“If you like. Longest relationship?”

That caught her up short. She had never considered that question.

Andrew. It was Andrew, damn him.

“I suppose my previous one,” she said. “On and off for a while, then very much on for a longish time, and then off. Maybe two years and a month, overall.”

“When did it end?”

“Last month.”

“Why?”

“He was married. It wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t—it probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“I see.”

“I’m dating a gangster now,” she said cheerfully, watching his reaction closely.

“A gangster?”

“He’s the head of a gang, therefore a gangster. A spiv from the East End.”

“Have you become involved in crime yourself?”

“Not specifically. Some things that were crime-ish, but for a good cause. We met during the course of a murder case that Gwen and I were investigating. Do I shock you?”

“If you want to shock me,” said Dr. Milford, “then you should be less obvious about your desire to shock me.”

All right, she liked him, she decided.

“Fine,” he said, putting down his pen. “Why are you here, Miss Sparks?”

“Fear of flying,” she said promptly.

“And when did that start?”

She was taken aback. She had thrown it out as a flippant answer. She hadn’t expected him to treat it seriously.

“Well,” she began.

Falling through the night sky, the cold air whipping about her, the rip cord useless in her hands, not knowing how many seconds she had left—

“Well, Miss Sparks?” he asked gently.

“How much did Gwen tell you about me?” she asked.

“I can’t discuss what transpired between any other patient and myself,” he said.

“Confidentiality.”

“Of course.”

“How far does that go?” she asked.

“As long as you don’t intend to commit any crimes, or things that are crime-ish, our conversations never leave this room.”

“How about things clandestine?”

“Are we speaking of matters from deep within your psyche, or wartime activities?”

“The latter,” she said. “Although there are vast territories where they intersect.”

“You would not be the first person from Intelligence or Special Operations I have treated,” he said, opening a drawer and removing a manila folder.

He opened it and slid it across the desk. Inside was a sheaf of typed papers.

“My copy of the Official Secrets Act,” he said. “I became a signatory precisely for this reason. You’ll find my endorsement on the bottom of the last page.”

“Right,” said Iris, flipping through it. “Have one of these myself.” She closed the folder and slid it back.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Never,” she said. “But let’s proceed.”

Gwen finally managed to get the tears under control. She looked up to find all the young men looking at her with concern. All but two.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” asked the one-armed man.

“I’m fine,” she assured them.

“Well, if that was true, you wouldn’t be here, would you?” he said, and his mates broke into laughter.

“Truer words,” she said, laughing with them.

“You and your friend look familiar,” said one of the soldiers. “Weren’t the two of you in the papers last month?”