When We Meet Again

by Caroline Beecham

Her fingers pushed lightly, and the door creaked inward.

  Two small hands poked through the bars of the cot, and a toddler with a pacifier in his mouth pulled himself up to standing and stared at her with flat brown eyes. Then he grasped hold of the guardrail and shook it hard as he tried to cry.

  Alice quickly brought a finger up to her lips. “Shush.” Then she whispered Brahms’s “Lullaby.” “Good evening, good night, with roses covered, with cloves adorned—” He stopped his rattling and sat down in the corner of the crib. She waited a few moments for him to settle before she retraced her footsteps downstairs.

  The rooms were neat and clean: no filthy clothes, no festering lice or maggots, but no sign of Eadie either.

  She leaned against the wall, weak and trembling with disappointment, about to sink to the floor when she noticed three silhouettes through the sheer dining-room curtains. They were standing in the garden: two men and a woman, her back to Alice—her hand resting on a baby carriage handle.

  Alice’s heart thudded, and anticipation rippled through her as she crept soundlessly along the hallway, then stopped at the threshold to steady herself; she would only have one chance at this.

  They didn’t notice her at first as she emerged from the shadows of the house: the men with their mugs and cigarettes, the petite blonde with her arm extended, rhythmically rocking the carriage, and the afternoon sun shrouding them in a surreal yellow haze. They were only young, probably not much older than Alice, one man in the khaki serge jacket and trousers of the Home Guard, the other in civilian clothes and a battered trilby.

  The wind dropped, and everything seemed to slow to half-speed.

  The air was soft and welcoming, whispering for Alice to come and take her baby back. The last time she’d seen Eadie, her daughter had barely opened her eyes; she’d been an armful of pale marbled skin and fine silken hair. She had only slept, as she probably was now, her tiny tongue protruding ever so slightly through lips like a miniature strawberry, her hands laid lightly across her chest. She hadn’t even had the chance to wrinkle her nose like babies did—in fact, the few times she had opened her eyes, she’d stared straight past Alice, unable to focus.

  Her heart galloping, Alice walked steadily onto the terrace. The conversation stopped as the three heads turned toward her.

  She wondered if her daughter was asleep or awake, and if she still slept noiselessly as she had in her first few hours. That scarce time had been so precious: watching her, bending close to check her breathing and, when she couldn’t, moving even closer to feel the warm breath on her ear. Such a small memory, only hours—a fraction of the life that was to come.

  The woman’s eyes widened as she saw Alice and she gasped, lifting her hand off the carriage, and its gentle motion stopped.

  “Who are you?” one of the men asked.

  Alice would see Eadie any moment, know if she was asleep or awake; she just needed to get her away from them. Except the one in uniform came toward her.

  “Stay where you are!” she shouted.

  But he kept coming, passing in front of the woman and the baby carriage so that neither of them were visible to Alice. “What do you want?” he asked as he drew nearer.

  Alice’s throat tightened, and her mouth wouldn’t form the words: I need to get to the carriage. I need to rescue Eadie.

  She’d always felt safe and secure with her father, and she remembered what that kind of love was like—the right kind of love—as she took a deep breath and reached for his gun.

  Forty-one

  The police car stopped at a level crossing to let the train pass, the uniformed troops inside the carriages flashing by as the train sped away from the city. Then the warning lights stopped blinking, the barrier rose, and the police car accelerated across the tracks, George and Theo sitting silently in the back. Theo had let the police explain everything to George: all of the details from the report that Sergeant Burns and the A4 Women’s Branch had shared with them before they’d left the station. Now George sat unblinking, something constricting behind his eyes as he digested the news about his grandchild, and his son.

  They drove north for another five minutes, passing shops and houses, schools and churches, Theo drumming his fingers against the inside of the passenger door as he wished he was behind the wheel and could make the damned car go faster.

  He caught a glimpse of George’s face, pale and immobile, and wondered what the man could be thinking in the aftermath of such news: shame and disappointment, but also possibly excitement. Or perhaps he was still in shock.

  George must have felt Theo’s gaze because he turned, and they exchanged a compassionate look.

  “How much further?” George asked, watching the driver who looked at him in his rearview mirror.

  “Not far, a couple of miles.”

  Trees and pedestrians sped by as they overtook cars and buses. Theo’s thoughts were moving just as fast, images of Virginia slotting in beside Alice like a film reel. He reflected on how his life had changed so markedly in just a few short months, and how sickened he felt at what had happened to Alice and her child.

  “All right, we’re here,” the officer announced as they turned into a road and made an abrupt stop. Then he leaned over his shoulder to give them an order. “You two stay here. We’ll call if you’re needed.”

  As the officers left the vehicle, Theo’s gaze panned across the parallel rows of parked cars, and he noticed there was no sign of any other police.

  There wasn’t anyone standing between him and the door; between him and a chance to mend his broken promise to keep Alice safe.

  Forty-two

  Alice held the gun out stiffly in front of her.

  The metal glinted, and the man’s face twitched. “What do you want?” he asked.

