From Fitzroy’s Private Diary (Extract 179)

I never told Alice I retired. Nor did I tell her that my retirement was more of a storming out and leaving sort of affair. It was all her fault – in a way. The Great War was over, and things were being hashed out in a way that was making me nervous. I made the choice to stay away from all the diplomatic hoo-ha. I’m fairly certain, what with my ability with languages, that I could have made a case to the department to go to Versailles. It was a dangerous time, and a person with my many talents would have been useful. But I didn’t fancy it. I especially didn’t fancy seeing the locals trying to pick up what remained of their lives.

I always hold that the role of a spy is to prevent war, or failing that, to shorten it. The aftermath of war, the grief, the guilt, and the accusations, is something I prefer to stay well away from. So, I’d been hanging around White Orchards with Alice and her new baby, annoying Bertram and generally making a nuisance of myself. It was clear from the moment she saw her that Alice adored Hope, but she didn’t take to dealing with a baby the way most women do. More often than not it was Bertram or I who’d be playing those damned silly games that one plays with infants. I was worried about her. This didn’t seem like the Alice I knew. She was withdrawn and quiet. Even when I tried, I couldn’t annoy her. I’d merely get a ‘whatever you think/want/need to do’ sort of a comment, rather than the stinging rebuke I deserved. I wrote reports about maps and supplies for the department, along with the occasional note on how we needed to do more for the soldiers coming back, the latter of which no one paid any attention to. I’m meant to be apolitical, so I could send my thoughts to Morley, but I couldn’t pass them on anywhere else. In retrospect, I think old Morley agreed with a lot of my thinking, but he wasn’t in a position to do anything about it. Our relationship became somewhat strained. Alice seemed to be slipping into depression and I became increasingly worried. I admit to becoming snarky with just about everyone except her and the baby.

Then came the summons to go off to Northern Ireland. I told Morley that I couldn’t go for personal reasons. He pointed out that my position rather required I didn’t do the whole ‘personal reasons’ thing. Having to choose between staying with Alice and gadding off to the the Emerald Isle, I attempted to put my foot down and it all went to hell after that. I ended up resigning.

It was a bit of a blow. I’d no intention of telling Bertram, who I rather meanly thought would crow over my loss of status, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell Alice when she was already feeling so down. I carried on writing useless reports and spending a lot of time trying to think what I’d do with myself. Those were not pleasant weeks. But it was during this time that Alice became extremely melancholy. Bertram finally acquiesced to my bringing up a specialist from London. There was no question of her travelling by then, she was far too tired and lethargic.

The man – who came very highly recommended – told us it was the baby that was causing her to behave like this. He recommended employing more staff and allowing her to go back to her old way of life. Some women, he said, are not natural mothers. ‘Especially the intelligent ones’ I recall him saying in a manner that spoke volumes of his low opinion of men who chose smart women for their wives.

This led to a bloody awful conversation with Bertram, who asked me to take Alice back into the field. I’d originally told her I wouldn’t countenance her putting herself in mortal danger while the child was young. I know how much losing my mother messed me up, and I didn’t want that to happen to little Hope. However, it seemed that there simply wasn’t enough to occupy that brain of Alice’s, and the rather adventurous lifestyle we’d been living the past few years had become as vital to her as the air she breathed.

Only, I’d only gone and resigned, hadn’t I? I had a horrible row with Bertram over it, with both of us arguing the opposite of our normal positions. I really have no idea what I would have done if the fellows who were sent off to Northern Ireland hadn’t messed up so badly. They went native – the bally lot of them – roundly seduced and compromised by local women.

Of course, this couldn’t have worked out better for me. The sudden loss of these men, coming on the back of the war, meant the department was begging me to return. I gave all the signs of being reluctant, but still determined to do my duty to King and Country. Didn’t want to come across too eager. Anyway, it’s due to all of this that I was able to build the power base I have today. I’ve a longer and deeper reach than most of my rank, and the others know it. I’m valued and respected – and, I rather think, feared. The latter keeps me warm at night.

And Alice, she recovered, mainly because I started taking her on shorter missions once again. I did my best to keep the danger as low as I could until Hope grew into the lovely young woman she is today. The simple truth is I made Alice a spy in my own fashion, and moulded her in my ways, she became quite addicted to the job, and more competent that I could ever have imagined. It seems, in many ways, we really were cut from the same cloth.