The Wayward Wife

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Authors: Jessica Stirling
Cahill,’ Vivian pressed on, ‘why are you chasing after other men?’
    â€˜Other men? If you mean Robert Gaines, we want him for the programme and I was sent out to get him. Ask Mr Willets if you don’t believe me. Besides, I do love Danny.’
    â€˜But,’ said Vivian, ‘not as much as Danny loves you?’
    â€˜I’ve no idea how much Danny loves me. How on earth do you measure it? I married him, didn’t I? It certainly wasn’t a marriage of convenience. It’s not as if I was pregnant, or anything.’
    â€˜Might have been better if you had been.’
    â€˜Danny doesn’t want children,’ Susan said.
    â€˜How do you know? Have you asked him?’
    â€˜I don’t have to ask him,’ Susan said. ‘We have a tacit understanding.’
    â€˜At least if you had a baby to look after he’d know where you were.’
    â€˜In some dismal council property in Shadwell, like as not, struggling to make ends meet.’
    â€˜God, what a snob you’ve become, Susan.’
    â€˜Snob? I’m no snob. I’ve worked bleedin’ hard to get where I am and, for your information, woman or not, I earn just as much as Danny.’
    â€˜I’m not sure that’s something to boast about.’
    â€˜What’s wrong with taking advantage of changing circumstances?’ Susan said.
    â€˜Oh,’ said Vivian. ‘Is that what you call it? Most people think of it as being in danger of losing their freedom, if not their lives. To you it’s just another opportunity to haul yourself up the ladder.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Susan said. ‘I have a career now and I intend to hang on to it for as long as possible. How can you, of all people, grudge me a bit of independence?’
    â€˜I don’t grudge you anything,’ Vivian said, ‘but I do hope you’re aware what you may be giving up.”
    â€˜A home and children?’ said Susan. ‘A home that might be shelled out of existence before the summer’s over, and children who’ll learn to salute the swastika before they can walk. No, Vivian, I
do
know what this damned war with Germany might lead to, but until it does I aim to make the most of what time I have and plan for a future that might never come to pass.’
    â€˜A future without Danny Cahill?’
    Susan ignored the question. ‘God knows, we might all be dead this time next year. Not you, of course. Oh, no, not a woman who took tea with Dr Goebbels and has a brother who’ll be first on to the podium, grinning like an ape, when Hitler marches into Trafalgar Square.’
    â€˜I have work to do,’ said Vivian curtly. ‘I think it’s time you left. I’ll fetch your coat.’
    â€˜No need,’ said Susan. ‘I’ll fetch it myself,’ and, a moment later, stepped out into the darkness of Salt Street and set off, fizzing, for home.
    They were eating at the dining table in the living room, all together for once. With the table pulled out from the wall to accommodate an extra chair the living room seemed more cramped than ever and a certain amount of conga-dancing and scraping of chairs was required before everyone was seated and Mrs Pell, with Kate’s help, ferried dishes in from the kitchen.
    The news that had crackled down the wires that forenoon suggested that Hitler and his cronies were up to something but so far no one could be sure which way the Jerries would jump.
    â€˜Crafty beggar,’ Mr Pell said. ‘Don’t trust him as far as I could throw him. What else have you been hearing, Kate?’
    Since Kate Cottrell’s arrival Mr Pell had addressed all his questions to her as if, Griff grumbled, a pretty face and slim figure went hand in glove with intelligence and they, mere men, had suddenly become numbskulls.
    â€˜Babble, mostly,’ Kate said. ‘There’s been rather a lot of stuff about Sumner Welles’s visit to

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