nothing to him. It’s only me they want.” She lays the sentence baldly before me, and I’m not sure if it’s a carrot or a stick.

I’m too tired to react. “It was never Len, was it?”

Her lips curl but she does not answer.

I don’t ask if Len knows because their marriage suddenly makes sense to me now. Yes, there is passion, and perhaps that’s the most bewildering thing about it. But there is a power dynamic I sensed but could never define.

“I assume you work for the Soviets?”

She smiles again, small and calculating. “You and I are on the same side, Gemma. We both want what’s best for Great Britain. To have one side hold power over the other is not conducive to peace. It never will be. My work simply keeps the teams even.”

“That’s how you justify spying?” My voice pitches up.

“Helping.” Hers lowers. She steps towards my front window. “Wanting peace and pursuing it does not make me a traitor.”

“Passing atomic secrets to the Soviets does.”

She glances back to me. “How busy you’ve been. I wondered how much you figured out.” Her gaze trips all around my bedsit. “What was first? The gramophone? I saw you put a new needle on it.”

“When it didn’t work, I opened the side to check the specifications.”

“And discovered my radio. A brand-new model, too, very hard to come across. I am sorry I need to destroy that.” She turns from the window. “Nina also told me of your visit to the cellar.”

I draw a quick breath. “Don’t blame her.”