The Light Over London(69)

“I think he likes you more than me,” said Liam with a laugh.

A happy warmth spread through her, and she simply smiled.

“Did you email Laurel?” he asked.

She nodded. “Now I keep staring at my phone, waiting.”

“Well then”—he snatched a biscuit off the tray and bit into it with a snap—“I’m glad we have provisions. I’ll pour the tea.”

“No, don’t worry about that. I’ll get it.”

But as she began to set the diary down, Liam held his hand up. “Rufus looks like he’s in heaven. I’ll do it. Just tell me which cabinet the mugs are in.”

“To the right of the sink,” she said, secretly pleased at his offer. It had been ages since someone had offered to bring a steaming cup of comfort to her while she read. She was growing to like her independence, but there were little things about having a partner she missed.

Snuggling a little deeper into the burgundy throw pillows she’d ordered just a few weeks ago, she gave the dog’s head another pat and went back to her reading. It was strange to think her once-anonymous diarist had a name now, but perhaps no stranger than the realization that Cara had started to think of Louise as her own. Despite having no relation to her, she felt a deep connection with this woman that went beyond the desire to return the diary to its rightful family. She understood something of Louise’s journey from shy and unassertive girl to gunner girl, as glamorous and brave as she was determined and hardworking.

Liam returned to hand her a cup of tea that had enough milk in it to turn it the color of a ginger buscuit—just the way she’d told him she liked it.

As he settled back onto his end of the sofa, she thanked him and asked, “Have you read to the part about Louise and Paul going off to his friend’s flat together?”

“Yes. Very saucy, even if she doesn’t give much detail.”

She chuckled. “I don’t know why I was so shocked at that. Of course people slept together before they were married.”

“We think everyone before our generation was Victorian in their attitudes to sex, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. People have been sneaking off together for millennia.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said.

“Plus, there was a war on. From what I’ve read, there were a lot of men and women falling into each other’s arms because they didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.”

“You don’t know if your air raid shelter will be destroyed by a bomb, so you might as well live it up,” she said.

“Exactly.”

Cara paged forward in the diary, but other than a few more entries in September, the dates began to spread out again as Liam had said.

“Not much left,” she said.

She watched Liam fish around in the biscuit tin until he pulled out the locket. The hinge moved easily, despite its age, as though it had been opened and closed countless times. He held up the picture of Paul, handsome and smiling, next to the photograph of Louise. They would’ve made a beautiful couple; he was glamorous and sophisticated, while she was sweet, her smile full of genuine joy.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s a shame we don’t have a photograph of them together,” she said.

“Maybe Laurel Mathers has one,” said Liam.

On the coffee table, her phone dinged and they both craned their necks. An email notification illuminated the screen.

“Is that from Laurel?” Liam asked.

Cara scooped up her phone and looked up sharply. “It is.”

Quickly, she keyed in her pass code and pulled up the email from Laurel. She read it out.

Dear Ms. Hargraves,

I must admit, I was surprised to receive your email. My mother did have a cousin named Louise Keene who served in Ack-Ack Command during the war. Sadly, she passed away six years ago peacefully in her sleep.

My mother, Katherine Mathers, is nearing the end of her life but is blessedly lucid. I moved back to Haybourne after my divorce almost twenty years ago and have been taking care of her in her later years. She enjoys nothing more than reminiscing about her girlhood in Haybourne and her time in the ATS. She tells me that those were the best years of her life, serving in Belgium, Egypt, and Greece.

I was at my mother’s care home when I received your email. She would like very much to meet you if you ever come down to Haybourne. I think it would bring her a great deal of joy to tell someone new all of the stories we’ve heard dozens of times, but I would encourage you to come soon. I don’t know how much longer my mother’s health will hold out, as she seems more frail by the day.

“And then she gives her phone number and a recommendation of a hotel to stay in. It’s the Star Inn Louise wrote about. I guess it was renovated about ten years ago and a chef trained in a Michelin star kitchen was brought on,” Cara finished.

“You have to go. I don’t think you’ll get the answers you’re looking for if you don’t speak to Katherine,” he said.

“Kate,” Cara corrected him with a smile. She petted Rufus as she thought over the prospect of driving down to Cornwall to see an old woman in her last days. But then, she’d been invited, and Laurel didn’t seem put out by the idea. Still . . .

“Come with me,” she said.

Liam swallowed a large gulp of tea. “To Cornwall?”