“I can go with you,” her grandfather said.
“No, I—“
“You’re right.” He waved one hand as he gave her the keys. “I’ll slow you down. Call us if you can and let us know what’s happening. We’ll call the fire brigade.”
Sylvie rushed for the door. “Thank you.”
She was halfway down the driveway when she realized she hadn’t brought a pocketbook with her—nothing but the keys. So be it. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Alec and his family.
Images flashed through her mind that she couldn’t tolerate. Alec injured. Alec dead. Tears rose to her eyes at the horrible prospect. No. No. It just couldn’t be.
She drove fast. Too fast. She took one deep breath and then another, trying to regulate her stuttering heart. It wouldn’t do Alec or his family any good if she crashed. Through the hedgerows and trees, she saw a small column of smoke. Whatever the bomb had landed on, it wasn’t creating a huge fire.
She tore down the driveway, and pure relief filled her as she saw the house intact. Yet the smoke column was close, very close. She came to a halt in the driveway and practically tumbled out of the car. She raced around the side of the house toward the smoke and that’s when she saw them.
Alec, his parents, the servants, and the Land Girls stood in the area by the garden, looking at a smoldering hole that obliterated part of the garden. Relief sent a rush of weakness to her legs. The tears came and she brushed them away.
Not the time to cry. They were safe.
Alec turned toward her and his hand went up in greeting. Sylvie headed toward them, her heart thumping hard in her chest as she walked fast. While relief flooded her, so did the possibilities of what could have happened. It circled around in her mind. What if, what if, what if?
She was trotting by the time she reached them. She wanted to hug him, but with his parents there, she held back.
“Hey.” Alec spoke first. “Look what the Jerries dropped off.”
“Hello, dear.” Mrs. Kent had one hand to her neck, her other arm held close to her body. “What a horrible business.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Kent said.
“Is everyone all right?” Sylvie asked.
Ruby said, “We’re right as rain, thank the good Lord.”
Jillian didn’t look as convinced. “It took about twenty years off my life, it did.”
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Sylvie said, meaning every word.
Mrs. Kent dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as she turned toward the house. “Our poor house.”
For the first time, Sylvie glanced back at the house, and what she saw made her gape. All the windows at the back of the house were broken, and part of the roof near Alec’s room had fallen inward.
“Oh, no,” Sylvie whispered.
“It’s a right mess,” Mr. Kent said.
Immediately Sylvie knew what must be done. “You can’t stay here. Any of you. I’ll call my grandparents. You can stay with them while the house is repaired.”
At first no one else said a word. Finally Mr. Kent spoke up. “That would be very kind. But I don’t know…”
“We have plenty of room. I’m sure they’d love to help.”
“That would be most accommodating,” Mrs. Kent said. “Oh, dear. My garden. What will we do without the vegetables?”
A knot tightened in Sylvie’s gut. What would they do without fresh vegetables other than buy them from the local market?
Alec didn’t say a word as he stared at the bomb damage in the garden. He took his hat off and shoved a hand into his hair.
“May I borrow your phone?”
“Of course,” Mr. Kent said.
Sylvie headed toward the back of the house, and Alec caught up with her.
“Sylvie, go around the front. We don’t know how safe the back door is. We’ll need someone to come in and make certain the house is stable.”
She made a quick call to her grandparents and instantly received the answer she’d hoped to get. Alec and his parents could stay at their home for as long as it took. The Land Girls would stay in their accommodations near the barn, and Cook Helen would shelter with her relatives in Warboys until repairs were completed. Before she walked out of the house to tell Alec’s parents the good news, Alec took Sylvie’s right hand.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For thinking of this. Despite all the differences between our families, your grandparents are good people.”
She smiled. “When the going gets rough, their better side comes out.” She cupped his face with her other hand, the impulse seeming natural. “When I guessed where the bomb hit…I thought perhaps it hit the house. I was…I didn’t know what to think. I was terrified. It scared me worse than anything I’ve experienced in London. Any other bombing.”
He nodded, his eyes haunted. His voice came out rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in a dozen years. “I was walking. About three miles before I saw the bomber, and then it came around and dropped a single bomb. I ran back as fast as I could. I thought the same as you…that it was a direct hit on the house.”
She wanted to say that no, no he hadn’t thought the same as her. His heart couldn’t have almost stopped the way hers had when she’d thought of Alec perhaps hurt or killed. Because despite everything, he was the first person she thought of when she knew how close the bomb had fallen. Alec had mattered more than anything.
As her touch left his face, he kissed the back of her hand. “You’re an angel.”
She laughed, but it was a fake sound. “Right.” She glanced around the plaster that had fallen from the walls, the glass around their feet. “It’s so fortunate it didn’t fall on the house, but what a mess.”
“And I won’t be able to stay and help after Monday.”
“I’ll be over Sunday to help, of course. Whatever needs to be done.”
“We’ll have to see if anyone can come on Sunday. Very unlikely.”
She squeezed his hand. “They’ll get through it. It’ll be fixed in no time.” Alec stared at her for so long she asked, “What is it?”
