One London Night

by Denise A. Agnew

“You can lock the door if you don’t trust me,” he said.

  She swatted him gently on the shoulder. “I trust you.”

  He nodded. “Good. After the mess I got us into back at the cottage…”

  She opened the closet door and they stepped out. “That was as much my fault as yours, and I think we should stop beating ourselves about the head. We’re two sensible people.”

  Alec cupped her shoulders. “Agreed. Come. Let’s make the bed up for you.”

  He gathered fresh linens for her and they changed sheets on the bed. It was an intimate situation, and even though nothing would happen between them tonight, she hung on the realization that her feelings for him had exploded. Try as she might not to care so much, she cared desperately for this rugged, amazing Englishman.

  “Let’s not wait so long between phone calls,” she said. “Even if we can’t see each other often.”

  He wrestled a white pillow case over a pillow. “Sounds good.”

  She hoped they’d stick to the plan.

  He started to leave but paused at the doorway. “Bathroom is right next door. Sleep well.”

  Before he closed the door, she said, “Thank you, Alec.”

  “For what?”

  “For inviting me here. It was wonderful.”

  His smile turned a mile wide, and he winked. “It was.”

  With that he closed the door.

  While she didn’t lock the door, Sylvie slept with a dreamless, deep quality she hadn’t experienced in weeks. The next morning they had powdered eggs and tea for breakfast along with slices of bread. She departed right after, blowing him a kiss as she stepped into a cab. She watched out the back window as he waved. As the cab wended its way back to the Savoy, a type of sadness also filled her. They’d left each other without a kiss.

  Chapter 16

  News Of The Day

  New York Herald Tribune

  October continued with nightly barrages on London and other areas in Britain. Only inclement weather slows down the severity. Sometimes here in London we forget what other counties have to endure, what other cities have suffered.

  On October 21 several counties were hit, including Lancashire, Gloucestershire, Wiltshire, Oxfordshire, Sussex, and Kent. Fortunately there were no casualties reported.

  Railways continue to sustain significant damage. Train services often terminate in the suburbs, and passengers struggle to find new ways to get to work every day. Unexploded bombs, road damage, houses that have fallen into the streets…the number of difficulties multiply.

  A major tragedy occurred lately when a shelter with six hundred people was besieged by a river of sludge when the road and water mains above collapsed inward. Sixty-four people were killed. Reports say that 60,000 homes are uninhabitable in London with 16,000 destroyed. London’s Rest Centres are badly overcrowded, with 25,000 homeless people seeking shelter each night. In many ways the war is getting harder, in many ways it is getting easier. Tougher because more homes and businesses are destroyed. Easier because many have learned how to live with so much less than before.

  * * * *

  Thursday, November 7

  Late afternoon darkened the sky of London as Annie and Sylvie returned from tea and entered the Tribune office.

  Annie dragged Benjamin’s chair away from his desk and placed it in front of Sylvie’s. “I’m tired of walking, but I have a feeling finding a cab today won’t be easy.”

  Sylvie smiled at the other woman. “I’m envious that you had the afternoon off. It seems like half the time I’m in the office while everyone else is gone.”

  Annie frowned. “Why is that?”

  “Benjamin is always sending James and Pugs on assignments.” Sylvie hung her coat on the coat rack and settled into her desk chair. “And he doesn’t send me.”

  Annie slipped off her hat and thumbed her fingers through her hair. “But you’ve found your own stories. You don’t need Benjamin to send you anywhere. Maybe he’s figured that out.”

  Sylvie put her feet up on her desk, forgetting for the moment that she wore a skirt. “Pugs and James don’t need to be assigned, either. They’re great at finding stories. No, something weird is going on with Benjamin, and I don’t know what it is.”

  “Such as?”

  Sylvie wrinkled up her face. “As I said, I don’t know. It’s a feeling.”

  Annie nodded. “Trust that feeling, darling. You can’t go wrong with it.”

  “Well, whatever Benjamin is up to, it doesn’t seem to be hampering my work so far.”

  Annie put her feet up on the other side of the desk, a silly grin on her face. “Then what’s the problem?”

