I nodded, waited until he’d gone out and then lay down. The window was partly open and I could hear the sounds of the city outside—the honking of car horns, shouts, a burst of accordion music. It was too exciting for me to sleep. Instead I sat in the armchair by the window and started to write in my diary. Then I heard a voice I recognized. I went to the window and looked out. Darcy was standing on the pavement below, talking to another man. I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a trilby hat and he looked not unlike the man who had passed us on the train. In any case they were speaking English. Hidden behind the curtain I leaned out as far as I could. They were talking in low voices, making it hard to hear.

“Will she do it?” the other man asked.

“I haven’t asked her. I’m not sure I want to get her involved,” Darcy replied.

“It would simplify everything if she would. You can trust her, can’t you? She’s not likely to spill the beans to anyone?”

“Of course I can trust her. It’s just that . . . well, we don’t know, do we? They may be shadowing her. I wouldn’t want to put her in danger.”

“It is a matter of life and death, old chap,” the other man said. “I thought we agreed on the plan.”

A horse and cart went past with a clatter at the same time as a bus. I leaned even further not to lose the conversation, lost my balance and only stopped myself from plunging to the street below by hanging on for dear life to the curtain. I heard an ominous ripping sound as I hauled myself back to safety. Luckily the curtain held firm. I think I must have given a little yelp, as Darcy looked up briefly. But I was back inside behind the curtain, my heart still pounding.

Anyway, my moment of drama had cost me the last few sentences of their conversation. I tuned in to hear the other man say, “So, what am I going to tell Berlin, then?”

“They are not arriving until next week, correct?” Darcy asked. “So we have a few days.”

The other man muttered something I couldn’t hear thanks to a motor van blaring its horn at a wayward pedestrian.

“Then let’s get settled first and we’ll make final plans.”

“I can’t stress to you the importance of this, old chap,” the man said. “We’ll meet on Monday. Usual place.”

He tipped his hat and went on his way. Darcy lingered in the street, watching him, then turned and walked in the other direction. It was all rather disturbing. I didn’t know who “she” was and why “they” might be shadowing her, who they were and why it was a matter of life and death. And Berlin? I felt a shiver of fear creeping through me. I had long ago come to the conclusion that my husband was a spy, but I always assumed it was for the British government. But what if he was a spy for the other side? What if he was being paid to help Hitler? I know Darcy felt he should be supporting his family better. What if he had offered his services to the highest bidder? I felt rather sick and sank down onto the bed. I wished I hadn’t snooped and overheard. There was no way I could confront him. All this sort of stuff might be old hat for my husband, but it was upsetting to me to know he was involved in matters of life and death.