The Last Night in London Karen White (books for students to read txt) 📖

once promised to keep you safe, remember? And I intend to keep my promise.” He turned away.

“What side are you on?” she asked through bruised lips.

He stopped, looked over his shoulder. “The good one.” And then he was gone, his uneven footsteps disappearing into the darkness.

Eva waited there until the all clear was sounded, then returned upstairs with the other guests, joining a conversation with two women as they climbed the stairs so that it would appear she’d been with them the entire time. Alex met her in the lobby, holding her mink and her bag; then he escorted her to his waiting car. Eva could barely look at him, still tasting Graham on her lips, hearing his words over and over in her head. They were halfway to Marylebone before she spoke. “Why are you betraying your country?”

Alex laughed, an odd hollow sound. “Are you developing a conscience, my darling?”

She turned away, unable to look at him, her loathing making it difficult to breathe. “Would it matter to you if I were?”

He chuckled. “No.” They were silent for a long moment. Eva stared out her window, seeing the glow of smoldering fires as wardens rushed to put them out, the piles of rubble where people’s lives and histories had been snuffed out simply because they wouldn’t give up and surrender. Because they would willingly suffer to prove a point.

As they pulled up in front of her building, when she thought he wouldn’t answer, Alex said, “I have too much German blood in me to turn my back on the Fatherland. England will fall. All of their inbreeding has made them weak. And I never bet on a losing horse.”

She looked across the darkened backseat, feeling a burning heat rise up from her core, licking at the ice around her heart. “Good night,” she said, then stepped out of the car. Alex didn’t insist on accompanying her, and she was glad she didn’t have to look at him for a moment longer.

It was nearly four in the morning when she let herself into the flat, noticing that the hallway and bathroom lights had been left on, and Precious’s door was ajar. She knocked gently and, when there was no response, pushed the door open, then turned on the overhead light.

Precious lay on her side in the bed, sniffling, her face swollen from crying. The room smelled of unwashed sheets and dirty hair and a sour odor that reminded Eva of her mother. Eva had always likened it to the scent of despair, if there were such a thing.

She rushed to Precious’s side and placed the back of her hand against her forehead and cheeks, as she remembered her mother doing. They were cold and clammy enough to cause Eva concern. “I’m going to call for a doctor.”

She made to move away, but Precious caught her wrist. “Don’t. Please don’t. I’m not sick.”

“Of course you are. Look at you—you’re definitely not all right.”

Precious smiled weakly. “I’m definitely not all right, but I’m not ill.”

Eva sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing the dull, damp hair off of Precious’s forehead. “I don’t understand.”

Precious closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not ill,” she repeated. “I’m going to have a baby.”

CHAPTER 36

LONDON

MAY 2019

At the hospital, Colin and I were joined in the elevator by a woman with a poker-straight spine who held her large handbag in front of her like a battering ram. Her profile reminded me of the carvings on Stone Mountain, except the granite might have been softer.

“Mrs. Ponsonby?” Colin asked as the elevator door opened onto Precious’s floor and we all stepped out.

The woman turned to us, and I was surprised to see that she was much younger than I’d thought someone named Hyacinth Ponsonby should have been—in her late fifties or early sixties—and smaller, too. Petite, even. It seemed her reputation added height and breadth to her frame. She wore a pleated plaid skirt, a buttoned-up cardigan, pearls, and loafers, exactly as I would have pictured. I grinned without meaning to.

She turned to Colin with bright blue eyes behind sensible glasses and smiled. “Is that you, Colin Eliot? I don’t believe I’ve seen you since last Christmas, yet it seems like yesterday that you were competing in the local gymkhana with my Jessica. You fell off your horse quite a bit, didn’t you? Do you still ride?”

“Sadly, no. I’m afraid I’d break something. Hyacinth Ponsonby, may I introduce my friend, Madison Warner? She’s the one who’s been interviewing Precious for the article.”

Hyacinth shook my hand firmly. “It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard so much about you from my dear friend Penelope,” she said with a knowing look. I almost expected her to waggle her eyebrows, but instead her face became serious. “I am so sorry to hear about Miss Dubose. Is there any news?”

Colin shook his head. “She’s awake and speaking but not completely herself, according to my mother. Have you come to see her?”

“Actually, I’ve just come from the maternity wing, where Jessica delivered my new grandson, Henry. I thought I should bring my homemade scones to the nurses there because they were so helpful and kind.” She beamed as if she’d just invented grandmotherhood. “And while I was here, I wanted to bring your mother some new information I’ve just unearthed.”

“Wonderful,” Colin said. “I believe my parents are in the waiting room.”

“I can’t wait to tell them that I’ve found Graham!” She began walking briskly down the corridor. Colin and I exchanged a glance as we followed in her wake toward the visiting room. Despite her short legs, we found ourselves nearly jogging to keep up.

Penelope stood and greeted Hyacinth while James, who’d been staring out the window, turned toward us. I’d been in midgreeting, but I immediately closed my mouth. I stopped hearing what everyone was saying. I knew I was staring at James, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

I thought back to