That Persey would not get to say goodbye to her sister was the thing that pained her most. That she would not get to see her little sister’s face ever again. She had intended to go home andwait for the Germans to arrive. To question her, search her room, find the shorthand evidence and leave her little sister alone.
She was not scared of death. Not like this. Not with Stefan. But how would Dido find out about this? What would it do to her? Stefan was looking at her. There wasn’t enough time. There was never enough time.
‘What might have happened?’ she asked him. ‘To us, after the war, if none of this had ever happened?’
He kissed her on her head and spoke softly. ‘We would have found each other again, after the war. And we would have been together.’
She was silent … holding him tighter than before as he held her.
‘The only thing that made me happy when I was on Alderney, was you,’ he said. ‘I thought of you whenever I could. I pictured your face, wondered what you were doing, wondered if you were happy, if you were all right. I fell asleep thinking about you … every single night for a whole year.’
‘Oh, Stefan,’ she cried. The fabric of his uniform was now wet with her tears.
‘I am not sure how long we have left,’ he said, pulling her back to the present. But she didn’t want to hear it, refused to hear it. ‘I wanted to marry you,’ he said.
She smiled sadly, kissed him the way she’d never been brave enough to kiss him before. He kissed her in return and she wanted to fall into him, have him hold her forever but she daren’t move. She wanted this to last as long as possible. It was all they would have.
‘I would have liked to have been married to you,’ he said again after they broke from the kiss.
‘You have to ask me,’ she replied as a smile played on her mouth. She touched his face, stroking his cheek with her fingertips, wishing they were anywhere but here.
Stefan gave the smallest of laughs and then: ‘Persephone LeRoy,’ he started and she closed her eyes, placing her forehead against his chest, ‘will you marry me?’
The pain of this hurt too much. She looked up, willing herself to stop the tears from flowing. She nodded. ‘Yes.’
Above them the sound of vehicles arrived at the cliff top. Shouting began and Persey looked up to see soldiers’ searchlights beaming down towards them. A flash of fear was swiftly replaced by calm.
‘It’s over,’ Persey said, looking into his eyes one last time. She put her lips on his while above them soldiers shouted and began their descent along the cliff path towards them.
Stefan pulled back a fraction. ‘What do we do?’ he whispered.
‘Hold me tight. Know I love you. And then lift your foot off the mine.’
Chapter 37
2016
Lucy thought back to the stained glass window in the church. That image. The girl on the beach. The vicar had told Lucy that Dido had commissioned it after the war. And now it made sense. Almost.
Will looked at Lucy. ‘I don’t often say this, but I think I need a drink.’
‘Me too,’ Lucy replied. ‘But first I want to go to the church.’ She got up from the floor suddenly. ‘Come on.’
Will stood up, confusion all over his face. ‘Why?’
‘I want to look at the window again,’ she said, hurriedly looking for the keys to Dido’s Renault. ‘I’d seen it before,’ Lucy continued. ‘But as with the informing letter, there was no way I could connect the dots until now. I just need to look at it,’ she said hurriedly. ‘One more time.’
They arrived at the church where Dido had recently been buried. In the intensity of the sun, the door to the church had been propped wide open and inside was cool, the breeze ricocheting gently off the cold stone walls.
‘Come here,’ she said to Will and took him towards the small enclave that made up the Lady Chapel. ‘What do you think of that?’
He looked up at the window as the light streamed through. The stained glass window in its array of glorious colours looked brighter today than it had before. Inside this church she still felt as calm as she had the other day.
‘It’s not very religious, is it?’ Will asked.
‘No, it’s not. I think it’s Persephone.’
‘Why?’ he asked, shocked.
