Into the Darkest Day

“Do you know where?”

“Not yet. They keep everything under wraps for as long as they can. Just in case…”

“Of course.”

“It’s wretched, this war.” His voice was so low, she strained to hear it, even though she was stood right next to him. “In so many ways.”

She heard a throb of intensity in his voice and her hand fluttered by her side; she wanted to touch his sleeve but couldn’t quite dare. “It is,” she whispered. “For so many… I know I’m one of the lucky ones.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to say that, only that she did. “I don’t forget it.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

For a second, Lily thought he might touch her cheek, she could almost feel his fingers there, dry and cool, but then he didn’t. They remained standing close together for a moment, the only sound in the enclosed space that of their breathing. There were so many things Lily wanted to say, so many important and intimate things about war and life and hope and sadness, and yet she couldn’t manage one.

Matthew stepped back, towards the door.

“Until then,” he said, and then, with a gust of cold, damp air from the open door, he was gone.

Lily pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks.

“Well.” Sophie appeared in the hallway, hands on her hips, lips pursed. “Someone’s taken a shine to you.”

“He was just being kind.” Lily turned around, dropping her hands from her face, and Sophie let out a laugh.

“Look at you blush!”

“Don’t, Sophie—” Lily felt, quite suddenly, that she could not take her sister’s light-hearted teasing right now. Not about this.

Sophie’s expression softened. “I’m not making fun, honestly, Lil. You lucky thing, snagging a GI.”

“I haven’t,” Lily protested. She felt ridiculously near tears; it seemed wrong, to joke about something that seemed almost sacred. She didn’t want to snag Matthew Lawson. She wasn’t looking for nylons or cigarettes or a good time on the dance floor. She didn’t care about any of that.

“Oh, but you have,” Sophie assured her with a wink. “He’s so clearly smitten. Although, I have to say, there’s something a bit… odd about Sergeant Lawson, don’t you think? Just the tiniest bit queer?” She frowned in reflection. “It’s not that he’s awkward or anything like that, but he’s so quiet. Yet not because he doesn’t have anything to say. Did you hear how he took me to task over the remark I made about the air raids?” She gave a little shrug. “I know it was rather thoughtless, but still, he seemed so furious, in his understated way.”

“He feels things,” Lily said, the words inadequate yet the sentiment one she meant utterly. She sensed it from him—a depth of emotion he kept hidden, reined in, just as she did, a current of feeling that ran through both of them. Or was she being fanciful, thinking they were alike in any way at all?

“Yes, I rather think he does,” Sophie agreed seriously, before her face split into a smile and she gave Lily a friendly little push. “He certainly feels things for you.”

“Girls.” Carol’s voice was full of good humor. “Come and set the table. Your father will be home any minute.”

Still smiling, Sophie went, and Lily followed. Her heart felt as if it were fizzing now. Was Matthew smitten? Or not even smitten, because that was like snagging—she didn’t want or care about that sort of absurd pedantry—but did he feel something, the way she did? That would be enough for her. It would be more than enough. It would be everything.

Chapter Nine

Two days later, Lily was wriggling into her nightgown after a dinner of cottage pie and lovely tinned pears from Matthew’s hamper for dessert, followed by their usual cup of tea during the nine o’clock news. The Allies were bombing Berlin despite the poor weather, and in response the Nazis were giving London a remembered taste of the Blitz.

There had been an air raid last night, and the Mathers had stayed in the Anderson shelter at the bottom of the garden until four

in the morning. Lily hoped there wouldn’t be another raid tonight, thanks to the blessed fog. Although it seemed both sides, in desperation, were flying anyway, no matter what the weather.

“Sophie, what on earth are you doing?”

While Lily had been hurrying into her nightgown, bare feet freezing on the floor, her sister was frowning into the mirror as she dabbed beetroot juice onto her lips. Her last lipstick had given out a week ago, much to her annoyance.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Sophie said as she smacked her lips together. “I’m going out.”

“Going out?” Lily stared at her blankly. “But it’s nearly ten o’clock at night.”

“So?”