A Fire Sparkling

by MacLean, Julianne

  “Where are you going?” Vivian asked as April shoved her feet into the shoes.

  “I don’t know. The wine shop, I suppose. I can stay with Papa.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “Why not? It’s still a free country, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, for now. But it won’t be for long if your German hero gets his panzers across the Channel, and Hitler moves into Buckingham Palace.”

  April gathered up her hairbrushes and perfume bottles and stuffed them into her suitcase while Vivian stood back, watching in seething, silent fury. But as April made for the door, Vivian’s fury cooled—as if someone had snapped fingers in front of her face to wake her up from a trance.

  She couldn’t let her sister leave again, not when they’d only just been reunited. Her heart couldn’t bear it.

  “Please wait,” Vivian said. “You can’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  Vivian wasn’t sure how to explain, but she had to say something to convince April to stay. “Because it’s not the same as it used to be. Papa got worse after you left. The beatings were bad.”

  April stopped and faced her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean . . . the last straw came when he tried to choke me to death one night. I had to hit him over the head with an iron skillet. So, you can’t go back there.”

  April set her suitcase on the floor. “He actually tried to choke you?”

  “Yes. I think he went a little mad because you were gone and Maman was gone, and I was singing in clubs, which always sent him over the edge. I’ve had black eyes and even a dislocated shoulder, and that’s what will happen to you, if you go back there. Maybe not at first, but eventually.”

  April stared at her in shock. “I had no idea. Vivian . . . I never would have left you alone with him if I had known that would happen.”

  Vivian’s heart fell. “It’s not your fault. You tried to convince me to leave with you, but I wouldn’t. Thank goodness Theodore came along when he did.”

  Theodore, her husband, who was a hero in her eyes, just like Ludwig was a hero in April’s eyes.

  “I don’t want to go back to the wine shop,” April said. “I’d rather stay here with you, but only if you promise not to make me burn those pictures. They’re all I have of him. And I need you to believe me—that he’s a good man.”

  Shaking her head with regret, Vivian walked to the window and looked down at the street below. An ARP warden was strolling by on patrol, wearing a tin helmet and armband.

  Vivian faced her sister. “Maybe he is. I can’t say one way or another. But I don’t think you quite understand the situation. Do you know what could happen if certain members of the government learned that you were in love with a Nazi officer who was leading panzers in our direction? They might think you came here to spy for him and send back information—about God only knows what—while you’re living with one of Churchill’s very own cabinet ministers. Even if you’re not spying for the Germans, the appearance is such that—”

  “I’m not a spy,” April insisted, as if it were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “I’m only here because Ludwig wanted me to be safe, and he was away all the time with one invasion after another, and he didn’t feel that he could protect me.”

  Vivian scoffed at the cavalier mention of one invasion after another. Hitler had just conquered all of western Europe, and Britain was his next destination.

  April sat down on the edge of the bed. “I hate feeling like this—like I don’t know how I’m going to live without him. I’m terrified that something bad will happen—that he’ll get shot or bombed or some other awful thing, and I’ll never see him again. I hate war. I don’t know why men like to fight so much.”

  “Not all men do,” Vivian replied. “Our former prime minister did everything he could to avoid a war, but Hitler couldn’t be trusted to keep the peace. But keep in mind that your Ludwig signed up to fight for Hitler, so pardon me if I cannot be happy for you. I understand what it feels like to love someone, but I’m having a hard time feeling sympathy for you, because your man is the enemy, ordering his soldiers to kill our boys, and if you’re going to live in England, you can’t tell a single soul about your relationship with him. They’re already locking up innocent Italians who have been English citizens their entire lives, just because Italy has joined with Germany. They’re sending them to internment camps up north, along with Nazi sympathizers—which is exactly how you will be labeled if anyone finds out about your affair.”

  April flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “It was more than just an affair. Please understand that. I love him, and he wants to marry me.”

  Vivian’s heart squeezed with dread at this news.

  “When we said goodbye in Paris,” April continued, “he said he would come for me when the war was over and that we would be together no matter what. Even if we had to travel to America.”

  This was all very difficult to accept. “Maybe he should have thought of that before he joined Hitler’s army.” Vivian moved to the chair in the corner of the room and sat down.

  “He had no choice,” April replied, sitting up. “He was conscripted.” They were quiet for a long moment. “Will you tell Theodore?”

  Vivian tipped her head back and groaned. “I don’t know. I don’t feel right keeping it from him. We’ve never lied to each other before, but I’m not sure what he would do. He’s a member of Churchill’s cabinet.”

  “Do you think he would report me?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  April stared at Vivian with a focused intensity. “Then you can’t tell him. Please. It can be just like you said. We can pretend this conversation never happened. As long as you don’t force me to burn those pictures, they’re safe under the false bottom of that secret drawer. And I won’t speak a word about Ludwig. Not ever. Not to anyone.”

  Vivian rested her forehead in her hand. “But if you ever let something slip, and if Theodore finds out that I kept this from him . . .”