  She was close enough to see his jet-black hair and acne-scarred skin, and other shiny red scars on his forearms. The fact he wore the regimental badge and cap of the Home Guard sickened her even more.

  Alice nodded toward the woman. “I want her to push the carriage over here.”

  He dropped his cigarette on the floor and ground it out slowly with the heel of his shoe. “And what if I say no?”

  Alice turned her attention to the other two, and the other man slowly backed away.

  “I want you to give me the baby.”

  The woman edged away too, shrinking further behind the uniformed man.

  “Stay where you are!” Alice shouted.

  The woman froze, her hands pressed against her sides.

  “How do we know it’s loaded?” the man in uniform asked as he inched forward. He was close to her now, barely six feet away.

  She had nervously checked the mechanism several times in the privacy of her room at Penny’s, but there was no denying the power she felt holding the weapon, or her lack of fear. “You’ll know it’s loaded when the bullet hits you,” she said, moving the gun away from the woman and aiming it straight at him. “Don’t come any nearer.”

  His laugh was exaggerated before it abruptly stopped. “So, how do you see this working?” he said, stretching himself taller. “There’s three of us and one of you . . . and we’ve got the baby . . .”

  “Just give her to me, and I’ll leave you alone. I won’t bother you again. No one knows I’m here.”

  “If we do that, we don’t get paid. What are you going to do about that?”

  “I’ll get you money. Just push the carriage over here.”

  The woman’s eyes darted nervously between the two men. “What do I do?” she asked, voice trembling.

  “Why do you want her?” the volunteer soldier demanded.

  She didn’t answer, and he exchanged a look with the other man.

  If only she could get between them, separate the woman from the men, then she would have a better chance of reaching the carriage. The gun wavered in her hand, and she stea
died it, pointing it directly at the uniform across his heart.

  “Now don’t be a silly girl. You were already silly once before, weren’t you? It’s your baby, isn’t it?” He laughed. “That’s what got you into this mess.”

  The other man joined in, mocking her as the woman stood by, bristling with fear.

  After an interminable moment, Alice stepped forward. She didn’t care about their ridicule or what they thought of her. All she could think about was holding Eadie.

  Forty-three

  Theo was on his feet and running as soon as the two policemen disappeared through the front door. He cut through the side gate, heading toward the back of the house, George’s slow footsteps echoing behind him.

  A gunshot sounded.

  Then he heard raised voices and, as he rounded the corner, three strangers and a pram came into view.

  And Alice, pointing a gun.

  There was no sign of any gunshot wounds. He sighed loudly, relieved he wasn’t too late.

  Her eyes darted over at him, then the others turned to look. For a second, he thought she was going to fire the weapon. Except that the man closest to her lunged, while the other one took off running toward the end of the garden.

  Alice stumbled backward, still pointing the firearm as her attacker advanced with a strange, unreadable expression.

  Theo hesitated. The man was in a uniform, albeit one he didn’t recognize, and it confused him. Still, he immediately hurled himself at the aggressor as he’d done on the football field countless times.

  The man fell, and Theo wrestled his arms behind his back and held them as the man yelled obscenities. Just then, the two policemen came running from the house.

  It seemed as if the second man was going to get away, but one policeman chased him as he tried to scramble over the back wall, and the second officer handcuffed the captive as he continued to shout and curse.

  Sirens sounded in the distance, and Theo guessed that the local police were finally on their way.

  He couldn’t read Alice’s expression as he helped her up off the ground and slid the gun from her fingers. Everything had happened so fast, and she was probably in shock.

  “Alice. Are you all right?”

  She gave him a thin smile.

  He didn’t blame her; he hadn’t been there when she’d needed him, none of them had except for Ursula, but at least they’d made it just in time. He dared not think what would have happened otherwise.

  Forty-four

  She’s safe, and she’s as good as gold,” the woman said, as Alice inched toward the baby carriage. “I’ve looked after her, honestly.”

  It didn’t matter to Alice that this was probably the wet nurse—the woman who had nursed her baby—because after all the days and weeks, here was Eadie, only an arm’s-length away. Wasn’t she?

  Alice swallowed the thickness in her throat and bowed her head to look inside the hood: a soft cotton lining, buttercup-colored blankets, and a baby swaddled in white muslin.

  Theo approached slowly, then George.

  She looked up at them, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “Is it her?” Theo asked.

  Alice swallowed hard. “I think so.” She leaned down, her curved arms gently scooping the baby out. The girl’s face was still familiar in sleep, and Alice checked the birthmark on her shoulder before she clutched her as tightly as she dared and began to cry.

  Alice closed her eyes, remembering to breathe. When she opened them again, it was as if time had folded in on itself, the past months disappearing until there was only today. Time hadn’t robbed her of her daughter; she’d faced her enemy and survived, and she’d placed her trust in other people.

  Eadie stirred in her arms, and Alice held her out so they could see each other. Her daughter made a small sound as her mouth stretched into a wide yawn, and she opened her eyes.

  Theo’s eyes glistened, and George smiled broadly.

