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

making me wonder if she disliked ambrosia and was too polite to tell me.

To make it sound more appealing, I said, “My aunt Lucinda always added maraschino cherries and pecans, too, since she usually made it at Christmastime and she thought the red made it more festive.”

“I am sure I will enjoy it.”

I patted the hand that rested on my arm. “I thought MoonPies might be nice to serve, too, but they’re hard to find in the UK, from what I could tell, and I didn’t have time to have them overnighted from home.”

We entered the library, and I situated Precious on the sofa by the fire.

“I don’t know what a MoonPie is,” Penelope offered, “but it sounds rather decadent.”

“Oh, believe me, they are. Chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers. Made right in Precious’s home state of Tennessee for over one hundred years. It’s quite the Southern icon. In Mobile, Alabama, they even have a giant MoonPie replica dropped on New Year’s Eve to welcome in the New Year.”

“And I thought the midnight tolling of Big Ben was exciting. Who knew?” Colin braced himself with one elbow on the mantel and accepted a brandy from his father, who was busy distributing glasses of amber liquid around the room to “help with digestion.”

“I do remember MoonPies,” Precious said. “They used to send them to the American troops overseas during the war. I must have had one or two in this very house. Those nice American flyboys from Mildenhall—that’s the base not too far from here—would come from time to time. Sophia did know how to throw a good party.”

She looked down with a secretive smile, her powdered cheeks softened by the glow from the fire. “She adopted a squadron of Polish airmen, I recall. Always felt it was her duty to entertain them, to keep up their morale. They were instrumental in winning the Battle of Britain, did you know? The unsung heroes, never getting the credit they deserved. I think that’s why Sophia tried so hard to show them a good time between missions.”

“May I?” I asked as I held up my notebook.

“Of course. I like talking about beautiful clothes and MoonPies and Sophia’s parties. Because despite all the hardships of that time, there was beauty and goodness, too. A friend once told me that love and beauty were the only things worth holding on to. That they are what shine light in a dark world.”

“Who said that?” I asked. “Eva?”

She trained those flame-filled eyes on me. “Yes. A wise man who did our makeup at Lushtak’s said that to her. Eva thought it important enough to share, and I’m glad she did. It got me through some of the dark times that were to come.” Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders as if reverting to her model persona and preparing to go out on a catwalk. She smiled, her eyes clear again, her face changing as I watched. “I thought of something else that might be interesting for the article.”

Arabella sat up as I held my pencil over my notebook.

“You need to have a Royal Air Force uniform in the exhibit.”

“Why is that?” Arabella asked.

“Because there’s a marvelous story attached to them. When they were originally designed for the brand-new air force in nineteen eighteen, a firm in Yorkshire suggested using leftover blue-gray woolen cloth that had been ordered to make trousers for the tsar’s Cossacks. The poor tsar didn’t need it anymore, and happily the RAF agreed it was the perfect color. My former employer Madame Lushtak told me that.”

“That’s a splendid story,” Arabella said. “We could use Graham’s photo with it. We’ll have to see if his uniform is stored in the attic.”

“Sadly, we’ve given the attic a rather good going through, and we didn’t find it,” Penelope said. “But I’ll have James look again, just in case.”

Precious studied her lap, her beringed fingers clasped tightly together. “It should be displayed with the lovely green cotton day dress with the bow at the neck and the cinched waist. That belonged to Eva. I remember her wearing it once when she was with him.”

“Got it,” I said, writing her suggestion down in my notebook. “It’s a great uniform. I’ve never seen one up close, but judging by the photograph of Graham, I’d have to agree it was a good choice. Of course, it’s hard to tell color in a black-and-white photograph. I’m curious, Precious, and it’s possible you might not recall, but what color were Graham’s eyes?”

Before she could answer, Anna appeared, pushing a cart filled with a coffeepot, cups and saucers, and small glass bowls of ambrosia. As Anna handed them around, I watched everyone eye the dessert suspiciously, using their spoons to lift the sticky mass to the surface and then cutting it in the middle to see what might be hiding.

“I’ll take the first bite to show you it’s not poisonous.” I scooped a mouthful onto my spoon and ate it, chewing and smiling simultaneously. “Trust me—it’s delicious.”

One by one they all ate their dessert, although I noticed Colin washed his down with the rest of his brandy. Precious tried two bites and then rested her spoon, saying she had to watch her figure. I stifled a laugh, my gaze rising to see Colin doing the same thing.

Arabella opened the folder of clippings she’d left in the room before supper. “These articles are so fascinating—a real insight into people’s lives during the war—exactly what I was hoping to tie in with what was going on in the fashion world, Aunt Precious.” She slid one out and rested it on top of the folder. “Like this one.”

Precious kept a smile on her face as she focused on Arabella, but her eyes changed, adjusting as if she were trying on different glasses to see which ones looked best.

Arabella held up a yellowed page. “This is from a column entitled ‘Pictures in the Fire’—not sure what that means but it talks about the Special Branch of Scotland