One London Night

by Denise A. Agnew

  Chapter 18

  News Of The Day

  New York Herald Tribune

  The Coventry bombing November 15 will be remembered as a horrible day. Over four hundred Luftwaffe bombers attacked Coventry in a horrible bombardment at around 7:20 pm. St. Michael’s Cathedral was turned into rubble. Fire ravaged the city center. Early estimates say of about 75,000 buildings in the city, 60,000 have been damaged, including railways. Factories making munitions, engines, and other war supplies were severely damaged. The bombardment continued for many long, miserable hours until the all clear sounded at 6:16am Friday, November 15.

  Sobering is the number of dead, which stands at 568 with at least 863 wounded. Many have fled the city. On November 20, Coventry began to bury its dead. One hundred and seventy-two bodies were placed in a mass grave in London Road cemetery. A Roman Catholic ceremony and then a Free Church prayer were held in front of a large crowd.

  If everyone thought London and Coventry had felt the full force of the Luftwaffe, the second half of November is proving equally destructive.

  The Germans have attacked Birmingham, Liverpool, Plymouth, Sheffield, Portsmouth, Manchester, Bristol, and Southampton. As Christmas approaches, Liverpool received one of the worst attacks of the war so far, and London had one of its earliest night alarms. We can only guess what the remainder of the month has in store for London.

  * * * *

  Sunday, December 8

  Alec finished a cup of tea, leaning his rear against the counter as he stood outside the Fleet Street station and took in the morning.

  That’s when he saw Sally walking down the street toward the station and it surprised him. She didn’t wear the AFS uniform, but a gray suit and matching hat. Happiness at seeing her brightened the day.

  “Well, if it isn’t Alec Kent,” she said with a large smile.

  He wanted to shake her hand or hug her, but couldn’t with the teacup. He returned her grin. “Hello, how wonderful to see you. What’s it been? Weeks?”

  She patted his shoulder. “Brilliant to see you. And yes, it’s been weeks.”

  “Come in and have some tea. The men will be happy you’ve come for a visit.”

  She perused the building, as if unsure. “I don’t know.”

  “Bad memories?”

  “Yes. And no. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I want to come back. I want to do my bit, and I’ve been trained for this.”

  He laughed. “And can’t wait to get away from your parents, no doubt?”

  She rolled her gaze to the sky for a moment. “Indeed. They’re driving me mental.”

  “Right. I know the feeling. Our parents are wonderful, but who wants to live with them all the time?”

  A frown formed on her face. “What if everyone isn’t happy to see me?”

  “Not possible. You know how much everyone respects you. They’ll be delighted to have you back.”

  They entered the building, and she talked with everyone she could in the building, renewing friendships. They’d all been there for her when she’d decided to leave the AFS to mourn her husband. Now they were happy to support her comeback. Even though it was considered unprofessional, Bink and Felix caught her up in a hug and swung her around until her feet came off the ground. She giggled like a schoolgirl and the men laughed.

  Alec felt a renewed sense of inspiration, seeing everyone respond in such a positive way. After she was welcomed back into the fold, she told him she could start back in a couple of days. Alec watched the proceedings with another cup of tea and then walked out the front door to take in the day again.

  Things had felt pretty good lately. Oh, the Germans were still bombing, still making a mess of things, and the AFS and Fire Brigade continued to clean up the aftermath. Right now it was too sunny. The Germans would take advantage of it, barring any other complications that might keep them away.

  Sally walked out a few moments later, handbag slung over her arm but with teacup in hand. She looked the regular, very proper Englishwoman. She’d tucked her gloves into her pocketbook apparently, for her hands were naked. He noticed she didn’t wear the plain gold wedding band anymore. She sipped her tea, rather noisily, he thought.

  “I can see nothing has changed,” he said with a half smile.

  The teacup clattered into the saucer, and she lifted one eyebrow. “Are you joshing me, Alec Kent? I just got back.”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “Well, I can see nothing has changed, either. Everyone here is as ridiculous as ever.” She took another obnoxious sip. “How are you, Alec?”

  “Living in my friend’s flat.” He explained what happened with Sylvie and her friend Annie.

  “That is awful. I read about it in the paper but didn’t know she was friends with the woman who was killed.”

  “Very good friends. It’s been difficult for Sylvie. She’s a strong woman, but…”

  “But?”

  “She’s so strong sometimes she won’t admit when she’s hurting. And we’re all hurting.”

  After an additional sip of tea, this one without much noise, Sally gave him a thoughtful look. “You’re right. So right. I never would have thought…I was very embarrassed by what I did. By almost jumping off this building. I thought I was broken for good.”

  “But you weren’t.” He appraised her, looking for any sign she wasn’t as strong and might attempt to harm herself again.

  “No. I realized, after my parents took care of me, that I didn’t want to leave them hurting, either. Because I would have hurt them terribly if I’d jumped. I would have hurt you all. One reason why I came here today was to thank you, Alec.”

  “For what?”

