“We make love. We say our farewells. And then you return to your work, I return to mine, and we both do our level best not to get killed.”
“And after the war?”
“I will come home to you. It may be months or even years, but I will come home to you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ruby and Frank were back in England by the middle of September, arriving in Southampton the very morning her thirty-day war correspondent’s pass expired. There was time enough, as they waited for their train to London, to ring home with news of her homecoming, and when Ruby’s taxi pulled to a stop in front of the house, Vanessa was waiting at the door.
As soon as she’d set her free from a long and nearly smothering embrace, Vanessa pointed Ruby in the direction of the stairs. “I am agog to hear every last detail, but first you must have a bath and something to eat. Jessie is heating up some soup for you now.”
“You’re a mind reader, Vanessa. Thank you.”
An hour later she was ensconced on the sitting room sofa, Simon was curled up on her lap, Vanessa was seated inches away, and it was time to tell the story of her month as an accredited war correspondent, albeit with a few prudent omissions.
Although she’d written Vanessa every few days when she was away, Ruby had saved the telling of Dan Mazur’s ignominious collapse in the operating room for this moment, and if she embellished his faults in the retelling, it was only to amuse her friend. She also took pains to describe, in as much detail as she could summon, the delicious meals she and Frank had eaten in Paris, the beautiful buildings they had visited, and the fierce dignity of the French people.
“You haven’t said anything yet about Bennett,” Vanessa observed. “How was he?”
“Well enough. Alive.”
“That was when you’d just arrived in Paris?”
“Yes. He found me in the crowd. But he wasn’t able to stay for long.”
“Long enough, I hope!”
“Vanessa.”
“Oh, don’t mind me. Although . . . how did you, ah, leave things?”
“He promised to come home to me. And I believe he will.”
“As do I.”
They sat in silence for a minute or so, the two of them listening to Simon’s purr.
“Did you read any of my pieces? The ones from France?” Ruby asked, suddenly anxious for Vanessa’s approval.
“Of course I did—every last one. I adored the story about the American hospital. Simply wonderful stuff. You’ve such a knack for capturing a sense of place. I really did feel I knew those nurses and that doctor by the time you were done. And the poor boys they were trying to save. Just thinking about it, now, brings tears to my eyes.”
“Did you see my piece in last week’s issue?”
“The one about the building where the Gestapo tortured people? Yes. I don’t know how you were able to bear it.”
“After Frank and I were finished there, after we’d seen everything the French wanted us to see, we walked back to our hotel. It was only about a half mile away but it seemed to take forever. I got back to my room and I had to be clean. I had to wash that evil place off my skin. So I went down the hall and ran a bath and I scrubbed and scrubbed until the water was cold and I’d run out of soap.”
Standing outside the unremarkable building on the rue de Saussaies that morning, she’d had only the faintest notion of what she would find inside. The French authorities had said it was a place of detention, of torture, and of execution. She had heard the words clearly enough, but she hadn’t understood.
Not until she had toured through cell after cell, their barred windows offering a monstrous view of the inner courtyard where, after days of unrelenting torture, countless men and women had been tied to a post and shot, did she understand. A reprieve from execution, their guide explained, had meant only a one-way journey to Nazi death camps in the east. No one had escaped number 11, rue de Saussaies. No one.
Many of the cells had writing on their plaster walls; what amounted to epitaphs, Ruby had realized. J’ai peur, one had said. I am afraid. Others offered farewells to loved ones or, defiant to the last, condemned Nazi barbarity. The hardest to read, the one that nearly brought her to her knees, simply said, la vie est belle.
Life is beautiful.
A gentle touch on her arm brought Ruby back to the here and now. “Did you leave Paris after that? Go farther north?”
“No. So much of France isn’t yet secure. And I probably wouldn’t have been given permission to get any closer to the fighting. Frank might easily have gone alone, but he refused to leave me.”
“Such a lovely man. It was a comfort to know you were with him.”
“He was so keen to be back with his wife. I hope he doesn’t come up for air for days.”
“And you?” Vanessa asked. “Will you go back to work tomorrow?”
“I will. I sent Kaz a telegram a few days ago, just to let him know we were on our way home. He sent me one by return that said he’d had a letter from my old editor at The American. Apparently Mr. Mitchell is wondering when I’ll be returning to the States.”
Vanessa looked as if she were about to cry. “Please don’t tell me you’re even considering it. I can’t bear it.”
“I’m not. I love my country, I do, but everyone who matters to me is here. If I go back to New York, I’ll be alone again.”
“And we can’t let that happen,” Vanessa said, blinking back tears.
“No. I’ve come too far for that.”
THE NEXT MORNING, still shy of eight o’clock, Ruby was back at PW. After a jubilant greeting from Evelyn, she made the rounds of the office with promises to share her stories later that day. And then, before she knew it, she was standing in front of Kaz’s open door.
“I’m back.”
“I know. Come in and sit down while I finish this thought.” She sat, watching him fondly as he scribbled away. At last he set down his pen and looked up at her, his pale eyes aglow with affection. “It’s very good to see you. Did you have a happy reunion with Vanessa?”
