One London Night

by Denise A. Agnew

  “How did Sylvie look?” Mum asked.

  He thought about her shoulder-length chestnut hair and her beautiful eyes. All these years had made her even more amazing, refining her small nose, her oval face. Her suit didn’t hide her full breasts, slim hips, or long legs the way she might imagine. After he’d survived the fact he’d almost hit her head on, seeing her had created more turmoil inside him than he expected. Emotions had rushed through him like swift water. Desire to hold her, to kiss her and discover if their adult passions would explode the way their teenage feelings almost had…he’d wanted with a rawness he couldn’t recall feeling for another woman before.

  “Alec?” his mother asked when it took too long for him to answer.

  “She’s beautiful, just as always. We didn’t get a chance to exchange many pleasantries.”

  Mum sighed. “Well, perhaps you should see her again.”

  Everything inside him rebelled at the same time his father said, “That is a wretched idea. That girl is bad luck for you. Stay away from her.”

  Alec wanted to disagree with the old man. At the same time, on a gut level, he thought it might be true.

  Alec stood slowly. “I need some fresh air.”

  He picked up his own utensils and plates, aware Mum and Father disapproved. He didn’t care. If he accomplished his goal of serving with the Auxiliary Fire Service, he’d have more to worry about than someone cleaning up after him.

  In the kitchen, the cook, Miss Sally Biggs, was elbow-deep in dishes at the sink. “Oh, you didn’t have to bring that in here,” she said, green eyes wide with concern.

  “It is all right, Sally.”

  She turned away from the sink. She dried her hands off on a towel and then unwrapped the apron from around her plump body. Gray hair was piled high on her head. She was petite only in height—with big hands and big feet. She’d always shown him warmth and friendship. He considered her unflappable.

  “Young man, you aren’t eating enough. You should have some of my pie.”

  “There’s pie?”

  “Absolutely. There likely won’t be another pie for weeks, so you had better eat up before you go to London.”

  “I think I will later. I need to check something outside first.”

  She rifled through a drawer. “You’ll need a torch then.”

  He thanked her, took the torch, and left through the kitchen back door. After switching on the flashlight, he headed into the gardens where one section had been turned into a large vegetable plot. His parents had always maintained a gardener part time, but when the war started, they’d learned everything they could about growing vegetables so they could do it on their own. They’d even built an Anderson shelter near the back door, despite the fact the basement was well equipped for the job.

  Alec wandered into the flower garden, under a trellis where fall had taken over and left vines withering from cooler temperatures. The back of the house faced full east, and he trekked south down the length of the home before he found the giant tree where he’d shared his one and only kiss with Sylvie those many years ago. Memories flooded him. He closed his eyes and imagined holding her, discovering the heat and fire of her body.

  He hadn’t been with a woman in a long time, but he also hadn’t wanted an involvement. Most women flinched once they realized he was blind in the right eye. They didn’t see him as whole. He recalled how Sylvie had looked at him.

  No, she hadn’t cared about the eye. She’d looked shocked to see him, but nothing in her expression said she found him repulsive. Had he imagined interest in her gaze?

  An ache started in his center as he recalled their friendship and how solid it had been. Until that damned day he’d played the stupid boy and made a mistake he regretted to this day.

  But now he was a man. When he reached London, he had to stay confident and understand that the AFS wouldn’t want him. But he’d show them they needed him anyway.

  When he opened his eyes, something else caught his attention. Along the southwest the horizon held an odd glow, a bigger play of light than he would normally see from Huntingdon. More than that, the country was under blackout. Huntingdon wouldn’t be lit at all.

  “London,” he whispered.

  He could see the glow of London on fire.

  * * * *

  Monday, September 9

  “I must be insane,” Sylvie said as she drove the cantankerous Standard Flying Ten her grandfather had bought last year.

  She didn’t feel insane because she drove the car but because she was pulling into the circular drive of Alec Kent’s home. She had three missions, and the first one surprised her. Her grandparents had relented unexpectedly yesterday and wanted to have dinner with the Kents. They’d dictated the time as this coming Wednesday,—she knew they’d chosen a day to gain control.

