Page 52 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)
E ven London, for all its grey skies and ration books, remembered how to breathe now and then. Ellie stepped into the golden warmth of the American Bar at The Savoy, her navy silk dress swishing softly around her knees as her T-bar heels clicked against the marble floor.
Lizzie and Catherine flanked her like bodyguards in silk, Lizzie radiant in emerald green that complemented her auburn curls, Catherine regal in dove grey. The war hadn’t ended. But for a few hours, it could wait.
‘Tonight,’ Lizzie announced grandly, raising her glass, ‘we celebrate.’
Lizzie grinned wickedly. ‘Celebrate the fact that we’re still here. Alive, intact and moderately well dressed.’
Ellie smiled into her drink, savouring the clink of glasses, the scratch of jazz, the warmth in her chest that wasn’t quite peace – although it was close.
A swing tune swelled from the band, brassy and bright, the sort of music that dared even tired feet to move.
Without a word, Lizzie grabbed Catherine’s wrist and dragged her towards the dance floor. Catherine hesitated a fraction too long before laughing, her smile bright but brittle.
Ellie stayed behind, cradling her glass.
She watched the room, the swirl of uniforms and lipstick, of polished shoes and pressed skirts.
A blur of sweethearts and strangers, soldiers and spies.
War stitched them all together. Music and whisky were the thread.
She pressed her lips into a faint smile as a shadow fell across her table.
‘May I?’ came a warm, lilting voice, Scottish, smooth as velvet. An RAF pilot stood there, a little too young to wear that many stripes, surely, but with kind eyes and the careful bearing of someone raised to mind his manners.
Ellie blinked, surprised, then nodded. They danced with easy grace, his hands respectful, his steps practised and sure.
For a few minutes, she let herself be swept away by the rhythm and the absurd normality of it all.
The music swelled and she felt truly light—until the melody shifted to a slower tune.
The change caught her off guard. For a heartbeat, it wasn’t this kind young pilot holding her, but someone else entirely.
Someone who had promised there’ll be time for us, after all this is over.
The memory hit like a physical blow, and her step faltered.
'You all right, miss?' the pilot asked gently.
She forced a smile, guilt twisting in her chest. Was this betrayal?
'Just catching my breath.' But even as she said it, another voice echoed in her mind. Jack’s presence in the shelter, the way he’d anchored her when the world came apart.
She stepped back as the song ended, murmuring her thanks before making her way back to the table, where the gin had loosened tongues and sharpened the laughter.
Lizzie collapsed into her chair, breathless with giggles. ‘Catherine’s been claimed by that dashing colonel.’
‘He’s a major,’ Catherine corrected her, adjusting her hair with feigned indifference. ‘And he simply asked for one dance.’
But Ellie noticed how Catherine kept glancing towards the windows, as if she was expecting someone.
‘One dance that lasted three songs,’ Lizzie teased, then caught Ellie's expression and softened her tone. 'What about you? That pilot seemed quite taken.'
Ellie shook her head.
Lizzie exchanged a look with Catherine, then leaned forward tentatively. 'You know, that MI5 friend of yours. Jack. He seems like a good man.'
Ellie's cheeks warmed. 'Lizzie …'
'Too soon?' Lizzie asked quickly, reading her face.
Ellie considered this, swirling the champagne in her glass. 'No, it's … actually nice to think about something else.' She looked up with a small smile. 'He is a good man.'
Catherine's laugh was too bright, too quick. 'Well, that settles it then. Romance is officially back on the table.'
But the flicker of panic in Catherine's eyes — quickly masked — made Ellie study her friend more closely. Catherine glanced at her watch again, her fingers drumming against the table, a nervous rhythm that didn’t match the music.
Later, as the music softened and the night wound down, Lizzie leaned closer, her voice low and uncharacteristically steady. 'You did a big job, didn't you? At work.'
Ellie didn't answer right away. She toyed with her glass, watching the way the bubbles rose and vanished. 'I think we saved something. Or at least delayed the worst of it.'
Lizzie studied her for a moment, then raised her glass. 'Then I'll toast to that.'
Shortly after midnight, they slipped out of the Savoy, heels in hand, laughter trailing behind them like a ribbon of perfume.
The October air was fresh, blessedly free of smoke and ash.
For once, the sky held only stars – no searchlights, no droning aircraft, no distant thunder of bombs.
A peaceful night, a true gift after weeks of constant raids.
Catherine linked arms with Ellie, but her grip was tighter than usual. She kept glancing over her shoulder at every shadow, every movement in the blackout, and when a whistle echoed in the distance, she jumped.
'You all right?' Ellie looked at her.
'I‘m tired,' Catherine’s lips formed a thin smile. 'Long week.'
Lizzie looped herself onto Ellie’s other arm. ‘Whatever comes next, you’ll face it,’ she declared, slightly breathless. ‘I know you will.’
Ellie smiled, though Catherine's tension was starting to worry her. But the champagne had dulled her detective instincts, and the night was too peaceful to spoil with questions.
They rounded the corner and passed a shuttered newspaper vendor’s stall. Today’s paper was already pinned beneath a loose crate, its headline visible.
DAMAGE CONSIDERABLE, BUT SPIRITS UNbrOKEN.
Ellie slowed her step. Victory in the air . That’s what people would read over breakfast, their hearts swelling with hope and pride. But here, on the ground, in the dark, not every battle had been won. The thought of Sinclair's sacrifice hit her again, sharp and sudden.
She caught up with the others as Lizzie let out a peal of laughter, skirts swaying, heels swinging from her fingers. London was dark, the world was at war, but for tonight, they were simply three women walking home together. And for once, that was enough.