The Oslo Affair (Shadows of War, #2) CW Browning (sci fi books to read TXT) 📖

and Evelyn knew it was taking everything she had to stand there calmly while they buried her husband. At least the ordeal was almost over. The vicar would be finished soon, and then they could start the long walk back to the house.

Evelyn hated funerals. She always had. They were an ostentatious tradition, spread over death to disguise the gruesome fact that a body was now going to rot into ashes and mingle with the earth. They were preformed to comfort the grieving family and friends, and make them believe that their loved ones weren’t really decaying, but were somewhere else. Somewhere better. They were a chance for people to say goodbye, but as far as she was concerned, there was no one to say goodbye to. The deceased was already gone, and Evelyn could never quite reconcile herself to the fact that a funeral was, at its core, nothing more than a facade.

Turning her attention back to the large coffin before them, Evelyn swallowed with difficulty. She still couldn’t believe he was gone. She’d had dinner with him in London just before he left for that fateful trip to Poland. He had been leaving the next day for Warsaw, and even though Evelyn urged him to be careful, he had laughed and told her not to worry so much. That was at the end of August. It was a week later that the German army invaded Poland. For days, they were frantic for news of him. Finally, her mother received a telegram from Zürich: he was safe and on his way to Bern. He would be home shortly.

That was the last telegram he sent. He arrived at the Bellevue Palace Hotel in Bern, where he passed away in the night. They were told it was a heart attack, likely brought on by the stress of fleeing Poland ahead of the German forces.

When she received the news at her training post in Scotland, Evelyn had thought there must be some mistake. It was only the second telegram from London that convinced her the report was real. William Buckley, a family friend and close associate of her father, had sent it to confirm the news. In the past year working with Bill, she had never known him to be wrong. And this was no exception. He’d arranged for compassionate leave and transportation back to Lancashire for her immediately.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder to where he stood now with his wife, Marguerite. Marguerite had been a god-send to her mother over the past few days. A Frenchwoman herself, she had been a great companion and comfort to Madeleine Ainsworth while she waited for her children to make it home from their respective postings. For that alone, Evelyn would always be grateful to the Buckleys.

Her brother Rob stood on her mother’s other side, tall and immaculate in his RAF uniform. He’d arrived home yesterday, a few hours before her, and had gone to meet her at the station. The joy of seeing him for the first time in months was tempered by their sorrow. Now, looking at his profile, Evelyn swallowed again. This was just as hard for him as it was for her. His squadron had been training heavily since the summer, even before the outbreak of war, and he’d only been able to make it home to see their father a handful of times.

Now he was gone.

The vicar finished his prayers and stepped back, drawing her attention back to the proceedings before her. Four men stepped forward to lower the casket into the ground, and Evelyn took a deep, ragged breath. It was almost over.

A soft sob escaped from her mother as they struggled to lower the coffin, and Evelyn put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. She met her brother’s gaze over her head and smiled reassuringly. He looked concerned. Rob had never done well with tears, especially where his mother and sister were concerned. She turned her eyes back to the casket descending into the ground. Luckily for him, her mother was as determined not to make a scene as she was herself. Their tears would be reserved for when they were out of sight and alone.

A large crowd had gathered to say their final farewells to Robert Ainsworth. Many of them she didn’t recognize, most likely associates from London who had worked with him in the Foreign Diplomatic Office. Several were neighbors and villagers who had known the family for decades. As Evelyn looked around the gathering, she sighed inwardly. It would be ages before they could politely leave and get back to the house.

As the men stepped away from the grave, the vicar motioned to her mother. She stepped forward, bowed her head briefly, then straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin resolutely as she kissed the bud of the rose in her hand before dropping it into the open grave. Rob glanced at her and Evelyn sighed, following her mother to drop her own flower into the grave. Standing before the gaping hole and seeing the shiny casket in its final resting place was almost too much for her, and hot tears pricked the back of her eyelids.

Blinking them away quickly, Evelyn reached up to touch the garnet necklace hanging around her neck. Her father had brought it back from Prague last year. As soon as her fingers touched the warm stones, she calmed, taking a deep breath. She reached out her other hand and dropped her rose into the opening, turning away from the grave quickly. Her eyes caught Rob’s as he came up behind her and she swallowed again. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently in support as she paused and their eyes met.

“It’s almost over,” he whispered.

She nodded, smiling tremulously, and turned to follow their mother. He was right. It was almost over. She could make it.

Evelyn looked up as yet another stranger approached her, intent on expressing their condolences. She felt as if the smile on