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Back When We Meet Again Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Prologue
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-one
  26. Twenty-two
  27. Twenty-three
  28. Twenty-four
  29. Twenty-five
  30. Twenty-six
  31. Twenty-seven
  32. Twenty-eight
  33. Twenty-nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-one
  36. Thirty-two
  37. Thirty-three
  38. Thirty-four
  39. Thirty-five
  40. Thirty-six
  41. Thirty-seven
  42. Thirty-eight
  43. Thirty-nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-one
  46. Forty-two
  47. Forty-three
  48. Forty-four
  49. Forty-five
  50. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  51. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  52. POPULAR BOOKS FROM THE ERA
  53. When We Meet Again
  54. A Conversation with Caroline Beecham about When We Meet Again
  55. Discussion Guide
  56. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  57. What’s next onyour reading list?

More police arrived, spilling from the house. Officers in uniform searched the garden, while a couple of detectives stood a distance away, glancing at the strange trio and the baby. Alice was grateful they were giving them some time.

“Come,” Theo said, and guided her over to one of the outdoor chairs. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s us who should be sorry . . . sorry that you couldn’t tell us. Sorry that we weren’t able to help you.”

It was a comfort to feel his arms around her shoulders, to know that she hadn’t been abandoned, that he’d come back.

Theo and George watched as the handcuffed men were marched back through the house, but Alice never once took her eyes off her baby.

George looked sadly at Eadie, then his gaze settled on Alice, his hands motionless by his sides. “I must make my own apology, Alice. I don’t know what to say to you—how to ever make it up to you for what you’ve been through.” His expression was benign, all emotion sapped away, and his voice heavy with sorrow.

“I should have come to you,” she said, “but I thought you might take her away.”

“It’s all right, the police explained,” he said. “We just want to help you now. Rupert can’t make amends for what he did. I don’t expect that you know this . . . but he’s been killed in action.” Anguish flashed across his face, and a tear escaped his eye.

Alice let out a deep sigh—of sadness, relief, pity, she wasn’t sure. “I’m so sorry for you, George.”

“You don’t need to do this on your own, though. We’re here for you, if you want us to be . . . and for Eadie.” He reached out to gently stroke the top of his granddaughter’s head.

Now Alice was crying helplessly, but she wasn’t helpless at all. She didn’t have to pretend anymore; she’d rescued Eadie safely, and she’d been rescued too.

“I’m so glad you’re here—both of you,” she said, managing to stop sobbing for a brief moment to look at Theo, just long enough to smile.

Forty-five

London, October 1943

Five Months Later

Eadie’s eyes widened, glinting with delight as she stared overhead where bunting fluttered like magnificent Amazonian butterflies. The multicolored flags stretched from the rooftop of the cafeteria all the way across the outdoor terrace where they were secured to the trees. Alice stared too, seeing the world through her daughter’s unblinking gray eyes, as she held her close.