CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Anna turned around slowly until she was looking into the face of the young man standing behind her.

Tom Franklin was thinner than she remembered him. He leaned heavily on a stick, his suit hanging off his gaunt frame. As he took off his cap, she saw that his dark curls had been cropped close to his head in regulation Army style. But she would have known that lean face and those black, wolfish eyes anywhere.

A jolt of emotion ran through her. For a moment they stared at each other, neither of them speaking. In the end, it was Mr Hudson who broke the silence.

‘You made it, then?’

‘Just about.’ Tom’s gaze was still fixed on Anna as he spoke. ‘Had a few close calls, mind.’

‘When did you get back?’

‘In the summer. Caught a lump of shrapnel in my leg, and that was it for me. Been convalescing on the coast ever since.’

‘All right for some.’

Tom dragged his gaze away from Anna to fix Mr Hudson with a look so dark with meaning the older man’s face coloured.

‘Yes, well, I’d best get back to work,’ he mumbled, turning away. ‘It’s nice to see you back, son. Well done for getting through it.’

Tom didn’t reply. He took a cigarette from his pocket, clamped it between his lips. He lit up as he watched Mr Hudson’s door close behind him.

‘Four years ago he wouldn’t have given me the time of day,’ he muttered. ‘Now suddenly I’m a hero.’

‘They’ll be putting out the flags again, just for you.’ Anna tried to smile but her mouth wouldn’t work.

‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’ Tom nodded towards the burned-out bakery. ‘What’s been going on here, then?’

‘There was a fire, about a month ago.’

She saw him fighting for control, and knew he was thinking about the last time it had happened. ‘Were you in there?’

Anna shook her head. ‘No. But we think Edward might have been.’

‘Is he—’

‘No one knows,’ Anna cut him off before he could say the word. Even now she didn’t like to hear it. ‘He’s not been seen since. We don’t know if he escaped or not.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Are you?’

He looked at her sharply. ‘What?’

‘There was never any love lost between you, was there?’

Tom sent a long stream of smoke into the air. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘But I’m sorry for you. For your loss. You loved him.’

Anna stole a glance at his hawkish profile as he looked up at the charred remains of the bakery. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she couldn’t find the words.

His presence confused her. After staring at her so hard at first, now he couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at her.

‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.

‘Pull it down, I suppose. I can’t afford to rebuild it.’

‘But surely there’s insurance?’

‘They won’t pay out. They reckon it wasn’t an accident.’