Page 106 of The Unknown Birds

“Truly,” she said, squeezing his arm. “After your composition, it’s my favorite thing I’ve ever heard. Or at least my second favorite.”

“You humble me, but what on earth could bump Dvořák from second to third?” he teased.

“That Christmas. When we all sang ‘Silent Night.’ Have you forgotten?”

“Never.”

“Thank you for taking me tonight.”

“There’s no one I’d rather be with, Ash. Every second of every single day. I hope you know that.”

“Every second of every day?”

“And twice on Sundays.”

She smiled, her heart full up with warmth and hope and very little room for the doubt and fear that usually threatened to choke her like poison gas.

“To the brave new world,” she said, “whatever it may look like.”

Chapter 31

London, August 1939

These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,

Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.

The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,

And sunset, and the colours of the earth.

—Rupert Brooke

IV. The Dead

Throughout late summer, Ashley’s students continued to weed and harvest their little garden, which was a good thing or the tomato plants would have climbed the wall and spilled ripe fruit all down the lane. What produce the children didn’t take home to their families was sold to local shops to seed a general classroom fund.

On rainy days they wrote poems and painted pictures, which they sold on the corner two for a penny, and by late August they had raised enough—secretly supplemented with Ashley’s own savings—to help buy each child a warm winter coat and shoes to replace the ones they’d outgrown.

It was a good lesson in economics, and an even better distraction from the headlines hawked by other children on opposite street corners. Best of all, it gave Ash something to do besides dread the looming, stalking first days of September.

On the last day of August, Rook met her at the school looking dashing in his sepia-colored suit. When he invited her on a picnic, the boys began to howl and whistle, while the girls looked on and giggled with dreamy eyes. His face was sweet and earnest, curls tamped down beneath his cap, leaving Ash no choice but to dismiss class and take his arm.

They found a bench in an unusually secluded part of Queen Mary’s Garden, and there, surrounded by flowers in every shade and hue, it was almost possible to forget there was a world outside.

Rook had brought a basket with cold ham, sugar snap peas, fresh brown bread, and savory chunks of cheddar.

“This is a meal fit for Queen Mary herself,” Ash marveled, and he smiled and tilted his head back to let the sun warm his face, utterly content.

“How was school?” he asked.

“It hardly seems fair to call it school, but at least they won’t be barefoot when they go.”

“Dare I say there are times when that’s more important than book learning?”

Ash put a hand to her chest in mock horror. “More important than Shakespeare?”

“You’ve given them a solid foundation so they can spend the rest of their lives reading Shakespeare. They’ll thank you for every last thing you’ve done these past few months.”