“May I see you before I go? During your lunch hour, perhaps?” He knew Lily had already been given all the leave she was likely to get for her mother’s death.
“Yes, of course.” She opened her eyes and leaned back to look at him. “Where will you go, from Nottingham?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or can’t say?” She didn’t sound reproachful, just tired.
“I really don’t know. Maybe up to some POW camps in the north. Maybe back to Europe.”
Lily nodded slowly. “Do you think it will be over soon? I can’t even imagine it anymore, what it would be like to not be at war.”
“It will.” Matthew spoke with conviction, because he had to. “The Germans are surrendering in thousands. They want the war to be over. It can’t be long now.”
“If everyone wants it over, why isn’t it?” Lily said sadly. “Can one man really have so much power, to keep half the world in thrall?”
“It appears so.” Matthew heard the thrum of tension in his voice, and knew Lily heard it, too. He’d been feeling so weary these past few days, but now the old rage licked at him again, firing his insides, making his fists clench even as he held Lily to him.
She laid one hand against his cheek, her skin pale and cool. “Don’t,” she said softly, and then with her other hand she reached down and unclenched his fingers.
At noon the next day, they met at a Lyons Corner House near the station and drank cups of well-stewed tea, their knees touching under the table, his kitbag at their feet.
“How is she?” Matthew asked of Sophie, and Lily sighed.
“She went to work. She seemed determined, but I feel there’s so much she doesn’t tell me.” She glanced out the window, at a muted London going about their weary business. “We used to be so close. Perhaps when Tom visits, it will lift her spirits. If anything can—” She glanced back at him. “Have you seen much of him, over there?”
“A bit.” After those three endless days tramping through fields, searching for their unit, Matthew had spent very little time with Tom Reese, which was how he suspected they both preferred it. “He told me he’s been writing Sophie.”
“Yes, quite a lot. They’ve even talked of getting married, although I don’t know if that is just because of the war. When things seem so uncertain, people make rash promises.” She looked away, blushing a little.
Matthew tried to think of something to say, and found he couldn’t.
“Do you want to go back?” Lily asked after a moment, as she lifted her cup to her lips and then put it back down without drinking from it. “Are you—I know it sounds strange, but are you hoping to?”
“Yes.” Now that the possibility lay before him, Matthew knew he wanted it quite desperately. “I need to find out what happened to my family.”
“Gertie,” Lily said, her gaze flickering over his face. “And your brothers?”
“Franz and Arno.”
A look of surprise flashed across her features as he said their names. “Your name isn’t really Matthew, is it? Or Lawson. Of cours
e it isn’t. It can’t be.”
He smiled wryly. “My name is Matthaus. The German form.” He hadn’t said it in such a long time.
“And your last name? I can’t believe I don’t know it.” She shook her head, looking troubled by the thought, as if it actually meant anything.
“You know me, Lily,” he said, and reached for her hand across the table. Even though they’d spent so little time together, even though they’d said so little to one another, he knew it was true. She knew him, just as he knew her, a deep knowing that needed no words, no idle conversation or chitchat to prove it.
“Will you tell me what your surname is?”
He paused and then said, “Weiss. I am Matthaus Weiss.” It sounded strange on his tongue.
“Matthaus,” she repeated wonderingly, and then let out a little laugh. “Matthaus Weiss. It suits you.”
“Does it? I’m not sure I feel like that man anymore.”
Lily squeezed his hand. “It will come back.”