The Winter Garden (2014) by Jane Thynne Page A

will they go?’
    ‘It’s a nine-city tour. And the American press are reporting that the Duke wants to discuss “Hitler’s hopes for the future”.’
    ‘Let’s hope the Duke’s a good listener.’
    Dyson rolled his eyes.
    ‘Precisely. He doesn’t know what he’s in for. The plan is that the Duke should inspect working conditions throughout the Reich. Factory visits and so on.’
    ‘Wouldn’t be my idea of a honeymoon,’ said Clara, casually.
    For some reason this remark caused Dyson to fix his gaze more intently upon her. She was a curiosity to him, she knew. Her presence seemed to make him uneasy, as though he was unsure whether to
treat her as an employee or a social equal. She was different from the women he knew back home, neither one of those upper-middle-class girls waiting to get married, nor a determinedly spinster
secretary or a bluestocking. She was nothing like Lettice, Dyson’s wife, a brisk redhead who spent her time organizing cultural outings with the other Embassy wives, serving coffee and
shortbread biscuits to visiting dignitaries, and who fully intended her husband to be an ambassador himself one day. Clara had love affairs, Dyson knew, yet she had shown no desire to marry. Her
sharp brain, as evidenced by her facility with crosswords and her formidable memory, were traits that the Service treasured in their agents. Her looks, social confidence and acting talent gave her
access to circles that would otherwise be hard to penetrate. Yet it was her willingness to place herself in danger that he found hardest to fathom. Dyson simply couldn’t work her out.
    ‘Do you ever think about leaving, Clara? Going back to England?’
    What could she say? Only last week she had received a letter from an old schoolfriend, Ida MacCloud, expressing astonishment that Clara was willing to stay in Germany while the Nazi regime
gathered pace. Wasn’t she by staying there in some way tacitly supporting what they did? Ida asked. How could Clara justify that?
    ‘Occasionally.’
    ‘You must miss your family.’
    She gave him a narrow look. Dyson knew, as did everyone in the Berlin station, that Clara’s father, Sir Ronald Vine, was a key member of London’s Anglo-German Fellowship and a strong
Nazi sympathizer. His coterie was rich, influential and determined that Britain should place itself in alliance with rather than opposition to Hitler’s Germany. Sir Ronald himself had
received funding from Hitler for his political lobbying. Clara’s shock in discovering her father’s activities and the fact that he was being shadowed by domestic security in England had
been part of her motivation in approaching British Intelligence four years earlier. It was important that the security service chiefs felt they understood Clara’s motivation. They needed to
be able to trust her. Yet she saw no reason to confide in Dyson the Jewish part of her background.
    ‘As it happens I had a letter from my sister yesterday saying that she and my father are coming to visit. Though you probably knew that already.’
    Dyson gave a little smile.
    ‘So you did know.’
    ‘I imagine the German authorities know too.’
    ‘Why are they coming over then, Archie?’
    ‘I may be many things, but I’m not a clairvoyant, Clara. Ask them yourself. That’s not why I asked you about going home.’
    ‘Why then?’
    Dyson fiddled with his glass for a moment, as if weighing his words. The hesitation made Clara’s heart pound. Something had happened. She forced herself to wait for him to explain.
    ‘Actually, it’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It might be nothing.’
    Dyson’s mouth twisted unhappily, reluctant to impart the news. It may be nothing, but Clara knew from the gravity of his expression that it almost certainly wasn’t. She kept her face
composed, despite the small detonations of panic inside her.
    ‘We had a hint that you might have aroused suspicions. I just wanted to say . . . don’t do anything out of