Read A Very British Ending (Catesby Series) for Free Online Page A

his plate; then continued to eat in silence. Their marriage seemed permanently on hold. He didn’t know what she wanted – and he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Frances had been wild during the war. It was a frightful time, but a glamorous time. She celebrated VE day by giving birth to twins. She was seventeen – and the Royal Canadian Air Force officer who had fathered them had already slimed off back to Saskatchewan where he had a wife and three kids.
    At times, Catesby and Frances had been incredibly close. But there were problems that neither of them talked about. Their jobs kept them apart too. Frances certainly needed to work for the money, but also for her self-esteem. She came from a family who, when they weren’t throwing themselves under horses at the Epsom Derby, were devoting themselves to making the world a better and fairer place. They were anarchists, socialists, Fabians, feminists, humanist aesthetes and members of the Bloomsbury group. You could find them at literary salons and in the Houses of Parliament. Some were conscientious objectors, while others commanded infantry regiments. Frances felt she had to do her part, but didn’t know what that part was. She juggled child care with a secretarial course – and then, through the inevitable network that encased women of her class, drifted into MI5.
    ‘Your collar’s frayed and you need a haircut. Sometimes, William, you look like you’ve been dragged backwards through a blackthorn hedge. You need looking after.’
    Catesby smiled. ‘I’m practising the Fitzrovia look. I’m going to quit SIS and go to art school. You’ve never seen my creative side.’
    ‘You’re not serious?’
    ‘I suppose not. But my new cover story is as a very junior dip, a tenth secretary or something, in the cultural attaché’s office – so I’m trying to look the part.’
    ‘Oh no, William, that’s not the part at all!’
    ‘I knew you were going to say that.’
    ‘You’ve got to be very polished, suave and elegant.’
    And not, Catesby thought, carry a greasy gun in a stained mackintosh and execute Nazi war criminals in the ruins of a rat-infested U-boot bunker surrounded by the ghosts of slave workers. She didn’t understand. It was one of the things that separated them – but he immediately felt a pang of guilt. She was a loving person who understood pain and loss: both her brothers died in the war. Maybe he was the one who didn’t understand, who was too self-pitying.
    ‘I’ve got a pair of jade cufflinks that I can lend you.’
    ‘The Canadian’s?’
    ‘No, someone else’s.’
    Catesby didn’t bother to enquire further.
    Frances saw the pained look on her husband’s face and gave him a warm smile. ‘They’re my dad’s. He wanted you to have them.’
    Catesby gave a bleak smile, his only smile. Was she telling the truth – or quickly making up a story? MI5 trained their staff well.
    ‘You look a million miles away, William. What’s wrong?’
    ‘I was thinking of something.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘You do know. Why don’t you ever talk?’
    ‘Don’t be cross.’
    ‘I have every reason to be cross.’
    Catesby reached out a hand and put it on her wrist. ‘I do care about you.’
    ‘Then why don’t you spend more time with me?’
    ‘It’s difficult when I’m in Germany saving Britain from the Russians and the Americans.’
    ‘Which ones are more dangerous?’
    ‘The Americans because they’ve got more money and think they speak our language.’
    ‘You know, William, those views don’t make you very popular at Leconfield House.’ Frances was referring to the not-so-secret headquarters of MI5 in the heart of Mayfair.
    Catesby laughed. ‘On the other hand, the Russians are more likely to blow us up with atom bombs – which, I suppose, is an even worse fate than being inundated with chewing gum and Hollywood films.’
    ‘I don’t think that you’re going to be assigned to Washington anytime in the near