✏️ The Littlest Spy

12. Personal Effects

The first new chapter this month is dedicated to Alice, with thanks for all your support. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.

Isadora set aside the tickets and pulled out the glossy pamphlet behind the, Her eyebrows rose as she read the bold print on the cover. "A weekend getaway to the beach? Brock, what is this?"

"I can see you're trying to get into the role. But it's hard, especially when the neighbours know who you really are. You can't introduce me as your husband, and you can't get used to acting the part. So I thought it would be better to spend some of our training elsewhere. Kane approved it, but he wanted me to pay. Typical old skinflint, but don't tell him I said that."

"Just so you've got me to yourself?" she asked, all her nerves from the first day returning.

"I'm still sleeping on the couch," Brock answered with a shrug. "But I figured, well... we could try to make some memories. When someone asks about the honeymoon, we've got a holiday to draw memories from. Things that go wrong, things that go right, we've got something that we both remember to give some shape to the legends."

Isadora sighed, not sure what to think of the idea. She hated that Brock had gone out and arranged this without consulting her; but she couldn't exactly yell at him for that. He was supposedly the experienced operative, after all. And maybe this was something that they did sometimes, to settle into a difficult role. Or maybe it was just a crutch for a newbie, and if that was the case Isadora was sure she didn't want to know. She didn't want to feel like she had training wheels for the whole mission because she hadn't lived up to the Agency's expectations. So the only humiliation-free solution was to go along with what Brock said, and tell herself that it was a good idea. Still, she hated the thought that he might not think she was good enough to do this job without extra help. Isadora had spent too much of her life already being treated like a child at work, and she'd hoped that she was long past that stage now.

She couldn't argue, because there were no valid points to argue. But she couldn't agree with him either, because it felt like he wasn't respecting her enough. She could say that she would get a feel for her character by reading through the files again, and she could suggest that he do the same; but she couldn't deny that even without the facts and figures, Brock was a lot closer to seeing the world through Bernard Klein's eyes. And that made a world of difference. The next day, without really agreeing or disagreeing, Isadora was thinking about what she would need to pack for this little trip. And when Brock came back with a slightly battered suitcase that looked like it had seen better days, she knew that it was too late to state any objection.

"I thought you didn't have worldly possessions?" she asked. The case was probably almost as old as he was, and although the corners were scuffed, it still looked to be in good shape. It must have been cared for, but nothing would look like new under those circumstances.

"There's a flea market at St Mawdryn's church," he said. "Raising money to get a wheelchair ramp to the confessional, apparently. Some devout person must have donated these, and I think they're a bargain. I mean, buying new would make it look like I'm not used to travelling, which doesn't fit Bernard. Four or five years careful use is more his style."

As they began to plan and pack for their impromptu getaway, Isadora couldn't shake the feeling that this was a test of sorts. A chance for her to prove that she could handle the unpredictable nature of field work, even if it meant stepping outside her comfort zone. Or maybe just a test of whether she was willing to accept Brock's decisions. That was probably what was expected of her as a field monitor; she would always play second fiddle to the operative. But she didn't know if that should have bothered her more.