WHEN THEY COT back to the house, Flick made cocoa for the team.

It was not regular practice for officers to make cocoa for their troops, but in Flick's opinion that only showed how little the army knew about leadership.

Paul stood in the kitchen watching her as she waited for the kettle to boil.

She felt his eyes on her like a caress.

She knew what he was going to say, and she had prepared her reply.

It would have been easy to fall in love with Paul, but she was not going to betray the husband who was risking his life fighting the Nazis in occupied France.

However, his question surprised her.

"What will you do after the war?" "I'm looking forward to being bored," she said.

He laughed.

"You've had enough excitement." "Too much." She thought for a moment.

"I still want to be a teacher.

I'd like to share my love of French culture with young people.

Educate them about French literature and painting, and also about less highbrow things like cooking and fashion." "So you'll become a don?" "Finish my doctorate, get a job at a university, be condescended to by narrow-minded old male professors.

Maybe write a guide book to France, or even a cookbook." "Sounds tame, after this." "It's important, though.

The more young people know about foreigners, the less likely they are to be as stupid as we were, and go to war with their neighbors." "I wonder if that's right." "What about you? What's your plan for after the war?" "Oh, mine is real simple.

I want to marry you and take you to Paris for a honeymoon.

Then we'll settle down and have children." She stared at him.

"Were you thinking of asking my consent?" she said indignantly.

He was quite solemn.

"I haven't thought of anything else for days." "I already have a husband." "But you don't love him." "You have no right to say that!" "I know, but I can't help it." "Why did I used to think you were a smooth talker?" "Usually I am.

That kettle's boiling." She took the kettle off the hob and poured boiling water over the cocoa mixture in a big stoneware jug.

"Put some mugs on a tray," she told Paul.

"A little housework might cure you of dreams of domesticity." He complied.

"You can't put me off by being bossy," he said.

"I kind of like it." She added milk and sugar to the cocoa and poured it into the mugs he had laid out.

"In that case, carry that tray into the living room." "Right away, boss." When they entered the living room they found Jelly and Greta having a row, standing face to face in the middle of the room while the others looked on, half amused and half horrified.

Jelly was saying, "You weren't using it!" "I was resting my feet on it," Greta replied.

"There aren't enough chairs." Jelly was holding a small stuffed pouffe, and Flick guessed she had snatched it away from Greta rudely.

Flick said, "Ladies, please!" They ignored her.

Greta said, "You only had to ask, sweetheart." "I don't have to ask permission from foreigners in my own country." "I'm not a foreigner, you fat bitch." "Oh!" Jelly was so stung by the insult that she reached out and pulled Greta's hair.

Greta's brunette wig came off in her hand.

With her head of close-cropped dark hair exposed, Greta suddenly looked unmistakably like a man.

Percy and Paul were in on the secret, and Ruby had guessed, but Maude and Diana were shocked rigid.

Diana said, "Good God!" and Maude gave a little scream of fright.

Jelly was the first to recover her wits.

"A pervert!" she said triumphantly.

"Oh, my gordon, it's a foreign pervert!" Greta was in tears.

"You bloody fucking Nazi," she sobbed.

"I bet she's a spy!" Jelly said.

Flick said, "Shut up, Jelly.

She's not a spy.

I knew she was a man." "You knew!" "So did Paul.

So did Percy." Jelly looked at Percy, who nodded solemnly.

Greta turned to leave, but Flick caught her arm.

"Don't go," she said.

"Please.

Sit down." Greta sat down.

"Jelly, give me the damn wig." Jelly handed it to Flick.

Flick stood in front of Greta and put the wig back on.

Ruby, quickly understanding what Flick was trying to do, lifted the mirror from over the mantelpiece and held it in front of Greta, who studied her reflection while she adjusted the wig and blotted her tears with a handkerchief.

"Now listen to me, all of you," said Flick.

"Greta is an engineer, and we can't accomplish our mission without an engineer.

We have a much better chance of survival in occupied territory as an all-woman team.

The upshot is, we need Greta and we need her to be a woman.

So get used to it." Jelly gave a contemptuous grunt.

"There's something else I ought to explain," Flick said.

She looked hard at Jelly.

"You may have noticed that Denise is no longer with us.

A little test was set for her tonight, and she failed it.

She's off the team.

Unfortunately, she's learned some secrets in the last two days, and she can't be allowed to return to her old posting.

So she's gone to a remote base in Scotland, where she'll stay, probably for the rest of the war, with no leave." Jelly said, "You can't do that!" "Of course I can, you idiot," Flick said impatiently.

