Grace and Mrs. Weatherford took Jimmy and Sarah to Whitehall amid a press of eager crowds to witness Churchill’s speech touting their success in defeating Germany. The king and queen appeared on the balcony, resplendent and regal to show their appreciation for the people and their pride for such triumph. The princess wore her ATS uniform, which had made Grace cheer all the louder, if such a thing were possible.
Britain had taken it and come out a hero.
At the tube station, Grace checked her watch again. As three o’clock ticked closer, the group on the station platform increased in number until the air practically hummed with anticipation.
Soldiers were coming home now with frequency, those who had been conscripted among the first to arrive, nearly all of whom were women. Without the war on, their efforts, which had been required to win, were no longer required. This was not met with enthusiasm by all, especially those like Viv, who had poured everything they had into their jobs.
She had been part of the first mixed battery of men and women manning the anti-aircraft guns, stationed in London these last four years in the East End where she was billeted with several other women in her unit.
At least until she’d been given notice that her service was unnecessary. The telegraph from Viv had been brief, stating only the time of her arrival at Farringdon Station and asking Grace to meet her.
Viv would be coming home.
The telegraph was all Grace needed to know Viv was not happy with her abrupt departure from the ATS. They had seen one another on many occasions with Viv’s day passes, but never once had she asked Grace to meet her.
Finally, the train pulled to the platform and the doors hissed open, spilling forth a good many soldiers into the waiting arms of their loved ones. Viv was easy to spot in the mass of uniforms. But then, she’d always stood out with her red hair and bright smile. Some things never changed, not even after six years of war.
Grace called to her friend who rushed toward her, embracing as if they hadn’t seen each other in years.
“Are you all right?” Grace asked.
Viv took a deep breath and nodded, her red lips drawing tight against one another. Despite her attempt to remain optimistic, disappointment lined the corners of her mouth.
All around them, people jostled, lost in the bliss of their reunion or rushing to get home.
“I really did a great job out there,” Viv said.
Grace squeezed her with one last hug. “You really did.”
“We both did.” Viv slung her kit bag over her shoulder and took Grace’s hand in hers. “Do you miss your work with the ARP?”
“I miss the excitement of it,” Grace replied. And she did. Of course, it was preferable to be in a time of peace. But there had been a thrill that hung in the air in the past years, an appreciation every morning you woke up alive. The kind that came from a perpetual press of danger. She hadn’t been aware of it then, but now she felt of its absence.
“Mr. Stokes comes to the shop so often, I haven’t had the chance to miss him,” Grace said with an endearing smile. “However, I am grateful for extra nights of sleep.”
“We’ll have new adventures anyway,” Viv said, falling back on her old habit of looking for new horizons when she was downtrodden. And right now her attention was fixed on a soldier striding past them with broad shoulders and an array of pins sparkling on his chest. “With handsome husbands, perhaps?”
“And shops to run.” Grace squeezed her hand, earning a laugh from her friend.
“How is your wonderful bookshop?”
Grace’s thoughts turned to the store, polished and clean, organized by subject, its shelves still mismatched wood from when they’d been rebuilt with scraps, the readings she’d continued as the war raged on and all the people she considered close friends. The booksellers she’d helped after the Blitz destroyed their establishments had found their own shops in time, each with a shelf designated for The Last Bookshop in London out of appreciation.
She loved every bit of Evans & Bennett.
“Like that then?” Viv asked with a smile. “Enough to transform your entire face with happiness?”
Grace nudged her toward the escalators. “Like that.”
As they rode up the metal stairs, it was all too easy to recall another time when she and Viv were at Farringdon Station together. When they’d left their home in Drayton, before the war had begun and they’d never dreamed they’d be surrounded by bombs or manning an anti-aircraft gun. Before Grace had ever found a love for books.