The Light Over London(68)



“Thanks,” he murmured.

“Of course.”

A little dazed, she watched him retreat again before shaking her head and fixing tea.

She carried the plate of biscuits into the front room to drop them off while the tea steeped, stopping only to retrieve the biscuit tin from her nightstand.

She eased open the heavy oak door with her shoulder, balancing the tin in one hand and the biscuits in the other. Flames crackled, catching on dry paper, and the wood burner’s vent squeaked as Liam adjusted it. She set the plate down, folded herself onto the sofa, and popped the top off the tin to pull out the photograph of the woman on the Embankment. No, not “the woman.” Louise.

The sofa dipped a little as Liam took the other end, leaning over the gap between them. “That’s our girl,” he said with a nod to the photograph of Louise. “Someone must’ve taken it when she was stationed at Woolwich. Her service record says she was there from August 1941 to February 1942 when she and her unit were moved up to Glasgow to defend the shipyards. Then they were sent to Brighton and finally to Germany.”

“When was she demobbed?” she asked.

“In 1945, after VE Day.”

“Like Gran,” Cara mused. “But the diary ends in 1942. There’s almost three years of war that are unaccounted for. And what happened to her afterward. Is there a record of that?”

He shook his head. “That’s where the military records end. A lot of women went home after the war.”

“Paul proposed to her. She could’ve ended up with his family, although the last page of the diary makes it seem unlikely.”

“Have you peeked at the ending?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not since I first found it. You?”

“Just the last couple entries. They’re pretty thin. Also, there are gaps in time.” He paused. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

“Louise Keene doesn’t come up in any local registers in Haybourne after the war, but there is another Keene. Katherine. She’s registered as the mother to a child born in Haybourne in 1944 with the married name of Mathers.”

“Katherine like Kate?” she asked with a frown.

“What if Kate wasn’t Louise’s friend but her cousin?” he asked.

Pieces began clicking into place like one big jigsaw puzzle. “And that was why Kate was so willing to help Louise sneak around with Paul. And why Louise went to her when she rowed with her mother.”

“And also why Kate’s mother would’ve insisted it was Louise who went with Kate to the Valentine’s dance in Saint Mawgan in the first place,” he said.

“Liam, this is amazing,” she said.

He held up a hand. “I’m not finished yet.” He unlocked his phone and flipped it over to show her a picture of an older woman with the words “Laurel Mathers, Executive Director” written in bold under it. “That’s Katherine Mathers’s daughter, who runs a small arts outreach organization in Cornwall. And her email address is listed on the site.”

“Her email . . .”

“If you reach out, she may be able to fill in some of the gaps about what happened to Louise.”

“Do you think I should?” she asked.

“I think you have to. You need to see this story through to the end,” said Liam. “Just like you want to with Iris.”

“Liam, in the car on Sunday, I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

He tilted his head to the right, studying her. “Overstepped?”

“When I offered to cook. You’d already done so much that day and I wasn’t thinking—”

“Do you know what I did when I got home?” he asked, the corners of his lips tilting up.

“No.”

“I kicked myself for turning you down. I must’ve been out of my mind.”

“You turned down dinner,” she said with a laugh, remembering all the times he’d disparaged his own cooking.

“I turned down dinner with you,” he said.

Her heart squeezed, and she dipped her head. “I thought my life became small after the divorce, but I realized that it already was before that. All I did was work and come home. I didn’t see my friends, have hobbies, or explore. I wasn’t living a full life. I’m trying to make sure that doesn’t happen again, but it’s been a long time since I’ve reached out to anyone.”

He tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “Then I’m honored you’ve made a little room for me.”

For one mad moment, she wanted to lean into his hand. Instead, she stayed stone-still, hardly breathing for fear of breaking the moment while she relished being cared for just a little.

Slowly, he drew back. “Do you know what I think we should do right now? You should write to Laurel Mathers, and I’ll go check on my dog.” She was about to protest when he added, “Then I’ll come back and pour the tea.”

“Why don’t you bring Rufus? I hate to think of him all alone while we’re here,” she said.

He grinned and leaned back against the sofa cushions, looking for all the world like he belonged.

“I’d like that very much, Cara. Very much.”



As soon as Rufus came through the door, Liam rubbed him down with a towel and the dog went to Cara’s side. Rufus accepted a head scratch and then dropped to the floor by her feet with a content sigh.

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