Page 87 of Shadows In Paris
Lizzie hugged her mother and assured her she was thrilled to be home for whatever dinner was on the menu.
‘I’m relieved to see you,’ said Rose, dabbing her shiny eyes with a handkerchief and clearing her throat. ‘I was so worried.’
‘Did you get my postcards?’ Lizzie asked.
Rose strode to the mantelpiece and pointed to two pretty pictures of Henley-on-Thames propped against the mirror.
‘Oh, I’m pleased.’
‘Will you be returning to the nursing home?’
‘I’m not sure yet, Ma, but I’m home for a while, anyway. I’ll work in London as usual until my next posting, whenever and wherever that may be. It may well be back to Henley, but I don’t know.’
‘You’re as thin as a matchstick. You’d think they’d have fed you some decent meals in a nursing home. Weren’t you eating?’
‘There were decent meals, and I ate, but I suppose I’vebeen doing a lot of running around,’ Lizzie said, trying to make light of how much weight she’d lost.
Lizzie hugged her sisters, Juliet and Evie, and turned to her father as he entered the room.
‘There she is,’ he said. ‘The wanderer returns. How good to see you darling Lizzie.’
‘It’s good to see you too, Pa. I’ve missed you all so much.’
‘We have a wonderful surprise for you,’ Rose said after dinner, and she left the table and returned flapping a piece of paperthat she handed to an intrigued Lizzie.
‘What is this?’ Lizzie turned it over in her hands like a clue from one of her missions. She peered at the handwriting. ‘It’s from Nan!’ she exclaimed, rustling the paper.
The family had sent a note via the Red Cross Message Service shortly after Christmas and had been waiting anxiously for a reply.
Lizzie read her grandmother’s words aloud, which were written on the reverse of the form:
Dearest Reginald,
We were so happy to hear from you. Miss you all terribly. We are well. Take care.
Love to everyone,
Nan & Pops
Tears streamed from Lizzie’s eyes as she raised her head. ‘Oh, thank God. They are alive and well!’
There wasn’t a dry eye around the table as Reginald explained how the message had been forwarded from the Red Cross and arrived on his desk at the War Office. ‘You’re only allowed to write twenty-five words, you know!’
‘I wondered why it was so short,’ Lizzie said. ‘Not like Nan, at all!’
After dinner, Reginald knocked on Lizzie’s bedroom door and entered her room, overlooking the snowy park. The blizzards seemed to have followed them from Paris, and Lizzie pulled on an extra cardigan.
‘How was it, Lizzie?’ her father asked, his eyes sombre. ‘Was the mission, whatever it was, a success? I know you can’t tell me the details.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Yes, it was, Pa. I’m so happy to be home, but we did good work.’
‘I’m proud of you, my love.’
Apart from Reginald, the rest of the family believed she was a translator in a government office on Baker Street. Lizzie told them her work was all very dull, and fortunately, they believed her. Loose tongues cost lives and even one’s family and dearest friends couldn’t be trusted not to say the wrong thing when so much was at stake.
They had convinced Hannah to stay on for a week to recuperate and she and Henry spent a relaxing couple of days at the King family home, which delighted Jack’s mother, Nicole. Henry had already returned to his base a few days earlier, and after a tearful lover's parting, Hannah was eager to get back into action.
It was a bright, freezing morning and Lizzie and Jack walked hand in hand through Regent’s Park, picking their way around the clumpy remnants of the previous evening’s ice and snow. When Lizzie said her lips were chapped from the chill winds, Jack told her this winter was one of the coldest in years.
