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After alighting at Brighton Station, they would make their way straight for the sea, stopping only for Sylvia to buy them two ice cream cones. The sisters would hurry along, licking up sweetly sticky drips of ice cream until they reached the edge of the shingle beach. Slipping and sliding, they would stake out the best spot and set up for the day, only packing up reluctantly when they were crisp and exhausted from a day in the sun.

All her childhood, it had been Izzie’s idea of bliss.

“How is your sister?” asked Alexandra in a low tone.

Izzie sighed, reality pulling her out of the rose-tinted memories of past summers. She’d told Alexandra about Sylvia’s letter and what she’d written back.

“I don’t know yet. I hope there will be a letter waiting for me when we return to base,” she said.

“You’re worried about her,” said Alexandra.

“Yes. No? I don’t know.” She peered out over the ocean, watching the whitecaps on the waves. “Hugo was her entire life.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Alexandra.

Izzie tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Her friend shrugged. “Just that it sounds to me like your sister had an entire life that had only bits and pieces to do with her husband. Didn’t you say that she has all of her committee work?”

“That’s true,” said Izzie slowly.

“And it sounds like she has all sorts of friends. Surely they’re helping her through this.”

“I hope so,” she said, but she doubted it very much. She suspected that Sylvia had been able to navigate years in Hugo’s social circle because she wasn’t the sort of woman who let people in. Close friendships could leave one vulnerable in a way Sylvia would never have wanted.

“Well, isn’t this a sight?”

A smile spread across Izzie’s face.

Jack.

She turned and sure enough there he was, watching from a distance with his arms crossed over his chest and his usual grin fixed on his face. Her friends started to giggle, but Jack hardly seemed to notice, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

She touched her hair as she approached, certain she was red-faced and glistening with sweat, but when she stopped in front of him, she found she didn’t really care.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“You told me you’d be here, so I came,” he said.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Can’t a man drop by to see his best girl on a whim?” he asked.

She smiled. “Certainly, but when that man’s life is run by the USAAF, it usually becomes a little bit harder to be spontaneous.”

He shook his head. “I’ll have to file a complaint with Brigadier General Eaker about the lack of romance in the Eighth Air Force.”

She was about to tease him back when a gloom fell over his face. She’d seen him playful, joyous, thoughtful, and even concerned for her, but she’d never seen him sad, and it sent her nerves pickling.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Jack!” called out Amelia from the balloon vehicle. “Are you going to bring your friends to the next Assembly Hall dance?”

He looked up, startled by the interruption, but then recovered his easy way. “Sure thing! Anything for the WAAF!” Then he lowered his voice. “Can you step away for a moment to talk?”

She really shouldn’t—she was supposed to be on duty and alert at all times while the balloon was flying—but something told her this conversation would be too important to rush.

“Over there,” she said, nodding to a row of brightly painted beach huts along the promenade.