One London Night

by Denise A. Agnew

“But I think it also says he’s terrified he’ll do something inappropriate.” Annie’s eyes registered laughter, but she didn’t laugh. “That’s a good sign he’s very attracted to you.”

  Sylvie had to take a gulp of tea as heat washed through her. Heat she didn’t want. “I don’t think that’s likely. We are just good friends. Compatriots from days gone by.”

  Annie made a noise of doubt as she chewed her meal. After she swallowed, she put her fork down. “You’re young, but you must know men better than that. Even Englishmen can be as randy as American men.”

  Sylvie couldn’t help laughing this time. “Really, I can’t believe you’re saying these things.”

  “You’re a new generation. You don’t take things as seriously or as old-fashioned as your parents or grandparents…correct?”

  “Most of the time. But I certainly never plan to…cohabitate with a man before marriage.”

  “And if you never marry?”

  Sylvie’s face heated. “Well…I…I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far.” She threw a glare at Annie. “That’s not a complication I want right now with a war on.”

  “Perhaps not.” Annie sobered, all the mirth gone from her face. “Sylvie, you surprise me a little too.”

  “How?”

  “You are a war correspondent writing amazing reports from a war zone. That in itself is an accomplishment.”

  “Amazing stories?”

  “Yes, they are. I’ve taken a look at that rubbish Benjamin and Pugs have written up claiming it’s a story, and most of the time it’s banal.” She pointed at Sylvie with her index finger. “You…you write things that have heart and matter. You aren’t writing the same trite things over and over again that everyone’s heard before. But there’s a price that comes with that.”

  “Is there?”

  “Obscurity is one. No one wants to hear the truth, and even if they do, they’re few and far between. Watch yourself with Benjamin and that Betty Parks. Outliers often get the short end of the stick.”

  “Outliers?”

  “People who don’t follow the herd.”

  “And you think I’m an outlier?”

  “Of course you are. You’re a war correspondent. If you were a man, you’d be an outlier…the fact you’re a woman compounds that. Outliers have to make their own way, Sylvie. No one else will give you respect. Sometimes the sheer ridiculousness of people makes me want to scream.”

  Sylvie knew they’d veered away from the original conversation. “So…Alec isn’t harmless.”

  Annie heaved a sigh. “Harmless in certain respects and dangerous in others.”

  “He’d never hurt me intentionally.”

  Annie nodded. “Not intentionally.”

  “Betty is a shark, isn’t she? She warned me that unless I followed the party line, I’d sink. I think she wants my job and Alec. She’s either the most imbecilic woman I’ve ever met, or she completely believes the ridiculous things she says.”

  “Oh I think she realizes what she’s saying is wrong, but she doesn’t care. She’s a master of manipulation. She’s particularly dangerous to those who she can’t manipulate, so watch out for her.”

  “I don’t think she could get her claws into Alec.”

  Sylvie pondered over another bite of pasta. “I suppose it shouldn’t, but there’s part of me that does worry she’ll get what she wants.

  “Problem with a woman like her is she’s gotten her way so often, she doesn’t think she can fail.”

  Sylvie dabbed her mouth with the napkin. “Has she taken something from you?”

  “No. But that’s because I was a bit too much like her when I was younger. All ambition and no common sense.” Shock kept Sylvie quiet a moment too long, and Annie continued with, “I don’t mean that I tried to steal people’s jobs, but I did manipulate people to get what I wanted. I’m not proud of it.”

  Sylvie nodded. “Everyone changes, I imagine.”

  “You’re very wise for a young woman. My advice with Betty is to never sink to her level.”

  “No chance of me ever sinking to her level, although turning the other cheek doesn’t appeal to me, either.”

  “I understand, believe me.”

  As they finished their meal, Sylvie said, “Thank you, Annie.”

  “For what? Shoveling more advice?”

  Sylvie laughed. “There’s that. But also showing me this restaurant. It was delicious.”

  Annie grinned. “You’re very welcome. Come on. Let’s get back to work before blonde ambition like Betty Parks can steal our work.”

  As they left, Sylvie said, “You know…I don’t think I could have a romance right now even if I wanted one.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It’s a war. There’s no time in war for romance.”

  Annie snorted. “My dear, in war there is always time for romance.”

  * * * *

  Sylvie sat with her notebook in the American Bar later that night and worked on a story. She also gazed around the room at the plethora of journalists and once more felt like the outlier. She also heard Annie’s voice in her head.

  There’s always time for romance during war.

  Annie’s assertion seemed ridiculous until James walked into the room. He spotted her and a huge smile curved his mouth.

  He arrived in front of her in short order. “Fancy meeting you here. It seems like ages.”

  “I think it has been. Please sit down. I’m nursing a rare cup of coffee. It’s amazing they have any.”

  After the waiter took his order for a scotch, they settled into silence while the sounds of conversation went on around them.

  “Are you okay?” he asked after a time.

  She jerked from her foggy thoughts. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you look dazed. Or maybe as if you’re exhausted.”