"There's a war on, remember? And what I've done to Denise, I'll do to anyone who has to be fired from this team." "I never even joined the army!" Jelly protested.

"Yes, you did.

You were commissioned as an officer, yesterday, after tea.

You all were.

And you're getting officer's pay, although you haven't seen any yet.

That means you're under military discipline.

And you all know too much." "So we're prisoners?" Diana said.

"You're in the army," Flick said.

"It's much the same thing.

So drink your cocoa and go to bed." They drifted off one by one until only Diana was left.

Flick had been expecting this.

Seeing the two women in a sexual clinch had been a real shock.

She recalled that at school some of the girls had developed crushes on one another, sending loving notes, holding hands, and sometimes even kissing; but as far as she knew it had not gone any further.

At some point she and Diana had practiced French kissing on one another, so that they would know what to do when they got boyfriends, and now Flick guessed those kisses had meant more to Diana than they had to her.

But she had never known a grown woman who desired other women.

Theoretically, she was aware that they existed, the female equivalents of her brother Mark and of Greta, but she had never really imagined them.

.

.

well, feeling each other up in a garden shed.

Did it matter? Not in everyday life.

Mark and his kind were happy, or at least they were when people left them alone.

But would Diana's relationship with Maude affect the mission? Not necessarily.

Flick herself worked with her husband in the Resistance, after all.

This was not quite the same, admittedly.

A passionate new romance might prove a distraction.

Flick could try to keep the two lovers separate-but that might make Diana even more insubordinate.

And the affair could just as easily be an inspiration.

Flick had been trying desperately to get the women to work together as a team, and this might help.

She had decided to leave well enough alone.

But Diana wanted to talk.

"It's not what it seems, really it isn't," Diana said without preamble.

"Christ, you've got to believe me.

It was just a stupid thing, a joke-" "Would you like more cocoa?" Flick said.

"I think there's some left in the jug." Diana stared at her, nonplussed.

After a moment she said, "How can you talk about cocoa?" "I just want you to calm down and realize that the world is not going to come to an end simply because you kissed Maude.

You kissed me, once-remember?" "I knew you'd bring that up.

But that was just kid stuff With Maude, it wasn't just a kiss." Diana sat down.

Her proud face crumpled and she began to cry.

"You know it was more than that, you could see, oh, God, the things I did.

What on earth did you think?" Flick chose her words carefully.

"I thought the two of you looked very sweet." "Sweet?" Diana was incredulous.

"You weren't disgusted?" "Certainly not.

Maude is a pretty girl, and you appear to have fallen in love with her." "That's exactly what happened." "So stop being ashamed." "How can I not be ashamed? I'm queer!" "I wouldn't look at it that way if I were you.

You ought to be discreet, to avoid offending narrow-minded people such as Jelly, but there's no need for shame." "Will I always be like this?" Flick considered.

The answer was probably yes, but she did not want to be brutal.

"Look," she said, "I think some people, like Maude, just love to be loved, and they can be made happy by a man or a woman." In truth, Maude was shallow, selfish, and tarty, but Flick suppressed that thought firmly.

"Others are more inflexible," she went on.

"You should keep an open mind." "I suppose that's the end of the mission for me and Maude." "It most certainly is not." "You'll still take us?" "I still need you.

And I don't see why this should make any difference." Diana took out a handkerchief and blew her nose.

Flick got up and went to the window, giving her time to recover her composure.

After a minute, Diana spoke in a calmer voice.

"You're frightfully kind," she said with a touch of her old hauteur.

"Go to bed," Flick said.

Diana got up obediently.

"And if I were you.

.

"What?" "I'd go to bed with Maude." Diana looked shocked.

Flick shrugged.

"It may be your last chance," she said.

"Thank you," Diana whispered.

She stepped toward Flick and spread her arms, as if to hug her; then she stopped.

"You may not want me to kiss you," she said.

"Don't be silly," Flick said, and embraced her.

"Goodnight," said Diana.

She left the room.

Flick turned and looked out at the garden.

The moon was three-quarters full.

In a few days' time it would be full, and the Allies would invade France.

A wind was disturbing the new leaves in the forest: the weather was going to change.

She hoped there would not be a storm in the English Channel.

The entire invasion plan could be ruined by the capricious British

climate.

She guessed a lot of people were praying for good weather.

She ought to get some sleep.

She left the room and climbed the stairs.

She thought of what she had said to Diana: I'd go to bed with Maude.

It may be your last chance.

She hesitated outside Paul's door.

It was different for Diana-she was single.

Flick was married.

But it might be her last chance.

She knocked at the door and stepped inside.