The Air Raid Book Club(62)

“Milk, sugar, Mrs. Bingham?”

“Just milk, thank you, Mr. Travers.”

“And for you, Mrs. Fortescue?”

“The same please,” said Margery with an alarmingly toothy grin that Gertie couldn’t recall having seen before.

He passed ’round the tea before opening a cake tin and offering it to Margery. “It was ever so good of you to bake these cakes, Mrs. Fortescue. I haven’t had a rock bun since . . .” It was clear from his glazed expression that he was lost in a memory of Beryl. “Well, never mind. Please. Help yourself.”

Margery threw a panicked look toward Gertie. “I don’t suppose you have any small plates, Mr. Travers?” said Gertie, reading her mind.

Gerald put a hand to his head. “I’m dreadfully sorry, ladies. I don’t entertain much these days. Back in a jiffy.”

Margery turned to Gertie. “This is a terrible mistake.”

“But why?”

“I shouldn’t have come. This is all wrong. I can’t stop thinking about dear Edward, and it’s clear that Mr. Travers is still overwhelmed with thoughts of his spouse. Look around you, Gertie. She’s everywhere.”

“Well, you can’t expect him to tidy away his wife. They were married for over forty years.”

Margery grimaced. “Of course I don’t expect that. It’s just . . .”

“Here we are,” said Gerald, returning and handing ’round the plates, napkins, and cakes with a triumphant air. “I had to dig around a bit, but I found them. I haven’t had cause to use them for a while. I’d forgotten we had them, to be honest.”

“Thank you, Mr. Travers,” said Gertie, deciding to steer the conversation toward more neutral territory. “I must say your front garden is looking splendid. How do you get so many roses on one bush?”

“Horse manure.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Horse manure,” he repeated. “I know a farmer. He delivers me bags of the stuff whenever I need it. Works a treat.”

“Gosh,” said Gertie. “How marvelous.”

“I tell you what are marvelous,” said Gerald. “These cakes. Absolutely delicious, Mrs. Fortescue.”

“Thank you, Mr. Travers. And I agree with you about the horse manure, although it does make for a pungent few days after you spread it.”

Gerald chuckled. “Very true. Beryl used to tell me off because she had to shut all the windows. She did like to air the house every day.”

Gertie felt Margery shift in her seat. “Harry was the same,” she told him. “I can’t bear a draft. He’d throw them all open in the morning and then I’d go ’round closing them.”

Gerald nodded. “I remember your Harry helping me find a book for Beryl when she was ill. He always had a kind word when you needed it. I put great store in that.”

Gertie smiled. “Your Beryl was the same. I wouldn’t have had half the success with my runner beans if it hadn’t been for her. Planting nasturtiums alongside them to stop the blackfly made all the difference.”

“Ah, Beryl was an expert when it came to growing fruit and veg. Caulis as big as your head, and her black currants? Well. She made enough pies, jellies, and jams for the whole street.”

“We’ve been lucky, haven’t we?” said Margery quietly. Her face was glowing with gentle happiness. “To have met and married such people.”

“Yes,” said Gerald, catching her eye. “Very lucky indeed.”



The car was waiting for Gertie and Hedy on their return from the bookshop one day. Gertie recognized it immediately from the time Sam drove them all to the beach. It felt like a different life. It wasn’t Sam at the wheel, of course. It was an older version of him with neatly combed charcoal-gray hair. He had fallen asleep, his spectacles teetering on the end of his nose.

Hedy tapped lightly on the window. “Dr. Godwin,” she said, her voice brimming with expectation.

Dr. Godwin woke with a loud snort, blinking at the pair of them as he tried to recall where the blazes he was. Gertie had met Betty and Sam’s father only once or twice, but she could see how the daily agonies of a war in which his son was caught up had taken their toll. He had a weary, haggard appearance. Dr. Godwin rose from the car with some effort and turned to Hedy. “Betty gave me strict instructions to come ’round straightaway to give you the news. Samuel is in a prisoner of war camp in Poland.” He held out a chit of paper. “Daphne wrote down the address for you.”

Hedy stared at the piece of paper for a moment before throwing her arms around Dr. Godwin’s neck. He glanced at Gertie in surprise before accepting the embrace with a gentle smile.

“There, there, my dear. No need to be upset. Everything is all right.”

“Thank you,” whispered Hedy. “Thank you so much.”

“At least we know he’s safe,” said Dr. Godwin. “Now all we have to do is pray.”

“I’m going to do more than that,” said Hedy, with a determined look.



The next day, Gertie found herself standing outside the local recruitment office with Hedy at her side. “You’re sure you want to do this?” she said. “You know they could send you to the Outer Hebrides.”