The Light Over London(86)

“If you’ll take a little unsolicited advice, Miss Keene, go on and live your life. Call this a wartime romance and put it behind you.”

“And what of you?” asked Louise.

Lenora’s gaze fixed on a point out the window. “I’ll be here, greeting Paul’s widows one by one.”



Louise made her way back to her billet, much the way she’d come. It was late, the sky already beginning to turn violet at the farthest reaches of the east.

In her room, she tucked away Lenora’s note, pulled on her battle dress, and retrieved her tin helmet. The other girls would’ve already made their way to Woolwich Depot, and she hurried to make up lost time, her boots slapping loudly against the pavement as she jogged.

When she reached the building, she bounded up the stairs quick as she could. Nearing the top floor, she heard voices. The section hadn’t yet taken to the roof, and were waiting instead in the relative warmth and dry of the indoors. She stopped before the door, pulling her shoulders back and shaking her hair from her face. Then, determined, she opened the door.

The room fell silent when they saw her. All of them, the girls, Cartruse, Hatfield, and Williams—even Captain Jones—searched her face. There was fragility there, she knew that, but her strength would hold her together. She would break in her own time, and she wouldn’t be ashamed, but tonight she would show them who she really was. Louise Keene, Haybourne born, ATS trained. A woman in her own right.

Paul had stolen her past from her. He would not steal her future.

“My apologies for being late, sir,” said Louise, addressing Captain Jones. “It will not happen again.”

“Gunner Bolton,” said Captain Jones, clearing his throat. “All of us would understand if you wished to take the bereavement time allowed to you.”

Her fists clenched, nails cutting half-moons into her palms. It felt good. The pain grounded her, reminded her to stay focused on the present.

“I’m needed on the predictor, sir,” she said.

“As you wish, Bolton,” said Captain Jones.

“I think, Captain Jones, that given the circumstances, I should like to be addressed as Gunner Keene from now on.”

A dropped pin would’ve rattled as loud as a machine gun through the room. Slowly, Captain Jones nodded. “I will see to it that the RA and the ATS are informed of your decision.”

“Thank you,” said Louise.

She moved to an empty seat at the little card table they’d set up in the corner of the room. Sitting down, she looked each and every one of her compatriots square in the eye before picking up the battered deck of cards on the table. “Who has the scoring sheet?”

“I do,” said Charlie, her voice cracking a little.

“Then let’s play.”

The cards whispered against each other as she shuffled and dealt. It took two hands of gin before the room relaxed a little. Four before Charlie hooted in triumph that she’d beaten Nigella badly.

Louise’s focus was so intent that she hardly heard Cartruse pull up a chair next to her until he was close enough to whisper, “You’re sure you’re all right, Lou?”

She stiffened but kept her eyes on her cards. “No. But I will be.”

And somehow, she knew it was the truth.





23


CARA


Cara woke up, curled against the unmistakable heat of a man’s body. She shifted a little, pressing back against Liam’s chest as the arm thrown across her stomach drew her a little closer. Liam McGown was a sleep snuggler, a fact that hardly surprised her but made her smile nonetheless.

She lay there a moment, light spilling freely through the gauzy curtains because they’d neglected to draw the heavy cream-colored drapes the night before. This was the moment when any regrets she had about kissing him and inviting him into her room last night would surely surface, but there were none. Instead, she felt relaxed and loose, as though she’d been on holiday for a month.

Liam stirred behind her, pressing his lips to the back of her neck. His voice was all gravel when he said, “Good morning.”

She turned around, careful to keep his arm in place, and kissed him. “Good morning.”

“Weren’t we supposed to meet for breakfast today?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

“At least now we know we won’t be late.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he said, rolling her on top of him as he kissed her deeper.



They made it down to breakfast just before the hotel stopped serving at nine o’clock, grinning at each other as the ma?tre d’ sighed and set his jaw before showing them to a sunny table.

They ate quickly and then climbed in the car to drive to Haybourne. It was still a small village, although there was an industrial park on the outskirts now that boasted office space with all of the modern business conveniences. Haybourne, it would seem, was growing.

Cara was glad Liam was driving, because as they rolled down the village high street, she found her hands had started to tremble just a little. They were so close to finding out the last pieces to the puzzle they’d been worrying over for weeks. They were going to finally meet Kate, the one person, it seemed, who might be able to draw together all of the disparate parts of Louise’s story.

“Here it is,” said Liam, pulling over into a parking spot in front of a real estate agent’s office and killing the ignition. “This is where Bakeford’s used to be.”