“I still want tonight. At ten at the cottage. After today I’ll need the wine more than ever.”
When she laughed this time, it came from a truthful place. “Good. I want that too.”
They heard the sirens from the fire brigade, and before long everything erupted into minor chaos. After seeing the bomb, the fire brigade realized they couldn’t do anything more than make sure the bomb didn’t cause a fire to spring up outside the crater and into the brush. Unexploded Ordnance from a nearby air base arrived.
It took hours of doing, but eventually they tossed all the broken glass in the bin. Alec’s father made numerous calls and discovered no one could fix the windows until Monday. Sylvie and Alec stood with his father in the kitchen while Alec’s father huffed at the inconvenience.
Alec squeezed his father’s shoulder. “Father, it’s all right. We’ll do what we can today, and tomorrow until someone can be hired.”
Sylvie witnessed a crack in Mr. Kent’s hardness. Suddenly he looked tired and overwhelmed.
“He’s right, Mr. Kent. We’ll all do everything we can.”
Mr. Kent smiled at Sylvie. “You’ve all been very kind.”
“I’ll help cook get some tea together,” Sylvie said as tears threatened her eyes again.
Later that day, as shadows darkened, Alec urged everyone to leave for the Hunnicut house. They’d phoned the Hennessey household to beg off stopping by there. They learned that Mrs. Hennessey had already left for London with other relatives to claim her son’s body. The Kents and Hunnicuts wouldn’t be comforting the woman anytime soon.
But what worried Sylvie was the unpredictability of the Germans. What if they bombed this area again tonight? She didn’t know how to control her fear and it angered her she couldn’t. They traveled to her grandparents’ house and settled down to an early supper. To her surprise, the conversation stayed far
more pleasant than she expected, as if everyone wanted to forget the bombing for now.
Alec’s parents settled into a room upstairs, and that’s when she remembered again that she’d promised to meet Alec at the cottage. She found a torch in the kitchen and also located a bottle of wine. Excitement mixed with apprehension in her stomach as she slipped out the back door and headed to the cottage. Every step she took, she worried.
Wasn’t this foolish?
No German planes circled overhead, but she made it easy for them to see and target the area. She walked as quickly as she could through the garden, ignoring the cool temperatures as she huddled in her coat, wool hat, and work clothes. She didn’t care if she looked like a ragged lady. She wanted to spend time with Alec, drink wine, and find some way to relax.
A large hedge and trees sheltered the cottage from prying eyes, and blackout curtains assured no one could see light from outside. Anticipation tingled through her veins. She’d always loved the cottage. It was an intimate size with full living facilities including a bed, dining set, and crude kitchen. Yet her grandparents had kept it intact and clean. As a child, she’d found it a good place to escape with a book. She reached the cottage and hesitated. Before she could touch the door, it opened. Sylvie gasped, startled.
“I heard you,” Alec said with a grin.
She switched off the torch and stepped into the cottage. His eyes reflected the same anticipation as she felt.
The fireplace crackled with a low fire, enough to take the edge away from a chill. She placed her coat and hat on a chair and set the wine bottle near the sink.
Alec gestured to the wine on the table. “Ah, we both thought of the wine.”
He’d already opened and poured two glasses, which sat on the table next to the bottle he’d brought.
He picked up a wine glass and took a sip. “I found these when I snuck the wine out of my parents’ house.”
She laughed, the sound edged with tiredness. “Can you hear yourself? We’re sneaking around like we’re fourteen and fifteen again.”
His answering smile held sadness, and an ache started inside her. “I know. Rather pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Do you think it’s bad sneaking around?”
“Yes. It is. But right now I don’t care.”
“Neither do I. Maybe right now we can’t fix everything that’s wrong, but we can relax and talk. That’s all I want right now.”
His expression eased. “Sounds like a brilliant plan. Relax and have a drink.” They settled on the single couch in the room. She watched the small fire dance and took in the warmth. What could she say to him in this moment that would describe anything she felt right now? Heat and the wine lulled her into a drowsy state. She sipped her wine and then placed it on the small table next to her.
She toed off her shoes and tucked her feet to the side on the couch. “I’m feeling so many things right now I don’t know where to start.”
“Such as?”
“Tired. Grateful you and your parents weren’t harmed by the bomb.”
“I know what you mean. When I was walking, I was trying to clear my head of all the insanity in it. When the bomber came over and I saw it drop that bomb behind the ridge, for one moment I thought my home was gone, and that my parents were gone.”
She never remembered, except for one time, when he’d shared with her quite like this. Right before they’d climbed into that car all those years ago, and she’d driven off, he’d given Sylvie her first kiss. At the ripe old age of fourteen, she’d received his kiss and nothing had ever felt as amazing and scary in her life. Sitting with him now had that quality. When he’d kissed her, she’d felt self-assured, grown up, and capable of anything. Even driving a car she had no business driving.
“That was awful. I had the same reaction. But I thought of you first, Alec. The pain of thinking you might be dead…” Those damn tears came again, and this time she didn’t control them. They fell lightly and slowly onto her cheeks.
