“Poor blighter,” said Charles. “And he’s the lucky one. He’ll just have to live with the recurrent horror for the rest of his life.”
Gertie noticed his expression, set hard with bitterness as he said this. “Is that what you’ve done since 1918?”
Charles slid his gaze toward her. “I try not to dwell, but it’s not always possible. It’s the nightmares, you see. You can’t stop them.”
“You know you can always talk to me, don’t you?”
Charles swallowed. “Actually, do you have a moment now?”
“Of course.”
They took a stroll around the hospital grounds, a wide-open expanse of green punctuated with oak, ash, and chestnut trees. “I feel I owe you an explanation after our last conversation,” he said.
“There’s really no need,” said Gertie, avoiding his gaze. “I’m very embarrassed by the whole thing. It was a moment of madness. I don’t know what came over me.”
Charles took her hands. “No, Gertie. It wasn’t. It was a kind and wonderful offer, and I was deeply flattered. You mustn’t be embarrassed. If circumstances were different, I would have jumped at the chance.”
“What circumstances?”
Charles stared at the ground. “I love someone else.”
“Oh, but that’s wonderful. Who is it? Do I know her? I’m so happy for you.” She darted forward to kiss his cheek. It was then that she realized he was crying. “Charles, whatever is it?”
“The person I love died,” he whispered. “A long time ago.”
Gertie’s face crumpled with sympathy. “Oh, Charles. I’m so sorry. How awful for you to carry the sorrow alone. And for so many years.”
“That was it for me,” said Charles through his tears. “No one ever came close.”
“Oh my dear,” said Gertie. “I do understand, but why the secrecy? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Was she married?” Her mind flitted to Elizabeth’s revelation. “Don’t worry, I won’t be shocked.”
Charles shook his head, a look of fear creasing his face. “I can’t tell you, Gertie. I thought I could, but now I don’t think I can.”
Gertie looked him in the eye. “Charles. You told me once that we were the survivors, the ones left behind. You have been a rock to me when I needed you most. You can tell me anything, so please. Who was it?”
Charles stared at her sorrowfully. “Jack,” he whispered. “Your brother, Jack.”
Gertie felt her body sway like a boat caught by a sudden wave. “Jack,” she said. Charles nodded. “You loved Jack.”
“Yes. I still do.”
“I’m sorry, Charles, but could we sit down for a moment please?” she said as the world seemed to spin around her.
“There’s a bench over here,” he said, guiding her toward it.
Gertie felt as if she were watching herself from above as Charles’s news began to sink in. She knew what the law said, what society said, and yet none of this mattered to her. She knew Charles and she had known her brother. Slowly, the memories from history started to piece together in her mind. Jack’s argument with her father. Harry’s suggestion that it might be something to do with gambling. Charles’s insistence that he simply wasn’t the marrying kind. It all made sense now. She felt like a fool for not seeing it before. She could have been a friend to Charles, offered comfort when he needed it. Instead, he had lived with his secret for years, unable to discuss how he truly felt after Jack died. Imagine losing the person you love most in the world and never being able to tell another soul. When Gertie thought back to the aftermath of Harry’s death and how much Charles had helped her, she felt nothing but shame.
“Gertie. Please say something.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?”
She turned and took his hands in hers. “I said I’m sorry.”
Charles looked confused. “What on earth for?”
She gazed into his clear blue eyes. “For you, having to face all this alone. Grief is a beastly place. Lonely and desolate. I have only been able to cope with losing Harry because you were there. I cannot imagine what it must have been like not to be able to tell anyone.”
Fresh tears formed in Charles’s eyes. “You’re not appalled?”
Gertie kissed his hands. “The world is on fire, people are dying every day in a war that feels as if it will never end, human beings are turning into monsters out of sheer hatred for their fellow men and women. You have shown nothing but love and kindness throughout your whole life. You love my brother, who was dearer to me than life itself. What on earth could I find appalling in that?”
Charles stared at her for a moment before falling into her arms. Gertie held him close as they both sobbed, united in love and loss.
Hedy’s recovery was slow but steady. The doctors seemed optimistic that she would be able to come home within a week. Gertie started to make preparations for her return, airing the house from top to bottom, banishing every speck of dust, making a fresh bed, and buying her a brand-new notebook. The news from Germany was grim. Despite the Red Cross’s assertion that the camps that housed many Jews were benign, the rumors leaking from the east were of unimaginable horror. There were no telegrams. No letters. It was difficult to know what to do except wait and hope as they had been waiting and hoping for so many years. Gertie would have given her eyeteeth for a scrap of good news, and then one day it arrived.
She was out in the garden, harvesting her potatoes, when she heard the telephone ring. She set the fork in the soil and pulled off her gloves, satisfied with her work so far. The shelter and the area behind it had been covered in rubble after the blast, but the vegetable patch had remained untouched. She hurried to the hall.
“Beechwood 8153?”
“Mrs. Bingham?”
The female voice at the other end of the line was familiar, and yet Gertie couldn’t immediately place it. “Yes?”
“It’s Daphne Godwin here. Samuel and Betty’s mother.”
“Oh, Mrs. Godwin. How are you?” asked Gertie with a jolt of alarm.
“Well. In actual fact, I’m rather well. Samuel is home.”
At first, Gertie thought she’d misheard. All the waiting and hoping made it difficult to accept without question. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that please?”
Daphne laughed. “Yes, I was exactly the same when they told me. It’s true. Samuel is home. I wanted to let you know so that you could tell Hedy. I trust she’s making a good recovery?”
“She is indeed, and you have no idea how much this is going to speed it along. Thank you. Is Sam all right?”
Daphne hesitated before she answered. “Well, you know how this dreadful war takes its toll. The nighttimes can be difficult.”
Gertie’s mind cast back to her conversation with Charles. “Poor Sam.”
“He’s rather frustrated at the moment, his father has prescribed bed rest for the next week or so, and as you can imagine, he’s desperate to see Hedy.”
“Of course. Well, I’m hopeful that she’ll be home in the next few days. I’ll telephone you as soon as I know, shall I?”