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

wife—“I’m afraid my dear bride hasn’t quite reconciled herself to it yet.”

“Are you expecting?” Precious leaned forward, tense with excitement. “I do love babies.”

Eva wished her friend were sitting close enough that she could pinch her leg under the table. Such a topic was definitely not appropriate in mixed company.

Sophia blushed. “Really, Precious. It’s too early. David and I were only recently married.”

“Yes,” Precious blundered on. “But everyone knows . . .”

“I’ve signed up,” David blurted, either to get Precious to shut up or to get it over with.

Eva looked at him with confusion, not because she didn’t understand what he meant, but because she couldn’t understand why. “Signed up . . . ?”

“Territorial Army. I’ve decided I can’t idly stand by while waiting for the inevitable. War will happen. Chamberlain said we’d have peace in our time, but I’m afraid Hitler doesn’t want peace, and he’s neglected to inform our prime minister. Whatever happens in the future, I want my children to be proud of me, to know that whether we win or lose, their father fought to save England. That I fought for them.”

A champagne cork popped behind them, and they watched as the waiter filled glasses, an oddly silent and still tableau amidst the swirls of color and sound around them. When the waiter left, Graham raised his glass. “To king and country.”

“Hear, hear,” Alex said loudly, as if he were speaking of his own king and country. As if any of it mattered to him. They all took sips from their glasses, except for Sophia, who was a statue of misery as she sat next to her husband, her hand a ghostly white where it grasped David’s arm on the table.

“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,” Alex said quietly.

Graham sent him a sharp look. Sophia stood, knocking the table and shaking the champagne, the bubbles rising like angry fists. Without a word, she left, heading for the stairs. Eva rose to go after her, but Graham had stood, too.

“She’s my sister. Let me talk to her.”

Eva nodded, understanding but wanting to console her friend. It was as if David’s announcement had punctured the bubble she’d been living in, and she could hear the air slowly beginning to leak. She wanted to call Graham back, to get his assurance that he wouldn’t do anything so foolish as signing up to fight before war was even declared.

“Shall we dance?”

Alex was holding out his hand to her. Eva looked across the table at David for an escape, but he was downing his glass of champagne and reaching for the bottle to pour another.

“I’ll stay and keep David company,” Precious said. “You go dance.”

“But . . . ,” Eva protested.

“I’ll have plenty of time to dance later—you two go on and have fun.”

Reluctantly, and not wanting to explain her reason if she refused, Eva accepted Alex’s hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The band had slowed the tempo, and couples were dancing closer now, holding one another in intimate embraces. Alex expertly swept Eva into a waltz, the steps familiar to her because she and Precious had practiced endlessly in their flat for Sophia’s wedding. They’d wanted it to appear as if they’d been taught the rudiments in the schoolroom, just like properly brought-up young ladies.

“It means, ‘It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.’ From Horace’s Odes.” Alex spoke very close to her ear, his breath brushing against her neck. “I know you don’t speak Latin, so I thought I’d translate.”

“Why would you presume such a thing?” Eva asked, her mouth suddenly parched.

“Because the girl with the name Ethel Maltby, raised by a laundress in Muker, wouldn’t have had the chance to learn Latin, I’d wager.”

Eva stumbled, but Alex skillfully danced her through it.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“I told you, my dear. One associate in particular takes inordinate pride in digging up the truth. Putting money in the right hands always loosens tongues. And you gave us some very large bread crumbs, so it wasn’t even that difficult. Granted, your mother moved quite a bit to get away from your father’s fists, didn’t she? Didn’t want him to find her when he was released from jail. The neighbors were only too happy to share that little fact. But she never moved too far away, did she? Didn’t want to lose her best customers by straying too far from the source of her income. It made it almost too easy to find her.”

Eva tried to pull away, but he held tight. “Don’t make a scene,” he said quietly. “People are always watching. Remember that, Eva. You might find it useful.”

That was the second time he’d said that word in reference to her future. “Useful.” She had begun to hate the word.

“I’m assuming you asked someone to translate the Latin on your cigarette case, yes?” Alex swept her around the dance floor as if they were speaking of nothing consequential, even though her heart thumped inside her chest. Betray before you are betrayed.

“I did. I assumed you’d purchased it already inscribed.”

“Why would you assume such a thing?”

“Because the words have nothing to do with me.” She looked around, trying to spot Graham, wanting him to rescue her.

“Not yet,” he said, his tone prophetic.

For the first time, she met his eyes. “Why? Will they be useful to me someday?”

“Precisely.” His serene smile made it look as if he were talking about nothing more than the weather. “I like your friend Precious. It’s the perfect name for her, don’t you think? And of course, she’s quite beautiful. I do believe she has an entichement for me. How delightful. I’m always looking for a new toy.”

Eva stumbled again, and he caught her, righting her steps without slowing down. “You leave her alone,” Eva hissed. “She’s good and kind and doesn’t deserve any toying by you or anyone else.”

“Ah, spoken as by a true friend. Would you be so forgiving if she set her cap for your St. John?”

This time she tried to stop dancing altogether,