“Coming home,” Theo replied with a forced smile. “Can’t ya tell?”

“One of the lucky ones.”

The driver was right, and Theo instantly thought of Howie, and what an imposter he felt in civilian clothes—and as though he should explain his circumstances.

Howie’s face was so clear to him, not as a man but as a boy. His energetic, straggly haired younger brother taking swings at a baseball and rarely hitting. Theo smiled at the memory, as he often did, but the hole inside of him always managed to take the shine off. Some people took a piece of the world with them when they left it, and Howie was one of them.

“Yep, one of the lucky ones,” he echoed.

He had never before felt his noncombatant status more acutely. During his absence over the past several weeks, the United States had entered the war completely, their troops arriving in the Pacific and North Africa as well as European destinations.

It wasn’t until the skyscrapers of Manhattan came into view that Theo realized he’d barely considered seeing Virginia, that he’d been too preoccupied with Alice, and that this didn’t bode well for the upcoming wedding. Not only had he not called her before leaving London, but he hadn’t bought her a gift, as he usually did on one of his trips, although these were unusual circumstances. And what would Walter say about this sudden arrival? Would he understand, or would it give him an excuse to rebuke his future son-in-law? For a fleeting moment Theo contemplated his freedom from Walter if he didn’t marry Virginia, but it would also mean he didn’t have a job.

Hoping to distract himself, Theo caught the taxi driver’s eye in the mirror again; he’d never met a New York driver who didn’t like to chat, particularly now, when there was so much to talk about.

“So, you got family in the forces?” Theo asked.

“Younger brother and a couple of cousins. I got myself injured in a farmin’ accident. What’s your story?”

“I’m in the supply business. The government makes exceptions for some industries.”

“What sort of supply—food, transport, guns?”

“Books.”

“Huh?”

“Books, I’m in the publishing business.”

“Right, gotcha, a man of words,” he said, smiling. “Never been a reader myself—wife loves it, though.”

Theo glanced out at the grid of tarmac and towers, and the bustling eateries, and thought about the moment that he first really knew Alice. It was a few days before the Foyle’s event and they’d stopped for lunch on their way back from a meeting; they’d both been starving, as it had gone on late, and once they were eating her mood had changed. She seemed to relax for the first time, a barrier coming down.

“Which writers come from New York?” she asked him.

“How long a list would you like?”