Children are the only others in the room. I incline toward him regardless, aware he isn’t always one for abiding by rules. “Which is?”

“As a child, you were raised Catholic, were you not?”

The tidbit is one of many I shared during our sessions developing gadgets, yet I’m unsure how it relates. “In my early years. Why do you ask?”

“Perhaps a sponsorship through the church would be more attainable. I understand the priests are being quite helpful in this respect.”

I sink back in my seat. I suppose I was hoping for a bolder tactic than letter writing and waiting and hoping for who knows how many months ahead.

He adds, “Is there a personal contact you might be able to call upon?”

A single name returns with little effort. “Father Lawrence. In Eden Springs. I haven’t the faintest clue, however, if he’s still there.”

“What of the girl’s grandparents? Could they not assist in locating him?”

I mentally repel the suggestion. Contacting the Jansens would require my informing them of Thea and—if a military telegram hasn’t yet been issued—of Arie too, all while bound by the Official Secrets Act. Classified or not, what words could I possibly put on paper that wouldn’t destroy me, let alone them? Though I know the couple to be strong, how do any parents bear such a loss?

“Maybe.” A placation. “I’ll give it some thought.”

Hutton’s brow pinches in doubt, just as soon falling away at a sight behind me. “Ah. There is Private Walsh for you.”

I twist to find Lenora entering the pub, having volunteered as my driver today. It’s our first encounter since my trip. Her head must be full of questions.

She smiles but with slight formality. “Good afternoon, Major. Miss Vos.”

We greet her in kind, and Hutton crushes out his cigarette. “Righto. I should take my leave.” As we rise, he extends me a rueful gaze. “Best of luck, my dear.”

He knows I’ll be asked yet again to regurgitate details I’d rather forget, except that this time, I have queries of my own.

Turning to leave, he stresses to Lenora, “Drive safely, now, Private.”

“Indeed, sir, I will.” Belying her geniality appears a desire to tack on I always do through clenched teeth.

A mere week ago, the exchange might have drawn my laughter. But that too has evaporated from my internal well.

Lenora waits until Hutton is out the door before shifting to a mode of friendship, one fortified by a secret. “Oh, I’ve been so relieved you’re safe.” She embraces me, a welcome gesture until she asks quietly, “Your friend… Did you find him? Is he all right?”

I edge out the same meager answer I gave to Hutton. “He’s gone.”

When I add nothing more, her expression drops. “Fenna, no. I’m ever so sorry.”