The Courier

handing him the sealed telegram.
“Thank you. I’ll come now.”
He nodded and turned to run back to the house. Mr. Ainsworth glanced at the envelope in his hand and strode forward into the light cast by a torch a few feet away. He broke the seal and opened the single sheet of paper, reading quickly as Evelyn joined him, a frown creasing her brow.
“What is it?” she asked, laying a hand on his arm. “Is everything all right?”
He glanced at her and shook his head, the easy smile missing from his lips.
“I’m afraid it’s from London,” he said.
“London! Has someone been hurt?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” He folded up the telegram and turned towards the house. “I must send a reply though. You run along back to your party and tell your mother I’ll be along shortly.”
“But Dad! What is it?”
He hesitated, then turned to face her reluctantly.
“I’ve been recalled back to London,” he told her. “We’re going home.”
“Home? To England? When?”
“Immediately.”

Chapter Two
August, 1938 - Paris, France
“You’re back, Evie! Bon! Come and see!” a voice called gaily from the drawing room as Evelyn crossed the large square hallway. “Nicolas has outdone himself!”
Evelyn glanced at the slim silver and pearl watch on her wrist and turned to move towards the drawing room door.
“I have to hurry, Gisele,” she said, entering the large, cheerful apartment. “My father is coming soon to take me to dinner. I have to dress. How has Nicolas outdone himself?”
A striking young woman with black hair looked across the room, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. Dressed for dinner, her pale evening gown shimmered in the lamplight and jewels sparkled at her throat. She laughed and waved the cigarette in the direction of the card table in the corner of the room.
“See for yourself!” she said, lifting the glass to her lips. “It’s too amusing.”
Evelyn felt her lips curving in response to her cousin’s contagious good-humor. She looked to the table where her other cousin, Nicolas, was seated with a pad in front of him and a glass of champagne at his elbow. As she walked over, he looked up, a laugh on his face.
“I should really sell these to the newspapers,” he told her, sitting back in his chair and reaching into his dinner jacket pocket for his cigarette case. “I could make a fortune.”
“You already have a fortune,” Evelyn said with a smile. “What have you drawn this time?”
He pushed the pad to the edge of the table so she could take a look. On the heavy, white drafting paper was a penciled caricature and, when she saw it, a laugh bubbled up inside her. Adolf Hitler, with a very over-sized head, was shaking hands with Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain. What made the sketch so funny was the fact that Hitler only came up to Chamberlain’s hip, his legs engulfed in black pants that made him look more like a cartoon than a man. For Chamberlain’s part, his long body was drawn to exaggerate his height, and his face bore a striking resemblance Nicolas’s horse.
“Oh Nicolas!” she gasped before bursting out laughing. “For heaven’s sake, don’t let Uncle see that! He’ll have a coronary!”
Nicolas grinned cheerfully and lit a cigarette, reaching for his champagne.
“It can’t be any worse than when he saw the one I did of Pétain,” he said, standing and moving over to the sofa. “I thought his face would remain puce indefinitely.”
“Are you dining in?” Evelyn asked, taking one last look at the drawing on the table.
“No. We’re going to the Fournier’s. We’re just waiting for Maman and Papa.” Gisele looked at the clock above the mantel. “Where are you going?”
“Café de la Paix. It’s Dad’s favorite.”
“I didn’t know he was coming to Paris,” Nicolas said, looking up from his seat on the sofa. “How long is he staying?”
“Only tonight.” Evelyn looked at her watch and turned towards the door. “He’s on his way to Vienna.”
“Vienna!” Gisele exclaimed. “What on earth for?”
Evelyn laughed and held her hands up in the air.
“I have absolutely no idea! I’ve learned not to question my father about his work. Now, if I don’t hurry, I won’t be ready in time. Have fun! Give Marc my regards!”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to send your love?” Gisele teased as she headed out the door. “The man is absolutely crazy about you. You should throw him a bone.”
“Heaven forbid! Then I’d never be rid of him!”
Evelyn gazed across the table at her father’s warm and familiar smile. He looked tired, but he seemed in good spirits as he sipped his wine.
“How is Mum? Is she enjoying having Robbie home?” she asked, setting her own wine glass down and reaching for her knife and fork.
“I think so,” her father answered. “Robert had a few of his friends to stay and you know how she loves to have people coming and going.”
“I do miss her, and I’m sorry to be missing Robbie’s visit. When is he going back to York?”
“I don’t know if he is, actually,” he said, picking up his knife and fork and cutting into the braised lamb on his plate. He cleared his throat. “You haven’t heard from him?”
Evelyn eyed him with misgiving, her knife poised above her fish. “No. Should I have?”
“I suppose not.”
Evelyn cut into her fish, then glanced at her father. “You might as well tell me. You know I’ll find out eventually. I always do.”
His lips twisted and he shot her a look of rueful amusement.
“That you do,” he admitted. “I don’t know how you do it. It’s absolutely impossible to keep a secret around you. It makes birthdays and Christmas a right old pain.”
“You shouldn’t all be