The Last Bookshop in London: A Novel of World War II(26)

Grace reached for Mrs. Weatherford again, but the older woman brushed her off. “I must call Mr. Simons. He told me he submitted for you to be an essential employee. He’ll be able to—”

Colin stepped toward his mother to stop her. Mrs. Weatherford finally stilled and looked at him with wide, wet eyes.

“I’ll do my bit, Mum.” He lifted his thin chest. “Our country needs me.”

Emotion burned in Grace’s throat. This young man who was so tenderhearted and kind, who still carried elements of his adolescence with his naive sweetness, displayed such bravery.

She couldn’t imagine the townhouse without him any more than she could imagine Mrs. Weatherford existing without her son. Not when she doted on him with such adoration or how she watched him with eyes that shone with pride and love.

Mrs. Weatherford’s chin trembled. She pressed her lips together, but it didn’t stop, nor did the rapid blinking of her eyes. “Do excuse me,” she choked out. “I...” She quickly fled up the stairs.

Her bedroom door on the second level clicked shut a moment later and a wail cut through the silence, sharp with raw pain.

Colin lowered his head, hiding his expression.

Grace put a hand to the soft cotton of his sleeve. “Go to her. I’ll put a fresh kettle on.”

He nodded without looking at her and went up the stairs with slow, heavy steps as Grace led Viv back into the kitchen. As soon as they were alone, Grace pressed her hands to her chest where a dull ache had begun.

Colin. At war.

First George. Now Colin.

Would all the men in London be gone soon?

She looked to Viv and the weight of sorrow settled over her. Viv would soon leave too.

As if hearing her thoughts, Viv shook her head emphatically, sending her red curls bobbing around her face. “I shouldn’t have said what I did, Grace.” She sucked in a hard inhale. “I won’t join the ATS. Not with Colin gone.”

Viv’s arms wrapped around her and the sweet floral perfume of Viv’s latest scent It’s You joined their embrace.

“I won’t leave,” Viv promised. “Mrs. Weatherford will need us both now.”

Grace nodded against her friend’s shoulder, grateful to not lose Viv along with George and Colin. Truly, it would be too much to bear.

In the following days, Colin remained busy in his efforts to ensure the house was up to snuff before his departure. He immediately gave notice at his job at Pet Kingdom and spent his time fixing every creaking stair and squeaking hinge. He’d even gone so far as to show Grace and Viv how to perform minor repairs in his absence in case a faucet leaked, or a knob came loose.

Grace returned to the townhouse one day to find him crouched beside a window in the parlor, painstakingly applying scrim in an artful pattern to ensure any potential bomb blasts might keep the glass from shattering. Not that there appeared to be much likelihood of bombs anymore.

Viv had warned Grace she’d be late that day with an errand to run, so Grace set aside the list of potential advertising lines she’d been considering and knelt beside him. She didn’t bother to ask if she could help, knowing he would decline. Instead, she cut a strip of the tape, moistened the back and slicked it onto the glass, following his same careful pattern.

He looked at her, studying her a moment with his tender blue eyes, then gave a grateful smile.

“I thought your mum couldn’t abide taped windows?” Grace cut off another length of scrim.

“It will ensure you all remain safe.” Colin smoothed his large hand over the piece Grace had attached, pressing out the tiny bubbles of air. “You should see what I’ve done to her remaining flowers.”

Grace’s mouth fell open. “You don’t mean you’ve...dug for victory?”

Ever since October, the government had been announcing the need for flower beds to be torn up and replaced with vegetable patches in their bid for “digging for victory.” Though the rationing Mrs. Weatherford had sworn would come had not been implemented as yet, the call for an abundance of home-grown vegetables was indicative of its impending announcement.

That didn’t mean Mrs. Weatherford was ready to have her few thriving roses and hyacinths plucked from her beloved garden.

Colin nodded slowly, his gaze skimming over his handiwork. “I’m not familiar with vegetables, but I read the manual and tried as best I could.” He lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

“You could have asked Viv,” Grace said. “She lived on a farm before coming here.”

“That’s exactly why I did it when she wasn’t here.” Colin got to his feet and started on the upper portion of the window. “She’s always so put together. I couldn’t have her out in the garden, buried in dirt and ruining her nails.”

Grace rose from the ground alongside Colin. Her head came only to his chest, making her far too short to reach the windows stretching high up the wall.

“And you know she’s too stubborn to take no for an answer.” Rather than try to attach a piece herself, she cut and moistened a length before handing it to Colin.

He grinned as he accepted the scrim. “You said it, not me.”

“Has your mother seen the garden yet?” Grace uncurled another piece of the adhesive paper from its roll.

He shook his head. “She’s joined the local Women’s Voluntary Service and has gone to her first meeting. No doubt we’ll know when she sees it.”