  Second, she’d decided while she was here she’d try to interview the Land Girls. She hoped to get permission. She could have called, but something drew her to Kent House. Old memories?

  Third, and final, seeing Alec again had become a craving. She needed to understand what he really felt all these years after the accident had separated them.

  She parked and stared at the stone house, the cracked face like an old man with wrinkles and warts. Vines trailed over the facade, but it didn’t appear worn as much as it did angry. The structure was almost as ancient as her grandparents’ home, give or take a few years. As a young girl, whenever she’d come here, she thought the place looked haunted, with dark windows and a cheerless air. Maybe it was. That could be why Alec always seemed to have a frown when he left the house, and why he always looked happier outside of it. Well, he had way back when. Now…now she didn’t know.

  She exited the car, and before she could knock on the door, it swung open. Alec’s mother, Anna Holcomb Kent, stood there with a mild smile that suggested a cautious welcome.

  “Sylvie, how good it is to see you.” The woman’s voice was pleasant and far lighter than she remembered. As if Mrs. Kent wasn’t quite the same person Sylvie remembered.

  Sylvie hadn’t expected the greeting to be as warm, but she responded in kind. “Lovely to see you, Mrs. Kent. I’m sorry to intrude on your day.”

  Mrs. Kent smiled. “Not at all. Do please come in.”

  Well, that wasn’t too bad. Sylvie’s stomach did a toss, and the nervousness inside her didn’t relent.

  She followed Mrs. Kent into the house, and instantly memories overwhelmed her. A wave of happiness mixed with sadness as she thought back to the good times she’d experienced here.

  “Please come into the parlor. Would you like tea?” Mrs. Kent asked as Sylvie followed her down the short hall beyond the stairs and to the left toward the parlor.

  Everything about this house reminded Sylvie of the good times so long ago, and an ache started inside her…an ache to recapture the time and place.

  Oh, to have a time machine. To go back and change all the things I wanted. To make it right between Alec and me.

  “No, thank you.” Sylvie sat on a plump couch and Mrs. Kent sat at the other end.

  “How is your family?” Mrs. Kent folded her hands primly.

  “Good.” Sylvie cleared her throat and turned her body toward the older woman and brushed at non-existent lint on her wool pants. “My grandparents want to accept your dinner invitation.”

  Mrs. Kent’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Truly.” She smiled, and it looked genuine. “That is splendid.”

  The knot in Sylvie’s stomach started to relax. “They hoped they could come over Tuesday evening.”

  “Delightful. Would seven o’clock be too early?”

  Happy this was going smoothly, Sylvie agreed to the time. “Sounds wonderful. I wanted to apologize for my grandparents. I think they should have accepted the dinner invitation right away.”

  Mrs. Kent lowered her eyes, her hands folded in her lap. “The invitation was my idea. I thought it would be nice if our closest neighbors would be civil again. That we’d be civi
l with them. There’s a war on and I feel as if we should help neighbors now.”

  Sylvie hadn’t expected Mrs. Kent’s openness—she’d never been quite this forthcoming before in Sylvie’s presence. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I think it would be excellent if Grandfather and Grandmother could rely on their neighbors.”

  Mrs. Kent nodded. “Very well. Now, what can I help you with?”

  “You might know I’m a war correspondent.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like to interview your Land Girls, Ruby and Jillian.”

  The older woman lifted her gaze to Sylvie, eyes surprised. “Why would you want to do that?”

  Sylvie smiled, used to this type of question. “I’m in England to tell as much of the story as I can. That means even the parts that aren’t glamorous.”

  Mrs. Kent’s attitude was so different from the harsher, more formal woman Sylvie had known.

  “Of course,” Mrs. Kent said.

  Sylvie felt remorse right away. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kent. I didn’t mean to sound harsh.”

  The woman brightened. “I know.” She took a deep breath. “Well, let’s go see the girls then, shall we? I’m not dressed for mucking about in the fields. I’ll be right back.”