  His observation brought the truth front and center. “I’m exhausted. I think I could fall asleep in this chair right now.”

  “Then go to your room.” He winked. “I’ll be okay alone.”

  She laughed. “You’re cheeky.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She sighed. “I’d rather stay down here.”

  “Afraid of bombs?”

  “Yes, frankly.”

  “Don’t blame you.” He took a sip of whiskey. “By the way, what did Betty Parks say to you today after we left for luncheon?”

  Part of her didn’t want to discuss it, but the intentness on his face told her he’d press the issue. She gave him the basic rundown.

  “She said that?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Yes.”

  James shook his head. “Well, don’t worry about me believing her.”

  “Doesn’t matter if you do or not. Benjamin’s the one who could throw me out in favor of her.”

  He snorted. “That would be stupid.”

  His statement gave her twisted satisfaction. “Thanks, but…well, are we sure Benjamin is a smart man?”

  He laughed, and she joined in. He continued questioning. “Here’s what I want to know. Is Alec a smart man?”

  Surprise made her slow to answer. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “The way he looks at me?”

  “The man wants you for his own. I can see it. Anyone who cared to look can see it.”

  Stunned by his assessment, she thought about it. “What you or anyone could see is our long friendship. Not a romance.”

  “Keep telling yourself that. The thing I’m not sure of is whether you feel the same way.”

  Everything inside her bottled up, refusing feelings and to think on it too much. “Like I said, it’s a long friendship. It may give people the wrong impression. We have a lot of history together.”

  “Would that history include his blind eye?”

  James’ inquisitiveness made her a little uncomfortable. “It does.”

  He held up o
ne hand. “Not to worry. I’m not going to ask. I get the feeling it’s painful for you.”

  “You’re a very perceptive man, James. I don’t talk about it. Ever.”

  His expression said he understood she meant business. “Enough said, then. Say, I’m starving. Do you mind if we move this to the River Room?”

  “Not at all. Let’s go.”

  After they’d settled into a table there, she noticed the band played a sweet, soulful song she didn’t recognize. James ordered roast beef, which was a real rarity these days. They chatted through his meal once it came.

  “So how do you feel about working with so many men?” James asked.

  She swirled her drink. “I noticed the old boys club here.”

  “How’s that?”

  She shrugged. “You know. The earthy dialogue, the impassioned stud poker and marathon chess matches some of the correspondents have. The tons of smoke not from bombs but cigarettes and cigars. Have you seen the ashtrays at night? These correspondents drink and smoke into the small hours of the night. How they get to work the next day is beyond me.” She was on a roll. “The procession around here is fast and rich in drama. The War Cabinet, representatives from Greece, Holland, and Belgium. You name it. Everyone who is anyone is here.”

  James tipped his drink to her. “Well, that must mean we’re someone…we’re here too.”

  She laughed, but she couldn’t feel as if she belonged here in the way James would. “Most of the women war correspondents around here don’t give me the time of day.”

  “Annie does.”

  “Yes.” She shrugged. “I’m not whining, honestly.” When he gave her a sideways glance, she sighed. “All right. I’m whining. Feeling a bit like the odd man out because I’m not smoking like a stack, drinking, and playing games.”

  “Do you really want to fit in?”

  “Part of me does. On the other hand, I hate chess and cards and smoking. So I guess I’ll have to stay the odd man out. It doesn’t quite feel real, you know,” she said. “As if all of this is a dream.”

  “Maybe we’d feel differently if we had offices here like so many others do.”

  “Maybe. On the other hand, I’m glad I have somewhere else to go. If I had to stay at the Savoy all the time, I’d lose my mind.”

  “Do you know how strange that sounds? How many people would die to live in this luxury all the time? Think of all those people in the East End.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “I know. I sound ungrateful. Maybe I am.” She threw the full room a glance. “We could always go to Tich’s Bar and pretend we belong there.”

  She’d discovered not long after coming to the Savoy that Tich’s Bar in the Savoy had been taken over by Americans even more than the American Bar. She’d already seen journalists from the Associated Press, Chicago Tribune, and others there.

  “It would be a great place for a candy bar if someone would give us one. I haven’t seen one of those in ages,” James said.

  She shrugged. “Well, at least the New York Times lets us use their phone when everyone else’s is down.”

  The band started a new tune, this one as slow as the last. James had finished his meal. “May I have this dance?”

  She smiled. “You surprise me. I thought you hated dancing.”

  “I don’t hate dancing with you.”

  “All right, then.”

  They left the table, and before when he drew her into his arms, she felt a tiny tingle. Almost as if he’d had the spark as well, he smiled. He didn’t hold her too close, but the touch of his hand on hers was warm and reassuring.

  Deeply romantic, the song drew them into a flow on the dance floor. Other couples joined them. Everything seemed right with the world in this gentle moment.

  In the distance she thought she heard a rumble, and every hair on the back of her neck went into freeze mode. “Was that a bomb?”

  “Probably.”

  She eased in a breath. “I don’t hear any sirens. No one is clearing out to the shelter.”

  “Seems to me the people of Savoy think they’re immune.”