  Sylvie frowned and stared at the floor. “I’m not sure. I guess I’m…I’m missing Alec. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  “But you’ve talked.”

  “Yes.”

  “Quite a few times, you said.”

  “Yes. I’ve called him or he’s called me almost every two days. We had dinner three times.”

  Sylvie was a bit reluctant to admit it, simply because Annie would make more of it than it was.

  Annie’s eyes lightened with a mischievous bent. “I see.”

  Sylvie let her feet fall to the floor with a thud. “Oh, dear. When you say you see, it means something profound.”

  “I think it means you should stop pretending.” Her voice lowered. “You should stop pretending you aren’t in love with Alec.”

  Sylvie’s jaw dropped. She should be used to her friend’s directness and insight. The woman never failed to say what she meant. What astonished Sylvie more, though, was the realization Annie just might be correct. Yet she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t admit something right here and right now. “I don’t know.”

  Annie snorted. “All right. You continue to play it that way, my dear. Has he said anything about a permanent relationship or love?”

  “No.”

  Annie put her hands up as if she surrendered. “I can see why you would wish to stay safe and not say anything to him. But don’t believe blather about the man having to say it first.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it either way.” Sylvie knew that was a bald-faced lie. “All right, I have thought of it that way.”

  Annie plopped her hat back on her head. “Take it from me, Sylvie. It’s better to get it out in the open. It’s wartime. Better to have everything on the table and up front. You never know if you’ll see someone the next day.”

  Sylvie’s heart thumped. “I don’t want to think like that.”

  “I understand. A person can overdo and obsess. What ifs and why nots and everything in between. But the truth is, it is better to know what he feels than to wonder, isn’t it?”

  Sylvie couldn’t deny the wisdom she heard. “You’re right. As always.”

  Annie shook her head and sighed. “That’s not true either, even if I want it to be.”

  The door to the office opened quickly and in walked Benjamin and Betty. Benjamin was chuckling, his face flushed. Betty had a hold of his arm, and her grin was wide and self-assured. The epiphany hit Sylvie. This. This was what was different about Benjamin. He had a relationship of some kind with Betty. Sylvie’s stomach turned over. Surely Betty didn’t like Benjamin that well? Sylvie couldn’t imagine any woman feeling anything more than mild amusement at his ridiculousness.

  “Hello,” Betty said, releasing Benjamin’s arm but not looking the least repentant. “Look what Sylvie’s been doing while you’ve been working hard, Benjamin.”

  Annie laughed, the sound almost a snort. “Is that what you two are calling what you’re doing these days? Hard work?”

  Sylvie had to choke off a laugh. Annie was letting everyone today have it with both barrels.

  Benjamin’s outraged expression told exactly what he thought. “That was uncalled for.”

  Betty’s face was a cold mask. “That’s hardly professional behavior, Miss Hollister.”

  Annie’s smile grew wider. “No, what you’re doing cou
ld hardly be called professional.”

  Benjamin pointed to the door. “If you’ll please leave this office, Miss Hollister. I can see you’ve distracted Sylvie enough when she should be working. I’ll talk with your boss about this behavior.”

  Annie stood and headed for the door. “Please do talk with my boss. I’d love to hear what he says about your conversation.”

  Sylvie waved at Annie. “Thanks for having tea with me. It was great as always. I’ll see you soon.”

  Annie gave Sylvie a salute and closed the door as she left.

  Stark silence hung in the air a moment before Sylvie turned to the paperwork on her desk.

  “I’ll see you later, Benjamin.” Betty sauntered toward the door. “Remember what I suggested and give it some thought.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Benjamin left with Betty.

  Sylvie shook her head, half wondering if the subterfuge with Betty had ramifications for her. She didn’t know she believed this, but some instinct inside told her to remain suspicious of Betty and Benjamin.

  The phone rang on Sylvie’s desk, and she hoped it was a good story coming her way. “New York Herald Tribune, Sylvie Hunnicut speaking.”

  “Hey, Sylvie,” Alec’s deep tones came over the line.

  Sylvie’s heart did a leap of happiness. “Hello, stranger. How long has it been?”

