Hope turned and found a piece of paper, copying her uncle’s address that she already knew by heart. She’d thought she’d write to Gus and tell him, but there was no guarantee that her letters would reach him, something she hadn’t truly considered until now. Giving the address to his sister was definitely her best option.
‘This is where I intend to go when I arrive in London,’ she said, folding it and passing it to Marie. ‘I don’t know where I’ll end up living, but he’ll find me if he comes here.’
‘I’ll keep it safe,’ his sister said, tucking it into her purse before giving Hope an unexpected hug. ‘I’d say he’ll leave the very day he returns to find you gone.’
‘Marie,’ Hope said, as they parted. ‘When Gus comes home, or if you hear from him, could you tell him something for me?’
‘Anything.’
‘Tell him that I love him with all my heart, that nothing has changed, and that I’ll be waiting for him. Tell him that even if there is a war, even if it takes years, I will never stop waiting.’
‘Of course,’ his sister said, blinking away tears. ‘I have to go, before Maman discovers I’m not where I told her I’d be.’
They said their goodbyes and Hope watched her go, her heart heavy. If only Gus’s mother could have been as warm-hearted as her daughter. Because if she had been, maybe she would have looked after Hope in their home while their son was away, rather than turned her out like an unwanted dog destined for the streets.
She blew out a long breath and went back to packing, carefully taking the empty bottle of absinthe they’d saved from the shelf. She held it for a long moment, staring at the fairy on the front that it’d taken her so long to get right. It almost seemed like another lifetime ago that she’d sat in the window and sketched her, and if she closed her eyes she could still remember the feeling of Gus’s arms encircling her from behind, the warmth of his cheek pressed to hers.
But when she opened her eyes, she was standing alone.
28
LONDON, 1938
Hope stood outside the house, having already checked the address several times, hesitating before lifting her hand to knock. It wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d been told that her uncle was an old bachelor, which had led her to believe that he’d have an apartment, or something less homely, perhaps. But this was a home that looked as if it was built for a family, and she wondered if perhaps a wife was going to open the door, or that he might not even live here any longer.
Once Hope had summoned the nerve, she quickly tapped three times and then stood back. She had no idea if she’d done the right thing in coming here, but it wasn’t as if she’d had other options that she could consider instead.
Footsteps sounded from inside, and the door swung open revealing a man with a thick crop of white hair and an equally thick moustache. He seemed to consider her, glancing at her swollen stomach and then back up to her eyes. She couldn’t see any family resemblance to her mother, except for their blue eyes perhaps, but she found herself full of hope as she stood before him.
‘May I help you?’
There was barely a hint of a French accent as he spoke, and she wondered just how long he’d been in England.
‘Charles?’ she asked.
He laughed. ‘Well, that depends on who’s asking.’
She instinctively touched her hand to her stomach. ‘I believe that you’re my uncle. My name is Hope, and my mother?—’
‘Is Thérèse,’ he said, his gaze softening as he held out his hand, his eyes indicating he couldn’t quite believe who was standing in front of him. ‘Come in, Hope. It’s lovely to meet you at last.’
‘You—you knew about me?’
He smiled. ‘I still have friends in France. They write to me sometimes and keep me abreast of the news, but I must say it’s been a while since I heard much of anything. Once I left, your mother and the rest of our family never showed any interest in staying in touch, and although I knew I had nieces and nephews, I didn’t think I’d ever meet you.’
She hesitated in the hallway, glancing around and wondering who else lived in the house. Did he have a wife and children, or was he a bachelor?
‘I’m sorry to turn up unannounced like this, but?—’
‘It’s a lovely surprise to see you. There’s no need to apologise,’ Charles said. ‘Now, may I offer you coffee? The British love their tea, but it’s the one thing I haven’t acclimatised to even after all these years.’
Hope laughed, a warmth spreading inside her that she hadn’t felt since she’d last been with Gus. ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’
She followed her uncle, taking in the framed art hanging in the hall and glancing in at the rooms they passed. When they reached the kitchen, he gestured for her to take a seat at the table, and she watched as he made coffee and eventually cameto sit across from her. Hope still didn’t know quite what she was going to say to him, but at least he’d seemed happy to see her.
‘I’m not sure I want to know what your mother has told you about me, but the very fact you’ve turned up on my doorstep would indicate she hasn’t told you much at all.’
Hope laughed and touched her stomach. ‘I could say the same. If she’d spoken to you about me, I think perhaps you might not have invited me in so readily.’
