* * * *
When Sylvie had yelled about a bomb coming not long after the air raid sirens started, Alec hadn’t thought he should take to the Morrison shelter in the closet. No. All he wanted was to see her again. Now. Whole and unharmed, and he didn’t care if bombs fell.
Without a car the chance of him getting to her office fast was damned unlikely. But he’d found a way. Granted, it had taken him two bloody hours. He’d navigated down the sidewalk at a run, using his physical training as a fireman that had honed him into a stronger man. Most people had the sense to run for the shelters, but he simply couldn’t when he felt Sylvie needed him.
He’d found a cab actually working during the raid, and the man had been willing to challenge damaged and blocked roads without charging him a higher price. The bombs continued falling, and he’d realized his hands were clenched into fists as the cab did its level best to reach the Tribune office.
When he was a couple of blocks away, traffic came to a halt. Smoke rose up from somewhere up ahead.
“Looks like this is the end of the line, guvnor,” the cab driver said.
“I’ll walk the rest of the way.” He paid the driver and left the cab. “Thank you for your help.”
The grizzled man, who looked about a hundred years old, saluted. “If I were younger, I’d be fighting Jerries again.”
“Again? You were in the Great War?”
“I was. Now go find your girl.”
Alec quickened his steps down the sidewalk. Smells assaulted his nose. Smells he’d become used to since joining the AFS and living in London. While part of him thrilled to the work of being a firefighter, another part hated it more every day. He didn’t want to fight fires all his life, but who knew how long the war would last?
He’d have to get used to the nasty smell of burning timber and brick, and worst of all…burning flesh. Pain flashed through him as he walked faster and faster until he was running. He had to find Sylvie, and fast. As he ran down the sidewalk, he noted all the cars being turned around by the police. Something big, probably a bomb, had hit close to Sylvie’s office.
Fear rose higher until his stomach twisted and nausea threatened to double him over. He reached the area near the Tribune building and immediately saw the large crater in the middle of the road. He slowed to a fast walk.
Quite a few people, including police and other AFS men, swarmed the area. He started toward the building where her office was located.
“You can’t go that way,” a police officer said, putting his arm out to block the way.
“I’m AFS.” He pulled out his identification and showed it to the policeman. “I’m off duty and my…my girlfriend works for the Tribune in this building. I’m trying to make sure she’s all right.”
The policeman handed Alec his identification, his face easing into a kinder expression. “Understand, but this building is now off limits. There’s no one in there. Even the shelter is off limits. Everyone who worked in here was evacuated.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
The policeman nodded. “There were many superficial injuries…glass and that sort of thing. There was one woman found near the crater who was taken to hospital and two others…a man and a woman who were taken to hospital for more severe injuries. We also think there was one death. We’re not sure yet who she is…” The man cleared his throat. “We found bits of her in the crater. It’s really amazing we found that much.”
Alec’s mind went into overdrive, his throat tight with desperation and overwhelming fear. He could barely speak. “The women that were taken to the hospital…do you know their names?”
The man didn’t know, no one knew who the injured people were, nor did they know which hospitals they’d been taken. He thanked the policeman and quickly continued toward the Savoy. He’d either walk all the way, or he’d find a working phone and call hospitals. He found a phone in a pub that was still open and started making calls. One after the other. He didn’t know Annie Hollister’s number, so he tried calling the Savoy first. His heart banged in his chest as he hoped Sylvie would come on the line. There was no answer in her room. He talked with the front desk.
“We haven’t seen her, Mr. Kent, but she could have walked upstairs without us seeing her of course.”
“She didn’t answer her phone.”
“If we see her, shall we say you called?”
“Please do. Tell her I’m looking for her. The Tribune offices were near a bombing—I’m worried.”
The gentleman at the front desk expressed his concern. “I see, Mr. Kent. We most definitely will tell her if we see her.”
After he hung up, he decided to find his way to every hospital in London until he made sure she wasn’t at any of them. He found a cab again and started his long trek.
St. Bartholomew’s was an ancient hospital, and he felt as if he’d wandered into a house of death. Over and over in his mind, he rolled the possibility that Sylvie had been the one hit by the bomb. But, no. It wasn’t logical. He’d been talking to her when the bomb hit nearby and interrupted their call. At the most, cut glass could have hurt her. He tried the hospital closest to the area, and as luck would have it, the logical choice won out. At the front desk they told him a woman matching his description had been brought in with minor injuries. The front desk didn’t have a name on her—they’d had too many injuries come in and were trying to sort it out. The injured woman hadn’t come in with identification.
His patience wore thin. “I understand, but I need to see if it’s my girlfriend.”
The nurse nodded and turned to the nurse next to her. “Can you take Mr. Kent to the patient?”
As he followed her and they entered the emergency room area, he glanced at the numerous patients in wheelchairs, gurneys, and tables receiving treatment or awaiting it. Every muscle in his body drew tight as the nurse drew back a curtain.
Sylvie lay on the table, curled into a fetal position.
“Sylvie?” He practically choked on her name.
She started and sat up. Her eyes were wide and round, at first frightened and then clearing to recognition. “Alec!”
