The Air Raid Book Club(34)

Cynthia turned ’round, shoulders hunched. “Sorry, Mother,” she said. “I was just browsing.”

“May I be of assistance?” asked Gertie, breezing into their midst as if she had only just encountered them in her shop.

“No,” said Margery. “We are leaving. Cynthia. Put that book down.”

Cynthia’s face fell as if she had been told to part from her beloved forever. She traced a finger over the spine of the volume before offering it to Gertie.

“Keep it,” said Gertie.

Cynthia’s eyes grew wide.

“No,” said her mother, snatching the book from her daughter’s grasp and placing it on the counter. “We do not need your charity, and Cynthia should not be rewarded for sneaking off to this”—she threw a disapproving gaze across the bookshelves—“emporium. Now come along, Cynthia. We have an appointment at the hairdresser’s. Good day.”

Gertie watched them leave, offering a sympathetic smile to Cynthia as she glanced back toward the shop, a look of longing on her small studious face.

“I hope Mr. Travers knows what he’s dealing with. Mrs. Fortescue can be terrifying,” said Gertie after he’d gone.

“What a dear man for offering us his sugar ration, though,” said Betty.

Gertie nodded. “It’ll be a lovely surprise for Hedy. Is Sam still able to get weekend leave?”

“I don’t think Hermann Göring could stop him.”

“And Barnaby?”

“Not this time unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” said Gertie.

Betty gave a stoic shrug. “England expects.”

Gertie reached out to squeeze her arm. She wasn’t a religious woman, but every night she prayed that this war would be short, that their young men would be spared. However, as Hitler marched his relentless progress across Europe, this wish felt increasingly unlikely.



Gertie was laying out the breakfast things when the telegram arrived. Hemingway barked as soon as the boy rang the doorbell, and then she heard Hedy racing down the stairs to answer.

She appeared in the kitchen moments later, clutching the telegram to her heart. “My mother wishes me a happy birthday,” she said, her face a mixture of longing and delight.

Gertie sensed the need to prevent Hedy from brooding. “Well, what jolly good luck it arrived on the day. Happy birthday, dear. I’ve got something for you too.” She nodded toward a brown paper package on the table.

“Villette,” said Hedy, pulling a small blue volume from the paper. “Thank you, Gertie.”

“I know how much you enjoyed Jane Eyre, so I thought you might like to try another by Charlotte Brontë.”

“And these flowers are beautiful,” said Hedy, stroking a finger over the delicate blush petals of the round pink buds.

“Peonies,” said Gertie, satisfied. “They’ve bloomed just in time for your birthday. So do you have any plans for today?”

“Betty is coming later, and we might go to the cinema.”

“Sounds like a super idea,” said Gertie, ticklish with excitement about the surprise that lay ahead. Thanks to Betty’s egg and Mr. Travers’s sugar, she’d managed to bake a passable chocolate cake filled with homemade cherry jam, which she was hiding in a cake tin in the pantry, ready for when Sam arrived.



At a little after two o’clock, there was a knock at the door. “Hedy,” called Gertie. “Will you let Betty in please, dear.”

“All right,” said Hedy.

Gertie emerged from the kitchen and stood to watch as she opened the front door.

“Happy birthday!” cried Betty, throwing her hands into the air before standing to one side as Sam, dressed in RAF uniform, poked his head around the doorframe.

“Surprise!”

“Sam!” cried Hedy, darting forward and throwing her arms around his neck. Gertie and Betty grinned at each other. “You look so smart,” she told him.

“About time someone spruced him up,” said Betty, elbowing her brother in the ribs.

“You do look very dapper, Sam,” said Gertie, a sudden recollection of Jack leaving for war all those years ago catching in her throat. “Shall we go into the living room and celebrate this young lady’s birthday properly?”

After tea and the cake, which everyone declared a success, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square parcel. Hedy unwrapped it to reveal a ruby-red velvet box containing a silver locket. “I’ve put in the photo from the day at the Hop Farm,” he said with a chuckle. “When Betty sat on that wasp.”

“It wasn’t funny, it was awfully painful,” said his sister.

Hedy unhooked the chain.

“Here. Let me help you with that,” said Sam, moving toward her. He looped it around her neck and secured the clasp.

Hedy’s cheeks flushed a little as she placed a hand on the locket. “Thank you, Sam,” she whispered.

Gertie knew enough to see when two people were falling in love. Her heart stirred in a swirl of joy and sorrow for what lay ahead for them both.

There was another knock at the door. Sam glanced at his sister. “I think this one might be for you, Betty.”

Betty frowned. “What do you mean?”