“Ah, damn,” he said as he slid over next to her. “Silly girl, don’t cry. I’m perfectly all right.”
She buried her face in his shoulder a moment and gave in to the fear that had twisted her insides into tight knots. He smelled a little like smoke from the bomb that had crashed near his home.
Anger reared its head, and she gripped his shirt front. She lifted her head and pinned him with a look. “I’m not a child and I’m not silly. Don’t try and take away what I feel.”
He sighed and kissed her forehead. “That’s what I did back then, wasn’t it? I dared you too much, I teased you far too harshly.”
She recalled all too well what he’d done. They’d always teased each other, but the day of the accident, he’d heard she might be sweet on a boy in the village. He’d told her she was too young for the other boy and threatened to tell her parents and grandparents. She’d balked and gotten so angry. She’d snatched the car keys from the table by the door, leaped into his father’s car, and demanded Alec teach her to drive. Alec had refused at first, and then started to tease her unmercifully about her lack of abilities in driving. She turned the car on, and they’d sailed down the drive with her in the driver’s seat. She’d lost control on a turn and—
The memory made her shudder in Alec’s arms.
“You’re remembering it, aren’t you?” he asked.
Sylvie looked up at him, her eyes flooding with those damn tears again. “God, I’m sorry.”
Alec’s eyes had turned soft, their color warm with understanding and concern. “For what?”
She tried to swallow the pain of guilt and couldn’t. It stayed lodged in her throat. “What I did to you.”
“Sylvie, don’t be daft. You didn’t do anything to me. We were both…if anyone should apologize it’s me. I teased you unmercifully. I told you that you couldn’t drive. I bloody kissed you, made you nervous, and you took my challenge.” He brushed hair back from her face. “I told you I’d give you money if you proved you could drive, and that damned sheep crossed the road in front of us. It was all a mistake. It was an accident.”
She drew in a shivering breath. “Then you don’t blame me for running us into the tree?”
He shook his head vehemently. “Maybe an experienced, adult driver could have avoided it. We were just kids. But it’s all in the past. We can’t change one moment of it.”
Guilt stubbornly clung to her. She reached up and touched right by his eye. “It wasn’t just a little accident. You lost sight in this eye because of it.”
He didn’t speak for a moment, and she wondered if he remembered the jumbled seconds after the jarring crash, the realization that she wasn’t hurt, but he was crying out from extreme pain, one hand over his eye.
“You’re telling me to forgive myself,” she said.
“Yes. And forgive me for pushing you to drive the car in the first place. It was the worst of all worlds, and it came together in a big mess.”
She smiled. “I imagine if our relatives hadn’t gone crazy on us afterwards, the trauma wouldn’t have been as bad.”
“I agree.”
“I’ve spent so much time thinking about what happened.”
He kissed her forehead. “So have I.”
Something inside her eased now that they’d discussed it, and she knew he didn’t blame her for the accident. Maybe it was time to forgive and forget what had driven them toward foolishness and injury.
“It means the world that you don’t blame me. Of course I forgive you for challenging me to drive the car.”
He brushed his finger over her nose and smiled. “Thank you.”
“We always were a compulsive pair,” she said with a smile.
“Just like now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Something hot shimmered between them, and her gaze locked with his. Yearning built within her, but she stifled it. He released her, and she felt a little bereft.
She cleared her throat and reached for her wine. She sipped it in contempla
tion and for something to do with her hands. Alec stared at the fire.
“This feels good,” she said.
“Yeah. Quiet. Less chance of someone dropping a bomb…” He drifted off and looked at her. “Well, no. After that bomber dropped one near my house, that theory is all shot to hell, isn’t it?”
She gave him a sarcastic smile. “It is.”
He scrubbed his chin and stared at the fire again. “When I was walking in the woods today, it was the best feeling I’ve had in a long time. It felt…”
When he drifted off, she knew what he meant to say but struggled to acknowledge. “Peaceful?”
He glanced at her. “Exactly. I drank in the sun, the wind. It was if nothing bad could find me there. Then the bomber came and dashed that theory.”
“The country smells so clean. I wish I’d been there with you.”
“I’m just grateful the bomb didn’t hit anything important.”
“But it did. The garden.”
He nodded and sighed. “You’re right. It took out the vegetables.”
“I have an idea.” She held up one finger. “Since my grandparents have a working garden, they could share.”
“But will they?”
“I’ll talk to them. It might be quite a few days before your parents can return to their home safely.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “That means they’ll all have to get along well or be miserable.”
He laughed and she joined him.
“Thank you, Sylvie.”
“For what?”
“Rushing to help us today.”
“Of course. You’re very welcome.” She yawned. “You would have done the same.”
“I would.”
“Tomorrow will be quite a day, cleaning up your parent’s house.”
“Indeed.”
“Maybe we can take a walk out to where you were today…to recapture that peace you had. Perhaps near the end of the day.”
“Sounds brilliant.”
“We need it, Alec. Because when we go back to London, all that will be over.”
“Sounds grim.”
She knew it did. “You were looking for a way to recover from what you endure every day in London, weren’t you?”
One London Night Page 20