She jumped off the gurney and into his arms. He gathered her close, hugging her tight as his own relief swamped him. Tears gathered in his eyes. She was safe.
He drew back enough to look into her eyes. They swam with tears. “Sylvie, are you all right?”
“Yes. Just bruised up. A small cut on my forehead from glass.”
He kissed her lips with pure affection, a quick but warm touch, not caring if the world saw them. He brushed back the lock of hair covering her forehead and noticed the small dressing.
When he drew back, he kept her tucked close. He realized the nurse had left them and had drawn the curtain around the table for privacy.
She cupped his face. “Alec, Annie was killed.” She drew in a hiccupping breath. “She was killed.”
Tears spilled from her eyes, and he felt agony pouring from her in great waves. “Oh, my God. I thought it might be you.” He explained what he’d done to find her. “I thought that could be you in the crater.”
She wiped her eyes, but the tears kept flowing. “I don’t know what to think. I’m just…”
She buried her head against his shoulder, and Alec drew her tighter into his arms. “I know.”
He held her while she wept, a searing pain in his heart for what she’d experienced and for Annie’s death. He hadn’t known Annie well, but he knew she’d become close to Sylvie.
She drew back again. “I…when the bomb hit…”
Her bottom lip trembled, and he wanted desperately to wipe away everything that had happened to her in the last few hours.
“You don’t have to talk about it now,” he said.
She nodded, her eyes closing as she circled his waist with her arms and clung to him. He burrowed his fingers into her hair and held her tightly. Someone cleared their throat. Alec released Sylvie and they turned. A gray-haired man in a white doctor’s coat smiled at
them.
“Hello. I’m Dr. Beecham.” After introductions were made, the doctor said, “So you’re awake, Miss Hunnicut, and looking quite well.” He looked at Alec. “If you wouldn’t mind, please, I need to do another examination and see if she’s ready for release.”
Alec sat in the waiting room, reluctantly, his nerves still jumping and twitching. He felt both washed out and overstimulated, every muscle tight despite the relief of finding Sylvie safe.
A short time later a nurse accompanied Sylvie into the waiting room. Sylvie was chatting and smiling, which surprised him.
“Miss Hunnicut is ready to leave,” the nurse said when they reached him.
He stood up. “Are you sure?”
Sylvie smiled again. “I’m fine. Nurse Smithfield was trying to call you, but all the lines are jammed.”
He nodded and smiled at the nurse. “Thank you for looking after her.”
“You’re welcome, but she needs someone to stay with her. The doctor wants someone to wake her every few hours because she lost consciousness. Will you be able to help her with that?”
Alec slipped his arm around Sophie’s narrow shoulders. “Of course. She can stay with me. Is there somewhere we can sit and have coffee? The roads are so jammed there isn’t any way we’re getting to my flat right away.”
The nurse directed them to a small cantina annex in one part of the hospital. In a cafeteria style line they selected tea and a chipped beef meal for each of them. Alec’s stomach growled—it didn’t care how unappetizing the food looked. Food was food. What concerned him more was Sylvie’s somewhat vacant look, as if all the light in her had been stolen. It was at total odds with her smiles a few minutes ago, and her devastation before that.
He paid for their meals and led the way to a secluded table. Crowded and noisy, the place rattled his nerves. Or maybe today’s experience had colored his world forever. With this new drama, this new danger, all the world would sound louder, smell more pungent, and look brighter. Insane thoughts, clearly, but at least he wasn’t thinking every moment that he’d lost Sylvie. He wasn’t racked with the grief that would come from losing her.
Sylvie stayed silent, staring at her chipped beef.
“You need your strength,” he said. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” She sipped the tea and grimaced.
He took a sip of his own tea and did the same. It was bloody awful. But it was tea, and one didn’t refuse a cuppa when you didn’t know how long it would be before the next one.
“You’re not hungry?” he asked. “The aroma isn’t half bad.” He bit into a chunk of meat, and the taste was amazingly mild. “Good. Best I’ve had in a long time. Try it.”
She did, but her eyes still kept their strange, safe gaze into the world beyond. All the tears and emotion from earlier might never have happened.
Still, in the noisy cafeteria, they ate without talking about her experience. She ate faster and faster. He told her his experience that day. Bit by bit. Blow by blow.
He had to admit the truth. “I was scared out of my mind, Sylvie. I thought I might have lost you.”
Her gaze snapped up to his, once more clear and alert. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I asked Nurse Smithsfield to call you first.”
Gratification filled him. “Not your grandparents?”
“No. I don’t want them to know about this. It would have worried them, they would have tried to drive up here.”
“Of course. How’s your head now? Do you feel all right?”
A hint of a smile touched her mouth. “I feel wonderful. That’s the strange part. My whole body was aching when I woke up, and my head a little too. But I’m…there’s just this little cut on my hairline from flying glass. That’s it. I…and Annie…she’s—”
She broke off, and a strange expression came over her. She pressed her hand to her mouth, as if she’d lose her entire dinner. He reached for her other hand and squeezed. “Deep breaths. Don’t think of it right now. Deep breaths.”
