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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?

“Let’s think about it,” he said, studiously avoiding Alice’s gaze. “Let me talk to George, and we’ll make a decision for when we next come together.”

“I’ll support whatever decision you make,” Tommy said.

“Me too,” said Emily.

Alice and Ursula exchanged a puzzled look, then they both reluctantly nodded their agreement.

“Thanks,” Theo said, “I appreciate it.” He summoned a smile as he turned to meet Alice’s curious expression, but it felt hollow. The hurt was clearly visible to him in the depths of her beautiful blue eyes, but he knew that whatever he and George decided, he needed to think of the New York office first and foremost—and getting home to his fiancée and parents.

Eighteen

London, March 31, 1943

When Alice arrived back at Penny’s after work, she heard her friend’s laughter and followed it through the hallway into what Penny called her “second salon,” where the community book group was under way.

Penny had given Alice a rundown on the personalities involved: a warden, a serviceman, a retired major, a librarian and a civil servant, all of whom were mothers or fathers, or brothers or sisters, or uncles or aunts. Penny was convinced they might be able to furnish Alice with more stories for the book. Alice was grateful to her friend, even though she was still anxiously waiting to hear if Theo and George would go ahead with the new version.

She didn’t know what she would do if they rejected it. She had no other leads on Eadie, and she’d almost forgotten her daughter’s face. She could still feel the barely there weight of her in her arms, the shape of her imprinted on her skin, yet she didn’t know how long it would last. Even her body was losing signs of her daughter: her stomach flattening, stretched skin resuming its elasticity, and her milk reabsorbed. The bleeding was reduced to spotting, but still the baby blues and the sleeplessness were reminders that she was a mother now.

Although Alice expected the book group to be there, the sight of the darkened room, the shadowy bookshelves and the unknown faces distorted by the trembling candlelight took her by surprise. They were assembled in a horseshoe of chairs, the remnants of an afternoon tea on two of the café tables. Alongside the assorted crockery and crumbs were their copies of How Green Was My Valley.

Trusting in her friend and her friend’s husband, Michael, had been good for many reasons, not least of which was Penny’s idea about the book group. Another was because of how supported and grateful she felt by Michael’s calm acceptance of her and for putting a roof over her head.

Penny was still in her work clothes—a dirty gray smock—and frizzy-haired as she stood up, eagerly gesturing to Alice in the doorway. “So, everyone! This is Alice.”