The Alice Network - Kate Quinn Page 0,73

rolled-up sleeves, the dark stubble of his jaw. “Who—” she began, but that was when Eve came stamping up.

“Christ, Finn,” she said in her raspy pre-noon snarl. “I see you found the Yank.”

“She comes or you don’t,” Finn said.

“You work for me!”

“It’s my car.”

Something warm vibrated in my stomach. I’d had some thought of going to Limoges by train, but the idea of being able to hop back into that wonderful car—! I loved that car. It comforted me more than the home I’d just been thrown out of. I looked up at Finn and my throat was thick as I said, “Thank you.”

“Didn’t believe we’d seen the last of you in any event.” Eve, surprisingly, sounded more approving than irritated. “Americans are harder to scrape off than barnacles.”

“Who is this?” My mother managed to get the entire question out this time.

Eve looked at her. What a pair they made: my fashionable wasp-waisted mother in her exquisite hat and spotless gloves; tattered Eve with her old dress and lobster-claw hands. Eve gave that imperious raptor gaze down her nose until Maman’s eyes flickered. “You must be the mother,” she said at last. “I don’t see any resemblance.”

“How dare you—”

“Eve,” I plunged in. “I’m going to look for my cousin, and somewhere in that whole mess is a man you’re afraid of. I think you should find out if he’s alive or dead. I think you should come with me.”

I don’t know why I said it. Eve and her moods and her pistol complicated everything; I’d move faster without her. But I’d made myself be brave today, no matter how much it terrified me, and I wanted Eve to be brave too—to be the unflinching, swearing woman who’d lied her head off to a pawnbroker so I could hock my pearls, and demanded answers from a china-shop clerk who hated her guts. I didn’t want Eve running back to England to hide in number 10 Hampson Street. It seemed beneath her, somehow.

I wanted something for myself too. I wanted to know what had happened to Eve during the occupation of Lille, not just to her hands but to her soul.

I tried to think of an eloquent way to say all that, but I couldn’t think of one. All I could say was, “I want to hear the rest of your story.”

“It’s not a pretty story,” she said. “And it lacks an ending.”

“So write the ending now.” I planted hands on hips, challenging. “You’re half-cocked, but you’re no coward. So what do you say? In or out?”

“Who are these people? Charlotte!”

I took no notice of my mother. She’d gone from directing my life to being utterly outside it. But Eve spared her a glance.

“I’m not coming if Mumsy is. I’ve spent all of thirty seconds in her company, and she is twice as bloody annoying as you. A day on the road and I’d probably shoot her.”

“She’s not coming.” I looked at my mother, and a last stab of tangled anger and love rippled through me, the final dying urge to do whatever she wanted. Then it was gone. “Good-bye.” I probably should have said something more. But what was there to say?

Her eyes were traveling wildly from Finn to Eve and back again. “You can’t just drive off with—with—”

“Finn Kilgore,” Finn spoke up unexpectedly. He reached out a hand, and automatically my mother shook it. “Lately of His Majesty’s prison in Pentonville.”

She dropped his hand like it had grown thorns, lips parting.

“And before you ask,” Finn added in polite tones, “assault. Chucking annoying Americans in the Thames. Good day, ma’am.”

He shouldered my luggage and headed for the doors. Eve lit a cigarette, turning to follow, and looked over one shoulder. “You want to hear this story of mine or not, Yank?”

One last look at my mother. She just stared at me as if she didn’t know me. “I love you,” I said, then walked out of the hotel onto the busy streets of Roubaix. I was light-headed. Sick. Elated. Overwhelmed. My palms were sweating, and my whole mind was a whirling roar of noise. But one thing was very clear.

“Breakfast,” I said when Finn brought the Lagonda around with the top down. I gave the old girl’s dashboard a pat as I climbed in. “We’re aiming for Limoges, but first we get the biggest breakfast we can find in Roubaix. This baby is telling me she wants to be fed.”

“It’s a she?” Eve asked.

“So she tells me.”

What a lot of things

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