  “He won’t find out,” April insisted. “I swear I’ll guard this secret with my life. I made it this far, didn’t I? Through dozens of Nazi checkpoints, all on my own, without Ludwig. I only told you about him because you’re my sister, and we’ve always told each other everything, and I know you would never betray me. I hope you feel the same way about me. I hope you know that you can trust me completely.”

  Vivian looked up. “It won’t be easy, because Theodore already knows you ran off to Germany with a man you met in Bordeaux. Angelique told me about it, remember?”

  “I can say that it didn’t last,” she replied, almost desperately, “and that I only stayed in Germany because I was popular at the club where I was performing, which is completely true. It was one of the most exclusive clubs in Berlin, and I was a headliner there. Ludwig got me the job.” She smiled proudly. “He knew all sorts of important people.”

  Vivian scoffed. “There, you see? A little detail like that—the way he finds his way back into your thoughts.”

  “Only because I’m talking to you, and you’re the only person in the world with whom I can let down my guard.”

  Vivian squirmed under an avalanche of doubts and fears. “But you know what they say—the truth always comes out.”

  “Not always,” April replied. “People only say that because they know about the times when it did. But what about all the secrets in the history of the world that never saw the light of day? No one knows about those. Besides, this isn’t a secret we have to take to our graves. We only need to keep quiet about it until the end of the war. And everyone in Berlin expects it to be over by Christmas.”

  Vivian shook her head. “You really believe that?”

  April looked away. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of optimism in Berlin, which I admit is unsettling. Everyone seems to be cheering all the time and waving little flags while shiny new tanks roll down the streets. I certainly didn’t enjoy seeing those tanks and soldiers wrea
king havoc in Paris, in the country where our French mother was born and raised.” She stopped at that.

  “How did Ludwig feel about what was happening in France?” Vivian carefully asked, curious to know more about the man April had fallen so deeply in love with.

  She drew in a breath. “He’s dutiful, and I admire him for that. It’s why he was promoted to first lieutenant. He’s a strong leader—intelligent and skilled at moving men and equipment across fields and rivers and bridges. But that doesn’t mean he agrees with everything the Nazis stand for. He’s just doing his duty with the ground forces, and even that he’s conflicted about, but he certainly can’t question or disobey the decisions of the generals. That’s what I mean when I say he’s a good man. He is, Vivian. I need you to believe that. I know him. I know what’s in his heart. He’s not one of those horrible Gestapo thugs who brutalize people and destroy property, and he wants this war to be over as swiftly as possible. He wants peace, like the rest of us.”

  Vivian sat back and clasped her hands together on her lap, wondering if it was possible for a good man to turn a blind eye to the darker elements of the Nazi regime—to do Hitler’s bidding and still be a good person. All she could do was pray that April was right about Ludwig and cling to the hope that there were decent men in the German Army who recognized Hitler’s madness and cruelty. Perhaps the tide would turn if enough of them grew frustrated with his agenda and rose up in resistance.

  But those were just dreams for the moment. In reality, Hitler had taken control of Europe by force, and it was only a matter of time before he turned his full attention to the invasion of Britain.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Vivian could not remain in the house. After closing the bedroom door to allow April some quiet time to rest after her journey, she informed Mrs. Hansen that she was so happy about her sister’s return that she couldn’t possibly contain herself. A brisk walk in the fresh air before dinner was what she required, so she ventured outside toward Trafalgar Square.

  It was a lie, of course. Happiness was not the emotion that drove her out of the house. It was restlessness and a sense of chaos—a strange, confusing mixture of anger, fear, and gratitude.

  She was grateful, of course, that April was home at last, safe and alive. For the most part, that overshadowed everything—but not entirely, because Vivian was now faced with a difficult decision.

  Should she tell Theodore the truth about the man April loved and wished to marry? Or should she keep her sister’s secret, at least until the end of the war? After all, anything could happen between now and then.

  Vivian reached the top of the street and wondered suddenly if April’s affair might, in point of fact, turn out to be an advantage. What if the Germans invaded Britain and became their conquerors? Perhaps it would be beneficial to know someone . . .

  Vivian halted in her tracks. Good Lord. What was she thinking? If the Germans did come, she and Theodore would never become collaborators. Somehow, they would continue to fight.

  She couldn’t speak for April, though, and that was a rather alarming thought.

  Starting off again, Vivian walked briskly toward Nelson’s Column, wishing this day could have turned out differently. She had the most wonderful news to share with Theodore—that they were expecting a child—and her sister had come home at last. Vivian was overjoyed about each of those things. She only wished that everything hadn’t become tainted by the revelation of that strange antique sea chest and the disturbing photographs it contained.

  When Theodore finally arrived home from work that evening at half past eight, April was fast asleep, drained and exhausted from her stressful travels across German occupied territory and her final reentry into England.

  Vivian had been waiting anxiously for her husband’s return and had distracted herself by mending a pair of stockings while listening to the wireless. As soon as she heard his key in the door, she set her mending aside, leaped out of the chair, and rushed to the hall to greet him.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.” She rose up on her tiptoes and threw her arms around his neck.

