“What will?”
“The person you were. Your sense of self, I suppose. You might not feel it now, but he’s still there. Matthaus.” She gave him a small, teasing smile, an effort. “Can I call you that now?”
He smiled back, just a little. “If you want.”
“Do you want me to?” She looked at him seriously.
“Yes,” he said, but he wondered if he did. If he was Matthaus Weiss, he was even more of a foreigner, an alien, a Jew. Was that man someone Lily could contemplate spending her life with? Had she even thought that far ahead?
And yet maybe she would never have to. The war wasn’t over yet, for either of them. Right now he was simply spinning dreams. Anything could happen. The thought made him squeeze Lily’s hand. Another V-1 rocket… if he went back to France…
“Then I will call you that,” Lily said. “Matthaus Weiss.” She nodded, seeming satisfied. “I like it.”
“Good.” Already time was slipping away, like pearls off a string, precious and fragile, and so very fleeting. His train was due to leave in fifteen minutes. Matthew slipped his hand from hers and she nodded in understanding.
“Is it time?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
Matthew paid for their barely drunk teas and slung his kitbag over his shoulder while Lily gathered her coat and handbag. A thousand scenes like this were being played out up and down the country, so familiar they were becoming trite, but they still garnered a sympathetic smile from the tired waitress at the till.
“Take care of yourselves,” she said, a command, and they both nodded like children who had to obey. If only they could.
They walked in silence towards the station, joining the stream of men in uniform and the women who were accompanying them, a parade of sacrifice and duty. With every step, Matthew had the urge to both hang back and break into a run; he wanted Lily to walk away quickly, and he wanted her to take his hand.
Everything felt impossible—the 508th waiting in Nottingham, the war in Normandy. His family in Fraustadt, or not. And Lily here, in a set of shabby rooms, her mother dead, and he’d never even told her he loved her. He couldn’t say the words now. It didn’t feel fair. It would be a conjurer’s trick, magic words that meant nothing, considering their situation. He might never see her again. Considering the 508th’s casualties so far, it was all too likely. The last thing he wanted to do was bind her to a broken promise.
And yet if he didn’t say them, she might never know. That seemed impossible too, a burden neither of them should have to bear, the unbearable ignorance of it, to journey on into the unknown without that sure and certain knowledge that pulsed inside of him.
They wound their way through the crowded station, people surging forth, a sense of brittle expectation crackling in the air like static as a train whistle blew, and another let out an impatient breath of steam.
His train was already there, GIs striding up and down the platform, laughing, smoking, catcalling, kissing their girls, all trying to cram as much of their lives as they could into a matter of minutes.
Lily turned to Matthew, an uncertain smile making her mouth waver.
“I’ll write,” she said.
“As will I—”
“You don’t have to. I know it must be hard.”
“I want to.”
She nodded, and Matthew hitched his bag more firmly over his shoulder. Now was the moment.
A soldier walking past them bumped into Lily and she stumbled slightly. Matthew reached for her arm to steady her, and then he drew her to him and kissed her softly on the lips. She yielded beneath him, and as he closed his eyes, he let the world fall away for a moment. He knew it would all come rushing back again—the noise and the duty and the fear—but for now, for this, he allowed himself to feel a burgeoning sense of promise, a fragile and yet certain hope.
He opened his eyes as she smiled up at him, and the words came naturally, as essential and elemental as breathing. “I love you.”
Her eyes widened, and her smile curved deeper. She laid one hand on his cheek, her skin soft and cool. “And I love you,” she returned simply. Suddenly it had become easy.
A whistle blew. Matthew kissed her again and then, as he stepped back, Lily gave a little wave.
“Goodbye,” she said, and he boarded the train.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nijmegen, The Netherlands