Ursula’s face softened. “I’m not surprised. I think you’ve done marvelously. Living with all that chaos at Penny’s too. Are you sure you won’t come and stay with me?”

Alice loved Ursula’s home, with its salvaged furniture and bohemian décor. It was a perfect reflection of her personality and Hungarian heritage, richly decorated and full of warmth. But of course Alice needed to stay with Penny and Michael, as they knew the truth. “I’m happy where I am, but thank you,” she said, tears falling freely now. “You’re a good friend.”

That was still true, but a gulf had opened between them because of her secret, and soon she would let Ursula down by abandoning Partridge again. She felt trapped.

“What are we going to do with you?” Ursula said as she rested her chin on her upturned palm. “I know,” she said abruptly, “you should go to the Foyle luncheon next week in my place. It will do you good.”

The luncheons were a monthly highlight, and tickets were hard to come by. As a junior staff member, Alice had never been given the opportunity to attend until now. She appreciated the thought, and Ursula’s enthusiasm, but it was totally out of the question. “Getting our book finished, that will do me good,” she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “No, you must go.”

“Absolutely not, I’ve already made up my mind. And it will give you an opportunity to talk to Theo about the book—see if you can talk him into a few more photos.”

An afternoon away from searching for Eadie, in the company of Theo, was the last thing Alice wanted, but she didn’t know how to say no to her friend.

Twenty-one

London, April 15, 1943

“Are you hungry?” Theo asked Alice, as the gray cornices and turrets of Piccadilly flashed past. The rain grew heavier, bouncing noisily off the roof and hood of their black cab.

“A little,” she said, “although I’ve heard the speaker outshines the food at these luncheons.”

Theo smiled, feeling his mustache curve up against his cheeks. Over the past week he’d been spending more time with Alice, and she kept managing to surprise him with her perception and knowledge. Her quirky way of looking at the world was so different from that of anyone else he knew, especially Virginia. Even her clothes were original, her tight-fitting emerald green jacket and flared navy skirt unlike anything he’d seen other British women wear. Virginia would probably have thought her unsophisticated, but he saw her as inventive. Today her classic pearl earrings were her nod to conventionality, and the only similarity he’d noticed so far between her and his fiancée.

He said, still smiling, “There’s likely to be several courses, you know.”