Blitz by Daniel O’Malley

Author:Daniel O’Malley [O’Malley, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2022-08-28T14:00:00+00:00

14

Henry? Henry! Wattleman!” Bridget pounded on the bathroom door.

It opened and, of course, Wattleman was wearing only a towel. To her relief, he was not wet.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing, I need to take the first bath, please.” She could see the tension ooze away from his face, replaced by his usual smug amusement.

“Oh? Suddenly in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

“Only I’ve already drawn the bath and gotten undressed.” He leaned back against the doorjamb, his body blocking the door.

“Yes, I see that. But I need to meet someone downstairs very shortly, and I want to wash off the rind of the Underground.” And of you.

“So soon? It might be quicker if you joined me.” He smiled languidly.

Oh, for God’s sake. “Forget it,” she snapped. “I’ll go down like this.”

“Oh, come now, we could wash each other’s backs, and then you could go down to the lobby smelling sweet and not looking like someone who spent the night sleeping in the Underground.”

“It is perfectly respectable to spend the night sleeping in the Underground,” said Bridget. “Far more respectable than taking a bath with you would be.”

“And you’re worried about what people would think?”

“No, I’m worried about what I would think. And about the very likely possibility that I’d throw up in the bath,” said Bridget.

“From self-loathing?” He smiled. “It’s overrated.”

“From all sorts of loathing,” she said darkly.

“And who are you meeting, Mangan?” he asked. “Is this a briefing I should be present for?”

“Absolutely not,” said Bridget. He didn’t say anything. “It’s . . . a gentleman friend.”

“Not the one going off to war?”

“The very same,” she said.

“But we are on a covert, off-the-books mission,” Wattleman said, his eyes wide. “How does he know where to find us?”

“He knows where to find me because he called Lady Carmichael’s house, and when he gets there, Usha will send him here. This will be my last chance to say goodbye. So, please, may I take the bathroom first?”

“Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of two young lovers,” he said. “By all means, you should take the bathroom first. I’m sure your young man would prefer it if you washed. You do smell rather like the public.” He stood aside and, with a swooping bow, gestured for her to enter. The world was merciful enough not to have his towel fall off while he did so, and she shut the door firmly behind her.

Bridget sat in the bath, held her knees, and replayed the telephone conversation she’d had with Usha. They’d agreed that when Gerald arrived at the Carmichael house, Usha would tell him that Bridget was in the city and that he should meet her in the teashop next to the Brentley Hotel.

And then the full weight of the situation had hit Bridget like a fist to the stomach.

“What am I going to do, Usha?” she had asked shakily. She felt as if she might burst into tears. “What am I going to say to him? How do I leave it between us?”

“Do you understand why he’s going off to war?” asked Usha.

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