Page 85 of The Undercover Bookshop

“I’m thinking of retiring.” Ursula’s declaration surprises me.

“I wondered if this tour was the start of something new. Your publisher was determined to get you here.”

She chuckles, as well she should. We both know she’s under the careful watch of the KGB. We both know that her freedom is, for a great part, a figment of her imagination. And we both know that the British government only let her into England to avoid hashing up all the bad press of how horridly the Secret Service intelligence bungled her escape all those years ago.

“Nothing new. I’m eighty-four years old.” She flaps a hand at me, and I see the age spots, the enlarged knuckles. “You wouldn’t understand. What are you? Only sixty-five?”

“Sixty-six.” I correct her without thinking. Then it hits me. She’s right. I am only sixty-five—another thing that’s become part of my DNA over these past forty-one years: my new birthday and, hence, my additional year.

“Still so young. Not me. I can’t tell you how these bones creak now.” She puts a hand atop her left knee. “I wanted to say goodbye in person. In all my life, besides my children of course, we’ve been”—she pauses and a glint enters her eyes again—“entangled the longest.”

What a word! It’s just like her to use a word that could go both ways—friends can be “entangled” as easily as enemies. Millicent Bagot and I talked about it all the time over our years together as we examined Ursula’s intelligence from every possible angle, and, to be fair, we could never be sure. In rare moments of levity we raised glasses of Scotch to toast that we were either the sharpest women in the land or the stupidest. Then we’d get back to work.

Ursula nods over my shoulder towards the door. I twist to follow her gaze and see a man in a dark suit standing outside the locked door. Ursula gives a slight shrug. The first admission that she isn’t as free as she claims. “My time is up. Even the rank of colonel only affords a modicum of independence.”

I chuff as her comment lands with all the force she knew it would. Ursula Kuczynski achieved the rank of colonel in the Soviet Army. I can’t help but give an appreciative whistle, and she grins in thanks. And why not? It’s a remarkable achievement.

She stands, as do I. We pause for a moment in silent salute before I cross to the door and open it. The man offers no words. He merely steps into the doorway and stands silent and motionless, waiting for Ursula to gather her things.

As she steps towards me, she lets out an almost imperceptible sigh. We both know these last words will be “on the record.”

She offers a warm smile and holds out both hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Charles. It was a pleasure to meet you and visit your charming shop. I have left extra signed copies of the book on your counter. Please reach out to my publisher if you ever need more.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Werner. That was very generous of you, and if you release another novel, please consider stopping by again.”

“I think not.” She notes the man, who stands and stares straight ahead as if not memorizing every word. “I am getting too old for this—the writing and the touring. I’ve done my work and now my roses need tending.”

“I understand. Enjoy your rest.” I reach out my hand, but she steps in for a hug.

After a kiss on each cheek and one last significant look, she precedes the man out into the pedestrian thoroughfare and vanishes into the dark.

I shut and lock the door once more, then drop into one of only two still-unfolded chairs in the room. The sigh that emerges is so long and deep, I wonder if it’s the breath I’ve held these forty-one years.

And it wasn’t a bad ending either. If Millicent were still alive, we’d raise a toast—and later tonight I believe Charlie and I will. Beatrice—Lady Marchmont as I called her back then—would have loved this ending too. And, if alive, she would have been right by my side to hear it firsthand. I would have insisted upon that, no matter what Ursula wanted.

Though ten years gone, Beatrice is still here in many ways, and I will always consider The Undercover Bookshop hers, her gift she left me in her will. I nod to the small photograph of us, smiling and happy on opening day, that has hung behind the customer counter for the past forty-one years. “We did good, didn’t we, my lady?”

It’s good to finally learn the truth about Peggy too. I’ve danced close to it for years, but confirmation has eased the last bits of lingering guilt I’ve carried. I always feared I might have harmed her in some way. I suppose, one could say, all my sleuthing saved her. After all, once Klaus Fuchs was arrested, Soviet spies were scurrying everywhere, each sure they were compromised. Felisov was soon caught in that net as well. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. Millicent gave me that tidbit over another night of work and a Scotch years later.

A tap at the glass—the three-finger rap I know and love well—sends me dashing for the door.

Charlie steps in and pulls me into his arms. All these years of marriage and it’s still a thrill to be held by him. “How was it?”

“Good. Remarkably good. I wish you could’ve been here.”

He laughs. “Then you never would have had a chance to talk, and you did talk, didn’t you?”

“We did.”

It was Charlie’s insight not to come. He said if the KGB learned a former Metro chief was in attendance, they’d make sure their side was covered as well. I don’t mention the men in overcoats I noted at the evening’s beginning, but I also don’t worry about them, as they left with all the other guests. So, in the end, neither side must have been too nervous.

“And Peggy?”

We haven’t talked about Peggy for years, but my husband knows me well. She has never been far from my mind. “You were right. She was terribly compromised, and Ursula saved her rather than harmed her. Back in St. Eths, she started meeting a man who she thought was a good listener out on long walks, and she told him far too much.”

Charlie smirks. “I’m sure he was a very good listener.”

“She was all over those papers in the Kidlington house. Ursula knew more about her than she did herself. She warned Peggy and advised her on how to run. She even gave her money.”