Page 50 of The Unknown Birds

Stewart lit a cigarette for Rook, then held his coat out like an awning to keep the rain off while he smoked, but Rook’s hand trembled so badly he dropped it in the mud. So Blake took over the makeshift shelter while Stew lit up a second smoke, and this time he held it himself so Rook could take a nice long drag, while Ashley clasped his hands to stop their tremor.

“You scared us, sniper,” Cooper said. “Who’s going to keep the watch, if not for you?”

Rook coughed out a grim laugh, chest still heaving after his ordeal.

When he finished the cigarette, Stewart lit him another, and Max snuggled into his lap.

“Always knew I hated those worthless rat holes,” he said, attempting a feeble smile.

“I don’t think I’ll ever set my arse in one again,” Ash choked, giddy with relief and something more.

If these boys had become her whole life, then Rook had become her whole world, the reason she could bear whatever came. How reckless to nearly lose him to something so mundane as simple mud when she needed him to survive the whole damn war.

Taking a shaky breath, Rook looked around at them all and, spotting Ashley’s helmet in the bilge along the walkway, he picked it up, letting the rain wash away the muck and grime, before giving it a shake and dropping it on her head, still looking out for her even now.

He held her gaze, opening and closing his mouth, brow scrunched up tight like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words until finally he nodded at her once, as if in thanks.

Fresh tears stung Ashley’s eyes as she tried to force her own crumpled face into something resembling a smile, and she nodded in return. She would always have his back as he had hers.

Chapter 16

Pas-de-Calais, May 1917

Rain continued for days and days, turning the pockmarked landscape into a series of murky pools big enough to swim across. Everyone was sick and tired of being wet, so when Dusty came down the trench looking for a runner, Cooper groaned. “I just changed my socks.”

“You’re a footballer, man. Don’t you play in the rain all the time?” Blake teased.

“Course not. That’s what second string is for.”

“I’ll go,” Ash offered. She was pretty sure even buried deep within her rucksack, her clean socks were already damp with rain.

“I owe you,” Cooper told her. “We all do.”

“What do you owe me?” she teased.

Coop looked at Blake and Tom. “What do you reckon, lads? One million jars of strawberry jam?”

“We never get strawberry,” Ash sighed.

“Cause they nick them all further up the line,” TomTom grumbled.

“Cherry then,” Cooper laughed.

“I hate cherries.”

It turned out to be an easy run despite the weather—most likely on account of the weather keeping German snipers and patrolmen huddled in their dugouts. Still, there were only a few hours for a nap by the time Ashley collapsed against some sandbags, muddy as a crab and just as crabby.

When Reveille was called what felt like moments later, her feet were so cold she couldn’t feel them except for the burning prick of pins and needles as she stumbled to the fire step with Tom.

“Been at the rum already, Little Bird?” Rook teased, a wary smile on his face, his strong brow forever creased with concern.

“Drank your share,” she whispered, and he coughed out a laugh.

They stood at attention as dawn drew near, peering through the misty shroud in case of an enemy raid that never came, but at least the rain had stopped.

Finally, they were given the order to stand down and have their rations, and Ashley stumbled off the fire step, the heaviness in her feet even worse than it was before.

“Private?” Captain Davies asked, approaching them with Sergeant Major Chapman and Lieutenant Napier in tow. “Are you unwell?”