Princess Elizabeth's Spy

and Crawfie.”

Alah sniffled. “If anything had happened …”

“But it didn’t.”

Alah wiped at her eyes. “It didn’t. You’re right. Stiff upper lip, Miss Hope. Stiff upper lip.”

“May I see Lilibet?” Maggie asked. “I’m off to a wedding and then, well, I’m not really sure what’s next.”

“Of course,” Alah said. She went to Lilibet’s bedroom door and knocked. “Miss Hope is here to see you!”

The door popped open and Lilibet and Margaret both burst out. “Oh, Maggie,” Lilibet said, hopping to her on her good leg and wrapping her arms around Maggie’s neck. “It all seems like a dream now, doesn’t it?”

“A bit,” Maggie said, smiling.

“Were you really on a German submarine?” Margaret demanded. “Because sometimes Lilibet likes to tease me.”

“We really were,” Maggie answered. “Cross my heart.”

“Maggie,” Lilibet said, taking her hand and leading her over to the sofa, “I want to thank you—and Mr. Greene—for everything.”

Maggie blinked back tears as she sat next to the young woman. “It was our pleasure, Your Highness. And now you and Margaret have a wonderful holiday and New Year.”

“Will you be back in January?” Lilibet asked. As Maggie searched for an answer, the girl suddenly realized, “You—you weren’t here to teach me maths, were you.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Maggie smiled. “Well, that’s partly why I was here,” she said. “And you have to admit it came in handy.”

“The code—” Lilibet began.

“Yes,” Maggie finished. “So, keep working on your maths, all right? And I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Someday.”

The day of Chuck and Nigel’s wedding dawned clear and sunny. Maggie awoke from her trundle bed, set up in Chuck’s old room, and spent a moment looking out the window, watching the gray turn to bright white and then, finally, a bright azure.

“Wake up, sleepyhead, it’s your wedding day!” she said to her old friend, fast asleep.

Chuck groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. “Five more minutes …”

“Up!” Maggie pulled the duvet off.

Chuck sighed and turned over, a dreamy smile on her face. “It really is today, isn’t it?” She looked over at her wedding ensemble, on a hanger over the door. It wasn’t a white dress—not enough rations—but it was a lovely portrait-neck burgundy silk suit that Chuck’s mother had done over with an ivory lace collar.

“It’d better be,” Maggie said, sitting down on the corner of Chuck’s bed. “I don’t think my back can stand that trundle bed any longer.”

Chuck sat up. “Now, just because it’s not a feather bed in a castle.”

“Oh, please. Living at Windsor was like ‘camping in a museum,’ as Crawfie used to say.”

“Well, I hope it wasn’t too awful. I’m so glad you came a bit early—dealing with all of the wedding plans, plus the family and the future in-laws—or, as I like the call them, ‘the outlaws.’ “ Chuck rolled her eyes. “Well, let’s just say I’ll be glad to finally be married.”

“And you’re going to be a beautiful bride.”

“Nigel thinks so, at least, and that’s all I care about.” Chuck rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She wasn’t a conventional beauty, but she was handsome and her intelligence and wit gave her a sparkle that drew people to her.

“Well, we might as well start by getting you some tea and breakfast,” Maggie told her. “Don’t want the bride fainting away, now do we?”

“Is it going to be strange for you, Maggie? I mean, without John?”

It was, but Maggie didn’t want Chuck to spend even a moment of this day worrying about it. “It’s hard. Every day is hard. But life goes on. And I know he’d be so happy to see you and Nigel finally tie the knot. So, I’m fine, darling. Really.”

The wedding was a small ceremony, with only close family and friends, at Chuck’s family’s church, Holy Trinity. Maggie was wearing her green wool dress and had rolled her hair. She was putting on Chuck’s lipstick when Sarah arrived.

“Kittens!” she squealed, putting down her valise. “You both look ravishing!”

“Sarah!” Chuck and Maggie chorused, running to the slender, glamorous woman in the smart cherry-colored suit and matching turban. “You’re here!”

“Without a moment to spare,” she said. “The Ballet’s in Liverpool this week. The damn train kept breaking down. I’ve been up all night—never thought I’d get here.”

“Well, you’re here now,” Maggie said, “and that’s all that counts.”

“Plenty of time,” Chuck said.

“My, aren’t you calm for a bride-to-be!” Sarah exclaimed.

Chuck motioned to the glass of Buck’s Fizz Maggie had made for her. “That certainly doesn’t hurt.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Oh, may I have one?”

“Of course,” Maggie said, mixing orange juice and champagne. “Let’s have a toast.”

The three women raised their glasses. “To Chuck,” Maggie began. “A beautiful bride and a beautiful woman, inside and out. We wish you a lifetime of happiness.”

They clinked glasses.

“To the honeymoon!” Sarah said, with a sly smile.

They clinked again.

Then, “To friends,” Chuck said. “War, bombs, rationing—my engagement—I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“And you’re going to need us.” Maggie smiled. To Sarah, “I don’t know if you’ve met her in-laws yet, but they make the Germans seem like Beatrix Potter’s fuzzy bunnies.”

Holy Trinity Church was small and stone, with a sharp gothic bellower pointing heavenward. The young women and Chuck’s parents parked in the lot, then walked in the cold, crisp air, past the graveyard with its gray lichen-covered headstones, to the entrance of the church. They passed over the threshold and waited in the vestibule for the organ music Chuck and Nigel had chosen, Purcell’s “Welcome, Glorious Morn.” The sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, making them glow and casting reflections of sapphire, ruby, amethyst, and emerald on the hard wooden pews.

Chuck’s mother proceeded down the worn stone aisle, followed by Maggie and Sarah. There was a pause and the small group in the first few rows of the church rose as Chuck took her father’s arm and began the walk down.

Nigel waited for her at the altar, smart in his RAF dress uniform, still a bit barrel-shaped, but thinner now, his face showing more angles and planes. As Maggie took her position at Chuck’s side, she managed a glance at the congregation in the pews. David was there, looking handsome in his gray morning suit.

Maggie looked away, back to Chuck and Nigel, as her heartbeat quickened. She was overwhelmed with conflicting feelings—happiness, relief, longing, anger, and anguish, all at once.

The ceremony was short, solemn, and sweet. And after it was over, the bride, groom, and wedding guests walked over to the wedding luncheon, held in the back room of Anthony’s, the town’s finest restaurant. In the small room, tables were pushed together. The guests sat down as waiters brought in trays of champagne coupes, for the toast. As soon as the speeches were made, waiters brought bowls of steaming parsnip soup and trays of dainty- looking sandwiches—cucumber, ham and mustard, mock crab salad. The drinks began in earnest—pints of beer, shandies and gin-and-tonics pink with Angostura Bitters and glistening ice cubes.

Maggie found herself caught up in the swirling joy of the day, raising her glass to Nigel and Chuck’s health and happiness for at least the fifth time. It was infectious and there was no way she could resist.

“You doing all right, love?” Sarah asked.

Warmed by a glass and a half of shandy, Maggie answered, “I’m fine. Really. It’s Chuck and Nigel’s big day