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Chapter Text

Charlotte hitched the strap of her gas mask up her shoulder, feeling the warmth of the early afternoon sun on her face. The platform was quiet now the train had left in a cloud of gritty smoke, and she stood enjoying the relative peace for a few moments. It was a while since she had felt that the wool of her uniform jacket might be too warm for the day and she revelled in the promise of Spring, whilst suppressing the itch at the nape of her neck at the thought of the sticky summer months ahead cooped up in airless rooms.

The journey from Buckinghamshire, which had been broken up by a night in a London hostel, had revealed the seasons changing as she watched through the grimy window of the train. It had been an age since she had been to the coast, and the smell of the sea, even though she couldn’t see it from the station, made the air feel very different from Bletchley Park.

She resisted the urge to check the letter again and set her kitbag down at her feet, preferring to simply wait in the sunshine. She closed her eyes, opening them when a shadow fell across her face to discover a tall, blond officer looking down at her, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. A smirk, more accurately.

“Second Officer Heywood?” he drawled, a hint of a question in his cut-glass accent. “Captain Denham, at your service.”

“Captain…?” She tilted her head, why on earth would an officer be sent to collect her from the station? One looking for a jaunt away from actual work, she presumed.

“I was running errands for Major Parker in town and so offered to collect you en route.” His French accent was impeccable, and he quirked an eyebrow at her, by way of a challenge, bending to collect her bag from the floor in front of her. She quickly took it up herself, again adjusting the strap of her handbag and gasmask as she straightened up.

“Thank you, Captain. Lead the way, then,” she said, resolutely meeting his gaze.

He had left the windows down on the car, so she leant in to open it before he, in an act of gallantry she supposed, could swing it open for her. She placed her bag on the back seat as he started the engine.

“Here for an interview, I take it?” Captain Denham looked over at her rather than at the road, “With Lieutenant Colbourne?” She detected a hint of something as he said his fellow officer’s name but couldn’t yet decipher what the inflection meant.

“Yes.” She already felt it was wise to be guarded about her work with this man until she understood all the dynamics that were at play here at… Heyrick Park? She thought that was what the letter had said the place was called. Her superiors had been a little cagey about what it would involve and had given her nothing at all about the wider set-up at the estate.

The Sussex town passed by the window, and the captain appeared to have given up trying to start a conversation so she looked out as they swept out along a clifftop road, until she had her first view of the sea, finally. The sun sparkled on the slate grey surface, and she watched the white horses out in the distance with a smile creeping over her face.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Captain Denham had clearly caught her look of excitement. She schooled her features.

“Indeed,” was all she replied.

As they swept up to the gatehouse, which at one time had no doubt been magnificent but was now a little overrun with ivy, a guard looked up briefly from his newspaper and waved them through. Not exactly high security, she noted.

Stopping in front of the imposing oak doors, which had also seen better days, Captain Denham turned to her, smirking again, “I’ll let you out here. I’m sure there’ll be a warm welcome for you, but if not, look out for Mrs Wheatley who will see you where you need to go.”

The hall entrance would have once been very grand, before the military had scuffed and marked every surface, and she thought with a pang of this beautiful place falling into the kind of gentile decline that was so evident at Bletchley. It was the way of things, she supposed, these fine estates requisitioned by the military in these times of national peril. Although she was unclear on what purpose this house had been taken for, as of yet: it was clearly not a hospital, nor a school. The quiet was rather disconcerting.

Looking around, she spied a door that looked like it led down a narrow staircase, presumably the old servants’ quarters. She was just about to investigate when a matronly woman, wearing a dark woollen suit with high high-necked blouse and a chatelaine of keys around her waist, appeared and looked her up and down. “Second Officer Heywood I presume?” At Charlotte’s nod, she added, “Welcome to Heyrick Park. If you’ll follow me…”

She bustled along the corridor to their left, so that Charlotte had to hastily grab her things to follow. The woman, presumably the housekeeper, was saying “Mr… Lieutenant Colbourne is in the study, down this way. Major Parker wanted a bigger space, of course, so he took the drawing room…” This last bit was muttered, so Charlotte wasn’t entirely sure she had been meant to hear it but filed it away for further inspection when she had time.

The woman stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, which was slightly ajar, and knocked firmly before stepping through the door. Charlotte, unsure whether she should follow, stood on the threshold and looked into the room, sunlight pouring in through the tall windows. At the desk sat an officer who appeared to be in his early thirties, hastily scratching out a letter with his left hand. His blue uniform jacket was on the back of his chair, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie askew, and the hand that wasn’t writing was running through his dark hair. From the way a curl fell over his forehead, this was not the first time it had been disturbed in this way today. He would never get away with that level of uniform at Bletchley, she thought wryly.

“Second Officer Heywood to see you, sir, for the interview.” Charlotte took this as her cue to step into the room and noticed as she did so that his gaze hadn’t lifted from the papers in front of him.

“Thank you. Mrs Wheatley, can you please ensure this goes to the post room immediately?” He licked the envelope and handed her his letter, before returning his attention to his desk and picking up his pen once more.

Mrs Wheatley left without a further word, although she did throw a sympathetic look at Charlotte as she went, who stood at attention in front of the desk, trying to tamp down her irritation with the arrogance of the officer sitting in front of her, who had not looked up at her yet.

After a few moments of the pen scratching on the paper, he finally spoke, “Your scores at the Chess Club…?”

