I brushed a lock of my hair out of my eyes, hoping Eduard didn’t notice as I struggled to maintain my composure. He tucked the strand behind my ear and pulled me close.
‘Maybe next time it’ll be red, yes?’
His expression was so hopeful that I had to laugh.
‘We’ll see.’ I leant into his kiss and whispered, ‘Remember your promise, Eduard – nothing stupid.’
His smile didn’t reassure me.
‘It is not me that I worry about. Be careful, Angel. It is not safe here. Not yet.’
‘Berlin isn’t safe either, Eduard. Not with everything going on. Köhler’s investigation –’
He put a gentle finger over my lips to silence me.
‘Has gone nowhere.’
I stepped out of his reach and glared.
‘If you die on me, I swear to God, I’ll dig you up and shoot you myself.’
‘I know.’ He pulled back and reached into his pocket for a small velvet box. He stared at it for a few seconds before handing it to me. ‘Something to remember me by while we’re apart.’
‘As if I could forget.’ I snorted, but took the box. ‘What is it?’
‘Open it and see.’ He smiled.
A white-gold locket rested on a bed of black velvet. Filigreed flowers styled after Mucha’s paintings were etched around the edges. In the centre a young girl knelt in front of a box, her long hair flowing behind her as she held a sapphire set as a star.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I breathed.
‘Pandora. She reminds me of you. If someone tells you not to look in a box, you will find a way to peer inside.’ Eduard’s voice was tinged with amusement. ‘Watch.’
His fingers showed mine the hidden catch and the locket sprang open. A tiny copy of the photograph the priest had taken of us on our wedding day was set on one side. Eduard looked formal, perhaps afraid of what he was getting himself into. He was more relaxed in the other one, grinning from the ramparts of the Moorish castle.
‘You can change the photographs if you wish.’
‘They’re perfect,’ I whispered, holding up my hair so he could fasten the locket around my neck.
‘You’re crying.’
‘I’m not good at goodbyes.’
‘It’s not a goodbye, you little fool.’ He dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘I will be back before you know it.’
I held my breath and tamped down the tears. My first husband had said the same thing to me once. Only he didn’t come back. And I wasn’t as sure as Eduard was that the threat from the Gestapo was gone. As if he knew what I was thinking, Eduard touched the locket at my neckline.
‘I promise.’
Eduard’s last kiss was over far too quickly. His tall frame broke away, leaving me feeling bereft. He strode after the sailor, turning once to mouth the words ‘I love you’.
A cold breeze blew, ruffling his hair. I stood on the jetty watching him disappear into the hatch of a U-boat. I turned to the sea, with a rising sense of déjà vu.
‘You’ve already taken two men from me,’ I said to the sea, shielding my eyes from the sun. ‘You cannot have this one, damn you.’
*
Through the haze of tears and misery, I drove Eduard’s BMW back to Estoril. A little white envelope fluttered to my feet as I opened the gate. I brought it into the house, poured a glass of cognac, and lit a cigarette. Placed my hands on the countertop and resisted the urge to cry. Then gave in to it.
I raged at the fate that had made me fall in love with a German officer, only to have him summoned to Berlin. Even if he arrived safely, the Allies were bombing Hitler’s capital on a regular basis. And if the bombs didn’t find him, there was the Gestapo. When would it end?
The fury dissipated, leaving me exhausted. I flicked the envelope through my fingers. There was no name, no return address, no distinguishing marks. I ripped it open, finding Claudine’s childish scrawl:
I know you won’t want to be alone just now. Julian, Gabi and I are having cocktails this afternoon at the Tamariz. Come and join us! Any time after four . . .
She signed her name with a ridiculous flourish, and I wanted to weep again, touched by her caring. The clock on the mantle read a few minutes to five.
Why not?
I stubbed out the cigarette, slipped on my coat and locked the door behind me. I walked down the hill and paused at the corner, waiting for a dark saloon car to pass before I could cross the street, staring at it as it slowed. It veered sharply to the kerb, brakes screaming. It was like watching Matthew’s abduction again, only this time the men ran straight at me. Two of them. Wearing balaclavas.
They reached for me, and after months of complacency, my timing was off. One man grabbed my right arm, and then my body began to remember. I leant into him, driving my knee into his crotch and yanking the sgian dubh from my thigh. I dropped into a crouch, edging backwards until my back hit a low wall.
A little crowd gathered across the street, returning from the beach with their towels and sand pails. They stood. And watched. And did nothing.
‘Help!’ I screamed.
The man, still clutching his crotch, hissed, trying to draw my attention from his advancing colleague. I slashed and the little knife grazed his arm. Two against one. I’d had worse odds, until my heel caught on a crack in the pavement, and I lost my balance.
As I flailed, a white cloth brushed my face, stinking of something acrid and unfamiliar. Strong hands gripped my arms, supporting me as my legs ceased to work.
And then, there was only darkness.
*
Wild horses thundered about, trampling my poor brain. My mouth was dry and my tongue tingled with the
