Where Memories Lie

The second time they had been tender, gentle in discovery, laughing a little at the wonder of it.

And much later, once more, with a lazy, sated pleasure that turned suddenly to urgency, leaving them gasping and shaken.

And in between, they had talked. He told her about his childhood in Chelsea, about his fascination with the ever-present river and his love of the Albert Bridge, about life in London before the war. She told him about a Berlin that had seemed to her enchanted in those years before the war, about her writing, and about continuing her studies, a secret she had not shared with anyone, even David.

Easily, they traded favorite foods, and books, and music, and places they had seen. And all the while they navigated around the boulders beneath the surface of the stream-David, and David's death, and Gavin's wife and children, as if by doing so they could make a world that contained nothing but the two of them, and they said nothing, nothing at all, about the morrow.

Erika knew now that the way she and Gavin had come together was the way it was meant to be between two people, and that for David sex with her had been little more than a duty. Her husband had been her first lover, and she had thought herself somehow lacking, or her desires unnatural.

And the other-the other didn't bear thinking of, especially not here, not now.

Gavin had left her at dawn, even though she'd begged him to stay. 'I don't want your neighbors talking,' he said, and she'd reluctantly let him ease his warm body from hers.

When he'd dressed, he'd bent to kiss her once more, whispering, 'This is too fine a thing to spoil,' and when she'd heard the latch of the door click behind him and his footsteps fade away in the quiet street, she had hugged her joy to herself like a pearl, and fallen instantly into a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 17

April 1945

Thursday, 5th

No more bombs for more than a week. No one knows what it means to us to go to bed in peace, and not take leave of all our possessions, and wonder if we shall wake up in pieces, or with the roof collapsing on our heads, unless they have lived with it.

– Vere Hodgson, Few Eggs and No Oranges: The Diaries of Vere Hodgson, 1940-1945

'You're right. I was jealous,' admitted Giles. 'But I can't drive. I failed my bloody test three times before I came up to London, and there's really not much point here.' He sat in the chair with the curved wood arms, and the dog went to him and collapsed at his feet with a sigh.

'So is that your excuse for running Kristin down?' asked Cullen. 'Bad driving?'

'Don't be stupid. I'm telling you that I wasn't driving. But I knew where Kristin lived. We'd talked about it-about how she wanted to get out from under her parents-and it wasn't that far from here.

'So that night, I wanted to see who she was meeting. I didn't think I could hang about outside the Gate without her noticing, but I thought if I waited for her to come home, I'd see who dropped her off, and there are plenty of places along the King's Road where you can fade into the shadows.'

'And you knew this because you'd done it before?' Kincaid asked.

Oliver scowled at him. 'What do you think I am? Some sort of pervert? No, I hadn't waited for her at night before, but I knew where her building was. I mean, if you go down the King's Road, you can't help but notice.' When Kincaid merely raised an eyebrow, he swallowed and went on. 'But it was a stupid thing to do. It was getting cold, and I'd walked up and down enough that I thought people would start to notice me. There was a woman out with her dog who looked at me like-well, never mind. So I'd just about decided to go home when I saw her.'

'You saw Kristin?'

'Walking down the King's Road, like she'd come from the bus stop. I wasn't close. I'd started walking west, but I'd turned to look back. The light turned at Edith Grove, and then, just as she stepped out into the street-' Giles slid from the chair to the floor, ducking his head and wrapping his arms round the dog.

'Giles,' Kincaid prompted, and Oliver lifted his head. 'What happened then?'

Giles swallowed hard. 'A car pulled away from the curb in front of her building. And it just-it just-it sped up, instead of stopping at the light. And it just-hit her. She-Kristin-bounced, like she wasn't even human, and hit the street. The car just kept going.'

Making an effort to keep the disbelief from his voice, Kincaid said, 'Giles, what did you do?'

'I was-I was going to-but a man came out of one of the flats. And then I-I couldn't-'

Cullen had no such compunction. 'You mean you just left her? You just left her lying there?'

'I wasn't-She had help.' Giles looked up, his face tear-streaked. 'I couldn't-there was nothing I could do. So I went home. And then I waited to hear. There was no one I could call. I didn't know where they'd taken her. So I had to-I had to go in to work, knowing-'

'You little tosser,' said Cullen, not disguising his disgust. 'How could you? How could you just go off and leave her?'

'I thought she'd be all right,' Giles shot back. 'And then I'd have to explain what I was doing there. And she- she would think-she would never-'

'Understand,' Kincaid finished for him. If it was true, Giles Oliver had been an idiot and a coward, but he was also a witness-at this point their only witness. 'The car, Giles. What was it?'

Giles shook his head. 'I don't know. I'm not very good with cars.'

'You don't know?' Cullen's voice rose in outrage, and the dog lifted his head.

'Okay, let's go back a bit,' said Kincaid, attempting to ratchet the tension down. 'You said you walked back and forth for a bit. Did you see the car before it pulled away from the curb?'

'I-I don't remember.'

'Think, man.'

Giles screwed up his face in concentration. 'I was on the opposite side of the street. There were cars parked all along. I didn't notice. I'm sorry.'

'Let's go at it a different way, then. You're accustomed to looking at things. You saw the car pull out from the curb. You must have had some impression, even if you didn't recognize the make. Was it light colored or dark?'

'Dark,' Giles said without hesitation.

'Okay, good. Large or small?'

'It was big. And sort of square.'

'A coupe?' Kincaid asked, deliberately leading.

Giles frowned. 'No. I remember the back end looked big. It was an SUV, I think. A country sort of car. A Land Rover, maybe.'

***

'Anyone home?' Gemma called out as she let herself in the front door. The dogs came running to her, sniffing her legs and jumping up in excitement as if she'd been gone a week rather than most of the day.

She hadn't stayed long at the hospital. Her mum had been obviously exhausted, and Gemma felt she was doing more harm than good by keeping her from resting.

And she felt guilty for having let her temper get the better of her with her dad, and even worse for having inflicted an emotional outburst on her mother. That was the last thing her mum had needed.

'In here' came Kit's answer from the kitchen. The house was warm from the day's heat and smelled tantalizingly of baking dough and spices. Pizza.

Giving Geordie's ears a last fondle, she followed her nose. Kit stood at the fridge, examining the contents as if