We Shall Not Sleep (42 page)

Judith was clinging to Joseph so hard her fingers hurt his arm, but he was aware only of what Mason must be feeling: the absolute and final rejection. He would never again walk the moors and see the wind-riven skies, hear the curlews call, return to the cobbled streets and the familiar speech, take ale with his friends in the village pub.

The silence was thick with the knowledge of what it was to be done.

Judith let go of Joseph's arm and stepped forward. She touched Mason, and at last he looked at her. She had never seen greater pain.

"I'm coming with you," she said, having made the decision with-)ut even questioning it.

"You can't—"

"I'm not asking you," she replied. "I'm telling you. We'll go to America. Start again. There'll be work to do there, too."

He drew in his breath to argue, and changed his mind, and in any case was too overwhelmed to speak. He nodded, gripping her hand so hard she momentarily pulled away. Then he realized what he was doing and was suddenly, passionately gentle. "Thank you" was all he said.

Lloyd George nodded. "Wait outside," he instructed, his voice hoarse with emotion.

When they were gone, he turned to Matthew. "You have done a good job, Reavley. I knew your father. He was a fine man, and honest. He loathed the secret services, but he would have been proud of you. Your country will never know what you have done, or what it may have cost you, but we are in your debt." He held out his hand.

Matthew took it. "Thank you, sir. I hope he would."

Lloyd George nodded. "Don't doubt it. We are in a new age, and those who wield secrets are as necessary to us as those who wield swords." He turned to Lizzie. "Or those who heal, and try to make the best of the damage we have done."

Finally he turned to Joseph. "And you, sir, have kept the faith. You have helped us heal the wounds of the soul. Without that, the rest is pointless. But it is not the end. This is only the middle."

"I know, sir," Joseph replied. "There is a long ministry ahead. But first I must go back to my men in Flanders, before the end."

"Of course you must," Lloyd George agreed. "Be with your regiment."

Outside, in the November dusk, it was time for goodbyes. There was nothing to say. They were used to parting, but nothing ever eased the hurt of it or made the pulling away less like a tearing of the heart. Judith clung long to Matthew, and even longer to Joseph, but still the moment had to come. She walked away beside Mason, her head high. The streetlight caught the bones of her cheeks and the wide, vulnerable mouth, smiling, lips trembling. Then the shadows took them both.

Lizzie kissed Joseph and then moved away, taking Matthew's arm. "We'll see you soon," she said firmly, smiling at Joseph.

Matthew saluted. Joseph returned it, then walked toward the railway station for Dover, and the crossing back to France.

On the morning of November the eleventh Joseph crouched in a new, hastily constructed dugout. It was little more than a foxhole. He stared across the stretch
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no-man's-land, far to the east of the old one at Ypres. The guns were still firing. Heavy artillery shells gouged up the earth. Snipers picked off the odd, careless soldier who raised his head too high.

Morel was twenty yards along to the right, Tiddly Wop behind him. The sun caught Snowy Nunn's fair hair.

"Knew you'd come back, Chaplain," Barshey Gee said beside Joseph.

Joseph turned to look at him.

Gunfire roared again, obliterating Barshey s words.

Joseph shook his head to indicate that he had not heard.

"You wouldn't leave us," Barshey repeated in the sudden stillness.

Joseph looked at his watch. It was eleven o'clock.

The silence went on. There was no answering fire. All along the line was silence—everywhere.

Slowly men stood up, tentatively at first, then more and more, until there were tens of thousands of them, as far as the eye could see, in every direction. Someone cheered, and another, and another, until there was a roar that filled the air and echoed across Europe from the mountains to the sea.

About the Author

Anne Perry is the bestselling author of the World War I novels
No Graves As Yet, Shoulder the Sky,
and
Angels in the Gloom;
as well as four holiday novels:
A Christmas Journey, A Christmas Visitor, A Christmas Guest,
and
A Christmas Secret.
She is also the creator of two acclaimed series set in Victorian England. Her William Monk novels include
Dark Assassin, The Shifting Tide,
and
Death of a Stranger.
The popular novels featuring Thomas and Charlotte Pitt include
Long

Spoon Lane

, Seven Dials,
and
Southampton Row.
Anne Perry lives in Scotland. Visit her website at www:anneperry.net.

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