Page 63 of The Last Night in London
She swallowed, attempting to sound cheerful. “At least your job now is quite tame in comparison. I expect that must be a relief to your parents.”
Graham didn’t answer right away, making Eva look at him sharply and recall how Alex had correctly assumed she knew nothing about his job. It shamed her how easily Alex could read her, that he knew how unsophisticated her world experiences were. She’d simply imagined Graham sitting at a desk with piles of papers and a telephone. It was juvenile, but she had no experience or knowledge to imagine anything different. “I know you work at the Home Office—but what exactly do you do there? You’re gone so much. I’m imagining it’s not Burma, but still quite exciting.”
“No, it’s not Burma.” She waited for him to say more, watching his thoughts darken his face, but instead he smiled unexpectedly. “We’re not here to talk about work. Now that I’ve shown you not one but two surprises, I’d like to take you to the boating lake. It was too cold the last time we tried, but it’s nice and warm now. Shall we?”
She took his hand and entwined his fingers with hers. They walked slowly, enjoying the rare time spent alone together. Couples stretched out on the green lawns on blankets, their white skin like the underbellies of fish as it pinkened in the sun.
Wanting Graham’s playful mood to return, Eva said, “I’ll only get in the boat with you if you do the rowing. I’m afraid my arms are too sore from holding them up all day yesterday to be fitted for an entire wedding trousseau for Daphne Wigham. They’ve moved up her wedding—her fiancé’s joined the Royal Navy. It’s as if the whole country thinks we’re at war already.”
Graham was silent as they walked down a manicured path toward the boating lake, already dotted with rowboats cutting through thedappled water. “I will admit to being worried about what’s going on in Europe. But today is just you and me. Let’s pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”
He pulled on Eva’s hand and nearly ran across the lake on the steel bridge to the boat stand. As promised, he took the paddles but pretended to rock the narrow boat as the attendant seated Eva. She gave him a mock frown, which made Graham lean forward to kiss her, causing the boat to violently swish from side to side. Eva gave a shout, and Graham put a steadying hand on her leg, the heat of his touch sinking into her bones. His green eyes sparkled in the sun. “Don’t worry, Eva. I’ll keep you safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
He pushed off from the boarding dock, and they coasted between geese and fellow rowers until they were clear enough that he could begin rowing. Eva had never been to Venice but had listened intently to the stories the Italian girl Rosalie told at Lushtak’s, tales detailed enough that she felt she could see the ancient city in her mind. She could imagine being with Graham in a gondola, transported by a singing gondolier through the beautiful waterways.
But being with Graham in Regent’s Park was its own piece of magic, the sky as blue as it must be in Italy. Eva leaned back, allowing her fingers to dangle in the water, still cool despite the heat of the day. Closing her eyes, she sighed. “Please don’t wake me. I think I might be dreaming.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “What do you dream of, darling?”
She smiled, keeping her eyes closed. “Of you.”
“Really? What else?”
Eva thought for a moment. “The house I will one day live in.”
“Ah. And what does it look like?”
The rhythmic slap of the oars was a lullaby, the sound of his voice hypnotic. “It’s high on a cliff, overlooking the sea. I can hear the crash of waves through my bedroom window.”
“Are you alone?”
The soft sounds of other people in the boats around them and the movement of water against the boat seemed very distant, lulled asshe was by the heat and by the warmth of Graham’s voice. “No.” She opened her eyes to mere slits, his image through her eyelashes like a mirage. “I’m with you.”
She closed her eyes again, felt the pull of the little boat through the water, thought of her house on the cliff by the sea, and remembered how Graham had promised to always keep her safe.
CHAPTER 19
LONDON
MAY 2019
We sat in silence after Penelope and Precious had left the room. Then Arabella jumped up. “Who wants to watch the sunset? It’s my first night in the country in ages, and the sky is crystal clear.” She held out her hands to me. “Come on, Maddie. I promise you’ve never seen anything like it. Bring your camera.” She looked beyond me to her cousin. “You, too, Colin. When was the last time you watched a sunset?”
Colin drained the rest of his glass and set it on the mantel. “Not since university,” he said matter-of-factly, an odd note to his voice. He turned to his father. “Dad? Would you like to join us?”
“Thank you, but I’ve got correspondence I need to see to. You go ahead.” James looked at his watch. “Best hurry—the sun sets in about forty-five minutes. The best place is up on the chalk ridge, which is a decent walk from here. Take torches so you can find your way back. It’s only a crescent moon tonight.”
After running upstairs and quickly changing into jeans and a sweater, I followed Arabella and Colin through the house, grabbing flashlights from the kitchen before heading out through the door to the back garden. The scent of flowers weighted the air with alightness that almost made me forget the look on Precious’s face when she’d turned away from my scrutiny, the sense I’d had of a pen being held over paper, a story with no ending.
But it did end. It had to. Every story had a final act, a place under which the words “The End” could be written. I’d lived my entire adult life on that premise, on the knowledge that some endings were known before the stories even began.
Tonight, there had been something about the way Precious had saidsweet dreams. Something almost challenging, a hook thrown into water to see what might be caught. Not that it was an unusual sentiment. I recalled the same handwritten words on the back of Graham’s RAF photograph. Maybe that was what was niggling at my brain, the sheer coincidence of two things that shouldn’t have been related.
Beside me, Arabella stopped, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Brrr. How did it get so cold? I’m afraid I don’t have a jumper.” She looked genuinely disappointed. “And if you wait for me, you’ll miss the sunset.” Flicking her hand at us, she said, “You two go on. Take pictures so you can show me what I missed.”
George and Charlotte, who’d apparently been cooped up during dinner, were eager to escape captivity. “Keep them out of the cowpats,” Arabella warned before swiftly retreating, leaving Colin and me alone.
The dogs leapt and bounded around us like gnats, making me grin despite myself.
