Page 41 of The Last Night in London

We regarded each other in the dimming light, barely aware of the rain beginning to lash at the windows.

“Is everything all right?” Colin stood on the threshold, his gaze moving around the room as if he sensed the thick tension like a heat wave.

“Everything’s fine,” I said quickly.

“What did dear Penelope want?” Precious asked sweetly. “I hope she’s not canceling our tea at Claridge’s this Tuesday. I was so looking forward to it.”

“No, actually. We found a photo of a man with Grandmother’s papers. My parents believe they know who it is, but they said you would most likely be sure. May I show you?”

“Of course.” Precious lifted her glasses to her nose and folded her hands delicately on her lap as Colin sat down next to her and showed her the screen of his phone. Her glasses reflected the light from thephone, obliterating her eyes. “Well, now,” she said, her accent thicker, her voice controlled. “You are the spitting image of him, aren’t you?”

Colin shot a glance in my direction. “Bella and Madison seem to think so, but I’m not convinced. Father isn’t sure, but Mother seems to think it’s one of Grandmother Sophia’s brothers. Did you know them?”

She looked away from the screen and took off her glasses. “I knew one of them. The younger one. They were twins, you know. But not identical. William was older, by only a few minutes.”

“So this is William?”

“No. That’s Graham.” A soft smile lit her face. “He and Eva were lovers.”

Fat pelts of rain hit the bay window, the sky outside ashen, matching the pallor of Precious’s face.

“Do you know what happened to him, Nana? There’s nothing we can find in the family records. My father says that when he was growing up, his uncle Graham was never mentioned—only William, since he was the hero who died in the war. Graham’s uniform in the photograph says he was with the RAF, so I’m sure I can find something in the official record, but I was hoping you could give us a start.”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her.

“Do you know what happened to him?”

She shook her head. “I lost touch with him at about the same time I lost touch with Eva.” She looked past me toward the window. Softly, she said, “I always liked to think that they ended up together.”

“Maybe they did,” Colin said, his voice nearly lost in the violent thrash of rain against glass.

“Where do you think they might have gone?” I asked.

She gave a delicate shrug. “When I think of them, I imagine them living in a house high on a cliff, overlooking the sea. Eva always talked about the house she and Graham wanted to build.” Her eyes met mine, and I saw that the darkness had returned, dulling their blueness. “Or maybe they simply went to a place where people go who want to stay lost.”

I lifted my camera, eager to capture her face at that moment so I could study it later. A good photographer could find images that did the speaking for the subject, illuminating the emotions he or she kept under guard. And there was so much Precious Dubose had to say. It was as if she had two stories to tell: the one she wanted you to hear, and the truth.

I lowered my camera. “What about you, Precious? You were young and beautiful; you must have had lots of admirers. Was there anyone in particular?”

“Are you asking if I had a lover, too?”

Her candor took me by surprise, but I tried not to show it. “Yes. Did you?”

“You should go to Kew today.” Precious was focused now on the photograph she held. “The cherry blossoms are so beautiful. Colin would love to take you, I’m sure.”

“It’s raining, Nana,” Colin said. “I’ll go get Laura. I think you need to rest.”

I put the lens cover on my camera and stood, leaning over to kiss her soft cheek. “Thank you, Precious. I’ll keep looking for Eva. I’m sure if we find her, we’ll find Graham, too.”

Colin returned with Laura, and we said our good-byes as Laura escorted Precious back to her bedroom.

“What did you think of that?” Colin asked, pulling on his raincoat.

“I’m not sure. But there’s definitely a story there. The good news is that now we can start looking for Graham, which might be easier, given his military record, and that might lead us to Eva.” I looked pointedly at his raincoat. “I assume this means you’re not taking me to Kew Gardens?”

His smile was as unexpected as it was charming, reminding me of the man in the photograph. “Not today, at any rate.” He seemed to consider his next words, before saying, “I was going to head back to the office for a couple of hours, but we could do an early supper, if you like. We can make a plan of action on the best ways to find Eva Harlow and my great-uncle Graham. Unless you have other plans, of course.”

I should have said no. It was too hard spending time with him and pretending to be indifferent. It had always been that way, but in college there had been other guys with whom I could deflect my interest. And his.