  He laughed. “This is quite a welcome.” After setting his attaché case down, he scooped her into his arms until her feet came clear off the floor and kissed her passionately. “You’re a bright light in this dark world. I could barely find my way past The Ship and Shovell just now.”

  “Did you not have your torch?” she asked.

  “I must have left it at home this morning.”

  “Well, at least you didn’t have to walk far.”

  She led him into the parlor. “Are you hungry? Mrs. Hansen is still in the kitchen, and she made beef stew tonight. With turnip and barley. And cake for dessert.”

  “Beef stew and cake? That sounds decadent.”

  “Don’t get too excited. The stew is heavy on the broth. More of a soup, actually, but there’s good reason for cake tonight.”

  Mrs. Hansen appeared in the doorway just then. “Mr. Gibbons, welcome home.” She took his coat and hat. “Might I bring you something to eat?”

  “I hear there’s beef stew and cake,” he replied.

  “Yes, indeed. Made with real eggs too. Mrs. Gibbons felt it was a special occasion.”

  Theodore glanced at Vivian. “Is that right?”

  She smiled and nodded. He knows I’m going to tell him about my appointment today.

  “Come and sit down.” Vivian took hold of his hand and moved to the sofa. “Actually, there are two things I must tell you—good news on both counts.”

  “Two things? Both good? That’s music to my ears after the day I just had.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  He shook his head with annoyance. “The Luftwaffe dropped leaflets over southern England today. You’ll probably hear about it on the broadcast tonight, but let’s not talk about that. What do you wish to tell me?”

  Vivian tried to dismiss the unpleasant news about German propaganda landing on British soil and focused instead on which piece of good news to deliver first. She hadn’t known what she would say until the words spilled past her lips.

  “I went to see the doctor today, and he confirmed what I was suspecting. What I was hoping for.”

  Theodore inclined his head. “Which was?”

  “We’re going to have a baby.”

  His expression warmed, and he reached for her hands. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I was ill three mornings in a row this week, and I’m more than three weeks late on my monthly.”

  He closed his eyes. “Vivian, my darling. That’s wonderful.” Pulling her into his arms, he held her close.

  As she rested her cheek on his shoulder, she felt slightly deflated by his response. The last time she told him she was pregnant, many months ago, he had laughed out loud and swung her around the room. Sadly, that pregnancy had ended in a painful miscarriage a few weeks later, and for a long time she hadn’t been ready to try again—she had taken precautions—but then it happened. It just happened, as if the universe knew she was ready before she knew it herself.

  Theodore drew back and looked down at their joined hands.

  “Aren’t you happy?” she asked. “You seemed more excited last time.”

  His gaze lifted. “Of course I’m happy. It’s just . . . it was a long day.”

  “You’re tired.”

  “Yes.”

  But that wasn’t all. She knew it because she knew her husband better than she knew herself.

  “My being pregnant worries you because of the war,” she said. “But we were at war last Christmas too.”

  He considered that for a moment. “Yes, that is true, but the situation has worsened since then. The Germans have taken France, and they are just across the Channel, and there seems to be no end to Hitler’s ambitions. I’m concerned—that’s all. It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring a child into the world. What kind of world will it be a year from now?”

  Vivian sighed with defeat. “I don’t know the answer to tha
t, but as long as we’re together, we’ll do whatever it takes to survive. I’m not frightened. I love you, and I want to have a family with you. I won’t let Hitler take that joy from us. He shouldn’t keep us from living. I refuse to let him have that much power.”

  Theodore touched his forehead to hers. They sat in silence until they heard Mrs. Hansen’s footsteps tapping up the stairs.

  “Your supper’s ready,” Vivian whispered, rising to her feet.

  They moved into the dining room, where Mrs. Hansen was already unloading the tray and pouring the wine. Vivian sat down across from Theodore. Mrs. Hansen took the tray and left them alone again.

  Theodore glanced at the clock on the mantel. “The BBC broadcast is about to begin.”

  “Yes,” Vivian replied, “but we still have a few minutes, and I have something else to tell you.”

  He spread his napkin on his lap and dipped his spoon into the broth. “Ah yes, forgive me. You said there were two items of good news. By all means, fire at will, madam.”

  “All right, then. Here it is. We have a guest sleeping upstairs.”

  “A guest? Who is it?”

  Vivian watched him for a moment. “You’re not going to believe it when I tell you. Guess.”

  He chuckled. “You’re going to make me guess? After the day I’ve just had?”

  “Fine, then,” she replied with cheerful resignation. “It’s April. She arrived late this afternoon.”

  Theodore gulped down a mouthful of stew and looked up. “I beg your pardon? Your sister is here?” He set down his spoon. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yes, it is. And I would have called earlier to tell you, but she was tired and needed to sleep,” Vivian explained, “and I wanted to tell you all the good news in person.”

  None of that was true, exactly. She hadn’t called him because she’d needed time to get over the shock of what April had disclosed to her and to figure out how she was going to manage her sister’s secret.