  Mrs. Kent was back quickly, dressed in rugged overalls and sturdy boots. She held her hands out, covered in work gloves. “These are brand new. I decided I needed them in my wardrobe. I’ve started helping the Land Girls a couple of times a week. I’d do more but…” She shrugged.

  “I’m sure you do everything you can.”

  “Perhaps not as much as I could. If I was your age, I’d do what you are doing. At least…I wish I had done something as brave and interesting. There were women in the Great War who did the same thing.”

  “I know. I hope I meet some of these women.”

  “Well, that’s lovely.”

  Sylvie had a question she wasn’t sure she should ask. She did anyway as they walked past the garden and to the lane that led to the fields.

  She didn’t look at the other woman as she asked, though. “Where is Alec today?”

  “He’s gone to Huntingdon to help the cook with grocery shopping.”

  Surprised, Sylvie asked, “Really?”

  Mrs. Kent chuckled. “I know. Not something my husband would do, but you know Alec. He’s always worked hard to help around here.”

  “I remember he’s a hard worker. But I don’t know him well anymore.” Sophie regretted the moment the words came out.

  Mrs. Kent stopped, and Sylvie halted beside her. “Sylvie, I am sorry for everything that happened all those years ago. I was the one who insisted we invite your grandparents over. To try and mend things between our families. But my husband does not see things the way I do.”

  Sylvie understood. Her mother was far more lenient and gentle about life in general than her father. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  She didn’t know what else to say, and was saved from replying as they came upon several outbuildings. An hour went by as Mrs. Kent showed her the barns, the horses, the cows, chickens…the list went on and on. Then they went into a field where the Land Girls worked. Ruby and Jillian looked up from their work and waved at Mrs. Kent.

  “Hallo, Mrs. Kent,” Ruby said, her gaze bouncing from Mrs. Kent to Sylvie. “Oh, you’re…you’re Miss Sylvie, aren’t you?”

  Sylvie nodded. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d remember me. It’s been years.”

  Ruby grinned. She was close to thirty by now, her figure slimmed down significantly from when she was younger. But many people had lost weight since the war. With a round face and blonde hair, she had a bouncy look that many men probably found attractive.

  Jillian was taller and had to be around thirty herself. Her horsey face and big nose gave her an older appearance. Jillian’s attitude, though, had always proved sunny.

  “Miss Sylvie, good to see you,” Jillian said.

  “And you,” Sylvie said. “Mrs. Kent, where can I sit down for a while and interview the ladies?”

  “What about over at the garden?” Mrs. Kent said. “I’m sure you ladies could do with a rest.”

  Jillian jammed her rake into the soil. “That would be ever so lovely.”

  “Can you wait a moment, Sylvie?” Mrs. Kent gestured. “Girls, go on to the garden.”

  After Ruby and Jillian moved on, Sylvie waited for Alec’s mother to reveal what she wanted.

  “Sylvie, I wonder if you would speak to Alec about something.”

  Curiosity and caution made Sylvie lower her voice. “What is it?”

  The woman wrung her hands, and once again her gaze dropped away, as if she could hide her real intent or feelings. “Alec is on a bad path.”

  Worry made Sylvie stand up straighter. “Oh?”

  “You know he’s joining the Auxiliary Fire Service?”

  “My grandparents mentioned it.”

  “He’s a grown man of course, but he’s still my son. I tried begging him not to sign up, but he does not listen to me. Alec tried to enter the military, but his eye…you know. They refused him.”

  Sylvie had guessed. “He had to know they’d refuse him.”

  Mrs. Kent placed her hands on her hips and looked Sylvie in the eye. “You know how stubborn he is. When he gets a notion, it’s hard to dissuade him.”

  “Yes.” Sylvie couldn’t help but say, “But then he’s a man. That seems to be a problem they have.”

  Mrs. Kent laughed softly. “I must admit, you’re quite right about that. But with Alec…well, it has me worried. He’s moped around the house since the military wouldn’t take him on.”

  “Moped? You said he’s been working the farm?”

  “Yes, but his attitude can be so morose. As if he has nothing else to live for. It rather frightens me. When he was a boy, he had so much life and happiness in him.”

