The sudden trace of a disturbing, forgotten aroma compels Stephen Wheatley to return to the site of a dimly remembered but troubling childhood summer in wartime London. As he pieces together his scattered memories, we are brought back to a quiet, suburban street where two boys--Keith and his sidekick, Stephen--are engaged in their own version of the war effort: spying on the neighbors, recording their movements, and ferreting out their secrets. But when Keith utters six shocking words, the boy’s game of espionage takes a sinister and unintended turn, transforming a wife’s simple errands and the ordinary rituals of family life into the elements of adult catastrophe.
Childhood and innocence, secrecy, lies and repressed violence are all gently laid bare as once again Michael Frayn powerfully demonstrates that what appears to be happening in front of our eyes often turns out to be something we cannot see at all.
This is a fascinating book about childhood memories and adult secrets and how they all mesh together. From the beginning pages there is mystery and a hint of something that is not quite right going on. The reader is drawn into the plot as grown up Stephen Wheatley returns to the neighborhood he grew up in during WWII in London and begins to remember how he and his best friend began spying on his mother's mysterious behavior, convinced that she was a Nazi spy. The book is a compelling and extremely well written portrain of childhood innocence, adult deception and lifelong secrecy, and is a stunning example of the fact that it's a mistake to make assumptions about what we observe because often we have no idea about what's really going on.