Page 82 of The Unknown Birds

“It was me.”

She screwed up her face, blinking rapidly, determined to keep her tears at bay. “So many chances missed,” she spit.

“So many misses, leading up to the one that didn’t,” he amended, absolutely refusing to be anything but grateful for their reunion.

And Ash was grateful too, truly, but she could also be two things at once: angry at herself for not searching him out, angry at the time it had taken, angry at the fear and grief and yearning.

She took a deep, ragged breath. “Captain Davies,” she said, clearing her throat and steering the conversation back to safer waters. “Does he know? About me?”

A cheeky smile spread across Rook’s handsome face. “He knows you’re coming.”

“But he doesn’t know,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“No. I’m sorry, but I’m far too eager to watch him work it out all on his own.”

Her stomach tightened with nerves, but she supposed it wasn’t Rook’s job to unravel her old web. “Well if he dies of shock, on your head be it.”

“No one’s going to die today,” he promised, putting an arm around her shoulders, inviting her to rest her head on his.

“What if he’s angry?” she asked.

“He won’t be angry. He’ll think it’s a lark. Remember how he let us celebrate Christmas just because he knew we needed to?”

“That’s not the same at all.”

“You were always his favorite, Ash. And he’s good for a laugh. It’ll be fine, I promise. Where’s all this gloom and worry coming from?”

Ashley shrugged. “This is who I am. Who I’ve always been.”

“Desiderium,” he remembered.

“Desiderium,” she agreed. “Sorry you invited me?”

“Never,” he said, reaching in his pocket and taking out a heavenly smelling parcel, which he unwrapped to reveal several Butterplätzchen. “Be as gloomy as you like,” he added, holding out the biscuits, knowing full well it was impossible to be gloomy with a belly full of those.

When the biscuits were gone, Ashley shared her packed lunch, each taking half a bacon sandwich, and eating berries from the school garden.

“I’m disappointed there’s no cherries,” he teased.

“Shall I plant some just for you?” she asked.

“Would you?”

“I think you know I would,” she whispered, and he turned to gaze out at the bucolic countryside, that tiny smirk pulling at his lips and crinkling his eyes.

Chapter 24

Picardy, May 1918

In spring, the Surreys returned to France to fight at the Forest of Nieppe. By the end of that campaign nothing at all would be the same: Blake was presumed lost, Captain Davies was sent to Blighty with burns to his torso and extremities, and everything else in their lives had gone to hell.

Then Stewart, Tom, and Chapman were transferred to the Ninth Battalion, escaping the draconian nightmare Captain Hawkins brought to bear. The fracturing of their company took its toll on those who remained.

After the Somme, Ash had made herself numb to the machinations of the war. It wasn’t personal, it was only tactics. Feelings had no place in the forward line. But now she was exhausted beyond reason, with no reserves left to tamp down her fury at the way Hawkins seemed to contrive any excuse to torment Rook.

It was plain as plain the whole regiment was brittle and close to cracking. Davies would have made it clear the Surreys needed rest, while Captain Hawkins was merely chasing his own glory.

Dusty was especially aimless without his job as captain’s right-hand man, but he slid into the void left by the others, swapping cigarettes with Rook and reading material with Ashley.