He swallowed and looked at her. ‘Why would I?’
His words stung. ‘I don’t know,’ she snapped, reaching out and taking the brandy he offered.
‘Why did you go home? Did you get leave?’
‘You could say that. I was allowed to leave that godforsaken island, to return home and organise my parents’ funeral.’
Persey coughed on the brandy. ‘Funeral?’ She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. ‘Which parent?’
‘Both of them,’ he said.
‘Both of them?’ she echoed, horror threaded into her words. ‘Both of them have died?’
‘Yes.’
She collected herself. ‘Oh, Stefan, I’m so sorry,’ she said softly. And then even quieter: ‘What happened?’
‘An Allied bombing raid.’
‘My God,’ she said as he gently reached over and took the bottle back from her, drinking a mouthful. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated. ‘Christ, this war. Stefan, I’m so—’
‘Do you want any more?’ he asked, indicating the bottle.
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
‘I am going to bed,’ he said, standing.
The front door opened and closed and before Stefan had a chance to leave Jack made his way into the sitting room with a smile on his face. The moment he saw Stefan, the smile departed. ‘Oh God, not you,’ Jack said. ‘What the hell are you doing back? Thought we’d got rid of you for good this time.’ And then: ‘Bloody hell, is that brandy?’
Stefan looked at Jack and sighed. ‘Hello, Jack.’
‘Yes, hello,’ Jack said without conviction. ‘How long are you back for this time?’
‘I do not know. I hope for a while.’
‘Yes, well let’s not hope too hard shall we?’ Jack said, his eyes still on the bottle of brandy.
Stefan walked forward and handed it to him. ‘You may have some,’ he said as he made towards his bedroom. He turned at the door, put his hand on Jack’s shoulder in a gesture of kindness, which was immediately shrugged off. ‘I think you might need it. Goodnight, Jack. Goodnight, Persephone.’
Persey listened as he ascended the stairs, slowly, pulling himself and his bag along. His bedroom door closed softly and she thought how the tide had turned so dramatically in such a short space of time. He looked awful. He sounded awful. There was no way out of this mess until one side won this war.
‘What’s he talking about?’ Jack said carelessly, opening the bottle. ‘Why do I need this?’
‘Oh Jack,’ Persey said. ‘Your mother—’
‘What about Mum?’ Jack started, looking around quickly as if he’d find her there. ‘Where is she? What’s happened?’
After she told him, she held him tightly as he sobbed into her shoulder. She had never seen him cry before. Not once. Not even when he’d fallen from a tree in the park when he was twelve and broken his arm.
‘Why wasn’t I there?’ he cried. ‘I could have stopped it.’
‘You couldn’t, Jack. You couldn’t.’
‘I could!’ he shouted. ‘Of course I could.’
She held him until he slumped into her. All the fight gone. He drank more brandy than he should and she waited, knowing there was nothing she could say. And after, she went upstairs with him, ushering him into the bathroom so he could be sick before she washed him and pushed him towards his bedroom so he could sleep it off. She watched Jack as he slept, face down on his bed, her heart going out to him as she closed the door.
She felt more determined than ever to do something useful for the islands, so she went downstairs, pulled the wireless from itshiding place in the pantry, waited until Big Ben struck the hour for the news to start and began writing what she heard in shorthand as quickly as possible. Tomorrow morning she would ride over to Doctor Durand’s with her notes and, alongside helping keep Lise safe, Persey felt truly rallied by the knowledge she was going to play as much of a role as possible in driving the Nazis from the Channel Islands.