  “I’m sorry,” Alice whispered to her daughter. “I’m so sorry.”

  More police arrived, spilling from the house. Officers in uniform searched the garden, while a couple of detectives stood a distance away, glancing at the strange trio and the baby. Alice was grateful they were giving them some time.

  “Come,” Theo said, and guided her over to one of the outdoor chairs. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s us who should be sorry . . . sorry that you couldn’t tell us. Sorry that we weren’t able to help you.”

  It was a comfort to feel his arms around her shoulders, to know that she hadn’t been abandoned, that he’d come back.

  Theo and George watched as the handcuffed men were marched back through the house, but Alice never once took her eyes off her baby.

  George looked sadly at Eadie, then his gaze settled on Alice, his hands motionless by his sides. “I must make my own apology, Alice. I don’t know what to say to you—how to ever make it up to you for what you’ve been through.” His expression was benign, all emotion sapped away, and his voice heavy with sorrow.

  “I should have come to you,” she said, “but I thought you might take her away.”

  “It’s all right, the police explained,” he said. “We just want to help you now. Rupert can’t make amends for what he did. I don’t expect that you know this . . . but he’s been killed in action.” Anguish flashed across his face, and a tear escaped his eye.

  Alice let out a deep sigh—of sadness, relief, pity, she wasn’t sure. “I’m so sorry for you, George.”

  “You don’t need to do this on your own, though. We’re here for you, if you want us to be . . . and for Eadie.” He reached out to gently stroke the top of his granddaughter’s head.

  Now Alice was crying helplessly, but she wasn’t helpless at all. She didn’t have to pretend anymore; she’d rescued Eadie safely, and she’d been rescued too.

  “I’m so glad you’re here—both of you,” she said, managing to stop sobbing for a brief moment to look at Theo, just long enough to smile.

  Forty-five

  London, October 1943

  Five Months Later

  Eadie’s eyes widened, glinting with delight as she stared overhead where bunting fluttered like magnificent Amazonian butterflies. The multicolored flags stretched from the rooftop of the cafeteria all the way across the outdoor terrace where they were secured to the trees. Alice stared too, seeing the world through her daughter’s unblinking gray eyes, as she held her close.

  Dusk was settling, creating golden crowns on the birch and oak of the surrounding gardens where a band accompanied visitors taking tea beneath the leafy canopy. Fairy lights illuminated the animal houses, floodlighting made brilliant spectacles of the Mappin Terraces and the Penguin Pool, and a patchwork of grass plots featured clusters of light from the unique glow-worm displays.

  “Do you want me to carry her for a while?” Theo asked, a soft pleading in his voice.

  Alice involuntarily clutched her daughter tighter. “No, she’s not that heavy.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said, and smiled fondly. “I thought you might like to walk around, meet some of your fans.”

  She could see he was itching to carry Eadie, and so teasingly said, “No, I think I’ll just enjoy being here a little longer.”

  A thread of lights spun overhead like a spiderweb, creating a magic that had never felt as strong, and a spark of that energy passed right through her.

  “Lots of guests want to talk to you, you know,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “You need to make sure you do the rounds—you wouldn’t want George complaining about poor marketing.”

  She still wasn’t sure if he was serious or teasing, but that was part of the excitement of getting to know each other better. Their friendship had evolved slowly over the intervening months, and it was obvious now to everyone how they felt about each other.

  Five months had passed
since she’d been reunited with her daughter. The 1939 Adoption of Children Act had finally come into force, and Alice knew that the work of Olive Melville Brown, Joanna Swift and the welfare sector had been instrumental in the change. Olive had forgiven Alice and Elizabeth since Joe had been able to keep his identity secret, and Olive had told Alice a little about her experiences as a victim of baby farming.

  Ever since Women and Children First had been released, it had been a huge success, thanks partly to it being so topical.

  Sidney Jardine and his associates were in custody awaiting trial. While Ruth could have been prosecuted for abduction, Alice had dropped the charge, although she still couldn’t bring herself to see her. Hope kept Alice up to date since she was regularly in touch with both Ruth and Alice.

  Theo had stayed in London to oversee The Zoo Chronicles himself as it had hurriedly gone to press, doing a marvelous job of sourcing good-quality paper and including enough lithographs to keep the sensibility of the menagerie of characters alive. The Zoological Society of London had been delighted with the publication and insisted on giving a reception to mark its launch, and so here they were—the various committees, staff and public—as well as the Partridge team, enjoying twilight refreshments along with the human entertainment and animal encounters. There were a number of high-profile people involved in the Zoological Society council, including the Duke of Devonshire, Colonel Monckton Copeman and J. R. Norman, Esquire, as well as three sirs and two professors, so it was no surprise to see the large contingent of gathered press, or that one of the zoo’s employees was filming the event on a Dekko camera.

  The book had only been in the shops for a few weeks, but it had already been well-received by the public and the critics, and with zoo visitors who were able to buy it as a souvenir.

  “So, Alice, what are your plans for the sequel?” George asked, with a half smile.