The Light Over London(71)

She repeated her vows, her eyes locked on his, and lifted her lips to his as Father Norwood pronounced them man and wife. Reggie shouted “Hip hip hooray!” A smile broke out over her face even as Paul kissed her. She was married to Paul Bolton.

They’d decamped to the Dorchester in Mayfair. Louise couldn’t help but stare at the vast dining room with its mirrored walls and soaring gold chandelier as they were led to their table in the center of the room. The menu was limited, a concession to the war, but the consommé was excellent and Paul ordered champagne, sending her back to the day in the Star Inn where she’d tried it for the first time. Unlike on that day, however, today she felt as though she belonged in this glamorous world of champagne and three-course luncheons served on translucent bone china. Whether it was because of the man by her side or the uniform she wore, she couldn’t be certain, but she held her shoulders back and lifted her chin with a confidence she wouldn’t have believed a year ago.

That boldness softened as the meal progressed. When the main course was cleared and a third bottle of champagne opened, Louise felt light as a feather, tipsy on bubbles. Everything seemed to shimmer around her. As Reggie boasted about another posting in another city, she smiled at Paul. He raised her hand to his lips as he’d done several times throughout the meal.

“And then I said, ‘We should all just go to the pictures,’?” said Reggie.

“And where was this?” Charlie asked, her head cradled in her hand, her tone bored but tolerant thanks to a liberal application of champagne.

“Edinburgh, I think,” said Reggie. “This was when you were at RAF Dyce in Scotland, isn’t that right, Bolton?”

“I have no idea.”

“No, you remember, you were there,” said Reggie. “You used one of your forty-eight-hour passes.”

Through the fizzy haze of tipsiness, Louise’s brain grasped onto that information.

“Forty-eight-hour pass?” she asked.

Reggie laughed. “Bolton’s always up for a jaunt when the RAF lets him off his leash.”

She pulled her hand back. “You’ve had leave? When was this?”

“It was nothing,” Paul said, shooting a glare at his best friend. Reggie, oblivious, merrily snatched up his wine and took another slug.

“Reggie, when did Paul see you in Edinburgh?” Louise asked.

Reggie blew out a loud breath. “I’m not very good with time, but it wasn’t that long ago.”

“Reggie,” Paul barked, but Louise was already rounding on him.

“You said your commanding officer wasn’t allowing you to have leave at all. That you had to stay on base and that’s why you canceled your visit to see me. Why I couldn’t come to you,” she said.

“Reggie’s wrong, darling. It was last July. When I was flying over the North Sea. Before I met you.”

“But you never told me you were stationed at RAF Dyce,” she pressed. “You mentioned being based in Devon for Coastal Command and that you did your training at RAF Halton, but not Scotland.”

“There are a lot of things I haven’t told you about,” said Paul. “But I promise I will. We’re together now.”

She sat back heavily in her chair, her eyes fixed on a little stain of sauce on the tablecloth. He was trying to placate her, and she didn’t like it. Reggie might’ve been confused about the dates, but she didn’t think so. Paul had been too sharp with his friend, as though he was desperate to shut the man up and control the damage.

“We need more champagne,” said Paul loudly. “I’d like to make a toast.”

“Hear! Hear!” Reggie nearly shouted, until Charlie smacked him on the arm to hush him.

“You can’t agree with a toast until I say it,” Paul said with an exaggerated scowl. “Now, I’d like to make a toast to my beautiful bride, Louise.” He tipped his glass to her as she watched him with a thin smile. “You are the bravest woman I know.”

Reggie laughed. “She’s brave for taking him on, that’s what I say.”

“Brave in all ways,” said Charlie. “You all forget that I’m the only one who’s actually seen Louise in action.”

“Do tell,” said Reggie, leaning on the table and nearly putting his elbow in the butter.

“The first night we were stationed at Woolwich, we were shot at and our commanding officer went into a state of shock,” said Charlie.

“You can hardly blame her though. It was terrifying,” said Louise.

“I can blame her when she spent our entire time at Oswestry convincing us that she’d been through battle and back. It turned out she’d been an ATS clerk who’d hardly even heard a live round until she was promoted and transferred. What they were thinking putting her in charge of the women in one of the first mixed batteries, I’ll never know.

“When Bombardier Barker snapped, it was Louise who stepped up and got us all to focus again. A fighter was shooting at us and bombs were falling, but Louise kept a cool head and did exactly what needed to be done.” Charlie smiled. “So you see, Paul, you may just have married one of the bravest women in the ATS.”

Louise waited for embarrassment to rise up, but then she stopped herself. Charlie was right. She had done those things. She had every right to be proud, and she was. Since joining up, she’d done things she’d never dreamed of, and she was eager for more. It wasn’t the destructive power of her job that drew her in but the knowledge that she was doing something that mattered. She wasn’t tucked away in a corner of the country, whiling away her days in a shop and waiting for a life of village committees and gossip. Her work was important—just as important as Paul’s.