Probably not Merope. That name hadn’t become popular till the twenties. And she didn’t know what her cover was or if she was here with one of the contemps. A middle-aged man in an RAF uniform stood next to her on her left.

She lowered her arm, but Paige had already seen her begin to wave. “Do you see Reardon now?” Paige asked her.

“No, I thought I saw someone I knew.”

“You very probably did. I think everyone in England is here tonight.”

Past and present, she thought.

“Reardon!” Paige shouted, waving wildly. She glanced over to where Paige was looking and then back to where Merope had been standing, but she was no longer there. She searched through the crowd for her—by the lamppost, by the lion, over by the monument. But there was no sign of the green coat, which she should be able to spot—it was so bright. Or of her red hair.

“Oh, no, I’ve lost sight of her,” Paige said, scanning the sea of people. “Which way did Reardon go? I can’t see her anywhere. She—there she is! And there’s Talbot.” She began waving wildly. “Talbot! Reardon!”

“I don’t imagine they can hear you,” she said, but amazingly, they were plowing determinedly through the crowd and up the steps toward them.

“Fairchild, Douglas, thank goodness,” Reardon said when she reached them. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

Talbot nodded. “It’s bedlam out there,” she said cheerfully. “Have any of you seen Parrish and Maitland? I got separated from them. They were over by the bonfire.”

They all obediently looked in that direction, although there was no hope of recognizing anyone with the fire behind them like that. “I don’t see them anywhere,”

Talbot said. “Wait—Fairchild, isn’t that your true love?”

“It can’t be,” Paige said, looking where Talbot was pointing. “He’s in France. He … oh, Douglas, look!” Paige grabbed her arm. “It’s Stephen! Stephen! I was afraid he wouldn’t get here in time, and he’d miss all this. Oh, Mary, I’m so glad he’s here!”

So am I, she thought. It was wonderful seeing him without the fear and strain that had been in his face when Paige was in hospital, without the fatigue and concentration he’d had when he’d been tipping V-1s every day. He looked years younger than the last time she’d seen him.

But he’s still too old for me, she thought regretfully, though it wouldn’t matter if she were a FANY and not an historian. She still couldn’t have him. He hadn’t found Paige in the crowd yet, but he was clearly looking for her, and when he did, he’d only have eyes for her.

I’m still glad I get to see him one last time, she thought, watching him work his way cheerfully through the jostling crowd, looking for Paige, his dark hair …

“He doesn’t see us!” Paige wailed. “Wave, Mary!”

She waved along with the others, and shouted, and Parrish emitted an ear-splitting whistle, which would have made her titled parents shudder but did the trick. He looked up, saw Paige, grinned that devastatingly crooked smile of his, and started straight for them.

“Oh, good,” Talbot said. “He’s seen—good God! Is that the Major?”

Talbot pointed three-quarters of the way across the square, beyond the bonfire, but they all spotted her instantly. And worse, she’d spotted them. “This is all your fault, Fairchild,” Talbot said. “If we hadn’t been waving at Stephen, she’d never have seen us.”

“What do you think she’s doing here?” Reardon asked apprehensively.

“If I know her,” Parrish said, “she’s probably come to tell us we’re all on report.”

“Or to send us to Edgware for sticking plaster,” Paige said.

“Should we start a pool on it?” Reardon asked.

Talbot laughed. “Oh, I’m going to miss all of you.”

“We’ll see each other again,” Paige said confidently. “You’re all invited to my wedding. Douglas is going to be my maid of honor, aren’t you, Mary?”

I can’t, she thought.

“Only if you promise not to make me wear the Yellow Peril,” she said lightly.

“I knew I was glad the war was over,” Parrish said. “It means I’ll never have to wear the Yellow Peril again.”

“Or drive the Octopus,” Talbot said.

Or be afraid you’re going to be killed any moment. Or dig body parts and dead children out of the rubble again, Mary said silently and thought of the man in the wrecked newspaper office in Croydon. After she’d got out of hospital, she’d telephoned St. Bart’s and Guy’s Hospital and then every ambulance unit within forty miles, but she hadn’t found any trace of him. He must not have been as badly injured as she’d thought, though that seemed impossible.

I hope he made it, she thought. I hope he’s here tonight to see this.

“Oh, no,” Talbot said. “The Major’s coming this way!”

“Do you think she’ll make us go home?” Reardon said.

No, just me, Mary thought. With the Major here, it was a perfect time to go back to the post, leave her a note saying, “My mother’s very ill. Must go,” and then head for the drop.

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