Persey’s stomach twisted at his words. She nodded. ‘I can understand,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you.’
‘Did you realise?’ he asked.
‘Did I realise what?’ she asked, looking at him.
‘Did you realise how I felt about you then? Through all those summers.’
She stopped breathing; didn’t know what to say, how to react.
‘When I left that last time, I did not know it would be the last time,’ he continued. ‘If I had, I would have said something, anything to find out how you felt; to see if you felt the same about me as I did about you. But after that moment on the cliff, you said nothing. You did not say a word. You did not even react.’
Persephone’s stomach knotted together so tight it hurt. She didn’t know what to say. What was the point of rehashing something that had never quite been? She blinked to banish this train of thought. How did he feel now? That was more important. He hadn’t said. Why did she want him to so badly and what would she do if he did? How did she feel now? That was a question she hadn’t even dared ask herself.
It took her a few seconds to reply. ‘Nothing could have come of it then.’
‘No,’ he replied softly. ‘We were too young. I was leaving. I should not have done it. It was unfair to both of us and I apologise.’
‘Oh,’ she said in genuine surprise.
‘It was not the right time,’ he finished. ‘And we find ourselves here, now. All these years later.’
‘Don’t,’ she whispered. If it had been the wrong time then, it was certainly the wrong time now. Nothing about this was right. The situation, it was wrong, all wrong. The absolute worst. Even worse than before. Nothing had flourished between them then, and nothing could now.
‘You did not like me then?’ he pushed, his blue eyes intensely looking towards hers. She could feel his gaze and she did her very best to avoid it.
‘I … God, I don’t know how I felt then.’ She laughed but it was false. She knew. Of course she knew.
She had been too young, she thought, to call it love and so she had ignored it. But when Stefan had left that final summer she had stared at the walls blankly every evening after supper for the remainder of the season and wondered what on earth had happened to her heart.
He moved towards her now and she panicked, stood up from her chair, moved away from the table, away from him. He stopped and for that she was grateful.
‘And now?’ he said, his eyes wide with something resembling hope.
She clutched the back of the dining chair nearest the door. ‘Please stop. You have to stop.’ She pulled herself up straighter, taller. ‘Do you not understand?’ she continued. ‘This … whatever this might be … it can’t be. It’s utterly abnormal. You, in your uniform, on this island. You want me to pretend it’s normal. I can’t,’ she said with determination.
Dido entered the room bearing a large dish with the summer berry crumble. ‘Pudding’s served,’ she announced. ‘I can’t convince Jack to come back inside I’m afraid. He’s pacing the rose garden with the last of his good cigarettes and the evening newspaper.’
Persey looked away from Stefan, who was clearly crestfallen. ‘I can’t possibly eat anything,’ Persey said, fighting back tears of anger and worry, and with her heart in her mouth and her nerves in tatters, she left the room to be confronted with Jack as she went towards the stairs. She tried to push past him but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. He looked angry, worried, colourless.
‘Are you still angry about the dancing?’ Persey asked Jack. ‘I know you think it’s some kind of brotherly duty to be protective of Dido and I but honestly, Jack, with Stefan I don’t think you need—’
‘I’m not worried about you dancing with him. I’ve got more important things to worry about.’ He showed her the evening paper. ‘Have you seen this?’ he asked.
She had been so used to the real news having been replaced with Nazi propaganda that she had quickly decided to no longer pay any attention to the newspaper.
Jack’s face had turned white and the hand that he was using to hold the paper shook so violently she could barely see the headline.
He pulled her up the stairs and into his bedroom.
‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said. ‘What do I do, Persey? Help me. Tell me.’ He thrust the newspaper at her and she read the article he was shakily pointing at.
She read. ‘Members of the British Armed forces in the island in hiding, and those sheltering them, have three days to give themselves up. If they do so, the soldiers will be treated as POWs and no action will be taken against those who assist them.’
‘Oh my God, Jack.’ She looked up at him. ‘How do they know?’
‘All that downstairs, from him …’ Jack spat, pointing frantically at his closed bedroom door. ‘I know why he was doing it. He must be laughing down there right now. He knows. The Germans know. They know why I’m here.’