  “I never thanked you for talking me away from the ledge. If you hadn’t come when you did, I would have, you know.”

  He didn’t want that responsibility, that weight, and suddenly it felt suffocating.

  He took a deep breath and tried to ease the tension between his shoulder blades. “The others were talking to you.”

  “But they didn’t…” She turned full toward and started again. “They didn’t say what I needed to hear. I don’t blame them because they couldn’t know. Somehow you did.”

  He shook his head and looked at the ground. “You did it for yourself. I’m not special…what I said wasn’t special.”

  She threw him a disgusted look half tempered with a lopsided smile. “Why won’t you let me thank you?”

  “Because I hate to think that you needed me in particular.”

  She set the teacup and saucer in a precarious position on top of one of the sandbag walls near the entrance. “I see.” She crossed her arms. “Well, I guess it’s good then that I don’t have any illusions about you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that you and Sylvie were together. But knowing she’s living with you now, that makes all the difference.”

  A suspicion rose inside him, but he wouldn’t say it.

  When he stayed silent, she said, “Maybe you wouldn’t know, because I do josh around with a lot of the men. But you’re the one I’ve always fancied. Always the one who I thought, if I wasn’t married…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  His stomach dipped. “Sally, I—”

  “Don’t.” She held her hand up. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to off myself over it. I just wanted you to know how I feel. If it doesn’t work out with Sylvie, you know where to find me if you’re interested.”

  He wouldn’t be.

  She winked. “And she’s living with you. That can’t be a happy day for her parents or grandparents.”

  Still reeling from her revelations, he said, “It isn’t, but they haven’t complained to her as much as we thought they would. My parents haven’t said much, either.”

  “Not to your face, perhaps?”

  “No.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “So that’s how it is, then?”

  “What?�
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  “You and Sylvie are engaged?”

  He blinked, stunned. “No. Why ever would you say that?”

  “Because you’re living with her. Surely you plan to marry her?”

  Alec couldn’t answer because it hadn’t occurred to him that way. It was as if Sally had turned on a light that had stayed dark far too long. Her gaze pinpointed on him until he thought her eyes would bore holes in him.

  Before he could answer, some of the men came out and started talking with them. He felt a sense of relief because he didn’t know how to reply to Sally. But he did know what he needed to ask Sylvie.

  * * * *

  “We’re getting a lot of censorship about what we can say,” James told Sylvie on the phone that morning as she settled on the couch in the flat.

  “What else is new?” she asked in amusement. “I read The Daily Mirror on the twenty-sixth.”

  “The story on the bombing of Bristol?”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting, considering the New York Tribune and other papers didn’t censor themselves about the Coventry bombing.”

  “We didn’t.”

  She relished the conversation. “Did you hear of Churchill’s anger at Cecil Harmsworth King for allowing the story to go through?”

  James confirmed that he had. “I understand where Churchill is coming from, but I also understand why a lot of newspapers are angry they can’t tell the truth. Makes working for the Tribune a better deal as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Well, it doesn’t make sense to censor where things are being bombed. That Fascist William Joyce mentions towns and cities that are bombed on his radio program all the time.”

  “I agree. I read the Mirror’s account of Coventry, and it made me want to go there and see what he was seeing,” he said.

  They talked for several moments about the Coventry bombing and Bristol, and she sank deeper into the couch and stared at the wall.

  “So how are you, Sylvie? I haven’t spoken to you in ages. Are you doing well?”

  “Very well. I’m also more than tired of staying in this flat so much. I’ve slept for what seems like days in total. I want my job back, James.”

  “Take it back.”

  She hadn’t expected him to say that. “Alec said the same. I was complaining about the situation, and I think he got tired of hearing about it.”

  “And?”

  “I’ve been writing in a journal. It’s more like a novel. I think perhaps that’s what I want to do with my life. Go back to what I always wanted to do as a child.”

  “You want to be a novelist?”

  He didn’t sound doubtful, but she reacted as if he had. “Women write books, you know.”

  “Of course. I think it’s wonderful. What is the novel about?”

  “Everything and nothing. So many things. I’m not sure of the real theme yet. I’m playing around with ideas and writing every evening in the Morrison shelter when there’s a raid. Keeps my mind off what is happening outside. Especially if Alec is working.”

  “That’s marvelous.”

  “By the end of the war, I should have an entire novel.”

  “Or more than one for all the time you have to spend in a shelter. Are you…”? Hesitation halted his voice. “Where are you planning to stay for Christmas? Are you going home to Huntingdon?”

  “I doubt it. I think I’d rather stay here. Holidays with my grandparents are always a bit dull, to tell the truth. I hear the Savoy is planning a party. I might just go.”

  “Good. That’s where I’ll be. What about Alec?

  “I think he’s scheduled to work through Christmas.” She hated the idea. She would rather spend some time with him during the holidays.

  “Are you happy living there? Out of the way of the bright lights and bustle of the Savoy?”

  “Yes. It’s a very safe flat, and luckily a bomb hasn’t hit close.”

