The bar in front was beginning to fill up, but Connolly still had the dining room to himself. He hid the earpiece behind a sugar canister and pretended to read the paper, everything in him alert. The Thurber murals, the pride of the house, were the color of adobe, oversized women and wary men chasing each other around the room in a plaster frieze while no one, except the dogs, paid the slightest attention. There was a burst of laughter in the bar. Connolly had forgotten the sheer energy of New York. He thought of the polite academic murmurs of meals on the Hill. Here everyone seemed to be slapping everyone else on the back.
He had begun the crossword puzzle when Emma appeared, pointed in by Tony, who gave him a look when he saw her go past to the next booth. Connolly lowered his head to the paper, so that all he saw was the streak of red nails at eye level. Her perfume stayed behind her in the thick air. He was tempted to turn around-a last reassuring look-but instead he imagined her sitting in the booth, composed, winning Tony with a smile as he brought her iced tea. She was right, there was excitement in pretending. Absurdly, he thought of her shoes being tight and the fact that no one else knew.
He glanced up as each new arrival entered the room, then walked past to the back tables. Tony brought the sandwich, but Connolly let it sit there; too anxious to eat. How could Lawson be late? But they had been early.
When he did appear, five minutes later, Connolly knew it at once. He was tall, his bony frame covered in rumpled clothes that seemed just thrown on-dark cotton shirt damp at the armpits, plain tie knotted tightly, yanked down from the unbuttoned collar, jacket held by two fingers over his shoulder, a Village look. His pale hair, receding but still full on top, glistened with sweat; his face, the boyish soft face of a perennial teenager, was red, as if he had been running in the heat. He looked around nervously, then broke into a broad smile when he saw her.
“Emma,” he said, coming over to the booth. “My God, you look a treat.” He continued to stand for a second, and Connolly imagined him awkward, staring at her. “What do I do? Do I kiss you?”
Connolly heard no response, but she must have nodded, because there was a rustle of clothing as he bent over, then took a seat in the booth. Connolly leaned into the wall, picking up the receiver and hiding it against his ear, his crossword pencil lifted to write.
“I can’t believe it,” Lawson said, his voice still English and hurried, enthusiastic. “All this time. You turning up like this.”
“The bad penny,” Emma said.
“No, it’s marvelous. But what are you doing here? How long have you been in the States? How did-where to begin? Tell me everything.” His words rushed out, happily infectious, with the guileless wonder of meeting an old school friend.
“It has been a while, hasn’t it?”
“My God, look at you,” he said again, and Connolly felt him lean back against the booth to take her in.
“You’re the same,” she said, an appraisal, but he took it for a compliment.
“Well, the hair,” he said, evidently brushing it back at the temple. “I expect it’ll all go one day. But you-I can’t get over it. How’s your family?”
“My family?” she said, disconcerted. “They’re fine. I haven’t seen them in years. I’m living here now. I’m married.”
“Married?”
“Matthew, I divorced you years ago,” she said smoothly. “Surely you knew?”
“No.”
“You weren’t there to contest it. You wouldn’t have, would you?”
He was silent for a minute. “How could I? Look, I never explained—”
“Darling, don’t. Really. It was all a very long time ago, and it doesn’t matter now. I haven’t come for that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We haven’t much time. I need to talk to you. We can save all those happy days unter den linden for another time.”
“You’re still angry with me.”
“I’m not really,” she said softly. “I was. Well, I don’t know what I was-not angry. But that was a lifetime ago. Before the war. We were just children, weren’t we? Anyway, never mind. We’d better order.”
Connolly looked up, surprised to see Tony standing at the next booth. They ordered sandwiches.
“It wasn’t all bad, was it?” Matthew said when he’d gone. “We had fun. In the beginning. God, your father—”
His voice was bright again, and Connolly thought he could hear the mischief of those years, the delight in provoking. Is this what she’d liked, the way he thumbed his nose at the world?
“You were the most marvelous girl,” he said.
“I’m still pretty marvelous. What about you?”
“Me?”
“Still working with the comrades?”
“Of course.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“I work on the paper. It’s quite good, actually. There was a falling off after the Pact-reporters jumping ship, you know. But of course the war changed all that. Shoulders together. Now, well, we’ll see.”
“You mean to stay, then?”
“If I can. We’re not exactly Uncle Sam’s favorite publication, but we’re still in business. Browder’s worked miracles. Anyway, this is the place now. Politically, it’s all a bit like your Uncle Arthur, but everything will change after the war. It has to. The pressures will be enormous.”
He stopped as the plates were put in front of them.
“You are the same,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Still on the march.”
“I can’t help that,” he said, catching her tone. “It still needs doing. I grant you, it’s not Spain,” he said, reminiscent again. “It’s a different sort of fight, but as you say, we’re not young anymore.”
“I never said that. I said I was still marvelous.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice lingering. “But married. Who did you marry, by the way? Someone here?”
“A scientist. No one you know. Matthew,” she said, pausing, “I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“No, don’t say that till you hear what it is. Something important.”
“Is that why you looked me up?”
“Yes.”
“Funny. I thought it might be-I don’t know, about us.”
“What, after all this time?”
He didn’t answer.
“There’s nothing about us. Do you understand? I want to be quite clear about that.”
“Why, then?”
“I need somebody I can trust. Or maybe it’s the other way around, somebody who’ll trust me. Who knows me.”
Connolly cupped the receiver closer to his ear, feeling literally like a fly on the wall. The approach, smooth and plausible, was all hers.
“I don’t understand. Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“No, not exactly. We all are, in a way. That’s the point. God, this is complicated. I’m not quite sure where to begin. It’ll seem fantastic to you. It is fantastic. Sometimes I don’t quite believe it myself.”
“Emma, what are you talking about?”
“Right,” she said, verbally sitting up. “Here goes. It won’t make sense, but hear me out. Do you have a cigarette?”
“You smoke now?”
“Oh yes, I’m all grown up.” Connolly heard the match strike. “That’s better. My husband is a scientist.”
“You said.”
“A physicist. Working for the government. We’re at an army base out west.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you that,” she said, then caught herself with a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Force of habit. New Mexico. It’s a secret base, you see. They’re very strict about that. They’re making weapons.”
“What kind of weapons?” he said, his voice lower.
“Bombs. Do you know anything about atomic fission? No, I don’t suppose you do. Nobody does. It doesn’t matter. The point—”
“I know what fission is. There was talk before the war. Nothing since. Do you mean to say they’ve actually gone ahead? I thought it was supposed to be impossible.”
“No, they’ve done it. At least, they think they have. They’re going to test it very soon. That’s why there isn’t any time.”
“Do you know what you’re saying? It’s fantastic.”
“Yes. Funny, you get so used to it, you stop thinking about it that way. But it’s real. Twenty thousand tons of TNT.”