Page 46 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)

S he hadn’t meant for her voice to come out so sharp, but seeing the blood soaked through Jack’s sleeve, the way he winced when he moved, made her throat tighten.

He looked up at her, his usual cool detachment slipping.

Ellie bustled away, returning seconds later with the first-aid tin and a damp cloth.

Daisy was at the stove and poured hot water into a bowl, bringing it to the table. ‘Here you are, miss.’

She was young, with earnest brown eyes and the quick, efficient movements of someone determined to prove herself worthy of replacing Constance.

‘Thank you.’ The familiar scent of carbolic soap soon filled the room.

‘I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks,’ Ellie muttered, as she bathed the wound.

Her hands were steadier than she’d expected, though her chest still ached with the weight of the night’s tragedy.

She could still see the sea, the glint of the U-boat, and Sinclair’s blood on her hands.

‘Iodine?’ he asked, eyeing it with suspicion.

‘And lint,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll live.’

‘It’s only a scratch,’ he insisted, then winced as she dabbed the wound gently with the disinfectant.

‘Liar.’

He didn’t reply.

She examined the wound closely. The blood had begun to clot, but the skin was torn and angry.

‘You’re lucky,’ she murmured. ‘Another inch and you’d have had an honourable discharge and a crooked arm.

’ The bullet had skimmed the side of his left arm, missing the bone by a fraction. She reached for the lint and bandage.

As she worked, Jack glanced down at her hands. ‘You’ve done this before.’

‘Growing up with Pa and his tools? Oh, I’ve seen worse than this.’

He didn’t flinch as she pressed the dressing into place, wrapping the bandage snugly. When she finished, he flexed his arm and gave a curt nod. ‘Thank you,’ he said, voice quieter now.

She held his gaze a beat longer than necessary. Then Evelyn swept into the kitchen, brisk and purposeful, her gaze landing on Jack’s bloodied shirt and clucked her tongue. ‘Absolutely not.’

Jack blinked, startled.

‘You are not putting that back on. Daisy!’ she called, ‘Fetch one of Richard’s white shirts from the wardrobe.’

‘Ma’am, that’s really not—’

‘No arguments. He won’t miss it.’

Jack glanced at Ellie. She shrugged. ‘If I were you, I’d do as you’re told.’

As Daisy hurried upstairs, Evelyn filled the kettle at the sink. Without looking at either of them, she said lightly, ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, Eleanor. I’m not entirely useless, you know. It may surprise you to learn I’ve joined the WVS.’

Ellie blinked. ‘Really?’

‘Only part time. I pour tea, hand out blankets, knit rather badly.’ A wry smile touched her lips. It’s hardly espionage.’ She paused, one hand resting on the kettle handle. ‘But it stops me pacing the house. And … it helps. In small ways.’ She didn’t say what needed helping. She didn’t have to.

Ellie’s face softened. Soon the kettle began to hum, a sound that seemed to anchor them all. Outside, a distant crump echoed from the east, a reminder that the world beyond these walls remained unchanged. Jack turned instinctively to the window.

‘We’re staying put tonight,’ Evelyn said briskly, as if reading his thoughts. ‘There’s been quite enough disruption for one day. The guest room’s made up. You’re not going anywhere.’

Jack sighed. ‘Thank you, Mrs Harcourt.’

‘Don’t thank me. Just don’t bleed on the linen. Daisy has a difficult enough job as it is.’

Jack glanced sideways at Ellie. ‘She terrifies me,’ he whispered.

‘She terrifies everyone.’ They both smiled – tired, lopsided smiles, but real.

‘He won’t need the shirt back,’ Evelyn said. ‘We can’t have you looking like you’ve crawled out of Dunkirk.’ Then she turned to Ellie. ‘And thank you for bringing your father home.’

Ellie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Another rumble rolled across the sky. Not thunder. The muted crump of impact, probably the docks again. The air raid siren had faded, replaced by the thrum of aircraft and the distant rattle of anti-aircraft fire.

***

Upstairs, the guest room held the faint scent of lavender and old wood. Ellie nudged the door open and stepped aside to let Jack pass. ‘It’s not the Ritz, but the sheets are clean, and the fire hasn’t quite died.’

He glanced around, taking in the furnishings, the dying embers casting shadows on the walls. ‘It’s perfect.’

She set a tumbler of her father’s whisky on the nightstand and held out two aspirin. ‘For the arm. And that ache behind your eyes.’

He took them without comment, then sat on the edge of the bed with a quiet exhale. ‘Ellie,’ – his voice caught, just a little – ‘I’m sorry about Sinclair.’

She nodded once, the grief still raw. ‘Me too.’

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking older than his years. ‘We’ll talk to Lockwood tomorrow. Go over everything again. If the intel’s right, we’ve got forty-eight hours before that plane leaves Tangmere.’

Her chest tightened, but she kept her voice steady. ‘Then we’ll be ready.’

He looked up at her, with worn eyes. ‘Get some rest.’

‘You too. You’ve more than earned it.’ She reached for the door, then paused. ‘Jack?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you. For everything.’

He held her gaze. ‘You’d do the same.’

