“Right . . . but I’ll probably be sacked when I don’t show up for work tomorrow.”
“Oh, Eve! I’m so sorry! I never should have presumed you could get away on such short notice.”
“It doesn’t matter. To tell you the truth, I hate my job. It’s dead boring. All I do is type memos and invoices all day. I hate being cooped up inside all day. At least as a scullery maid I could nip outside once in a while and wander George’s gardens—Wellingford’s gardens, I should say.”
Audrey sympathized but knew her murmurs of pity would sound false. She hated city life too and longed to return to the peace and quiet of Wellingford Hall. But at least she could return.
The road grew darker and murkier as night approached, the lowering clouds thicker near the coast. The reality of war struck Audrey as they passed spiky strings of barbed wire and piles of sandbags blocking off side roads and farmers’ fields. Guards stopped them at three different checkpoints to search their car. By the time they reached Folkestone, where the boat was moored, the car had slowed to a crawl, the road barely visible. Twice, they stopped to ask directions to the marina. Audrey recognized it once they arrived, and exhaled in relief, glad to have accomplished her mission. “We’ll hand over the boat and be done.”
Eve parked and cut the engine. She leaned back in her seat, rolling her head as if to relieve the tension in her neck and shoulders. The air was cool and thick with moisture as they got out of the car. Audrey tasted salt on her lips.
“I recognize this place now,” Eve said. “Looks like a lot of activity down there by the water’s edge.” They walked toward the dark shapes milling near the dock, and Audrey was relieved to see men in Royal Navy uniforms. The officer issuing orders looked weary and disheveled, as if he hadn’t slept or shaved or changed his clothes in days.
“Excuse me, I’m Miss Clarkson and this is Miss Dawson. We heard the appeal for ships and came down from London to offer my family’s boat. It’s berthed in this marina and is large enough to ferry quite a few men.”
“Thank you, Miss Clarkson. We’re just now putting a flotilla together. I trust you can sail it as far as Dover for us?”
“Well . . . no . . . I—I—”
“We’re very short on captains, you see.”
Audrey couldn’t reply. Someone from the Navy was supposed to take it from here. Her fear surged like the waves that were crashing against the pier at the prospect of sailing it herself.
“Of course we’ll sail it,” Eve said, stepping forward. “Tell us what to do.”
“If you could bring it alongside these other boats, you can join the flotilla. It’s only a dozen miles to Dover from here. Shouldn’t take long. We’ll wait for you, if you wish.”
“Yes, thank you,” Eve said. “We’ll fetch the boat and be back straightaway.” She linked arms with Audrey before she could protest and pulled her toward the slip where the boat lay moored alongside several dozen others. “You know how to sail it, don’t you?” Eve asked as they stumbled along. “Alfie said he taught you how.”
“I don’t think I can—”
“You have to try, Audrey. This was your idea, remember? We have to rescue Alfie and his mates. They’re stranded over there.”
“I—I can’t.” She had been dragging her steps the entire time, but when she halted in place, Eve grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake.
“Don’t be such a coward, Audrey! You told me yourself how desperate the situation is. This is more than just saving your brother’s neck. Who’s going to guard England and your precious Wellingford Hall if all our men are captured and killed by the Nazis? We’re the only free nation left and we’ll be next!”
“I know, I know, but I don’t have your courage.”
“Then tell me how to start the ruddy boat and I’ll do it myself.”
“Eve, you can’t!”
“Watch me.” She marched forward and stepped onto the floating dock, peering in the darkness at the gently rocking boats, mere silhouettes in the gloom. Audrey hesitated, then followed, less sure of her steps. “This is it, isn’t it?” Eve called. “The Rosamunde?”
“Yes.” Audrey tried to remember a time when her mother had sailed on the boat named for her, a time when the four of them had sailed together as a family—and couldn’t. Eve had already leaped across the gap from the pier to the deck by the time Audrey got there. Eve held out her hand. “Come on, jump. I’ll catch you.”