  He had, and for a spark of a second, she’d seen that same life in him the other day. Sylvie thought she saw tears shining in his mother’s eyes. Sympathy made her reach out and touch Mrs. Kent’s shoulder. She felt the woman’s pain like a live thing.

  “Are you saying he’d harm himself?” Sylvie asked, an ache starting deep in her heart, apprehension making her bold.

  Mrs. Kent looked uncertain. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. What I’m trying to say is that after the accident, he changed. And after the army refused him, he became cooler. More distant. He has so much anger inside him.”

  The ache in Sylvie deepened, and so did the fear. She drew in a deep breath. She let her hand drop from Mrs. Kent’s shoulder. “And why are you telling me this?”

  “Because he won’t listen to me. Maybe if you talk to him about…anything, he will start feeling better. I do not want him risking his life in the AFS, either. Perhaps you can persuade him not to go to London.”

  Alarm made Sylvie almost take a step back. “No. I can’t do that. It would be presumptuous, Mrs. Kent. I understand your concern, but I can’t.”

  Mrs. Kent’s downtrodden expression hardened. “Well, that’s it, then. It doesn’t matter, I suppose. His father is determined that since Alec isn’t to be a solicitor or barrister, that he would distinguish himself in some way.”

  “You’re saying Mr. Kent wants Alec to go into the AFS?”

  “He not only wants him to go into it, he’s made certain of it. If anything, Edward has friends in high places. He managed to get it set up so that Alec will be accepted despite his blind eye.”

  Shock rippled over Sylvie, and for a moment she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She eventually found her voice. “But that’s…isn’t that illegal? Alec would hate that—”

  “You cannot tell Alec. Promise me you won’t tell Alec?”

  Sylvie wanted to growl at Mrs. Kent, but she smashed down her anger and managed to say, “I wish you hadn’t told me.”

  Mrs. Kent smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Think of it as a form of friendly blackmail. Now that you know Alec cannot fail at getti
ng into the AFS, maybe you’ll work hard to convince him not to do it. I know you care that much about him, don’t you?”

  Flabbergasted, Sylvie stayed silent.

  * * * *

  Jillian and Ruby sat in the garden on stone benches, watching Sylvie expectantly. Both wore the typical garb of a woman in the Land Army, which included brown overalls, skirts, boots, and their hair stuffed under colorful turbans. They also both smiled.

  Jillian wiped her hands on her pants and inspected dirt under her nails. She held one hand up. “This is the life of the Women’s Land Army. No long nails for me.”

  Ruby grunted and held up one wide palm. “I never had clean nails to start with.”

  Sylvie laughed, amused by their good nature. “You ladies haven’t changed a bit.”

  Jillian’s brows went up. “Right, Miss Hunnicut. Everyone knows I’ve changed. I’m taller and wider.”

  Ruby grunted. “Oh, do go on. You aren’t either one. You just like to talk to make yourself special.”

  They grinned at each other, obviously enjoying the ribbing.

  Sylvie drew in a deep breath and planted herself on another stone bench. It smelled wonderful in this garden, even though many of the flowers no longer bloomed in the cooler temperatures. She loved it here, and the memories rode her hard. How could she ever step into this garden without recalling the wonderful times she’d had with Alec?

  “You all right, Miss Hunnicut?” Ruby asked.

  Pulling her small notebook and pencil from her pocketbook, Sylvie nodded. She placed the pocketbook on the bench next to her. “Yes, thank you. Reminiscing about old times.”

  Ruby and Gillian exchanged knowing glances. Ruby said, “You and Mr. Alec used to muck about in this garden when you were kids, didn’t you?”

  Heat filled Sylvie’s face. “Good guess.”

  Jillian winked. “She’s pink in the cheeks.”

  Ruby’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Lord love me, I think she’s embarrassed.”

  The heat in Sylvie’s cheeks grew warmer. “I don’t have any reason to be embarrassed.”

  “’Course not, Miss Hunnicut.” Ruby nodded and slapped her thigh. “We didn’t mean to imply anything, did we Jillian? We just always noticed what good friends you were with Mr. Alec.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Now there’s a fine man if ever there was one.”