The Last Night in London by Karen White (reading list .TXT) 📕

of his elbow, allowing him to lead her down the sidewalk while the stars and the moon shone above them with infinite possibilities.

CHAPTER 6

LONDON

MAY 2019

My phone buzzed, and when I peeled my eyes open, I realized I was slumped over on the elegant sofa in one of the two front reception rooms of Precious Dubose’s flat, George snoring at my feet. Oscar sat on the floor in front of me, staring. Not an unfriendly stare, but definitely one of wariness.

The last thing I remembered was turning on the television to watch the morning news. That had been—according to the carriage clock on the fireplace mantel—four hours earlier. I sat up and grabbed my phone, staring at it as I tried to remember how to answer it. The television was now turned off, presumably by Laura, the same person I assumed had placed a knitted blanket over me.

The phone stopped ringing. I was considering going back to sleep when a text popped up on my screen. I’m downstairs. Have boxes. Tell Nana yes to lunch. I also saw that, despite my sending Knoxie a text telling her to just call me if it was an emergency or, if it wasn’t, to text me her question and I’d respond when I could, there were three texts from her, all with the same message: CALL ME.

My foggy brain took a moment to realize the most recent phone call and text were from Colin. Before I could register what he meant, I noticed how he’d used punctuation but no shorthand in his text. Not that I would ever tell him, but I appreciated it. I’d thought I was the only person in my age group to do so.

The lift bell dinged in the outside foyer, jerking me out of my stupor. I stumbled to the front door and opened it to find Colin moving corrugated boxes from the lift to the hallway. “I think I’ve got all of the ones from the town house,” he said. “But there are still quite a few left in the storage room. I was afraid to bring up more—we won’t have room. I thought after Arabella and Precious have chosen what they don’t want, we can switch them up with a fresh box.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let me help,” I said, lifting one of the boxes and finding it surprisingly light. “Where should I put this?”

“Wherever there’s room. The dining room can be used for overflow. There are about a dozen hatboxes in the storage room, too, that I can bring up. They take up a lot of space, so I thought you’d want to go through these first.” He straightened as the door to the flat opened wider. Oscar and George bounded right past me into the hallway and attacked Colin with exuberant affection.

“I hope you had a good nap,” Laura said to me from the doorway. “I was afraid the dogs would wake you, but you were down for the count. Lunch is almost ready, and Precious is expecting you both.” She looked past my shoulder at Colin, who was being licked to death by the two dogs. “Glad you got my message—she really wanted to see you. I’m happy you could make it.”

Hoisting a larger box and carrying it toward the door, he said, “I can’t stay long—I’ve got a meeting at two.”

“I know she’ll understand. I’ve added more hangers to the racks in the bedroom so you have a place for some of the additional clothes. I have no idea how one person could have so many.”

I placed the box on the dining room table and returned to the hallway. Oscar was busy sniffing one of the boxes, and when I bent down to scratch him behind his ear, he snarled at me.

Laura picked up the little dog. “It takes him a while to warm up to strangers. Just give him some time, and I’m sure he’ll be flopping over for belly rubs in no time.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “I’ll make sure Precious is ready to see you. Lunch will be ready in about ten minutes.”

I watched Oscar’s sweet face over Laura’s shoulder as she walked down the hallway. I was unable to decipher his stare, but decided to like him anyway. I picked up another box and brought it into the bedroom, managing to find room for it on top of the dressing table. Then I moved toward the window to allow room for Colin, who dropped a box on the bed. I pushed aside the partially open drapes, tying them back with heavy cords attached to the frame.

Light streamed in. I could see into the windows at the backs of the flats in the next block, which explained the heavy curtains. But opening the curtains afforded a view of Regent’s Park if I pressed my forehead to the glass and looked over the roofs of the terrace buildings behind Harley House. Since it was still morning, most of the windows were dark, and I noticed that bay windows with patterned leaded glass were dotted along the facades of both buildings like a checkerboard, the design apparently having no rhyme or reason.

“Why are some of the leaded glass windows missing?” I asked.

Colin looked up from another box he’d just dropped on the floor. “The Blitz.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “The Germans. During the war. They dropped a lot of bombs on London.”

I gave him the look I remembered using with my younger siblings when they were making excuses or trying to avoid punishment. It meant many things, but it was generally intended to imply that I wasn’t stupid and that to proceed further would mean repercussions.

“I know what the Blitz was. I remember learning about it in school. I just . . .” I shrugged. “I knew a lot of civilians were killed. But I guess I always assumed the bombs were dropped by the river or somewhere strategic like