He nodded. ‘I’ve lost many friends in battle, but there is one that haunts me more than most.’
‘What was his name?’
‘His nickname was Tubs, but his real name was Edward Turner.’
‘Who was he?’
‘A fellow prisoner who made my imprisonment bearable.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘He died when we were forced to evacuate the prison camp. His feet got infected and he fell ill with a fever. He was executed because he couldn’t walk any more.’
‘I am so sorry. What was Tubs like?’
‘He had a dark humour.’
‘Dark?’
‘He found humour in the grimmest moments. Not everyone liked it, but it was what I needed. He was... a good person.’
‘He sounds nice.’
‘Sometimes I feel like I let him down. We should have escaped sooner. Maybe he would still be alive if we had.’
‘Or you might have both been shot in the back. Questions like that will never go away. I think we just have to learn to silence them when they grow too loud in our heads.’
She was right. Sometimes she surprised him how much wiser she was than her years. He supposed war aged everyone, giving them experience that would, under normal circumstances, take decades to achieve. Klara was a prime example of this. Her level of maturity, adaptation and stoicism was far beyond any five-year-old he had encountered at home.
He kissed the top of Elsa’s head before he’d realized what he was going to do. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
She pretended not to notice. ‘Shall we lie down and try to get some sleep?’ She stood up and he joined her to find somewhere to sleep deeper in the body of the plane. They found Klara already asleep, curled up in the pilot’s seat like a kitten by a fire. They covered her with a folded parachute and settled down nearby.
He felt ashamed of his earlier cold behaviour towards Elsa yet when she slid into his arms and snuggled up against his body, the shame he had felt quickly drained away.
He thought back to their earlier conversation.
‘How different things would have been if I had killed Hitler,’ he mused, thankful that for the first time the thought did not cause him pain.
Elsa braced herself on her elbows and looked down at him. ‘We would never have met.’
He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Perhaps that would have been a good thing. You would not have to put up with my moody silences.’
She smiled down at him, her hair grazing her cheeks. ‘And you would not have to see my blistered feet.’
‘Perhaps we should stay here a few days for your feet to heal.’
‘No, there’s no need.’ She snuggled back into his embrace. ‘I think the first-aid kit will help very much. It is not rest I want.’
He craned his neck so he could see into her eyes. ‘What do you want, Elsa?’
She smiled languidly to herself. ‘A long, hot bath.’
The image of her sitting naked in a bathtub came to mind, the curve of her back wet with droplets and her skin, smooth and soft, crying out to be touched. He swallowed as his body stirred at the thought. He’d been starved of a woman’s sweet-tasting curves for so long that he hadn’t even been sure if carnal desire was still there — until now.
‘Me too.’ The tone of his voice was barely recognizable. Husky. Choked. Unsure. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. She snuggled closer against him and the ache to know her body better grew even stronger. With his mind filled with Elsa, he closed his eyes, knowing what would happen next. So often Tubs would be waiting for him there, reminding him of his loss before he fell asleep. Normally images of Tubs’s shocking death and all the dark thoughts that accompanied it would rise up behind Sam’s closed eyelids. For once, he hoped it would be put to good use and help to divert his carnal thoughts away from the woman in his arms. Tubs obliged and came easily to mind, as he knew he would, but this time there was no reminder of his death. This time he was laughing. Sam had not heard his laughter in so very long, yet for once, in his mind, it was so loud and clear it was as if he was next to him. Sam indiscernibly shook his head in defeat. That was typical of Tubs, he thought. Only the dark humour of a teasing friend could find hilarity in the aching predicament Sam found himself in now.
Chapter Thirteen
