Mrs. Galais’s eyes sparkled like the windows in Ivy’s drawing. “She’s a marvel, our Ivy. Isn’t she?”
From what little Gerrit had seen of her, she was indeed, but his tongue turned to stone. The rector had relieved his discomfort by starting the service.
In the blustery autumn air, Gerrit and Bernardus passed the elegant Pomme d’Or Hotel. Red swastika flags marked the building as requisitioned for use as German naval headquarters.
In front of the Southampton Hotel next door, Charlie Picot stood on the damp pavement in a homburg and a gray overcoat two sizes too big.
He marched up to Gerrit and Bernardus. “Come with me to theOrmer.”
“Now?” Gerrit frowned at the boy. “We’re on our way to church.”
“You won’t mind being late when you see.” Excitement danced in Charlie’s dark brown eyes. “Please come.”
Bernardus shrugged at Gerrit, inquiring. Gerrit shrugged back, accepting.
“You’ll be glad.” Charlie strode toward the harbor. “You have your passes, yes?”
“Yes.” They couldn’t go anywhere without their paybooks.
Guards ringed the harbor, but when the three men showed their papers, they were admitted.
“No one’s on board.” Charlie led them up the gangplank onto theOrmerand into the cabin, where he sat on a wooden bench. “About a month ago, you gave me a letter for your girlfriend in Saint-Malo. A few days later, I delivered it.”
“Thank you.” Bernardus lowered himself to the bench across from Charlie.
With his insides squirming, Gerrit joined his friend and schooled his face to neutral.
Charlie clasped his hands together between his knees. “On Friday, we docked in Saint-Malo. A girl greeted me at the pier with a ... a kiss.” His cheeks darkened to pink.
Gerrit smiled. “It is the French way.”
“No. Here.” Charlie tapped his own lips, and the pink turned to red.
Bernardus chuckled. “A pleasant surprise, yes?”
Charlie bobbled a nod. “She took me by the arm—I was too stunned to protest—and she led me to a house. Not the same house as before, but the same lady was there. Your girlfriend, Bernardus.”
The resistance contact. Gerrit held his breath. With great effort, he avoided glancing at Bernardus.
Charlie pulled an envelope from inside his coat. “She asked me to deliver this to you.”
“Thank you.” Bernardus stretched across for the letter.
Charlie didn’t surrender it. “She said you were to hold it to the light but not too close.”
A frown pulled at Gerrit’s lips, but he resisted. Why would they need to hold it to the light?
Charlie pressed the envelope into Bernardus’s hand. “She made me repeat it, but she refused to answer my questions.”
“Thank you. I’ll do as she asked.” Bernardus tucked the envelope into his greatcoat, but a stiffness to his tone said he didn’t understand the instructions either.
“You know what I think?” Charlie grinned and leaned closer. “It’s in secret ink.”
Gerrit sucked in a breath. “Secret—”
“When you were boys, did you ever write a message in lemon juice? You could read it by holding it close to a flame. Here.”Charlie pulled a matchbox and a candle stub from his pocket. “Let’s see what it says.”
Bernardus shot Gerrit an alarmed look. “Thank you, but it isn’t nearly that exciting. My girlfriend uses paper with a watermark. You can see it if you hold it to the light.”