  “That isn’t what I meant. Are you happy being with him?”

  His bluntness took her off guard. “We don’t see each other often. He’s been working longer shifts with each raid. They’re running on empty, it seems.”

  She couldn’t give him a real answer. At least not one he’d want to hear.

  “Well, I’d better get off the phone and write my next piece.”

  “Wait. One more thing. If I go in to the Savoy and fight for my job, what am I up against?”

  “Well…”

  “Yes? Come on now, James. You’ve always been honest with me.”

  “I think you should call the Tribune directly rather than face Betty and Benjamin.”

  “Why?” She twirled the telephone cord around her finger.

  “Because they aren’t going to admit to what is going on. Talk to the New York office and let them know you’re ready to work again.”

  A smile touched her mouth. “I think that’s a very good idea.”

  After finishing her call with James, she decided to make contact with New York. Alec and James were both right. All she needed was the courage she should already have. She waited until later in the day so someone would be in the New York office and made her call. Getting through proved difficult, but she managed it. Nerves jumbled in her stomach, but she settled down as soon as she heard Draycott’s voice. After pleasantries, she launched into her desire to return to work.

  “I think it’s a very good idea,” Draycott said. “You’re feeling all right now?”

  Relief hit her so hard that she almost forgot to answer him. “Very, thank you. I realize I’m taking a chance talking directly to you and going above Benjamin’s head.”

  She waited, hanging from a thread.

  “You are, but I have to say I admire that. You’ve proven an asset there. I’m sure you’re bored out of your mind.”

  She wouldn’t tell him that writing in her journal felt beyond wonderful. He’d think she was done with being a journalist. She teetered between two worlds. Perhaps she could be a journalist and write her novel.

  “Absolutely I’m bored. I need to get back to work. I appreciate you giving me the extended time off. Few employers would do that.”

  “I know a good journalist when I see one, Miss Hunnicut.”

  She laughed. “All right. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should. I’ll call Benjamin and tell him you’re coming back Monday. Don’t let him tell you any differently.”

  “One question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Will Betty still be working for the Tribune?”

  “Absolutely not. Between you and me and the apple tree, she’s done absolutely no quality work while she’s filled in for you,” he said with a gruff tone. “I was about ready to call you and beg you to come back. There are going to be some changes to the London office very soon. But don’t say a thing about that to anyone when you go back to work.”

  Amazed and yet pleased, she said, “All right.”

  After they hung up, Sylvie smiled so widely she thought her face would crack.

  * * * *

  Alec came home to the flat later, off from his shift. He walked in with a warm smile that added to her own sense of happiness.

  She grabbed his hands as he walked into the reception area. He was freshly showered and smelled like heaven. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

  He laughed and buried his face in her hair. “What’s this all for?”

  She drew back, but he kept his hands at her waist. “I talked with the New York office of the Tribune. I’m back to work.”

  He gathered her close and hugged her fiercely. “That’s so wonderful. I’m glad you took my advice.”

  “Well, I took my own advice and yours. James called and said it was a great idea too.”

  He released her went for a glass of water from the kitchen. “That serves my ego. It took James to get you to say yes to the idea?”

  Concern made her follow him into the kitchen and watch him drink the water. “It isn’t like that.”
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  He nodded. “I know.”

  “You know what this will mean, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m moving back to the Savoy.”

  He put the glass on the counter, his eyes darkening. Today he looked like a pirate with his hair too long and a day’s worth of stubble on his face.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because it’s where I work. And I’m not going to live here rent-free. I need to be close to work.”

  His mouth tightened, and she understood right then she’d pushed a little hard with her tone. “Well, that’s it, isn’t it?”

  He turned and headed down the hallway to the front door.

  She chased after him. “Where are you going? You just got here.”

  “Out. I have some things I need to think about.”

  He left, slamming the door as he went. She leaned her palms against the door, wondering how something so positive had deteriorated in a heartbeat.

  Anger gave her an attitude, but she wouldn’t back down from this. Alec either understood what she needed to do or he didn’t.

  By late afternoon he hadn’t returned. Shortly after, the air raid sirens wailed their mournful song. As she took her journal into the shelter, she hoped Alec was safe. She was used to that twinge of worry, the feeling that at any minute he could be snatched from existence. Before she could give full reign to worry, the door to the shelter snatched open, and Alec stood there.

  Surprised and relieved, she said, “Quick, get in.” He climbed into the shelter and settled on the bench across from her. The single light gave her enough to write in her journal, but she placed the journal on the empty spot next to her. They stared at each other for what seemed a long time.

  “You were close to home,” she said, knowing how odd it sounded.

  “I was on my way back. I ran the rest of the way here.”

  Feeling a little irritated, she said, “You’re going to get killed doing that one of these days, Alec Kent. Why didn’t you just go into the first available shelter?”

  “Because I wanted to be with you. I didn’t want to leave you here alone.”

  The burn of anger and disappointment started to fade. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. They might as well get to the bottom of whatever strangeness lingered between them.