Geraldine Knight sat on a stool at the end of the bar, looking as if she might own the place. She had vivid blonde hair and heavy makeup, expertly applied. Her plump figure had the apparent firmness that could only have come from a corset. The cigarette burning in the ashtray bore a ring of bright lipstick around the end. It was hard to imagine anyone who looked less like a secret agent, Flick thought despondently.
“Percy Thwaite, as I live and breathe!” the woman said. She sounded like a Cockney who had been to elocution lessons. “What are you doing slumming around here, you bloody old communist?” She was obviously delighted to see him.
“Hello, Jelly, meet my friend Flick,” Percy said.
“Pleased to know you, I’m sure,” she said, shaking Flick’s hand.
“Jelly?” Flick inquired.
“No one knows where I got that nickname.”
“Oh,” said Flick. “Jelly Knight, gelignite.”
Jelly ignored that. “I’ll have a gin-and-It, Percy, while you’re buying.”
Flick spoke to her in French. “Do you live in this part of London?”
“Since I was ten,” she replied, speaking French with a North American accent. “I was born in Quebec.”
That was not so good, Flick thought. Germans might not notice the accent, but the French certainly would. Jelly would have to pose as a Canadian-born French citizen. It was a perfectly plausible history, but just unusual enough to attract curiosity. Damn. “But you consider yourself British.”
“English, not British,” said Jelly with arch indignation. She switched back to the English language. “I’m Church of England, I vote Conservative, and I dislike foreigners, heathens, and republicans.” With a glance at Percy, she added, “Present company excepted, of course.”
Percy said, “You ought to live in Yorkshire, on a hill farm, someplace where they haven’t seen a foreigner since the Vikings came. I don’t know how you can bear to live in London, surrounded by Russian Bolsheviks, German Jews, Irish Catholics, and nonconformist Welshmen building little chapels all over the place like moles disfiguring the lawn.”
“London’s not what it was, Perce.”
“Not what it was when you were a foreigner?”
This was obviously a familiar old argument. Flick interrupted it impatiently. “I’m very glad to hear that you’re so patriotic, Jelly.”
“And why would you be interested in such a thing, may I ask?”
“Because there’s something you could do for your country.”
Percy put in, “I told Flick about your… expertise, Jelly.”
She looked at her vermilion fingernails. “Discretion,
Percy, please. Discretion is the better part of valor, it says in the Bible.”
Flick said, “I expect you know that there have been some fascinating recent developments in the field. Plastic explosives, I mean.”
“I try to keep up to date,” Jelly said with airy modesty. Her expression changed, and she looked shrewdly at Flick. “This is something to do with the war, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Count me in. I’ll do anything for England.”
“You’ll be away for a few days.”
“No problem.”
“You might not come back.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It will be very dangerous,” Flick said quietly. Jelly looked dismayed. “Oh.” She swallowed. “Well, that makes no difference,” she said unconvincingly.
“Are you sure?”
Jelly looked thoughtful, as if she were calculating. “You want me to blow something up.”
Flick nodded silently.
“It’s not overseas, is it?”
“Could be.”
Jelly paled beneath her makeup. “Oh, my gordon. You want me to go to France, don’t you?”
Flick said nothing.
“Behind enemy lines! God’s truth, I’m too bloody old for that sort of thing. I’m…” She hesitated. “I’m thirty- seven.”
She was about five years older than that, Flick thought, but she said, “Well, we’re almost the same age, I’m nearly thirty. We’re not too old for a bit of adventure, are we?”
“Speak for yourself~ dear.”
Flick’s heart sank. Jelly was not going to agree. The whole scheme had been misconceived, she decided. It was never going to be possible to find women who could do these jobs and speak perfect French. The plan had been doomed from the start. She turned away from Jelly. She felt like crying.
Percy said, “Jelly, we’re asking you to do a job that’s really crucial for the war effort.”