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

from here. I’m tired and would appreciate you telling me what you promised.” Remembering the mink coat, she slid it off and handed it to him. “And thank you for this—it kept me quite warm.”

As if he couldn’t tell that she wanted to be free of him, he ignored her outstretched arm, stepped out of the lift, and closed the gate and the outer door. “It looks lovely on you, Eva, and I know you enjoyed wearing it. So please, keep it with my compliments.”

She didn’t relent, keeping her arm outstretched, her shoulder hurting from the coat’s weight. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t accept such a gift. It’s far too expensive and not at all appropriate.”

“I’m sorry to hear you say that.” He took the coat, studying it. A smile crossed his lips. “Do you hear much from your mother, Eva?” His expression and tone made him seem genuinely interested. As if he didn’t already know the answer.

“I hear nothing from her.” She lifted her chin to show that she wasn’t embarrassed. “She doesn’t know how to read or write.”

“Ah, yes. And your father?”

“You know very well that he was illiterate, too. And I haven’t seen him since I was a little girl.”

“Poor little fatherless Ethel. Is it good news, then, that he’s been visiting your mother?”

Eva froze, the food and drink she’d consumed over the evening threatening to come back up. She remembered her mother’s arm, crooked where it had been broken more than once and not set properly; her jagged nose, which made it hard for her to breathe; the way her fingers and arm hurt in the cold because of her mangled bones. Remembered, too, her mother’s bleeding and bruised face after she’d tried to prevent her husband from taking her wages and spending them at the local pub on drink and gambling. Recalled the way her mother protected her from her father’s fists more than once by taking the blows herself.

“He’s dead.”

“I assure you, he’s quite alive. He’s been in prison for so long that you and your mother were most likely happy to assume he was no longer living, but he is, and he’s been released. If he’d succeeded in killing the man he assaulted with a bottle of gin instead of simply maiming him, he’d still be in prison. Alas, both survived. I was going to suggest that you write your mother when you send her money and tell her she should move where he can’t find her. But if she can’t read . . .”

“How do you know all this?” The words rushed out of Eva’s mouth. She was going to be ill.

His smile disappeared. “Eva, I’m very disappointed in you. I make it my business to know things. And as I’ve mentioned, Mr. Zeman is very helpful in finding out what people would prefer remained hidden. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

Eva desperately began to think about how much more money she could afford to send to her mother, about how to make her move yet again.

“You’re lying,” she said, proud that she kept her voice steady.

“I assure you I’m not. Your mother lives near Muker, yes? In Angram. And your father loves his ale but has a special weakness for gambling. He’s good at darts, isn’t he? When you were a little girl, he won a lot of money in a tournament and spent it all on drink. It was an argument at that very pub about his unconventional rules that got him locked up. And your father went right back to that pub the day he was released from prison.” Alex smiled kindly. “You see, Eva, I’m telling the truth.”

Her breath was coming in shallow gasps, and she thought she might faint. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think I have a solution. We can move your mother here, to live with you and Precious. Surely your father wouldn’t think to look for her in London. Then you could take care of her. I know St. John would enjoy meeting her. Perhaps inviting her to tea with his mother?”

His mock seriousness was worse than if he’d laughed in her face. Eva tasted bile in her throat.

How could this be happening to her carefully constructed world? It was like watching two trains on the same track heading toward a certain devastating collision. She wanted her mother to be safe and well. That was why she sent money each month. But her mother couldn’t come here. She couldn’t. And the guilt of that last thought made Eva’s knees crumple.

Alex grabbed her elbows, catching her before she fell. She was shivering, as if she were outside in the cold without any clothes. He settled the fur coat around her shoulders, then pulled her into his arms, pressing her head against the lapels of his coat. He patted her back and uttered consoling words as if she were a small child. “There, there, Eva. I have another idea that you might find more palatable.”

She wanted to lift her head, to step away from his embrace, but she wasn’t sure she had the strength. “What?” she whispered.

“I own a little country cottage in Dorset, in the seaside town of Bournemouth—won it playing cards, I’m afraid. I’ve never seen it—apparently, it’s where the former owner kept his mistress, so it’s nicely appointed although quite small. I could set your mother up there, put it about that she’s a military widow with a new name. Perhaps Harlow, since it’s worked so well for you? Or is that too obvious a connection? I’m sure you’ll think of something, and your mother will be too grateful to care. She could retire from washing other people’s clothes.”

“Why would you do that?” Eva whispered, unwilling to look up into his face. “I could never pay you back.”

“Oh, my sweet Eva. I wouldn’t ask you to pay me back in kind.”

“It’s so I’ll feel beholden to you so that I can be useful in some way.”

“You’re very clever, Eva. You passed the test tonight,