Monday, 10 January 1916

David set aside his sewing and rushed across the room to greet Maria when she entered the suite. "How was your first day?"

"Mostly outlines of the next five months." They kissed and wrapped each other in an embrace. "You're back early. More problems with the windbag?"

"No, he's been rather docile all day. I suspect Miss Hutchins had put him in his place. He appears to listen to her – and to Charles." David chuckled. "He spent the day cleaning the library shelves and sorting the foreign language books back into their places."

"So, why are you back early? I thought the Embassy was open until five thirty."

"It is." He nodded across the room. "I'm stitching on my rank insignia. I have meetings with some of the other Military Attachés from nine thirty onward tomorrow, and I need to be in uniform."

"I've never seen you in uniform." She laughed. "Odd, isn't it? Getting on nine months now, and I've not seen you in it."

"Tough for you to have. I buried my Canadian one in Flanders two days before I met you, and I converted my German one into a bedroll a few hours before you stole my heart." He tightened the embrace.

She snuggled tighter into him. "Your new ones have been hanging in those bags since Oxford, haven't they? I've never thought to look."

"This is my first opportunity to wear one since then." He chuckled. "They seemed inappropriate dress for blowing up trains."

Maria looked over at the chaise longue. "Put on the coat. Let me see it."

He kissed her forehead and released the hug. Across the room, he stuck the needle into the sleeve and shuffled into the tunic.

She stood staring and nodding. Then she walked around him. "I like the fit, but the style seems outmoded."

"Like most things Army."

"So, what are you doing here?" She pointed to the dangling braid and the needle and thread.

"Trying to make it look regulation." He picked up a booklet and opened it to a drawing. "Like this. I need a triple braid on each sleeve."

"You also need to replace a diamond with a crown on each."

"I thought those would be the easiest, so I was saving them for the end. The diamonds are the Bath star, but they're called pips informally, like the pips on a playing card."

Maria withdrew the needle and began stitching. "It's much easier for me to do this while it's on you than you're struggling with it in your lap." She looked up. "What's a Bath star? It sounds like a prize for bathing."

"It's based on the design of the Order of Bath. The stylised star that forms its device." He shrugged. "Army tradition."

"So this is the fancy lace about which you wrote. I can see how German snipers could easily target the officers, and the more senior, the easier."

"Yes,  more stupidity from the old farts." David shook his head and laughed. "And they wonder why the death rate has been so much higher among the officers. Blithering idiots."

"So, do they still have to wear these at the Front?"

"Officially, yes. But the wise officers now get an enlisted man's tunic from Quartermaster stores and stitch the pips and crowns on the shoulders. They blend in, remaining alive so they can lead as they sneer at the risk of being punished for behaviour unbecoming an officer."

"Punished by the same old farts who let the windbag off."

"They have a different definition of acceptable behaviour for their own."

As Maria continued her stitching, she shared highlights from her day at school. "There are only seventeen of us in the class, and I know most of them from the research interviews I did – and from my presentation." She sat on the chair to get a better view of her sewing. "Remember I told you about the man who cursed me and stormed out of the room?"

"Is he there? One of the students?"

"Yes, and he apologised to me for his behaviour." Maria rethreaded the needle as she continued. "He's offered to help me in getting it banned."

"That's a huge turnaround."

"We had a long talk, and I realised how I had offended him. I need to be more diplomatic in my choice of words. Mutilated strikes a harsh blow to those who have been."

"So, he's Jewish?"

"No, Thabiti was born in Kenya, and he had his foreskin chopped off in a traditional tribal ceremony when he was thirteen. The wound became gangrenous, and most of his ..." Maria paused her stitching and clenched her eyes shut in a grimace. "Let's talk about something more pleasant."

"I have a meeting arranged with the German Military Attaché tomorrow afternoon."

"I said pleasant." Maria shook her head. "Why are you meeting with him?"

"It's part of the formalities of taking over this portfolio." He chuckled. "The pleasant part is in not having the windbag do it. After the library and Hans Wilsdorf, I can only imagine the hatred he would spew. He'd be certain to create an embarrassing international incident."

"But you? After what they've done? How can you face him?"

"He's not them; at least, I hope he isn't. He's probably in a diplomatic position such as I am, representing his country. He likely wants this war as little as most of us do. But he has a role to play, as do I."

Maria nodded as she continued her stitching. "And with whom else are you meeting?"

"I'm starting with the American and the Russian before I have lunch with the French Attaché, then in ..."

"That's clever planning – lunch with the French one."

David smiled as he patted his belly. "I thought so. And by meeting with the three of them first, and then after lunch with the Italian, I'll have had some practice with my position, and I should also have gained some insights on the German Attaché."

"That's wise. Meet with him last."

"I've more meetings on Wednesday – Greece, Portugal and Spain in the morning, and then Austria-Hungary after lunch."

"Lunch with the Spanish?" Maria looked up and smiled.

"Henry said they eat very well, and he recommended suggesting a lunch meeting. They're neutral in this war, so the call is mainly social, like the one with the United States."

She stood from the chair and stepped back for a better look. "The braid's finished. Where are the crowns?"

David lifted his arms and examined the sleeves. "I can do those. They're simple compared to these. You've done a beautiful job."

"Put on the rest of the uniform. Let me see if it's true what they say."

He stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. "What do they say?"

"Men in uniform are irresistible."

He undid the bow of her bodice. "That's Army recruiting propaganda." He chuckled. "But you'll surely still find me irresistible, so let's save the time and simply undress."