She took one and then another breath, and he didn’t release her hand until her cheeks flushed with color.
She took her hand away from her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I almost lost it there.”
“Don’t think of her. Not now.”
Her eyes, when she looked at him, held more tears. “How can I forget? How can I not think of her?”
“We can’t forget completely. Not tonight and maybe not tomorrow. But we will get through it. I’m here with you. When we get back to the flat, we can talk.”
They ate in silence through the rest of their meal, and when she pushed her tray back, he took both of them to the area where an employee gathered the trays for cleaning. When he returned, he noted her expression had lightened and she looked better. Maybe the food had helped. He settled down across from her.
He looked at the wall clock and noted the hour. “Stay with me at the flat. We’ll get your things from the Savoy.”
Her eyes widened a bit. “For tonight?”
“Every night.”
“No.”
Her voice snapped more harshly than he expected, and anger rose inside him when it shouldn’t. “Why not?”
“The Tribune is paying for my room at the Savoy.”
“There might not be a Tribune anymore. The building is pretty messed up for now.”
“All the more reason to stay in the Savoy. My guess is that the paper will move its offices into the hotel like some of the others have.”
He wouldn’t push it, as much as he wanted her near him. “All right. But there’s nothing you can do tonight. Stay with me just for tonight. The doctor doesn’t want you to be alone.”
She nodded. “All right.”
He saw Nurse Smithfield walking toward them with the hat in her hand.
Sylvie saw her at the same time, and her face fell. “How could I have forgotten Annie’s hat?”
Her lower lip trembled again, and Alec wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go.
Nurse Smithfield stopped at their table and held out her palm and the hat. “The ring and hat, my dear. Can you keep them safe?”
Sylvie took them and placed the hat on the table. “Thank you.” Sylvie frowned and slipped the ring on her right hand. It was too large. “I’ll have to contact her editor. Is there a phone nearby I can use?”
Nurse Smithfield put on that smile that cautioned and soothed. “Of course, dear, but how are you feeling? Is this the time or place?”
“I’m fine. I must take care of this now,” Sylvie said, the old determination on her face.
“Fine. Come to the front desk as soon as you’re ready. We have a phone there you can use,” the nurse said.
“Thank you.” Sylvie’s smile was weak but genuine.
“And you have someone to look after you, dear?” Nurse Smithfield asked.
“She’s staying with me. I’ll look after her,” Alec said, knowing he’d said it before.
Nurse Smithfield gave Sylvie a worried look. “Good. Take care.”
After the nurse left, Sylvie touched Annie’s hat and pocketed the ring. “I don’t know what to do with this.”
“We’ll take it with us.” What else could he say? “Come on. It might take us a while to find a cab.”
“I don’t even have my pocketbook,” she said as she rose from her chair.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find it tomorrow.”
“I need to call The Lady’s editor. I think he’s at the Savoy.”
Before they could do that, James and Pugs walked into the cafeteria. Sylvie walked quickly toward them, smiling and obviously happy to see them. Alec followed her.
James smiled broadly at her and handed over her pocketbook, but his face was extremely pale. “Sylvie, I’m so happy to see you. We found your things at the office. We forgot your coat, but we can probably get that out for you sometime today if they haven’t totally blocked off the building.”
Pugs gr
inned and patted her shoulder. “We were really worried when we realized what happened to you.”
“Thank you so much for bringing me this and for looking for me,” she said. “I’m relieved to see you both okay.”
“How did you find her?” Alec asked.
“We’ve been checking each hospital,” Pugs said. “We were in the East End on a story when the bombing started. When we finally got back to the office and saw the mess, we started looking for Benjamin and Sylvie. Several people came out of the shelter, and after a lot of calls, we heard that Annie was killed and that you’d been transported to St. Bart’s. We had no idea what your condition was until we got here.”
Sylvie quickly explained how she’d located the hat and ring, and both men looked sick to their stomach and expressed sympathy. Sylvie’s eyes swam with tears, and Alec slipped his arm around her shoulders. He knew showing this kind of grief took a toll on her—she prided herself on withstanding just about anything. Problem was, she’d almost had a bomb land on her. Few people could experience such a scare without lingering effects.
“Where could Benjamin be?” she asked.
Pendleton looked puzzled. “Unless he’s under that bomb…I have no idea.”
“Doesn’t make sense that Benjamin hasn’t contacted anyone,” Pugs said.
Sylvie explained when Benjamin and Betty had left. “They must have been killed and they haven’t been found. They left after Annie. A short time after her.”
James planted his hands on his hips. “That must be it.”
Alec’s stomach swam with sudden nausea over so many people he knew being killed. That he didn’t have any great love or respect for Benjamin and Betty made no difference. His mind felt iced over, hardened by today’s events and how close he’d come to losing Sylvie. He remembered Sally’s reaction to the news of her husband being killed, and how she must have felt. He understood those feelings far more today than he ever had in his life.
“I’m staying at Alec’s flat for tonight.” Sylvie turned her body into his slightly. “I’ll be back at the Savoy tomorrow.”
One London Night Page 27