“But…what business would Maman…？” I trailed off, completely baffled.
“I’m not exactly sure. Turner spoke with her and arranged it all. She’s back now and everything is fine. I know they’ll be thrilled to see you, so I won’t keep you a minute longer. Thank you again for the brooch.”
“And thanks for the photo,” I said but I could not help a pang of alarm. Maman was all but penniless—I had been supporting her since she came to live with me and she had no business to attend to, as far as I knew. God, had one of her scoundrel ex-husbands returned? Or had she followed some new man—leaving Hughie behind, just as she’d so often left me behind as a child?
The thought made me feel ill. Had I been wrong to trust that she’d turned over a new leaf?
“Ready, Fleur?” Turner was in the doorway. His usual smile was strangely absent, and he didn’t attempt to make small talk with me as we walked to his car. Once he had pulled his Vauxhall out into the street, I sighed with pleasure and relief that it was finally over.
“You probably know this, sir, but my flat is at Bexley.”
Turner was silent for a moment. He cleared his throat, then said, “I’m sorry, but we can’t go to your flat just yet.”
“But—”
“I know you’re tired but this is quite important, Eloise,” he said, startling me with the use of my real name. Of course he knew it, officials at his level knew just about everything. But this was the first time I’d heard my name in the context of SOE business ever since I was called into a room at the Northumberland Hotel for a meeting on what I thought was a matter of confusion around Giles’s war pension, but what turned out to be the wildest imaginable job interview.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, but I waited in silence as Turner stared at the road. My pulse started to race. “You’re making me uneasy, sir. What’s going on?”
Just a few blocks from the SOE office, he pulled the car into a parking space then flicked the ignition off. Still staring out the windscreen, he said, “Almost everyone in the SOE is brilliant. Almost everyone is loyal. There are exceptions to the rule.”
“Every agent I’ve worked or trained with has represented the agency with skill and pride.” I frowned. “During our training, you and the other officials were very quick to weed out those who lacked the necessary character.”
“The system is not perfect, I’m afraid. The miserable reality is that there are double agents within our ranks.”
A burst of defensiveness immediately surged through me.
“Mr. Turner, I do hope you are not suggesting—” I said hotly, but he quickly interrupted me, his tone calm but firm.
“I’m not accusing you of anything and this conversation will be much easier for us both if you just let me speak.”
I wanted to go home. I had completed my mission carefully and faithfully. Until just that very minute, I’d assumed the SOE officials were all thrilled with my work, but I was suddenly questioning everything. Had I made a mistake? Had I missed something?
“I know of at least one double agent. There are possibly more,” Turner said grimly. “I cannot tell you how I know, or who I suspect…rather, who I know them to be. But I will tell you this much because you need to know—Eloise, by the time you left Rouen, the Germans knew you were there. They know your real name. More than that, they know your mother and son’s names.”
“No,” I gasped. “No, sir. That’s impossible.”
The SOE was an agency that prioritized secrecy above all else—that’s why we used code names, why we went to such lengths to maintain distance from one another. I’d never before heard of an active agent’s family being exposed.
“I can’t tell you how I know this,” Turner repeated. “But I assure you, the threat is very real.”
“Are they in danger?” I demanded. On their own, they were vulnerable. I needed to get home to keep them safe! “Is this why my mother was called away on business while I was in the field?”
Turner turned to face me.
“About a week after you left, my secretary called me at home,” he said. “She was working late when a call came in on Elwood’s line. It was one of your neighbors. She heard your son crying inside your flat but your mother wasn’t answering the door. The neighbor and her husband broke a window to get inside. They found your mother. She had collapsed.” The conversation was starting to feel like a bad dream. I shook my head numbly. “They tried to revive her,” he continued. “I’m sorry. It was just too late.”
“No,” I said, ridiculously. “She can’t be gone. She just can’t—”
“I know this is distressing but we have a lot to get through, Eloise,” he said calmly, and he reached into his jacket, passing me a freshly pressed handkerchief. “Please try to focus.”
My eyes were dry, but I took the handkerchief anyway. I wrung it through my fingers as I nodded for him to continue.
“They found Ms. Elwood’s number on a card in your kitchen.”
“Yes. Just before I left, she gave it to me to give to Maman in case anything went wrong while I was away,” I whispered absently.
“Your neighbors weren’t sure what to do with the boy. They said they barely know you.” I closed my eyes at that. It was true—Giles and I inherited the flat from his mother, who was a vibrant, active part of the community in that block of flats. But the neighbors were all so much older than me and I was convinced we had little in common. I never got to know them beyond the occasional nod in the hallway. And then Maman came to live with me and we formed a little bubble around ourselves. “I arranged for Elwood to take your son for a few nights. To be honest, I learned of your mother’s death around the same time I…” He paused, cleared his throat, then finished carefully, “Well, I understood the Germans had your real name by then. I assumed her death was suspicious.”
“You think they killed my mother—”
“The timing was concerning,” he interrupted me. “I’ve since spoken with a doctor at the morgue and he said it was most likely natural causes. But at first, my only concern was keeping your son safe and I knew Elwood wouldn’t let a thing happen to him even if they did manage to track him down at her place. She lives with her mother, and her mother is a fierce sort, but maternal, you know? It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”
“But where is Hughie now?” I blurted. “Elwood said she had him for four nights. It’s been weeks!”
“I found an excellent child-minder. She has no idea who he really is—she doesn’t even know his real name. She knows only that his security is potentially at risk.”
I felt crushed by the conversation—the news about my mother, sheer terror for my son. How long had he been left alone with Maman after her collapse? Was he traumatized? How could he adjust to so many strangers? His whole life until then, he’d only had me and Maman.
He was probably beside himself, even now. He was probably crying for me, wondering where I went.
“Please, take me to him,” I said. Mr. Turner cleared his throat.