Read Online Wives at War by Jessica Stirling - Free Book Online

He knew better than to ask.
    â€˜Do I have a codename yet?’ Christy asked.
    â€˜Would you like a codename?’
    â€˜Not especially.’
    â€˜You don’t need one.’
    â€˜But you do?’
    Marzipan smiled. He had small, foxy teeth.
    Christy figured him to be about forty, maybe a weathered thirty-five. He spoke in a clipped Scottish accent, snipping the words into sentences as if he were used to dictating to a secretary.
    â€˜I do, alas,’ said Marzipan. ‘Tell me about the sister.’
    â€˜What’s to tell,’ said Christy. ‘She’s not important.’
    â€˜Are you sleeping with her?’
    â€˜Nope.’
    â€˜It doesn’t matter to me if you are.’
    â€˜I’m not,’ said Christy. ‘I’m just approaching from the rear…’
    â€˜Really!’
    â€˜â€¦ like you told me to.’
    â€˜What about the husband?’
    â€˜In the army. Tanks. In Devon.’
    Marzipan nodded. He knew that already, of course.
    Christy said, ‘Did he work with Manone?’
    â€˜He did, but he was small fry, very small fry.’
    â€˜There’s a brother-in-law too – Dennis.’
    â€˜He’s at sea,’ Marzipan said, ‘serving on an aircraft carrier.’
    â€˜If you already have all the answers, what do you need from me?’
    Marzipan seated himself on the arm of a broken-down sofa. He said, ‘Unfortunately we don’t have all the answers. Even more unfortunately we aren’t calling the tune. After you make contact with Manone’s wife, we should have a clearer picture of what’s going on.’
    â€˜Just what is going on?’ Christy said.
    â€˜That’s what you’re here to find out.’
    â€˜When do I get my clearance to sail with a convoy?’
    â€˜All in good time,’ Marzipan told him. ‘Meanwhile, is there anything we can do for you? Anything you need? Money?’
    â€˜I’m fine.’
    â€˜The London office is coming through then?’
    â€˜Like clockwork,’ said Christy.
    â€˜Where do you deposit the cheques?’
    â€˜No cheques. Postal orders.’
    â€˜Good.’
    â€˜Is that it?’
    â€˜For the time being.’
    â€˜You brought me down here just to pat me on the head?’
    â€˜Progress report,’ Marzipan said. ‘Candidly, I had hoped for a little more. Do you still have the number I gave you?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜I’ll be gone for a week or two,’ Marzipan said. ‘But the person at the other end can be trusted to take messages. I’ll be in touch as soon as I get back.’
    â€˜From where?’
    Marzipan laughed. His blue-grey eyes became wet. He wiped them with a knuckle as if Christy had just told him the funniest joke in the world.
    â€˜The States?’ said Christy.
    â€˜Not the States, no.’
    â€˜If you happen to bump into my brother—’
    â€˜It’s highly unlikely.’
    â€˜Yeah, well, if you do,’ Christy said, ‘tell him to go shoot himself.’
    â€˜I’m sure you don’t mean that,’ said Marzipan, still laughing.
    â€˜I’m goddamned sure I do,’ said Christy.
    *   *   *
    Lizzie should have been pleased to see her daughters but she had become so set in her ways that she was quite disconcerted when all three turned up at once.
    They were no longer bright young things. They had husbands, children and worries of their own, and sometimes seemed to converse in a language she could not now understand. The war had snapped the natural chain of events by which women her age anchored themselves to the past. She was confused by what was happening in the world, and Bernard and the girls tried to protect her from its harsher realities, which made her feel even more stupid.
    Babs breezed in about a quarter past one o’clock, April and a litter of bags and boxes in her arms. Puffing, she dumped the lot on a