The Light Over London(80)

She shook her head. “I trust you.”

He ordered a 2014 Pouilly-Fumé she’d had before and liked, and the waiter bowed his head and slipped away.

“Do you know what I hope more than anything else?” she asked, turning her attention back to Liam.

“What?”

“That Kate tells us Louise wound up happy, Paul or no Paul,” she said.

“We can only hope.” He paused, eyeing her as though weighing something that had been on his mind. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” she said. And she found she meant it.

“Why did this particular diary catch your attention?”

“It’s a mystery and that’s intriguing. Maybe I was drawn to the sadness of it.” She shrugged.

“I think we know each other well enough that I can say that isn’t everything,” he said.

She sighed and sat back in her chair, searching for the words to explain the deep compulsion that had driven her on. Finally she said, “When you’re young, you assume everything is going to last forever. Your friends will be your friends for the rest of your life. Once you decide you’re in love with someone, you’ll love them always. The idea of your parents dying is present but distant at the same time.

“In those days, it didn’t bother me so much that Gran wouldn’t talk about the war. Every family has things they don’t talk about. This was ours. But as I grew older, I cared more. I think there’s a natural, human compulsion to want to know where you’re from. It gives us our ideas of ourselves.”

“Identity,” he said.

She nodded. “But then my parents died and suddenly I felt cut adrift. I lost a part of life that had grounded me. I thought I had all the time in the world to know them better and get to know myself in turn, but it was gone in an instant.”

“And now you don’t want to lose the chance to learn who Iris really is before she’s gone,” he said gently.

“Yes, and when she dies, that part of who I am will die with her.” She drew in a breath. “And then, when I thought about it more, I realized there might be a family just like mine who doesn’t know the full story of their loved one. I wanted to return the diary, but then Laurel said that Louise had died six years ago . . .”

“Maybe she’ll still want to know,” said Liam. “And maybe Kate can fill in the gaps for all of us.”

“That’s what I hope happens,” she said. “There’s always the risk that I’m opening up an old wound and causing new pain by stirring up things that happened more than seventy years ago.”

“But you feel a responsibility,” he said.

She nodded.

“Well, I for one am happy you did. Otherwise I don’t know how long it would’ve been before I convinced you I don’t bite,” he said.

She cringed, thinking back to their first meeting. “Was it that obvious?”

He laughed. “You couldn’t turn down my sister’s idea that we have dinner together fast enough.”

“I realized as soon as I said it that it sounded rude and standoffish,” she said.

“Leah is always coming up with great ideas that she thinks the world should bend to. I’m her latest project.”

“Project?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, well, I’m single, and if there’s one thing my sister can’t stand, it’s the idea of someone in her life not being matched up.”

“She chose the wrong person then,” said Cara with a laugh. “That day I’d had a phone call from my ex. I was feeling every inch the divorced woman, resigned to being alone forever.”

His eyes lifted. “And now?”

Her breath hitched. “And now I’m feeling more like myself than I have in years.”

“Good,” he said. “I like this version of you quite a lot.”

The waiter came back with the wine, pouring out generous glasses before cradling the bottle in a pedestal ice bucket. She ordered scallops and a lemon-and-thyme pork loin, and Liam decided on the goat-cheese-and-beetroot salad and the duck, adding a bottle of pinot noir to be decanted for their meal.

“I might be overstepping, but will you tell me the rest of what happened between you and your ex? There’s more, right?”

She sighed. “There’s more.”

Eyes fixed on a droplet sliding down the side of her water goblet, she paused. They’d opened a door between where they stood now and where they might be in the future. But before they could step through, she needed to tell him this. To unburden herself. It was time.

“I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that the divorce had a lot more to do with me than with Simon. Somewhere along the way, I got lost. To a girl who was never particularly popular in school, being with Simon was a revelation. He always had this roving, large group of friends, was always the center of attention. He was confident and funny and intelligent. I think I was dazzled.”

“When did you stop being dazzled?” he asked.

“When I grew up.” She cleared her throat. “We’d been fighting a lot the month before my parents were killed, and he was rarely at home. I found out later that he’d been staying with a friend who lived in South Kensington. When I got the call from the hospital, I called and texted him. He finally picked up after my third try, but when he eventually got home, I realized he was too drunk to be driving.”