  “Three days? I’m off work and at the flat. I was hoping we could have dinner over here again.”

  She almost invited him to the Savoy but decided a private venue would be wonderful. “Sounds fantastic. I’m not done here for at least a couple of more hours.”

  Sirens suddenly wailed loud and strong.

  “Damn. Is that sirens?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Get to the shelter now, Sylvie.”

  “I’ll call you after the raid is over.”

  Before she could say another word, the shriek of a bomb coming overhead interrupted. Somehow they weren’t getting much of a warning this time. It was coming closer and closer. “Alec. There’s one coming—”

  She dropped the phone and dived under the desk.

  A horrendous sound louder than any thunder she’d heard rang in her ears, a wave of pressure shoving her where she didn’t want to go, the shattering of glass mixing with the rolling concussion of sound. Right before blackness overtook her, Sylvie thought she heard Alec calling her name.

  It seemed like only seconds later when Sylvie opened her eyes. Disoriented, at first she couldn’t move. Her body felt encased in stone. Immobile. Almost as if she didn’t have a body. Noises from around her continued, like the clanking of metal and a bomb rattling the area farther away. The godawful sound of ack ack guns rattled the earth in the distance. Her brain righted itself enough to recognize what had happened. She heard more bombs and people screaming.

  A bomb had fallen close, but not too close. After all, if it had—

  She struggled to her feet and fell against her desk, which had been shoved slightly to the side. Glass littered everything, but the walls were intact. A wave of dizziness hit her and she leaned on the desk, palms flat on the surface. All the windows in the office, which faced the street, were shattered. She groaned as her head started to throb. Sirens continued to wail their warning. In the distance, this time much farther away, bombs peppered the area.

  Her phone was on the floor. She picked it up. “Alec. Alec?”

  Nothing. The line was dead. She dropped the phone and staggered to the door. Betty and Benjamin had left not too long before the bomb. No one else streamed out of their offices. Could anyone be hurt or killed? Or had they rushed to the shelter the second the sirens went off?

  Another thought punched her dead center in the stomach, and the instinct Annie had mentioned a short time earlier pushed Sylvie down the hall at a run.

  “Annie!”

  She ran, taking the stairs as quickly as she dared. She heard clanking above her that proved other people were taking the stairs down as well. Out of breath, she hit the door to the first-floor lobby. No one was there. She rushed into the street, and that’s when she saw it. People were still running, women crying out, and bombs still fell. She stopped on the sidewalk. Less than a block away was a smoking crater that looked wide and deep. It had taken out part of the sidewalk, and on that side a building was half caved in, but there was no fire.

  An urgency she couldn’t define sent her at a run down the sidewalk past other people heading for shelters. She wasn’t more than a few feet from the crater, her heart slamming in her chest. She ignored the continual barrage of bombs. That’s when she saw a shiny object next to a hat that looked familiar.

  In the background she heard shouting, people crying out. Sobbing. She leaned over the shiny object. It was a ring. She lifted it and realized it was smeared in red. Then something dripped down Sylvie’s forehead and plopped on her hand along with the ring. She reached up and touched her forehead and came away with more blood.

  “Oh, God. No. No. Annie.” Her throat tightened into a harsh gasp for air as smoke sucked into her lungs.

  She recognized the hat at the same time and knew the awful truth of where Annie had been when the bomb hit the sidewalk.

  Before Sylvie could process the horrible truth, she couldn’t hold on to the light. Everything went dim, faded, and disappeared.

  * * * *

  Sylvie heard the noises around her but couldn’t piece them together into a coherent whole. Whispers, conversations, footsteps, various noises that made no sense when mingled together. She heard bombs continuing to drop, but they sounded in the far distance. She wrinkled her nose at the medicinal smell. Her head ached, and her entire body felt sore. Softness cradled her, and she was warm. She couldn’t be lying on the ground. She remembered blood dripping onto her hand and on Annie’s ring. A sharp spike of grief pierced her, but at the same time, she couldn’t believe it. Perhaps she’d been wrong. Maybe this was all a ghastly dream. She’d awaken and see none of it had happened.

