The Light Over London(45)

“In my experience, people with busy lives don’t spend their time chasing down questions like this. They might be interested. They might even have good intentions, but it’s too much work.”

“Why do you say I’m busy?” she asked.

“You said yourself that you fell asleep while reading. Plus, your lights are hardly off before midnight, and you’re out the door before most people wake up.” Sheepishly he added, “Rufus means I have to be out at all hours. I notice things.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to distract myself,” she said.

“Or maybe there’s something about the diary that you’re drawn to,” he suggested.

She worried her lip, considering this, wondering what to tell him. All of it, she realized as he sat there, patient and open to whatever part of herself she was willing to give him. He was helping her. She owed it to him to try to explain why.

“I told you my gran was in the ATS. She never talks about it. We’re so close, and she’s a wonderful storyteller, but this one part of her life is closed off to me. When I first realized what I’d found, I’d hoped that the diary would bridge this gap that’s always been between us—even more so since my mum died,” she added, thinking about the fight she’d overheard.

“It didn’t work,” he said.

She shook her head. “Gran still won’t talk about it. All I know is the year she joined and that she was demobbed two months after VE Day.”

“I could pull her service records too,” he offered. “It would be as simple as searching the right databases, since you know her vital details.”

She considered the idea but swiftly rejected it. It would feel like a betrayal of Gran’s confidence for Cara to go snooping around in her past without consent. Besides, she knew that without Gran’s own account, a service record would just be a series of dates and unit assignments. The picture would be incomplete.

“You might need to prepare yourself for the possibility that she may never tell you,” said Liam gently. “It might be too painful. She could’ve lost someone.”

“But that’s part of what I don’t understand. She’s talked about the boys and girls she used to play with in the schoolyard who didn’t come back from the fighting. I’ve heard those stories.”

“She might be protecting you,” he said.

Her laugh was sharper than she’d meant it to be. “Yes, well, that’s what everyone I’m close to has done for the last two years, and I’m tired of it.”

She was tired of it. She’d fallen apart after her parents’ death in her own quiet way, swept away by her grief. But then she’d woken up. She’d come out on the other side stronger.

“What’s your gran like?” he asked, as though sensing the brittleness of her nerves in that moment.

“Fabulous beyond words.”

He laughed. “Really?”

“She’s in her nineties and her life is exactly how she wants it to be. When she finally decided to sell her home, she didn’t do it because of her health or because it was too much for her. She did it so that I wouldn’t be hit with death duties, because I’ll be the one to inherit it. She picked her flat in the retirement village she lives in. She has a regular driver take her to standing dinners in and around Barlow three times a week, and she’s recently rediscovered ballroom dancing, although she admits the Latin dances are too difficult on her hips these days.”

“I’d love to meet her,” he said.

She looked up quickly. “You would?”

“She sounds extraordinary.”

Touched, she looked at her watch. “If we go now, I expect she’ll make us a cocktail.”

Liam barked a laugh. “Well, how could I say no to that?”

“Good, but first, we have a stop to make.”



With Liam following in his car, Cara drove first to the market to pick up a packet of Tunnock’s Teacakes and then on to Gran’s place, mulling over all the different lines of inquiry Liam had set into motion. There were still so many questions to answer about the diarist, and Gran’s unwillingness to share her own story only made Cara more motivated to make sure it ended up in the right hands. There was a family out there who deserved to know about the bravery of the unnamed woman who’d defied her family to join up and become a gunner girl.

She and Liam parked side by side and headed to the front entrance of Widcote Manor. The four-story redbrick mansion had once belonged to a family that had made its fortune in soap, but it had been converted to flats about ten years ago. They paused only long enough at the reception desk tucked into a corner of the elegant entryway for the concierge to call Gran before they headed up.

The lift doors had just slid apart when the door to Gran’s flat flew open.

“Hello, my dear!” Gran trilled. “I was thrilled when Randall phoned to say you were downstairs. You caught me just as I was about to make myself a sidecar. Cocktails are always better with company, and I see you’ve brought a gentleman with you.”

Cara exchanged a look with Liam before kissing Gran on the cheek. “This is Liam McGown. He’s my neighbor.”

“Delighted to meet you, Liam,” said Gran, stretching out her hand.

Liam took it, his smile so big his eyes crinkled. “Mrs. Warren, your granddaughter told me you were extraordinary, but she clearly undersold you.”