Hither, Page (Page & Sommers, #1)

by Cat Sebastian

He passed a Woolworth’s, its window display filled with brightly colored and foolishly festive Christmas paraphernalia. There were china figurines of Father Christmas, a couple of cards showing happy families gathered around hearths and pine trees, and packages of Christmas crackers. Without examining his thoughts, he went into the store and bought a package of a dozen crackers. He told himself that this was what Leonard Page would do. But the truth was that he had never held one in his hand, and now he wanted to. He could never know what life felt like for an ordinary person, but he could run his fingers over the same cardboard, hear the same songs, taste the same sweets. He could pretend to be the sort of person who had a life, a future, people he cared about and who cared for him in return. He sat in his train compartment, the package of crackers on his lap, mocking him with their bright colors. He wanted to know what was inside them. He knew there would be a paper hat, and maybe a toy or a boiled sweet. He wasn’t entirely certain, and that uncertainty bothered him. How had he reached nearly thirty years of age without knowing what was in Christmas crackers? That, he thought in bitter amusement, was the logical end of spycraft: needing to open the Christmas cracker a week too early. The conductor rushed to the door of his compartment at the sound of the first cracker being opened. “Oh, sir, you gave me a fright,” the man panted. “But I suppose you’re just getting a bit ...