Page 78 of These Old Lies

George must have heard him, because he muttered, “No one ever says that when it’s his time to die.”

???

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Yes. Quite,” Ned answered as he reached for Charlie’s hand. They lay in bed side by side in the dark.

As they readied for bed, he had meant to only casually enquire about Charlie’s plans when the National Service age was raised, but it had all come tumbling out, how Ned had looked into Charlie’s file, the letter from Pemberton, George’s visit, the corner that Hugh had backed himself into.

The whole debacle of a day.

“What are you going to do about Hugh?” Charlie asked as he ran his thumb back and forth over the top of Ned’s hand in comfort. “You’ll help, won’t you? Hugh’s an idiot, but hard labour for a bit of a fuck?”

Ned took a moment to re-organise his thoughts, Hugh’s situation not being where he anticipated Charlie’s focus. “To meddle in a specific case would draw attention.”

“You’re telling me none of your colleagues ever pull a favour for an old school chum?” Ned didn’t need to see in the dark to know that Charlie was quirking his eyebrow.

Ned let his hand drift into Charlie’s hair, running through the curls. “People will want favours in return. No one, not even me, has infinite pull.” Frankly, Ned would rather keep his powder dry to protect Charlie. “You aren’t worried about Pemberton’s letter?”

Charlie sighed and shifted out of Ned’s arms. Ned’s skin was cool from the loss.

“He’s a worm of a man. His pride got bruised from your fight and he takes it out on whoever he thinks is smaller. But I’m thinking, it's been sitting there for almost a decade? Someone read it and didn’t think it was worth doing anything about. I guess I’m trying to say, has anything changed other than we now know it’s there?”

Charlie wasn’t wrong, but still. “It could ruin your chances at an exemption from National Service.” Ned didn’t know what he wanted Charlie to say in response. That he wouldn’t object anymore? That he expected Ned to make the letter go away?

“I guess I’ll have to roll the dice.” Charlie rolled towards Ned again, but with more tension than before. “Unless you are ashamed of me?”

Ned kissed the top of Charlie’s head. “Never in this life.”

Charlie took another sigh, this one sleepier. “We will figure out how to help Hugh in the morning. We will face them together.”

???

The telephone was on its third ring when it finally jolted Ned out of his sleep.

“We are disconnecting that nonsense from the wall tomorrow morning,” Charlie mumbled from under the blankets.

Feeling his way around in the dark to the hallway closet where the telephone was installed, Ned picked up the receiver on the fifth ring. “Pinsent speaking.” His voice was raspy with sleep.

“Get to the War Rooms immediately.” It was Cabinet Secretary Edward Bridges. Ned was jolted fully awake. Bridges would only call in the direst of emergencies.

“Yes, sir,” Ned replied.

The line crackled and then Ned heard a sigh. “It will be in the news soon enough. The Japanese have attacked an American naval base. Multiple ships lost.”

“Oh Jesus.”

“The Prime Minister wants to speak to President Roosevelt within the hour. He believes the Americans will enter the war. I need a report on the implications before noon.”

Ned promised to be there as soon as possible and hung up the receiver.

When he got back to the bedroom, Ned sat on the bed, head in his hands. Many times in his life had called for immediate action, where seconds made all the difference. Then there were moments so big it didn’t matter how fast you were. The Japanese had entered the war. The Americans had suffered a humiliating defeat. The Americans were entering the war. These things were already facts, and nothing Ned did could change them.

A hand reached out to caress his back. “What is it, my love?” Charlie was more affectionate when he was sleepy, full of words of endearment that he rarely said when awake.

“I have to go into the office.” Ned began to strip off his pyjamas as he rummaged around for a suit.

This attack would change everything. New debates would spark, old conversations would be re-ignited. Surely Britain would be asked how far it would go to defend itself once more? Ned had managed to convince the military to hold out on that stockpile of mustard, chlorine, lewisite, phosgene, and Paris Green once. Would they continue to listen to him?