The Light Over London(63)

Maybe I should’ve told Cartruse my fears—that I’m losing Paul—but something held me back. It just didn’t seem right, and so we walked back away from Woolwich Depot without another word.





16


LOUISE


“Anything, Gunner Rogers?” Captain Jones shouted from his post.

Louise craned her neck to search the slowly lightening sky as Mary took another look through the viewfinder. The lights over London were still sweeping, but the spotlight operators hadn’t picked up anything for an hour. It seemed as though the last wave of German bombers had turned around and made for the coast just after four that morning.

“Nothing,” Mary confirmed with a shake of her head.

“Once the all clear sounds—” The splitting ring of the all clear cut the captain off and he gave a gruff chuckle. “Stand down. Good work today.”

It hadn’t been, really. A handful of fighters and three bombers had come within their sights, but none had been in range for B Section to get off an effective shot. The best they had done was create a bit of bother for the German fliers. But it was the last day on duty before seventy-two hours of leave, and all of them were relieved.

Now that it was mid-September and the nights had started to turn cold, these long, ineffectual shifts were becoming harder and harder to bear. Two nights ago even Captain Jones hadn’t objected when Hatfield convinced Lizzie to sing ballads while Williams whistled along.

The members of B Section groaned and stretched sore necks as they clattered down the five flights of stairs to the street.

“Aircraft identification lectures at fourteen hundred hours on Thursday when you’re back,” Captain Jones reminded them.

They nodded wearily and began the trudge back to their respective billets. The men had taken to walking the women back since the ATS billet was on the way to the Charlton Barracks. Cartruse fell into step next to Louise as he’d been doing more and more in the last few weeks. Charlie liked to tease that he fancied her, but she brushed it off. She had Paul, even though it felt like a lifetime since she’d heard from him.

“How long do you think before everyone knows?” Cartruse asked.

“I’m sorry?” Louise asked.

He jerked his head behind him. “The lovebirds.”

She glanced back and saw Lizzie and Williams walking a little apart from everyone else, their heads close together. “Lovebirds?”

“Don’t you think?”

Glancing back again, she had to admit he was probably right. “A week, maybe less. We’re a nosy bunch.”

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, his large hands cupped around the flame to buffer it from the morning wind. “You are a nosy lot of women.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “No one is worse than you three men.”

“That’s not true,” he protested.

“Do you think Jones will have something to say about it, with them working together and all?”

“That was some of the worry when these mixed batteries were announced,” he said.

“And I thought it was just that we’re the weaker sex.”

“I think you’ve proven everyone wrong about that. You girls are made of sterner stuff than most of the men I grew up with. Then again, they’re not in the RA,” he said, tapping the Royal Artillery badge on his cap proudly.

“You RA men have a high opinion of yourselves, did anyone ever tell you that?” she asked as they rounded the last corner.

But however Cartruse answered was lost, because standing in front of the billet’s door in his well-tailored uniform was Paul. A group of ATS girls, up early, were smoking on the steps of the building and openly eyeing him, but he wasn’t looking at them. Instead, his eyes were fixed right on her, a smile blooming across his handsome face.

Her heart squeezed, stealing her breath until she almost burst with it. She broke out into a sprint and flung herself into his arms, her cheek pressed hard against his chest.

“You’re here,” she murmured. “You’re really here.”

A hand stroked down the back of her head—her cap must’ve fallen off.

“How could I not be, after your letter?” he asked.

Relief rushed through her. Her letter hadn’t frightened him off. He was here.

“I wanted to write back to you, but then I remembered that you’d told me about your leave. I did everything I could to arrange to be in London at the same time. I wanted to surprise you,” he said softly.

“You did.”

He pulled back, his expression serious. “I’m so sorry. The things I wrote to you last month—”

She cut him off with a kiss that felt like coming home. The lips she’d thought of, worried over, dreamed about, molded to hers, and she let herself fall back into the simplest moments of their relationship, when it had all seemed like it would go on for years uninterrupted by war or family. Her hands clutched at the lapels of his uniform jacket and he cupped her face.

Behind her, whoops and hollers rose up and she broke away with a grin. “We have an audience.”

He snuck another swift kiss. “I don’t care, but perhaps you should introduce me.”

Everyone crowded around except Cartruse, who stood a step away, assessing Paul with guarded curiosity. As she made the introductions, Paul pressed each of the women’s hands and shook the men’s with more vigor.