Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- POPULAR BOOKS FROM THE ERA
- When We Meet Again
- A Conversation with Caroline Beecham about When We Meet Again
- Discussion Guide
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
There was another awkward silence, and Alice couldn’t collect her thoughts quickly enough to change the subject. She usually did a good job of keeping memories of Rupert at bay, but now they flooded back: the workplace flirtation, the brief rendezvous, and how he’d led her to believe they had a future together. It still seemed unbelievable that Rupert was one of Partridge’s own, George’s son, and yet the cause of all her misery.
“Were you friends?” Theo asked.
“Rupert and I?”
“Yeah. I heard you worked under him for a couple of years.”
She flinched. “We were just colleagues.”
“So you didn’t know him well?”
“We were colleagues—nothing less, nothing more,” she said coldly. “Now, shouldn’t we get back inside?”
“Sorry, I was always told that I was too nosy. It’s just, you’re such good pals with Ursula, I hoped you might be with Rupert too. I want to know more about him and what he brought to your team.”
“I’m sure George could tell you about that, or Tommy.”
“Of course.” A tractor started up in a nearby field, the rattle of its engine distracting them, and Theo held out his hand, frowning. “Friends?”
“Certainly,” she said as she shook it and faked a smile. “I just think we’d better see how things are going, don’t you?”
It was late afternoon by the time the printer jolted back to life, and the reassuring noise of the mechanism and smell of hot oil filled the machine room again. The foreman agreed to work overnight to help them get back on schedule, and by the time they’d finished their meeting it was too dark to drive back to London; Theo didn’t want to risk driving on the opposite side of the road at night, and Alice was inclined to agree, even though she was desperate to get back. Mark Hughes directed them to the local inn and insisted on paying for their rooms.
“It’s not too bad, is it?” Alice asked, glancing up from her pot roast. “Not like the kind of meals you’re used to eating, I imagine.”
He ate differently than she’d ever seen anyone eat before, holding his fork the wrong way up and in the opposite hand to hers. “It’s good,” he said, a note of relief in his voice as he speared another piece of brisket.