was looking for a sign of him, her former friend, something in his own house that would remind her of his presence. But everything was so neat and tidy and white and pristine. There was almost no sign that he lived here – no jumper dropped on the bench in the window, no packet of B&H on the worktop, no whiff of cordite in the sofas, no muddy combat boots by the door – only a picture of him on the wall, so very different to the ones downstairs. It was of the two of them, him and Gisele, their cheeks pressed together, the wind blowing against them, eyes slitted and mouths spread in breathless laughter. They were on a beach somewhere, the sort that had never hosted a mass evacuation. She sank into a high bar stool, gazing at his image, drinking it in – his now fully grey hair, which suited him better than when it had been brown, perma-tanned skin, deep-set eyes that saw everything and missed nothing.
Almost nothing.
‘Uh . . . so how far along are you now?’ she asked, suddenly realizing Gisele had stopped talking and was pouring a froth of hot milk into her coffee. It was too late to say she liked it black.
‘Thirty-two weeks.’
‘Wow. Pretty far, then.’
‘Yes. She’s viable now, which is something. I’ve been so worried about every little ache and pain.’
Lee swallowed. She? ‘You know you’re having a girl?’
‘That’s what they said.’ Gisele nodded. ‘I was just happy to make out the head.’ She smiled happily and Lee forced one back. Cunningham was going to have a daughter.
‘We kept the pregnancy a secret for as long as we could. There’ve been a few complications, shall we say. Not to mention—’ She shot Lee a look. ‘Well, it’s taken Harry a while to get his head around it.’ She handed over the coffee. ‘When I first met Harry, he told me he didn’t want kids.’
Lee nodded. ‘Yeah, right, I thought—’ But she couldn’t finish the sentence, the words drifting from her like a candle blown out by stray winds.
‘He was upfront about it from the start. When things started getting serious between us, he told me to find someone else, a younger guy who would give me a family. He was adamant that with his job, it just wouldn’t be fair – well, as you know, of course,’ she said, remembering to whom she was talking. ‘I mean, you know better than anyone what it is he goes through out there.’
‘Mmm.’ Lee forced herself to drink some of the milky coffee, refusing to remember.
‘But then when he came back from Tehran, I don’t know, he seemed different. The injury really shook him. I think he finally came face to face with his own mortality. He talked about walking away from it all, committing properly to our life together here.’ She shrugged. ‘So we started trying.’ She bit her lip. ‘I think we both just assumed it would happen immediately, but when it didn’t . . .’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Typical Harry, never taking “no” for an answer. It seemed to make him want the baby even more. He became desperate to be a father.’
Lee felt her smile become more strained. This was way more information than she needed. Or wanted. ‘So then . . . why Syria?’
Gisele looked up at her through her long eyelashes again, but this time, there was no amusement in her eyes. Just a veil of tears. Her pretty face crumpled a little, and Lee understood why Cunningham would have denied her nothing. She was exquisite. ‘I was hoping you could tell me.’
‘Me?’
‘You know him better than anyone. You’re his best friend. You know what that world’s like and the risks he’ll face.’
Lee stared back at her. ‘Gisele, Cunningham and I . . . we’ve barely seen each other. In years. We’re not . . . close any more. I had no idea he was going back.’ This couldn’t be a surprise to her, surely? What had Cunningham told her about them, about why she’d cut him off?
Gisele sighed unhappily. ‘Neither did I. He only told me the morning he went.’
Lee was shocked. Had Cunningham really just dumped the news he was leaving for a war zone on his heavily pregnant wife, the morning he went?
Gisele must have seen the look on her face because she added, ‘I don’t think he wanted me to worry any longer than was necessary.’