How could she live her life without Mum? Who could she confide in when she fell in love? Who would share her hopes and dreams, her joy on her wedding day? Who would teach her how to be a mother? Mum had worked so hard, sacrificing so much to raise Eve to adulthood and now she would miss the rest of Eve’s life. And Eve would miss the warmth of Mum’s arms, her gentle words of advice, her love. It wasn’t fair! Her grief was a wound too deep to ever heal.
After the funeral luncheon, after the last of the villagers and servants had consoled her and wept with her, Eve returned to Wellingford with Alfie and Audrey. She had no other place to go besides her flat in London. She would sleep in her old room tonight.
“Let’s go out and get drunk together,” Alfie said as they climbed Wellingford’s front steps.
“I can’t do it, Alfie. Getting drunk won’t help. That’s not how I grieve.”
“Are you sure? It always helps me forget. For a little while, anyway.” Did Alfie know about his mother, how much she drank? About the men in her life? This wasn’t the time to ask.
In the end, Alfie ordered the servants to build a roaring fire in the sitting room—one of the smaller of Wellingford’s rooms—and he and Eve cuddled together on the brocade sofa until well past midnight. Audrey joined them for part of the time, and when she finally went to bed, Alfie doused the lights and opened the drapes so they could gaze at the windswept November sky. “Aren’t you worried that the ARP wardens will fine you for opening your curtains and letting the firelight escape?” Eve asked as he settled beside her again.
“I’ll give them a piece of my mind if they try.”
He’d opened a bottle of his father’s whiskey, but he was the only one drinking it. Straight from the bottle. Eve liked Alfie better during the first part of the evening when he was still himself, before the drink turned him into someone else, someone acting the part of a happy man. She leaned against his shoulder, dreading the thought of saying goodbye, the thought of him returning to war. Would God take Alfie from her, too? Was He that cruel?
“Thanks for helping me get through today,” she said, exhaling. “My entire family is gone now. I’m all alone.”
“How can I cheer you? I miss the lively girl you were before the war. You were always so vibrant and . . . untamed. So full of life. I used to think you could have fun in an empty room.”
“This war changed all that. It destroyed my hope of ever having a future. It seems like the war will just go on and on until there’s no one left on either side.” She paused. “And now you’re going off to fight again, too.”
“Don’t remind me.” Alfie lifted the bottle and took a swig. He wiped his mouth. “But it has to be done.”
Eve leaned away from him and waited until he looked at her. She would say what she longed to say, no matter the outcome.
“I want you to know that I love you, Alfie. I do. With all my heart. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, and you’ve set the bar so high I don’t think I could ever love anyone else as much as you.”
He pulled her close. Held her tight. “I have a confession to make. I’m in love with you, too.”
“Y-you are?”
“Mm. I have been for a long time. I’ve met plenty of girls, but none even comes close to you, Eve Dawson.”
She pulled free to look at him, searching for the truth in his eyes. They shone with tears in the firelight. “That’s the first time you ever told me.”
“I know. I never told you because—” He stopped. She waited. “Because I’m afraid to love you, Eve. Afraid I’m going to hurt you. I don’t believe in marriage after the way my parents’ marriage turned out. It’s safer for both of us if I don’t give away my heart. If I don’t have any expectations for myself or for you. We can just be together, having fun.” He started to raise the bottle, but Eve held on to his arm.
“I don’t know what a marriage looks like, either. My daddy died before I was even born.”
“See? I couldn’t bear the thought of loving you, finding joy and happiness with you—and then losing you. That’s why . . . this . . .” He waved the whiskey bottle.
“You hide behind it, Alfie. What if you decided not to hide and you were just yourself?”
“I don’t think I would like what I saw if I had to face myself sober.”
“Why? You’re a wonderful man.”
“No, I’m not,” he said with a bitter laugh. “I’m shallow, Eve. I like money and nice things. Fast cars. Loud parties where I can get lost among all the other shallow people. I’m like my mother in that respect. I would lose that life if I married you.”
Eve closed her eyes and looked down as an arrow of pain pierced her heart. Alfie loved her. He thought about marrying her. But he never would.
“See?” he said, lifting her chin. “I’ve already hurt you. And that’s the last thing I ever want to do.” He set his bottle on the floor and took her hand, holding it between his. She wanted to pull away yet she wanted him to hold it forever. “I’m sorry, Eve, but that’s the truth about me. Father wants me to marry into an aristocratic family. He’s been working toward respectability all his life, and the fact of the matter is that I’ll lose my inheritance if I don’t please him. And I don’t want to lose it.”
In that moment she hated Alfie. Hated his brutal honesty as her hope bled away. “So given the choice between love and wealth, you’d choose wealth?” she asked, her voice stiff with anger.
“I already confessed that I’m shallow, Eve. I’m sorry.”
“And I’m very sorry for you. A simple life with someone you love can be every bit as wonderful as a life with . . . all of this.” She gestured to the opulent room. “Do you think your parents’ wealth made them happy?”
“I know it didn’t.” He lifted the bottle and took a long swallow, grimacing as he lowered it again. “I know I can’t expect you to wait for me. But if you’re willing . . . if you let me remain a bachelor until I get my inheritance, then I’ll be free to marry you.”
“What sort of man will you be by then?”
“I don’t know. I don’t like myself very much now, so what’s the difference? That’s why I need this.” He held up the bottle for a moment. “And it’s why I need you.”
“If you need to drink in order to live with yourself, what good is it to be rich?”
“You’re asking impossible questions. Just kiss me, Eve. I’m a better man when I’m with you.” She let him pull her close and kiss her, tasting the whiskey on his breath. And for a few beautiful, floating moments, nothing else mattered. She loved him. And Alfie loved her. She lost herself in the sheer joy of it.
When the kiss ended, she caressed his face, loving the rough feel of his whiskers. They glinted like amber in the firelight. “You’re a better man than you think, Alfie.”
He shook his head. “When I was in Belgium, every day seemed like my last. I was certain I was going to die. I watched so many others die, better men than me . . . The truth is, I don’t think I’ll survive this war.”