  She decided she needed to take her mind off bombs. “I met Churchill.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “Yes. The night after the trip I took with the AFS. He paid for our meal…Alec and I.”

  “That was unusual.”

  “Not from what I’ve heard. He apparently does buy meals for AFS sometimes. He seemed genuine…a man of integrity.”

  A rumble in the distance made them pause.

  This time, when her neck prickled, it wasn’t from attraction. A moment later they could hear sirens, and the warden came inside. The band stopped playing, and the warden announced they should evacuate to the shelter.

  She quickly gathered her purse, and moments later they retreated to the shelter. They settled in the shelter with a sizeable crowd. Rather than take a table, they found two chairs in the back in a relatively isolated corner. Her nerves prickled.

  “I really hate this,” she said softly.

  “So do I, but we signed up for this war. We could be home in the United States.”

  “True. I have no one to blame but myself.” She glanced around and said in a low tone, “This shelter isn’t anything like the Underground shelters. There people talk, sing, and pray. Some mutter the same phrase over and over or write letters.”

  He nodded. “They cling to their identity card because if they’re killed, they don’t want to be thrown into a cardboard box for the unclaimed.”

  Tears rose in her eyes unexpectedly. She thought of Tilbury; the largest shelter in London was designated to hold three thousand, but estimates said fourteen thousand sheltered there nightly in the East End. She struggled to hold her fear in check. She worried about Alec battling the fires. Now that she’d seen the danger firsthand, her concern for his safety had grown worse. She knew he was only one of thousands of men—there were dozens of AFS substations and annexes tucked into every niche in the London Square Mile.

  In the distance the rumbles continued, but at least they didn’t sound too close.

  “I’d love to be at Sainsbury’s right now, shopping,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because it would be a better world right this minute. Shopping, eating, walking…ordinary things. Not hiding.”

  “Of course. We all would.” His voice sounded steady and even.

  She daydreamed again. Her mind was filled with images of good times she’d had with Alec and the far more carefree days of childhood. Fiercely, for a vulnerable moment, she wanted, more than anything, to either be in New York City away from London or at her grandparents’ home. The rumble, rumble of bombs dropping in the distance suddenly seemed too close, too harsh on her senses. She trembled somewhere deep inside. She took one deep breath and then another to steady her nerves.

  “I’d love to be at the theater watching a movie right now,” James said.

  She appreciated the distraction of conversation. “That sounds wonderful. I haven’t seen a movie in ages.”

  “Then we’ll go to one soon.”

  She smiled. “Looking forward to it. This next weekend I may travel to see my grandparents. They called yesterday and were nagging me to visit.”

  “I’m glad I don’t have relatives here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they won’t have to go through this war.”

  “What if the United States gets into the war?”

  He shrugged. “Well, if we do, then at least it won’t be on our soil like it is here.”

  A cold chill snaked up her back at the thought. She retreated once more to forgetting where she was and imagined green fields and sunny skies. She didn’t want to complain and felt sudden shame.

  James touched her arm. “I think the bombing has stopped.”

  Soon enough he was proven right and they left for their rooms. Under the darkness of her blackout curtains, she found a measure of peace in the night. She’d just turned off t
he light and sunk under the curtains when the phone rang. She about came out of her skin. Quickly she found the bedside lamp, and light bathed the room.

  She grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

  “Sylvie, it’s Alec.”

  Surprised and suddenly awake, she sat straight up in bed. “Alec. How are you? I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I’m calling so late. I wanted…after this last bombing, I thought I’d call and see if you were in your room and all right.”

  She sighed and swung her feet out of bed. “I’m fine. But what about you? I almost called twice this last week to see how things are going.”

  “Amazingly well. There’s so much that’s happened. Look, I was hoping we could spend some time together.”

  Her heart did a little dip and jump. “Oh. That would be great. When do you have time away from the AFS?”

  “Saturday and Sunday.”

  “What did you want to do?”

  “Could you get away for a picnic? I was thinking out in the country. There’s this place near Cambridge. A lovely park. It has a lot of trees and shade, and even in the cooler weather it’s very nice. We could talk and catch up with each other.”

  “Darn.”

  “What?”

  “My grandparents want me to come out to their home this weekend. I was going to take the train.”

  “Ah.” The disappointment in his voice was completely palpable. “I see.”

  Without another hint of hesitation, she jumped on the answer she wanted to give. “I have an idea. I was leaving very early Saturday morning. What if we take your car? We could have a picnic on the way back Sunday.”

  “Sounds like an idea. I’m not keen on going to my parents, but I will to get that picnic with you.”

  Pleasure filled her. She yawned. “Good.”

  “I’ll pick up Saturday at the Savoy. Say seven o’clock in the morning?”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  Chapter 11

  Saturday, September 28

  The Bentley roared along the carriageway toward Huntingdon and home. Alec loved the wide open spaces around them, and he was damned glad Sylvie sat next to him. He was also glad they’d started this trip early. He didn’t want to be out in the open later, in case the Jerries decided to dump a payload.