“The happiest.”
“And Bennett?”
“He was well, or at least he was when I saw him last.”
“Does he have any notion of when he’ll be home?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Though I can’t imagine it will be before the end of the war.”
“Yes—the end of the war. Have you given any thought to what you want to do?” Kaz the editor was back, and there was something in his serious expression that made Ruby sit up a little straighter in her chair.
“I have,” she said. “Is this about the letter you got from Mike Mitchell?”
“In part. You know he’s keen for an answer as to when I’ll be sending you back. The man seems to think you have a bright future at The American. As do I, for that matter. Assuming that’s what you want.”
“What if I don’t?” she countered. “What if I want to stay here?”
“You certainly can. You know you’ve a job with me as long as you want one. You ought to know, too, that I don’t enforce any sort of marriage bar here at PW.”
It was a good thing Ruby wasn’t given to blushing, otherwise her face would have been fire-engine red. “A marriage bar?”
“Yes. The antediluvian convention whereby women are given the sack upon marriage. I never—”
“I know what it is. I just don’t understand why we’re talking about it now.”
It was Kaz’s turn to blush. “I do beg your pardon. I had assumed that you and Bennett had, ah, come to an understanding.”
“We haven’t. I mean, not in so many words. Oh, please—can we talk about something else?”
“Of course. Let’s focus on your having a job here as long as you want one. Will that do?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s what you want? When this war is over and done?”
“I think so. I mean . . . I’ve never thought beyond the end of the war. I know I want to stay he
re, and I know that I love Bennett. But that’s all I can be certain of right now.”
“That’s everything, though. Everything that matters. You’ve a home here, friends who care for you, work that you love. Don’t you see?”
“I do.” And the realization of it, the certain knowledge that Kaz was right, made her heart grow tight in her chest. “Do you remember my first day? How nervous I was? I’d no idea of what sort of writer I wanted to be, let alone what kind of person I wanted to become.”
“And now?”
“Now I know. I was so unsure of myself back then. As if I had everything to prove, and nothing to lose.”
He nodded, his expression warm with understanding. “But that was five years ago. How do you feel today?”
“Excited. Still a little nervous. Ready for what’s next.”
“Good,” he said decisively. “So—shall we have an editorial meeting? Just to bring you back up to speed? And then lunch at the Old Bell?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
A TELEGRAM WAS waiting for her when they returned from lunch. She knew not to panic, for bad news about Bennett would never come by telegram. He’d told her as much when he’d kissed her goodbye that morning in Paris.
“I’ll send you a telegram each week, plus or minus a day if I can’t get to a dispatch office. If anything does happen to me, you’ll find out from Harry, who’s just as likely to saddle Kaz with the news. So don’t be alarmed when the first telegram makes its way to you.”
She opened the envelope with care, for she didn’t want to tear the flimsy piece of paper inside. It was the same message he’d sent her three times already, and once again it comforted her beyond measure.
DEAREST R. ALL IS WELL. I WILL COME HOME TO YOU. B.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
May 8, 1945
Advance, Britannia! Long live the cause of freedom! God save the king!”
As the final words of the prime minister’s V-E Day address to the nation faded away, Kaz produced a bottle of Scotch and proceeded to splash an eye-watering ration into each of the mugs that Evelyn had set out earlier on the center table in the main office.
“To victory in Europe!”
“Hear, hear!”
“To His Majesty the king!”
“Hear, hear!”
“And to absent friends,” he finished.
“Hear, hear!”
Ruby swallowed a great mouthful of whiskey, the first she’d ever tasted, and the unexpected rush of molten lava down her throat left her eyes streaming and her lungs bursting for want of air.
“Easy, now,” Frank soothed. “Not all in one go. You’ll be falling over.”
“And now I want all of you to return home,” Kaz commanded. “The issue is in the bag, thanks to everyone’s hard work last night, and you can begin your celebrations with a clear conscience.”
Ruby didn’t need to be told twice. With one final round of hugs to her friends, and a last kiss to Kaz’s stubbly cheek, she ran out the door, her departure coinciding with the first joyous peals of the city’s church bells. It was the first time she had heard them since coming to England.
Vanessa was waiting in the front hall. “I couldn’t help myself—I rang your office, and Miss Berridge said you were on your way home. Oh, Ruby—at last, at last!” Together they danced down the hallway and around the house until they both collapsed on the sitting room sofa.
“The girls are coming,” Vanessa gasped, thoroughly out of breath. “We’ll have an early dinner, and then I thought we could see how close we can get to Buckingham Palace. Won’t that be fun?”
Vi and Bea rolled through the door well before six o’clock, and after a hurried meal of beans on toast, and heartfelt promises to Jessie to be careful, they were on their way. Vi had persuaded her mother to take the Underground, explaining that it was only two stops and there was no other means to get close to the center of things, and though Vanessa had to hold her daughter’s hand the entire journey, and was very pale by the time they stepped off the jam-packed train, she recovered her spirits as soon as they emerged from Hyde Park station and were swept up in the mass of jubilation swirling about them.