She smiled faintly, then slipped into the hallway, the door closing behind her with a soft click. Ellie stood on the landing for a moment, listening to the muffled sounds of Daisy moving about below; the closing of doors, the rattle of dishes and the crump of bombs that had become London’s lullaby.

Barefoot, she walked past childhood portraits and faded watercolours, the floorboards cool beneath her feet, until she reached her father’s study. Lamplight spilled from beneath the door. Richard sat in his armchair, a blanket across his knees, a steaming cup of tea on the table beside him.

‘I can’t sleep,’ he said without looking up.

Ellie sank into the wingback chair opposite, the leather creaking beneath her. The fire had burned low, but still threw a gentle amber glow across the room. For a while, neither spoke.

‘When you were little, you used to sit in that chair with your notebook and interrogate me,’ her father said finally, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

She smiled faintly. ‘I always wanted to be a detective.’

‘You already were.’

He studied her face closely, and she saw the pain behind his eyes. Ellie drew her knees up beneath her, curling into the chair like she had as a child. ‘I never wanted to be part of your world. Not like this.’

He nodded. ‘And yet here you are. Braver than any of us.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t feel brave at all, Pa. Most of the time I feel terrified.’ The admission hung between them briefly.

‘When Granville first approached me, he was reasonable,’ Richard said, eventually. ‘Persuasive. He said Britain would fall, that it was inevitable. Why not choose survival?’

Ellie’s jaw tightened. ‘Because some things matter more than survival.’

Her father nodded. ‘I told him that. And I told him no. But later, part of me wondered if I should’ve played along longer. Learned more. Stalled for time.’

‘You wouldn’t have made it back.’

‘No,’ he agreed softly. The hallway clock struck midnight, its chimes mournful in the quiet house.

He sighed. ‘If the Germans crack our radar frequencies, if they understand our detection methods …’ He shook his head.

‘We might as well paint targets on every ship, every airfield, every aircraft in the country.’

The magnitude of her father’s words settled over her like a weight and Ellie stared into the dying firelight, processing how close they’d all come to losing everything.

And that they weren’t safe yet. So much loss.

So much at stake. And the man responsible for it all …

‘He’s still out there. Granville,’ she said quietly.

‘Yes.’

‘He’s not done.’

He turned to her, his voice lower now. ‘You’re going after him, aren’t you?’

She nodded.

‘Be careful.’

‘I’ll try.’

That earned a wry smile. ‘I’m proud of you,’ he said, his voice rough with emotion. ‘You kept your head out there when it mattered most.’

Ellie blinked. ‘You didn’t think I would?’

‘I didn’t think you’d be there at all,’ he admitted. ‘You were never meant to be part of that world.’

She looked down at her tea. ‘Too late for that.’

He didn’t argue.

She leaned forward. ‘Pa … what exactly are they after?’

He let out a slow breath. ‘The magnetron. But not the old design. This version is miniaturised. Small enough to fit inside a fighter plane. We’ve been pushing the limits for months.’

‘I saw the sketches the night before you vanished.’

‘I hoped you’d forget.’

‘You know me better than that.’

He smiled faintly, his expression both proud and pained.

Ellie’s fingers tightened around her cup. ‘And Granville?’

‘He saw the early papers when he still had clearance. I think he understood what we were building before some of our own people did. He had that kind of mind, brilliant, but …’ He trailed off, shaking his head.

She nodded slowly. ‘He had informants everywhere, feeding him information.’

‘Indeed, and he wasn’t acting alone. He was a channel. Someone else is pulling the strings.’

Ellie sat back, the weight settling behind her eyes. Kingfisher . The name whispered through her mind like an icy wind. They sat in the warm hush for a moment longer, the fire crackling softly between them. Then her father reached over and pressed a brass button into her palm; worn and smooth.

‘From my Great War uniform. I kept it for luck. I’m not sure that ever worked for me, but perhaps it will look after you.’

She closed her hand around it. ‘It did work for you. You’re still here.’

His eyes glistened. But he said nothing.

Footsteps creaked upstairs – Daisy perhaps, or Jack unable to sleep.

Ellie stood, leaned over and kissed his temple, breathing in the familiar scent of pipe tobacco. ‘Try and sleep, Pa.’

He gripped her hand. ‘Catch him before he hurts anyone else.’

‘I will.’

At the threshold, she paused, her back to him. Then: ‘Do you remember when I was fourteen, and I asked you what you did at work?’

His face creased into a faint smile. ‘I think I said it was boring.’

‘You said it was safer if I didn’t know.’

‘I believed that then.’

She turned back, her voice steady. ‘Now I understand. You weren’t hiding the truth from me. You were trying to protect me from it.’

His gaze didn’t waver. ‘Sometimes, Ellie, having a brilliant mind inherently brings you into the eye of a storm.’

She blinked, throat tight. ‘Then it’s a good thing I’m learning how to stand in the wind.’

Tears brimmed in her father’s eyes, but behind them, pride burned clear and unwavering. She stepped into the hallway, his lucky charm still warm in her hand. The house had fallen still around her, but inside, a fire had only just begun to burn.