  A rustling nearby caught her attention. Lethargy held her tight in its grip. She didn’t move.

  A female voice said not far away, “Does anyone know who she is?”

  Another female said, “There’s a ring in that drawer. It was clutched in her hand, but we don’t think it is hers. There was a hat next to her as well. Hopefully it won’t take long to identify her. She might have a husband looking for her.”

  A commotion somewhere caught Sylvie’s attention.

  “I’ll see what’s going on,” the first female voice said. “Stay with her.”

  Sylvie thought she heard a curtain close. She opened her eyes, and an older woman in nurse’s garb stood by the red side of the bed. The lady was tall, with kind gray eyes and a genuine smile on her round face.

  The woman placed her hand on Sylvie’s arm. “Hello, dear. You’re at St. Bartholomew’s.”

  Sylvie glanced down at herself. She was covered in a blanket, but it felt like she still wore her clothes and shoes. “Oh, God.”

  “There’s no need to be frightened, you’re safe now. I’m Nurse Smithsfield. How are you feeling?”

  Sylvie’s answer came out as a croak. “How long…how long have I been here?”

  “Less than an hour. Do you remember your name?”

  “Sylvie Hunnicut. I’m a war correspondent for the New York Herald Tribune.”

  The woman’s round face creased into a smile, her gray eyes warm. “Thank goodness you remember. There’s no identification on you at all. Dr. Clarkson will be relieved you have your memory. We thought perhaps the bomb had dropped close enough to you that there was significant damage we couldn’t see.”

  “I was in the office, and when the bomb hit, it knocked me down and broke out all the windows.”

  “I see. Unfortunately there was at least a woman and two other people who were close enough to it.”

  A woman and two other people.

  She had to be talking about Annie and maybe Benjamin and Betty. She couldn�
�t feel anything for those two at the moment, but a staggering hurt centered in her chest for Annie.

  “You’ll need to stay in the hospital for a while until the doctor is certain you’re all right,” Nurse Smithsfield said. “Is there someone we can notify that you’re here?”

  Sylvie swallowed hard, her mind racing past the nurse’s question. “Annie. Did they…” Grief clogged her throat. “Did they find Annie?”

  The nurse squeezed Sylvie’s arm gently. “Who is Annie, my dear?”

  Sylvie held up her left hand and saw the trace of blood on the palm; a panic welled inside her. “Annie Hollister. She works for the newspaper called The Lady…right down the hall from me. She was…she’d just left the office. At the bomb crater I saw her ring and her hat. But I didn’t see her.”

  Nurse Smithsfield shook her head. “I didn’t hear of a survivor named Annie.”

  Sylvie’s heart sank. “The ring you were talking about. It belongs to Anne Hollister. I need to call her flat or The Lady.”

  Smithsfield pressed her shoulder. “Now wait. Don’t try to do too much. I’ll try and call her at the flat and the newspaper and see what I can find out. In the meantime, just rest.”

  Sylvie licked her lips. “Can I have some water, please?”

  Nurse Smithsfield fetched a large cup and poured water for Sylvie. Sylvie gulped down the water and handed the nurse the cup when she finished.

  “Anyone else you wish to call?” the nurse asked.

  “Alec Kent.” She didn’t hesitate and gave the nurse that number. “There’s my grandparents, but…no, I won’t call them. It would only worry them, and they’d try to drive up here. I’ll call them later.”

  “All right. You rest here and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Sylvie closed her eyes. She became aware of an overall deep body ache. Her mind whirled with a million emotions. Grief throbbed like a physical pain. She knew in her heart that Annie had died in the bombing.

  How could she stand the pain?

  Her friend, who had just walked the Earth, who had given her so much friendship and advice…she was gone.

  Sylvie opened her eyes and sat up. Annie’s ring and hat lay on the wood table. Sylvie reached out for the hat but couldn’t touch it. Doing so felt ghoulish somehow. The ring sparkled, and she almost touched it as well. Again, she couldn’t. So she stared and stared until her mind went numb. She lay on the bed again and curled into a fetal position.