Hugh spun away to DI Clyde. “Inspector, please tell us about the climax to this mystery.”
“Our officers apprehended Miss Granville in a park, where she’d sustained minor injuries during Mrs. Martens’s escape. We have Miss Granville in custody and have filed charges. She pleads innocent, but she made a full confession to Mrs. Martens for all four murders.”
“Congratulations to Detective Inspector Clyde and to the brave men of the West End Central Police Station. On behalf of the family of Elliott Hastings, I thank you. On behalf of the friends of François Jouveau, many of whom are present with me today, I thank you. I’m sure the families and friends of Miss Sharma and Mr. Zielinski are grateful as well.”
Tom Young shook his head vigorously, pointed at his watch, mouthed, “Two minutes,” and made a stretching motion with his hands.
Perfect. Hugh had confessed his asthma to the nation. Now he had another confession to make.
He turned to Aleida. “Those of you sitting around your wireless this Sunday afternoon may be whispering amongst yourselves wondering why Hugh Collingwood spends so much time interviewing this Aleida Martens.”
She cocked her head and gave him a questioning look.
“I shall tell you,” he said. “I met this lovely young widow almost a year ago when she was training as a warden. We became friends.”
Aleida’s eyes widened. Did she suspect what he was about to say? Would she welcome it or toss him out of her life forever?
He plunged through the sea, rechtdoorzee. “Bombs have destroyed parts of our cities, leveling what was once good and beautiful. But that is not the end. We shall rebuild. We shallreclaim what was good from the past and build our nation better and stronger than it was before.”
Hugh started to reach for Aleida’s hand—but he had a cast on his left hand, a microphone in the right. “Aleida, I hurt you.”
She gasped and covered her mouth.
“You have forgiven me, but I long for more.” His voice roughened, but it couldn’t be helped. “I long to build on the foundation of our friendship, reclaim the beauty of the romance I damaged, and build higher and stronger and better.”
Her eyes shimmered, but the fingers covering her mouth concealed whether they were tears of grief or of joy.
“I love you, Aleida.” The words poured out. “I am irrevocably in love with you. Now I have declared my love for you to the entire United Kingdom. Whether or not you choose to accept me, I hope this proves once and for all how truly unforgettable you are.”
“Oh, Hugh.” She swayed forward.
He reached to steady her, his stiff cast about her waist.
She collapsed against his chest and lifted her face, her eyes glimmering between blue and green. “Oh, Hugh. I love you too. I love you so much.”
Someone plucked the microphone from Hugh’s hand and wrenched off his headphones. “This is Guy Gilbert, taking over for Hugh Collingwood, who is otherwise occupied.”
He was. The joyful exclamations around him, Gil’s finish to the broadcast, the ward full of watching people—all of it fell away.
All that remained was Aleida—in love with him.
He lowered his forehead to hers and drank in her warmth, drank in the beauty of forgiveness and restoration and her precious love.
Drank in the sweetness of her kiss.
Her arms circled his waist, and he pulled her close, dissolving into her.
Someone tapped his shoulder. “We hate to intrude, Collie,” Lou said.
He glared at the American. “Do you? Do you truly hate to intrude?”
Lou and Gil and Fletcher and Clyde and Young all grinned at them.
“The broadcast is over,” Fletcher said. “Excellent work, even with the ... unconventional ending.”
Gil laughed. “You’ll be the talk of England.”
“We’ll leave you now, children,” Lou said. “Just invite us to the wedding.”
