The Air Raid Book Club(89)
“You will come to Hedy’s party later, won’t you?”
Mrs. Constantine gave her a radiant smile that reminded Gertie of her mother. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, my dear.”
Margery arrived at a little after four with her usual team of volunteers and delighted Gertie by wheeling out the Old General for tea-making duties. “Now then, Gertie,” she said as they began to decorate the shop with paper streamers recycled from the previous year’s VE celebrations. “What are your plans after Hedy leaves?”
Gertie was used to Margery’s bluntness, but even this question caught her off guard. “Well, I suppose I’ll retire.”
“Retire?” Margery raised her eyebrows.
“Yes.”
“And do what? Sit under a blanket all day?”
“No. I shall tend my garden.”
“Hmm.”
Gertie put her hands on her hips. “Come along, out with it. What do you think I should do?”
Margery inhaled, regarding her with a knowing air. “I’m just a little surprised you’re not moving closer to Hedy.”
Gertie folded her arms. “Margery. Poor Sam and Hedy have been living under my roof for over a year now. They are a married couple. I hardly think they want me moving to the same town.”
Margery shrugged. “I just wouldn’t let my Cynthia move away from me.”
“Cynthia is your daughter. Hedy is my . . .”
“Your what?”
Gertie fixed her with a stern look. “She’s not my daughter, Margery.”
“Yes, but you’ve been a mother to her all these years.”
“I am not her mother.”
Margery held up her hands. “Very well. Very well. I shall save my breath to cool my porridge, as you like to say.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides, I would miss you, Gertie Bingham.”
Gertie laughed. “And I’d miss you, Margery Fortescue.”
“Travers.”
“You’ll always be the great, imperious Margery Fortescue to me.”
Margery nodded with satisfaction. “Jolly good. Now let’s get on, shall we? People will be arriving soon.”
The party was as joyous as Gertie hoped it would be. Hedy and Elizabeth’s editor, Eleanor, gave a short but heartfelt speech about the book and how she couldn’t wait for readers to discover the world of Arno and Gertie. Everyone applauded, and Sam’s eyes glittered with pride as he kissed his wife, while Billy spent most of the evening holding up a copy of the book and telling everyone “my mother drew the pictures and that’s the real Gertie over there.”
Gertie drank it all in like a final delicious cup of Margery’s tea: Miss Snipp whispering with Miss Crow in the corner, Uncle Thomas inviting Mrs. Constantine for lunch at his club, Mr. Higgins regaling Betty and William with a tale of the time he stuffed an armadillo as part of his taxidermy training.
“Penny for them?” asked Charles, appearing at her elbow.
“Oh, just savoring my last moments as a bookseller.”
“Any regrets?”
She gazed up at him and then back toward the merry throng. “Not a single one.”
“Could I have your attention please?”
Gertie looked ’round in surprise to see Hedy addressing the room. She smiled as the collective hushed.
“Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and so it is with Bingham Books.” She turned toward Gertie. “There has been one woman who has lived its story for over thirty years. And I know she wanted this to be a party to celebrate my and Elizabeth’s book, but this is Gertie’s last day at the bookshop, and I think we should all toast everything she has done for us.”
“Three cheers for Gertie Bingham!” cried Billy. The response echoed loud and heartfelt into the night. Gertie blinked back tears as she looked around at the joyful faces, wishing she could photograph this moment. Even Miss Snipp had to borrow Mr. Higgins’s handkerchief.
Gertie sent up a murmured prayer to Harry. “We did it. And didn’t we do it well, my darling?”
Hedy and Gertie were the last to leave the shop, as Sam had offered to escort Mrs. Constantine home. As she locked the door to Bingham Books for the final time, Gertie paused for a moment, gazing up at the sign. “You know Flora and Nicholas have decided to keep the name.”
Hedy smiled. “The story continues.”
“With a new chapter,” said Gertie, as Hedy looped an arm through hers. “Thank you for staying with me to the end, dear.”
“Actually, Gertie, I have a secret I want to tell you.”
Gertie noticed the sparkle in her eyes. “You’re having a baby.”
Hedy grinned. “You see, Gertie? New stories are being written all the time.”
Chapter 26
West Sussex, 1947
We can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.
—George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss
The baby was named Else Gertrude Godwin, and she was as delicious as a peach. Hedy had been telephoning Gertie every day. Shortly before the baby was due, she called in some distress.