Page 171 of Winter of the World (The Century 2)

Daisy noticed that Lloyd was in uniform. "Where are you off to this morning?"

"I've had a summons from the War Office." He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. "I'd better get going."

"I thought you'd already been debriefed."

"Come to my room and I'll explain while I'm putting on my tie. Bring your tea."

They went upstairs. Daisy looked around with interest, and he realized she had not been in his bedroom before. He looked at the single bed, the bookshelf of novels in German, French, and Spanish, and the writing table with the row of sharpened pencils, and wondered what she thought of it.

"What a nice little room," she said.

It was not little. It was the same size as the other bedrooms in the house. But she had different standards.

She picked up a framed photograph. It showed the family at the seaside: little Lloyd in shorts, toddling Millie in a swimsuit, young Ethel in a big floppy hat, Bernie wearing a gray suit with a white shirt open at the neck and a knotted handkerchief on his head.

"Southend," Lloyd explained. He took her cup, put it on the dressing table, and folded her into his arms. He kissed her mouth. She kissed him back with weary tenderness, stroking his cheek, letting her body slump against his.

After a minute he released her. She was really too tired to canoodle, and he had an appointment.

She took off her boots and lay down on his bed.

"The War Office have asked me to go in and see them again," he said as he tied his tie.

"But you were there for hours last time."

It was true. He had had to dredge his memory for every last detail of his time on the run in France. They wanted to know the rank and regiment of every German he had encountered. He could not remember them all, of course, but he had done his homework meticulously for the Ty Gwyn course and he was able to give them a great deal of information.

That was standard military intelligence debriefing. But they had also asked about his escape, the roads he had taken and who had helped him. They were even interested in Maurice and Marcelle, and reproved him for not knowing their surname. They had got very excited about Teresa, who clearly could be a major asset to future escapers.

"I'm seeing a different lot today." He glanced at a typed note on his dressing table. "At the Metropole Hotel in Northumberland Avenue. Room four twenty-four." The address was off Trafalgar Square in a neighborhood of government offices. "Apparently it's a new department dealing with British prisoners of war." He put on his peaked cap and looked in the mirror. "Am I smart enough?"

There was no answer. He looked at the bed. She had fallen asleep.

He pulled a blanket over her, kissed her forehead, and went out.

He told his mother that Daisy was asleep on his bed, and she said she would check on her later to make sure she was all right.

He took the Tube to central London.

He had told Daisy the true story of his parentage, disabusing her of the theory that he was Maud's child. She believed him readily, for she suddenly recalled Boy telling her that Fitz had an illegitimate child somewhere. "This is creepy," she had said, looking thoughtful. "The two Englishmen I've fallen for turn out to be half brothers." She had looked appraisingly at Lloyd. "You inherited your father's good looks. Boy just got his selfishness."

Lloyd and Daisy had not yet made love. One reason was that she never had a night off. Then, on the single occasion they had had a chance to be alone together, things had gone wrong.

It had been last Sunday, at Daisy's home in Mayfair. Her servants had Sunday afternoon off, and she had taken him to her bedroom in the empty house. But she had been nervous and ill at ease. She had kissed him, then turned her head aside. When he put his hands on her breasts she had pushed them away. He had been confused: If he was not supposed to behave this way, why were they in her bedroom?

"I'm sorry," she had said at last. "I love you, but I can't do this. I can't betray my husband in his own house."

"But he betrayed you."

"At least he went somewhere else."

"All right."

She had looked at him. "Do you think I'm being silly?"

He shrugged. "After all we've been through together, this seems overly fastidious of you, yes--but, look, you feel the way you feel. What a rotter I would be if I tried to bully you into doing it when you're not ready."

She put her arms around him and hugged him hard. "I said it before," she said. "You're a grown-up."

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