Page 66 of The Unknown Birds

“Were you a chorister as well?” she asked, a bit in love with the idea and rather jealous too, because she’d always wanted to sing with the trebles of St. Mary’s choir, but of course there were never girls allowed.

Rook just shrugged, a tiny smirk playing at his lips.

“You were!” Ash exclaimed. “How did a mischievous little choir boy grow up to be a tough-hewn sharpshooter like you?”

“What makes you think I was mischievous?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Rook,” Sergeant Major Chapman told him.

“I worked down the mines,” Stewart said. “But they’re bad luck for my whole family. Took my da, my granda, two uncles, my brother, and a slew of cousins. My gran says it’s a good thing Mam already died from heartbreak before I joined the army. She was too delicate to be a miner’s wife or a soldier’s mother.”

“Will you go back down when this is all over?” Ashley asked, thinking it a very unfair trade-off if he did.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe I’ll take Max home with me and buy a few sheep for her to chase around instead. My da always said it’s a smart man who invests in sheep.”

“I never even knew my father,” Ash admitted. “He died in the Boer War.”

“Don’t worry, Ash,” Rook said. “We’re all of us bastards in one way or another.”

Sergeant Major Chapman snorted in agreement and nodded his head. “Some more than others.”

It struck Ashley as strange that she had to go away to war to feel accepted in the way she’d always longed to be: known for herself instead of being Charles’s sister, known for her abilities instead of being just a girl. And yet, the old worry niggled—would they accept her quite as willingly if they knew that she was Charlotte and not Charles?

“There,” Rook said, pointing out into the darkness. His sharp sniper eyes spotting it before the rest could see a thing.

Together they rose and crept as close to the parapet as they dared.

The drumbeat of the nearest enfilade sped up, and then Ash could just make out the dog racing erratically across No Man’s Land. When Max reached the edge of the trench, she took one almighty leap and landed right in Stewart’s arms, panting heavily, her side going up and down like a bellows in triple time.

Stew ripped the message pouch from her neck and tossed it over to Chapman before cuddling Max to his chest, smothering her with kisses and murmuring tenderly in her ear.

“Well?” Rook asked.

They all peered up at the sergeant major, as he tried to read the reply despite the darkness, afraid to light a torch and draw more fire.

“Sit tight,” he told them. “Reinforcements en route.”

“I knew Max could do it.” Ashley beamed at Stewart. “I knew she’d be the one to see us through!”

Huddled together in the dugout, they peppered the collie with pats and scratches, and for the next few hours, there never was such a spoiled little dog. They all took turns feeding her bits of dried beef from their rations and whispering their thanks and admiration.

Towards dawn, the shooting intensified all around them, a mighty clamor closing in on the small section of trench where they’d hunkered down.

Stealthy as a lion, Rook positioned himself near the entrance, and when the first set of boots stepped into view, his safety was off, finger ready at the trigger.

“Oy, don’t shoot, mate!” the boots’ owner shouted, a voice which could belong to none but Coop. “You lot enjoying your little tea party while we do all the work around here?”

Cooper made his way up the trench, followed by several others from B Company including Blake, with their exhausted captain pulling up the rear.

Davies took in each of their faces in turn, the weight on his shoulders seeming to lighten a smidge more with each flash of recognition. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said, holding out his arm, inviting them to follow their rescuers up the retaken communication trench to freedom.

Chapter 20

London, May 1939

But here the moonlit hours flow softly on,

Unheeding that o’er half the World a pall