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?
“Maybe we should publish new fiction,” said Alice. “We could take a chance on some new writers. It would be more economical, wouldn’t it?”
“I like how you’re thinking, Alice,” said Tommy, “but now is not the time to be launching authors.”
“All right, then maybe we should relaunch the classics,” Emily said. “Our most-loved authors, like Penguin did.”
George sighed. “Yes, the backlist would have been the answer, if we hadn’t lost all the plates in the bombing.”
“Oh yes, of course, I’m sorry.” Emily looked sheepish. She was as plain-looking as she was plain-thinking, with her short brown bob and knitted clothes that no one in their twenties should be seen in, even during wartime, but Alice didn’t hold that against her; it was the frequency with which she said such inappropriate and thoughtless things.
“We do know the MOI books are popular, that they’re a new kind of narrative,” Ursula said. “We’d be insane not to try to find our own version of them.”
“We don’t have the same access, though,” George said, as he paced the room. “Those books rely on expert knowledge and firsthand accounts from serving officers.” He picked up The Battle of Britain, tapping the front cover with his finger. “Look, diagrams and photographs from the army—where would we get any of those?”
“Rupert would have known what to do,” Emily said under her breath.
“Yes, well, Rupert’s not here, is he?” Tommy snapped.
Alice chewed her lip as she tried to put Rupert from her thoughts and decide whether she should tell them about her idea, or just that she was leaving. But the smoke was beginning to nauseate her, and her brain was like wet porridge. It was excruciating: here she was, about to tell them that she wouldn’t be working for the foreseeable future, and they needed her more than ever.
Instead, she blurted, “We could get our most popular authors to write on a topic of war, long essays from their point of view—just like Hilary Saunders did.”
“That’s because Saunders isn’t just popular, he’s damn good,” said George. “He’s just done a six-week sellout tour of America. What do the rest of you think?”