“Where did she go?” Theo asked, interest piqued. He knew how popular the MOI books were; how they had sold over twenty million copies already in Britain and overseas.

“No one knows—that’s generally what happens when people disappear,” Tommy replied without any hint of sarcasm.

“She took leave to look after a family member, but no one’s heard from her,” Emily said, and shrugged. “You should ask Ursula. Alice is her protégée.”

Theo glanced at Ursula, but she looked the other way, her mind clearly elsewhere, and he wondered if there was something more to it.

“Does Alice have an employment contract with Partridge?” he asked.

“Yes, she does, as a matter of fact, but it’s irrelevant if we can’t find her,” Tommy replied.

Theo narrowed his eyes at George, wondering why he hadn’t told him about this woman and her book idea before. Then Theo glanced back at Ursula. “What if Alice has gone to one of the other publishing houses? If it’s as good an idea as you say it is—”

“There’s no way she’d do that,” said Ursula. “Alice is far too loyal.”

“It’s been a difficult time for everyone. Perhaps someone offered her more money?”

“No, not Alice,” Tommy said emphatically.

“Well, then, can’t someone else work on them?” Theo asked.

Tommy shook his head. “We’ve got a freelance writer on it, but she can’t seem to drum up the right stories. It would be good to get Alice back on it—if we can find her.”

“Can I take a look?” Theo said. He was surprised they’d given up so easily; where was the British fighting spirit he’d heard so much about?

Tommy turned to Emily. “Where are the mock-ups?”

“In my office—the production office,” Ursula said, ignoring Emily’s glare. “I wanted to review them again, see what the freelancer had missed, but I can find them after this meeting if you like.”

“Thanks, that would be great.”

Theo was curious about this woman who was held in such high esteem but who had mysteriously disappeared, and it seemed Ursula was the key to finding out more.

At five o’clock Ursula was in the production office when Theo tapped on the doorway. This was obviously her domain; she’d personalized it with crimson velvet curtains that divided the room in half, and a bench seat that looked as if it belonged in a cinema. Old typesetting trays were propped on top of bookcases with large fragments of text and letters still visible between the lead lines, along with other printing paraphernalia.

“I’m trying to find the mock-ups, I just got caught up in something else,” she said, looking flustered. “I’ll bring them down to you.”