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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?

The band was taking a break, and he was grateful that the noise levels had dropped, changing the atmosphere and making him even more thoughtful. When he looked back at Virginia, her expression was serious too, so he smiled broadly; he reminded himself that it was her birthday, and he looked around again for the waiter.

When Virginia sighed heavily, he slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her close. “We’ll work it out, don’t worry.” He smiled reassuringly.

She looked into his eyes, and he lifted her chin toward him, pressing his mouth over hers in a long, passionate kiss. “I love you,” she whispered as he drew away. “You shouldn’t go, Theo. Don’t let him talk you into it.”

Five

Brighton, March 14, 1943

Alice huddled inside the wooden seafront shelter, the pages of her book flapping as the wind howled along the promenade and the discordant notes of the Salvation Army band whined from the nearby bandstand. It was after midday, and the weak sun cast a milky light, creating ghostly images of two young boys as they picked their way through the barbed wire and across the mounds of pebbles. They bent to fill their pockets before racing down to the water’s edge and taking it in turns to skim stones across the waves. A woman, presumably their mother, stood behind the fence, hands clenched into tight fists as she yelled for them to come back, her voice lost on the wind.

Seagulls screeched and swooped around Alice, chasing the fish-scented air as she waited for Ruth, who was now officially late. Alice’s heart sank as she realized she probably wasn’t coming. Ruth had only kept her promise to visit every Sunday for the first month; apart from Christmas, now it was only one weekend in four. Alice had so many questions about motherhood that books alone couldn’t answer, and while she understood that her mother had to contend with the demands of her work, the Women’s Voluntary Service and the church, Alice was lonely with only Aunt Hope and the other staff at the guesthouse for company.

She glanced at her watch again, then back to her book. This was the third time she’d read The Age of Innocence, and she was nearly up to her favorite part: when Newland realizes he has to tell May about the countess. Alice didn’t want to stop, but she couldn’t concentrate or shake off her unsettled feelings, which had worsened since she’d noticed all the families on the promenade.