falling so hard. “You’ve got to drive all the way to Grasse tomorrow,” I whispered instead. “What about sleep?”
“Sleep?” His hands twined through my hair so tight it hurt as he growled into my ear. “Quit your blethering.”
CHAPTER 36
EVE
March 1919
It was Eve’s first step back in England since her career as a spy began. Folkestone, where Cameron had stood waving good-bye as Eve sailed to Le Havre. Where he stood now, coat rippling about his knees, waiting for her on the pier.
“Miss Gardiner,” he said when she stepped off the ferry. It had been some months since her release—she’d lived that time in a bathtub, scrubbing obsessively as arrangements were made to bring her back from her temporary lodgings in Louvain to England.
“Captain Cameron,” she answered. “No, it’s Major Cameron now, isn’t it?” Eyeing his new insignia. In addition to his majority was the blue and red ribbon of the DSO on the left breast of his uniform coat. “I’ve missed a few th-th—a few things, being away.”
“I was hoping to bring you back to England sooner.”
Eve shrugged. The women of Siegburg had been released before the Armistice was even signed, let loose from their cells by defeated-looking prison officials, stampeding in a weeping, joyous flood for the trains that would take them home. Eve would have been weeping with joy too, had Lili been arm in arm with her to take that train. After Lili died, it had not mattered in the slightest how fast she could get away from Siegburg.
Cameron’s eyes were going over her now, registering the changes. Eve knew she was still thin as a rack, her hair straw dry from lice treatments and hacked close to her skull. She kept her hands thrust into her pockets so he couldn’t see the misshapen knuckles, but there was nothing she could do to hide her eyes, which never sat still anymore. Eve took in the world in constant darting glances now, looking for danger on all sides. Even here on the open pier, she angled her back against the nearest piling, seeking protection. Eve registered the shock in Cameron’s own steady eyes as he saw how deeply the past few years had marked her.
They hadn’t been kind to him either; deep lines graven about his mouth, broken veins at his forehead, streaks of gray at his temples. I used to love you, Eve thought, but it was a blank thought, almost meaningless. She used to feel a lot of things before Lili died. Now what she mainly felt was grief and rage and guilt, devouring each other like tail-eating serpents. And the never-ending whisper of her blood, saying, Betrayer.
“I thought there would be some three-ring c-c-circus,” Eve said at last, nodding at the empty pier. She had been almost the only person to disembark—Folkestone, now that the war was over, had reverted to a much sleepier place—and there were no aides or military attachés anywhere in sight. “Major Allenton was in touch, k-kept going on about a welcome ceremony.”
Apparently, Evelyn Gardiner was now a heroine. So were many of the other female prisoners—Violette, Eve heard, was feted all over Roubaix when she returned home. Eve would be feted too, if she’d allow it. Which she wouldn’t.
“I talked Allenton out of the public welcome,” Cameron said. “He wanted a few generals to greet you, some newspapermen and so on. A brass band.”
“Fortunate you discouraged him. Though I’d have enjoyed hammering a bloody tuba over his ears.” Eve hitched her satchel over her shoulder, and set off down the pier.
“I thought I’d see you in France.” Cameron fell in beside her. “At Louise de Bettignies’s funeral.”
“I meant to go.” Eve had got as far as Cologne, where Lili’s original grave was to be opened so her body could be repatriated back to her homeland, but never made it out of the hotel room. She’d ended up getting drunk instead, and nearly shooting the maid who came with her supper—the girl was squat, square faced, and for a horrific moment Eve had thought she was the Frog, that horrible woman in Lille who had strip-searched Eve and Lili. The memory dizzied Eve now, momentarily, and she gulped a deep breath of sea air.
Cameron’s voice was low. “Why didn’t you come?”
“C-C-Couldn’t face it.” She’d said her good-bye to Lili in a corridor that stank of typhus and blood. She didn’t need a graveside with droning plaudits and French generals. But she didn’t say that to Cameron, just quickened her steps, suddenly