Page 98 of The Last Night in London
Precious chewed on her lip. “He...” She stopped.
“He what?”
“He asked me about the mink—where it had come from. Heguessed it was from Alex. It was pointless to lie. He wouldn’t have believed me.”
Eva began to shake. “And what did he say?”
“He said...” Precious closed her eyes, as if she wanted to make sure she remembered correctly. “He said for you to give his regards to Alex. That he hoped you’d be happy together.”
Eva stood abruptly, her head swimming. “I’ve got to go to him. To explain. Where did he go?”
Precious shook her head, her eyes pooling with tears. “They’re moving him to a new air base. He said he wasn’t sure where.”
“And then he left? He didn’t say anything else?”
“Just...” Precious swallowed, lowering her head so the light of the chandelier turned the tips of her hair to gold.
“Just what?”
“I didn’t understand it. Something about...” Her brow furrowed. “Something about a house by the sea being only a silly dream. I wanted to ask him what he meant so I could tell you, but he didn’t wait.”
Eva felt the room begin to sway and spin along with her heart and her head. Soundlessly, she slipped to the sofa, the brooch clutched tightly in her hand, cutting into the skin until she bled.
CHAPTER 28
LONDON
MAY 1940
Throughout the winter and early spring of 1940, Eva barely slept, floating through her days and nights like a ghost. She recalled her mother saying she felt dead on the inside the year they’d spent in the poorhouse. Eva had never understood how a person could continue to draw breath but feel as if they were dead. But she did now.
She spent her days at Lushtak’s modeling, perfecting her acting skills by portraying a woman without any cares. The work kept her busy; it seemed the prospect of war and the new rationing hadn’t yet reached Madame’s clientele. They still purchased clothes for the upcoming social seasons, including appropriate hunting outfits for Scotland in the fall. Mr. Danek would shake his head, then pocket his paycheck. One had to eat, he said.
Eva also pocketed most of her paycheck, saving larger and larger portions for her mother. She gave the money to Alex on his promise it would end up where it was intended, but he wouldn’t divulge the address. It was one more thing he held from her, another tie binding her to him. One more thing for which she had no recourse. She was completely and utterly at his mercy. And she had to trust him that he was telling her the truth. She had no other option.
On her days off, and in the evenings when Alex didn’t require her company, she worked side by side with Precious and Sophia in the Women’s Voluntary Service, serving tea to the night wardens and running the canteen at Paddington Station for soldiers and sailors.
And waiting. Waiting for bombs to fall, for shelters to be used for more than just drills.
She had not received any word from Graham, not a letter or even a message passed on through Sophia. Sophia did keep her apprised of his whereabouts and what he was doing—as much as he was able to share—but that was all. He’d been made squadron leader, was tolerating the food, and complained of being cold when up in the air for extended periods of time; would Sophia please send him extra gloves? It was impersonal, curated by Sophia, Eva was sure, in order to placate both her brother and her friend.
She longed to hear his voice, to hear him tell her even the dullest parts of his life. She dreamed of boating in Regent’s Park with him again, reciting the poetry she’d memorized for him. Eva had written a letter a day for the month of January and had Sophia promise she’d send them on. By February she stopped, clinging to what little pride she had left and not wanting Sophia to see how pathetic she was. But she still slept with the ivory dolphin in her fist, held against her heart. Not because she thought Graham might forgive her for the transgressions he knew and those he didn’t know, but to keep him safe. She could do that, at least.
As the weeks went by and Denmark, Norway, and then Belgium and the Netherlands toppled like Hitler’s dominoes, newly exiled governments settled into London. Alex became more demanding of Eva’s time, needing her to accompany him to various entertainments throughout the city.
There were no more matchboxes to retrieve. Instead Alex asked her to dig through the pockets of discarded evening jackets on the backs of chairs or to distract a man with her low décolletage while they danced so Alex could do the same. These men were nameless to her, the retrieval of odd bits of paper and other items seemingly meaningless. She knew she should care, that it wasn’t insignificant. But she was too dead inside for any of it to matter.
“I have something for you.”
They were in the backseat of his chauffeured motorcar after another interminable evening at the Suivi Club. Despite private automobiles being banned due to petrol rationing, Alex usually had his chauffeured car available to them. He pulled out a slim black velvet box, and impatiently opened it when Eva showed no inclination to do so.
A diamond bracelet sat on a bed of black velvet, the lovely gems catching the stray pieces of light in the darkened city, shimmering like an electrified snake.
“It looks expensive. Is it real?” She said it to annoy him, knowing that to question his generosity was to question his manhood.
He frowned, giving her immense satisfaction. “Of course it is. A small token to thank you for all of your good work.”
“Is that what you call this petty theft? Surely you can find a pickpocket in Piccadilly Circus who’s more skilled and who could be bought with a mere shilling.”