“Hold on tight,” Vi insisted. “We don’t want to be separated. And follow me!”
It took ages to make any headway in the crowd, but Vi was persistent, and after a solid forty-five minutes they were within sight of the palace. Another ten minutes took them to the edge of Green Park, but after that the crowds were too dense for them to go any farther.
By standing on her tiptoes, Ruby could just make out the balcony at Buckingham Palace. Before them, the great open space around the Victoria Memorial and along the Mall was a buoyant sea of joyful people, tens of thousands of them, their voices rising in a single, chanted demand: “We want the king! We want the king!”
“Heavens,” Vanessa said suddenly. “I almost forgot.” She pulled a spyglass from her handbag, the kind of object that Lord Nelson might have held up to his lone eye. “This was in the library, and I thought it might be useful. Bea—you’re the tallest. Tell us what you see.”
Bea extended the telescope and fitted it to her eye just as a roar surged through the crowd.
“What is it, what is it?” Vi implored.
“It’s the king! And the queen!”
“What about the princesses?” Vanessa asked.
“No, only the king and queen—oh, and they’re waving!” She looked a moment more, and then she handed it to Vi. “No telling how long they’ll be out—have a look and pass it on.”
There was just time for Ruby to catch one quick glimpse of the king, so tall and handsome in his uniform, and the smaller figure of the queen, who was dressed in a light-colored dress and hat that made her easy to spot against the stonework of the balcony.
“What now?” Bea asked, and together they decided to walk on to Trafalgar Square, since there was no rush to get home, and the lights were all on anyway.
“After all those years of blackout, it feels as bright as day now,” Vanessa observed, and she was right—to see London lighted up at night, after half a decade of gloom and darkness, was just about the most inspiring sight that Ruby could imagine.
At Trafalgar Square they wandered around for an hour or more, watching people splash around in the fountains and sing at the top of their lungs, and it was no trouble to persuade Vi to climb up and stand between the forepaws of one of the great bronzed lions, and from there to lead a sing-along of “Jerusalem,” “Rule Britannia,” and “God Save the King.”
“More! More!” people shouted, but Vi’s voice was almost gone and they were all beginning to feel tired.
Next they walked down to the Thames at Westminster, hoping the crowds would be a little thinner there, and only as they approached the Houses of Parliament did Ruby think to look east along the river. Searchlights were forming a huge V in the sky above the dome of St. Paul’s, and on the Thames itself the tugboats and fireboats were chugging back and forth, the latter sending arcs of water high into the air.
They walked all the way home, their feet aching but their spirits light, and were still chattering and laughing as they burst through the front door just shy of midnight.
“Is that the wireless?” Vanessa asked. “I don’t remember leaving it on.”
“Perhaps Jessie was having a listen before going to bed,” Ruby suggested.
“I suppose. Let me just switch it off and—Ruby!”
“What is it?”
“Just come here. And, girls—upstairs with me now. Quietly, though.”
Wondering at the fuss over a wireless left on, Ruby hurried down the hall, stopping short at the welcome sight awaiting her. Bennett was in the easy chair next to the wireless, Simon on his lap, and both were fast asleep.
She stood in the doorway and simply looked at him, letting her eyes take in every beloved feature, every detail of his appearance. He had shaved off his beard, and his hair was military short again. He wasn’t as thin
as he’d been when she’d last seen him, though his uniform made it hard to be sure.
“Bennett,” she said, but he didn’t rouse. She crossed the room and knelt at his side, reaching up to brush her fingertips across his brow and down his cheek. “Bennett, my darling. You’ve come home to me.”
His eyes fluttered open. “Hello,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep. “I only meant to sit down for a minute and listen to the news.”
“When did you get back?” she asked.
“Just before nine. Did you have fun? Jessie said you went out right after supper.”
“We did. It was so much fun—we even saw the king and queen.”
“How’d you manage to get close enough?”
“We didn’t. Vanessa had an old spyglass of Nick’s. We all took turns.”
This made him smile. He stood, taking Simon with him, and gently set the cat on the floor. Then he turned to Ruby. “It has been exactly two hundred and fifty-five days since I saw you last.” There was a glint in his eye that reminded her, suddenly and wonderfully, of the night they’d spent together, and the nights he’d promised would follow once the war was done.
“I know,” she said huskily. “I was counting, too. Will you stay this time?”
“Yes,” he said, and then he kissed her until she was breathless and shaky and ready for far more than was possible in a house filled with other people. When he finally dragged his mouth from hers, it was only so he might hug her close, her head tucked just so under his chin, her ear pressed close to his heart.
“Ruby? Will you sit down for a moment?”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“Shh,” he said, and as soon as she was seated on the chair he knelt before her. “I’ve been rehearsing this in my head for months. You’ll throw me off.” He fished about in the breast pocket of his uniform jacket and pulled out a little box. “I’d have been home earlier today, but I had to stop in Edenbridge for this.”
“Is this . . . ?” she asked wonderingly.
“It is.” He opened the box and took out the ring inside. “It was my mother’s, but if you don’t like it, or it doesn’t fit, we can find another.”
Goodnight from London Page 29
