Page 86 of The Unknown Birds

Ash was there to catch him as he crumpled to his knees. “May God have mercy on my soul,” the sniper cried.

They crouched for ages in the dew-damp grass, while Rook quaked with silent sobs, Ashley’s own heart splintering and thorny at his side. She cradled him and stroked his hair, assuring him every way she could think of that it would have been someone else if he’d declined.

Ash could forgive a great many things in life. But witnessing one friend cut down in cold blood and the other brought to his knees, the selfsame blood upon his sacred, gentle hands—hands that knit socks and played the organ and held her heart—no indeed. She would never spare an ounce of mercy for Captain Hawkins. Not one hundred years from now and not in the eternal hereafter. Not for the life he’d taken nor the lifetime of torment he’d forced upon her dearest friend.

But she would do everything in her power to make sure Rook forgave himself.

Chapter 25

Midlands, June 1939

A blackbird singing

On a moss upholstered stone,

Bluebells swinging,

Shadows wildly blown,

A song in the wood,

A ship on the sea.

The song was for you

And the ship was for me.

—Francis Ledwidge

To One Dead

Captain Davies planned to meet Ashley and Rook at the station with a motor car to ferry them off to his country estate. Ash held her breath when she glimpsed him, his golden hair now liberally streaked with strands of silver grey.

The burns that ended his time in France had left a swath of scar tissue which peeked out of his collar, running up his neck, left cheek, and chin. His arms and hands were hidden by a suit of summer tweed and the finest hazelnut driving gloves she’d ever seen.

He seemed to recognize Rook immediately, joyfully, then Rook’s hand found the small of Ashley’s back, a warm comfort nudging her forward. “Screw your courage to the sticking place,” he whispered.

The captain scanned her face and features once, then quickly a second time, his quizzical eyes beginning to dance with glee.

“Private Ashley?” he said in wonder.

“Sir.”

“A girl. All this time. Did you know?” he asked, turning a playful scowl of accusation upon Rook.

“Hadn’t the faintest idea. Suppose I was too full of my own worries.”

“Yes, well, it was a worrisome time,” Captain Davies said, offering Ashley his gloved hand and then awkwardly reaching to hug her. When he stepped back, he was still grinning and shaking his head. “A girl—woman, I suppose I should say. Delightful. Well done, you. Are you on the stage now?”

“No. A teacher.”

“Dickens and Shakespeare, I expect.”

“Sometimes.”

“Very good. Well, shall we?” he asked, taking both of their suitcases in hand and leading the way to his vehicle, a smart, burgundy four door with three head lamps in the front and three windows down each side.

“When did you get an Austin?” Rook asked as the captain loaded their suitcases into the back.