“Please don’t apologize. Aside from the vicar back home, you’re the only person I’ve ever talked with about things that really matter. You and I are similar in so many ways, and I think . . . I think we understand each other. This war has raised endless questions about faith.”
“I can well imagine that you’d have questions after losing your mother. It must seem like your world is on the brink of extinction.”
“That’s exactly how it feels. Oddly enough, the vicar seems to think that God can use the war to bring about something good. He said that most of us muddle along with our mundane lives without ever contemplating life and death or the God who created us and loves us.”
“There are no atheists in foxholes.”
“I think that’s true. To be honest, my religion was a lot like Linda’s before the war. I never thought much about God. I never read the Bible at all.”
“Me, either. After I enlisted, the Army was passing out Bibles to anyone who wanted one, so I took it, even though religion has been little more than a formality for most of my life. Inside the cover was a letter from President Roosevelt. I’ll have to show it to you sometime. He recommended that everyone in the armed services read the Bible, said it has offered wisdom and strength and inspiration to people throughout the ages. I’ve been reading it ever since.”
Audrey couldn’t reply, stopped for a moment by Robert’s words: “I’ll have to show it to you sometime.” He assumed they would see each other again. Perhaps he even hoped they would. And Audrey was very surprised to discover that she hoped so, too. She was still struggling for words when the bandleader announced they would play one final song, “We’ll Meet Again.”
Robert stood and extended his hand. “I would love to dance this last one with you, Audrey. I apologize in advance for stepping on your toes.”
She felt herself smiling as she stood and accepted his hand. “Believe me, I won’t feel a thing through these monstrous Army shoes.” She went into his arms as if she had been there before. Perhaps it was the deeply personal things they’d shared this evening that made Audrey feel at home with Robert. And safe. But she also felt sad. Because Robert Barrett was one of nearly two million American soldiers on her island, and when “We’ll Meet Again” ended and she and Eve climbed into the lorry to return to their base, she would probably never see him again.
18
ENGLAND, APRIL 1943
“I can’t believe it!” Audrey stared at the ATS message board in amazement. “We have a two-day furlough!”
“Where should we go?” Eve asked.
“I don’t know . . . I don’t fancy London. Do you?”
“Definitely not. They say the city is packed with Americans, like pilchards in a tin. Agnes got her bottom pinched a dozen times when she was there. She got so tired of hearing, ‘Hey, baby!’ that she came back to the base a day early.”
Audrey felt a longing for home that hadn’t surfaced since she’d enlisted two and a half years ago. “What do you say we go to Wellingford Hall on our leave?” she asked as they walked back to their room. Wellingford wasn’t far. She and Eve were based near Southampton now, ferrying wounded soldiers who arrived on hospital ships. Their injuries broke her heart. She offered up prayers for Alfie with every ambulance journey she made.
“I thought the Americans took over Wellingford,” Eve said.
“Most of it, yes. But Robbins kept some spaces private in case Father or Alfie or I came home.”
It was decided. They took the train to the village, and after Eve greeted some of her longtime friends and promised to return for tea, she and Audrey walked the last mile to the manor house, hauling their duffel bags. Audrey was unprepared for all of the changes to her home. The Land Army now cultivated the fields and grasslands bordering the road. They’d erected fences to pasture cows and sheep, slicing Wellingford’s elegant property into ugly farm lots. “Robbins told me the Land Girls were farming some of our property, but I never imagined they would ruin so much of it,” Audrey said. It grew worse as she passed through the stone entry gates. A vegetable patch replaced George’s stately formal gardens. Heavy vehicles left the driveway rutted and muddied. Three American jeeps were parked out front and a group of soldiers stood on the steps smoking cigarettes. My home! she wanted to cry out. What have you done to my beautiful home?
“Let’s go around to the back door,” Eve said.