“Does it say when you’re leaving or where you’re supposed to go?”
Audrey scanned the letter. “I’m to report to the former Army camp in Tidworth in two weeks. . . . There will be required medical examinations. . . . Our stay at Tidworth may be as long as three weeks. . . . It doesn’t give a final departure date.”
“You’d better start packing.”
Audrey’s hands with the papers fell limp. “I’m scared, Eve.”
“You made it through Army boot camp. You captained a boat through rough seas in a war zone in the dead of night. And you survived a V-1 rocket attack! You can do this, Audrey. And don’t forget—Robert is the prize at the end of your journey.”
“I wish we were doing this together.”
“You’ll be fine without me. You have a family now. Not only Robert and the baby, but his parents and all of his friends. I envy you.”
Audrey stuffed the letter back into the envelope. “You’re right. It’s silly of me to be cowardly. It’s just that I’ve never quite measured up to people’s expectations, no matter how hard I’ve tried. And I don’t want to disappoint Robert.”
“He’s the only person you need to worry about, and he’s crazy about you. Wait until he tastes your cooking and sees what a great mother you are to his son.”
“Speaking of our son . . .” Bobby hadn’t liked being plopped into his wicker bassinet and was fussing. Audrey lifted him to her shoulder, savoring the soft warmth of him, his milky scent. “I hope this journey won’t be too much of an ordeal for him. He’s so tiny.”
“Babies are pretty adaptable at this age. All he needs is milk, a cot, and clean nappies.”
Audrey carried him to her chair by the fire and faced Eve again. “I wish they could grow up as friends, like we were. Like their fathers were.” Eve looked away at the mention of Harry’s father. Audrey was immediately sorry. She hurried to change the subject. “What will you do after we’re gone? Of course you may stay and work here with Robbins and Mrs. Smith, but what about the future? You’re capable of so much more than being a servant for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll figure something out.” Her tone was curt.
“I wish I could help you—”
“You already have.” Eve stood. “It’s getting late. I have work to do.”
“Eve, listen—”
“And then we’d better figure out how to fit all your clothes into your trunks and suitcases.” She left before Audrey could think what to say.
They were working upstairs in her bedroom later that afternoon, Audrey’s bed strewn with clothing, her bureau drawers and wardrobe doors flung wide, when Robbins knocked on the door. “Telegram for you, Miss Audrey.”
“Thank you, Robbins. Do you need something for the delivery boy?”
“I already tipped him.”
“Thank you.” Audrey ripped open the envelope, wondering if it contained more news about her immigration papers. “Let’s hope they haven’t botched things up somehow,” she said as she pulled out the message.
“Maybe they want you to report to Tidworth even earlier. Good thing we started packing.”
The telegram had come from the United States. It read:
THERE HAS BEEN A TRAGEDY STOP ROBERT DIED IN A CAR ACCIDENT LAST NIGHT STOP WILL TELEPHONE LATER STOP ROBERT O BARRETT SR
Audrey stared at the words in disbelief. She read them a second time as if they were in a language she hadn’t learned. “There has been a tragedy . . .”
“No . . . No . . . It can’t be true!” The room spun.
Eve grabbed Audrey before she toppled over and led her to the bed. “Audrey, what’s wrong? What happened?” Audrey pushed the telegram into Eve’s hand. “Oh, Audrey . . . no!” Eve breathed.
A sob rose from deep inside Audrey, strangling her. She struggled to speak around it. “It can’t be true. . . . I need to call him. . . . He’ll tell me . . . he’ll say there’s been a mistake!” She tried to stand, but the floor rolled like the deck of a ship. She wished she really were on board a ship and that the ocean would swallow her. “I need to call him.”
“Hang on, Audrey. Don’t try to stand. I’ll run downstairs and ask the operator to put a call through for you. I’ll be right back.”
Audrey heard Eve shouting to Robbins and Mrs. Smith as if from the end of a long, empty tunnel. Audrey didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel anything except a searing pain where her heart should be. Oh, God! Please don’t let it be true! Please! Please . . . She thought of Eve’s bitter words that God didn’t answer prayer.
What time was it in America? Robert had taught her to calculate the time difference so they wouldn’t call each other too early or too late. Audrey couldn’t think. She didn’t care about the time. All she wanted was to hear Robert’s voice, reassuring her that he was fine. That there had been a mistake. Please, God . . .
Eve bounded into the bedroom again, breathless. “The operator will ring back when the call goes through.” She sat on the bed beside Audrey and gripped her trembling hands. “Do you want me to talk to Robert’s parents for you?”
“No . . . I—I’ll do it.” But how would she speak with a gaping hole in her chest? She could barely draw a full breath past her suffocating fear. It was a mistake. It had to be. She would walk to the telephone, which seemed a hundred miles away, and speak to Robert.
“Let me help you,” Eve said as Audrey rose on shaking legs. They went downstairs to the foyer, to the telephone. Audrey’s head whirled with every step she took. When they reached the bottom, Eve pushed a handkerchief into Audrey’s hands, and she wiped tears she hadn’t realized were there.
When the telephone finally rang, Audrey flinched, startled. “Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to them?” Eve asked as she lifted the receiver. Audrey shook her head. The telegram was a mistake. In another moment, she would hear Robert’s voice. She put the receiver to her ear.
“Hello, this is Audrey—” She nearly said Clarkson.
“Yes, hello. I’m Robert’s father. . . . I’m sorry we didn’t call. . . . When we sent you the telegram, the police still weren’t sure what happened. We were waiting until we knew more details, but now . . .” His voice crackled with static and faded for a moment.
“Hello? Are you still there?” Audrey asked.
“Yes . . . Can you hear me?” He sounded as if he were speaking into a tin can.
“I can hear you. Speak louder, please.” Her heart pounded so violently she feared it would burst.
“We’re still reeling . . . Linda, Robert’s former girlfriend, came to the house and asked Robert to run an errand with her. She was driving the car, and she . . . she . . . Witnesses say she was going at a very high rate of speed. The police believe she deliberately steered into the bridge abutment, killing herself and Robert.”
Audrey gasped. The phone slipped from her grip as her knees buckled. Eve grabbed her and held her up as Robbins slid the bench beneath her. “He—he’s gone? . . . He’s really gone?” Audrey’s son began wailing in his bassinet upstairs as if mourning for his father.