Page 72 of These Old Lies

“For the time being.” Ned had taken unpopular stances before, but this was the first time he’d worried he might have burned bridges permanently.

“I keep meaning to apologise.” Charlie’s statement jolted Ned back.

“About what?”

“I know from… before… that your flat is where you can be all of yourself.”

Of course Charlie would remember that Ned had liked to wear pretty things and let himself explore the edges of femininity in the privacy of his home. “With Betty and the children here,” Charlie continued, “it must be hard. It’s not fair to you.”

“Having you all here keeps me on my toes. I was getting too set in my ways.”

“I know the look around your eyes when you can’t relax.” Charlie reached out to touch Ned’s arm.

Ned’s instinct was to deny Charlie, to pull away from the gesture and from the understanding, wanting to be perfect for his lover. “I’ll get used to it.”

Charlie’s mouth twisted. “I don’t want you hiding. I saw what it did to you before—during the war.”

“I was very young.”

“Bullshit.” Charlie took his hands, still clammy from the dishwater. “It means more to me than you’ll ever know to see you work to be part of my family, gossiping with Betty about the fashions, teaching Frank and teasing Ellie. But let us be part of your family too. Bring us somewhere new. Somewhere fabulous. Wear your silks, read your radical books.”

Ned clenched back at Charlie’s hands. “What if the children ask?”

“Then we tell them,” Charlie said with conviction. “Betty would agree with me on this.”

“I don’t want them carrying the weight of secrets.” Ned was surprisedabout his strength of feeling about this, and there was a significant part of him that was worried about a hateful response. Not everyone could be as unaffected as Betty Villiers.

“We will wait for them to ask.” Charlie glanced out towards the hall and then leaned in for a tender kiss. “My point is, let them love you.”

Around the time Ned was battling with German grammar and mathematical equations, he decided he would never have a family. Now, at the age of forty-seven, he was being presented with one with bells on. What a wonderful gift life could be.

25 Millie & Gert

Arras, 30 July 1932 / Charlie

After bringing the car back to Ned’s hotel in Arras, Charlie awkwardly trailed after Ned into the lobby, wondering how to say goodbye.Thanks for showing me an excellent day in France? See you in another eight years?

“This is why I can’t turn my back for a minute,” Ned muttered as he looked at the pile of notes the hotel had waiting for him. Before Charlie could give his goodbyes, Ned interrupted with a change of topic. “Today was one of your better ideas.” A hint of a smile broke through his frown lines. “As a thank you, may I buy you dinner tonight?”

“Shall we meet at seven?” Charlie responded without hesitation.

“Perfect.” Ned turned back to the papers, his mind already elsewhere.

With a smile to himself, Charlie strolled out of the hotel to figure out what to do with the rest of his afternoon.

???

The sun was bright in Amiens, enough to make Charlie shrug off his jacket and carry it over his shoulder. From a distance, he spotted Andrew and the rest of the 1st London Territorial veterans drinking outside one of the brasseries, but he still couldn’t bring himself to join them.

He wasn’t really one of them, was he? Not after the Scarpe, when Charlie had abandoned them.

Not wanting to turn his good mood dark, he forced himself to walk towards the shops selling tourist bric-a-brac. He flipped through a postcard rack, dismissing photos of bombed-out churches and lines of graves. Postcards should be happy windows of escape. He stopped at a carousel with grinning horses. Would that make Ellie giggle?

He wondered what they were doing right now. Probably playing on the beach with their cousins, daring each other to run into the bracing waves. Last year he had taken Frank down the pier, and his boy’s eyes had been as large as the electric bulbs in the carnival booths. Perhaps he had made a mistake in not insisting that they come with him. Not that he wanted them to see the battlefields, but it would have been nice to build some happy memories in France.

Like today with Ned.

He was strolling over to the next shop when his eyes stopped on a car across the street. A bad professional habit, always examining every vehicle in his field of vision. This one was unexpected—a British car, a Cluley to be specific. Never been a huge success, in part due to its propensity to break down.