Somewhat startled, she suppressed the urge to look over her shoulder to see if someone else was in the room. Realising he was actually addressing her at last, she stifled a huff and said, “Consistently above average. Sir.” The minutest pause she had left before ”sir” was all the insubordination she would risk, but it was quietly satisfying nonetheless.

“Was wissen Sie über die jüngsten Operationen rund um diese Gewässer?” he asked, pointedly, still not looking at her. [What do you know about the recent operations around these waters?]

“Ich weiß, dass es in letzter Zeit eine Veränderung gegeben haben muss, damit wir hier sein können,” she said, an icy tone creeping into her voice. [I know there must have been a change recently for us to be here.]

Finally, he deigned to look up at her, and she saw his brandy-coloured eyes widen slightly before he schooled his features back to an impassive expression. She held his gaze, feeling her courage rise, glad of the training she’d had with fiercer men than this in her early days of service. If he thinks this is intimidating, he is sorely mistaken.

He appeared to hesitate, then put his pen down and stood, gesturing with his hand for her to sit in one of the chairs arranged on the other side of the desk. As she settled herself in the seat, he moved around to her side of the desk and perched on it, arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of him. The picture of casual dominance, and Charlotte barely contained her eye roll, despite finding her eyes drifting to his thighs. Focus, Charlotte.

“What do you make of Heyrick Park?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I think it is what was once a beautiful home that the military is about to mar with its carelessness, much like Bletchley before it.” She saw his face flinch for an almost imperceptibly brief moment and felt a twinge of regret at her stark wording, although she wasn’t sure why. “Other than that, it is hard to say, sir, as I have only just arrived and have not been informed of the nature of the operations here.” She watched him watching her, feeling as if she had been dropped into the middle of a chess match, without seeing the opening moves and without a clear sense of who was playing which colour.

“Heyrick has been requisitioned as a base for the Army operation to distribute supplies to both the war effort and the civilian population. There is a small cohort of officers overseeing setting up that work, and an attaché for the US Navy who is based here permanently, while her boss…” He tailed off, and she caught a slight note of distaste in his voice for his fellow officer. It’s not exactly a happy family here, she thought sardonically, “...her boss will visit sometimes to monitor the supplies to their fleet based out of Southampton.”

He must have noticed her slight frown as she mentally calculated the distance from that port to where they were sat, as he said, “Yes, we are the furthest base involved in their supplies, which is why he is an infrequent visitor.” For someone in the secret service he was not very good at hiding his pleasure at this arrangement, she thought and suppressed a grin.

“Given what you have told me, then, sir, I’m at a loss as to why I am here…?” She tilted her own head to match his expression from earlier, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a fleeting smile.

“We…” and Charlotte felt a bloom of warmth in her chest at this word, which took her by surprise but she pushed it aside, “...are here to explore the establishing of a new listening station.” He watched her with narrowed eyes, to see how she reacted to this news.

“I see. Why here?”

“Proximity to the coast.” He turned away to pick up a manila file from a pile on the desk. She blushed slightly as she heard the derisive tone in his words.

“Yes, sir, but as far as I can tell Heyrick Park has always maintained its current proximity to the coast.” He looked back round at her, quickly, eyes widening, and she felt a small sense of triumph of having landed a tiny blow to this man’s belief in his superior intellect. “Perhaps what I should have said is, why now?”

His lips tightened and his jaw clenched, and Charlotte felt unsure whether he was angry or suppressing a smile.

“Well, Heywood, I’m sure you can appreciate that the enemy is keen to avoid detection and so we must maintain something of the element of surprise. The very unchanging nature of our position means that having not had any form of surveillance on this particular spot before, they will not be expecting us to detect signals here. Plus, as you so astutely pointed out,” here, he looked down at his feet, “there has been an increase in the frequency of U-boat operations detected along this section of the coast, which the navy feels presents opportunities for us.”

He looked up once more and held her gaze as she took in what he had told her, and the sense of dread, which she kept at bay through the hours of work and the humdrum of routine, reasserted itself. The enemy was strong, and unpredictable, still, even though Bletchley was making progress to thwart their secrecy. She schooled her features to hide the shudder that ran up her spine.

He turned away, carrying the file and retaking his seat at the desk, and she stood to relieve some of the butterflies that had risen in her stomach.

“I’m assuming you have experience in this sort of work, which is why your superiors have sent you to me?” He flipped open the file and looked at her over the top of it. She resisted the urge to shift her weight from one leg to the other.

“Well,” she began, “if by experience you mean running the shifts of a listening station and all that that entails then yes, I have, but if you mean establishing a centre from scratch, then…” she tailed off, and his eyes held hers. She cleared her throat, “Then, no. sir.”

“So you are here under false pretences, Second Officer Heywood…” His eyes fell to the paperwork in her file, and she felt herself flush again, but this time with irritation. Insufferable man!

“I am here, sir, because my superiors sent me to be interviewed.” She jutted her chin out, standing ramrod straight, her eyes flashing with anger. “And as you have determined that I am clearly not required, I will leave you to your work. Sir.” Not waiting to be dismissed, she turned and marched to the chair, collecting her bags and heading straight to the door without a backward glance, closing it firmly.

Stopping just outside the door she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to block out the realisation that she had just walked out on a superior officer. She exhaled sharply, gave herself a little shake and repositioned her bags over her shoulder, before heading back down the corridor the way she had come earlier with the housekeeper.

As she passed a door that had been closed earlier, but now stood open, she heard a booming voice and looked within, seeing the officer who had collected her from the station standing in front of a large desk, where a man in his early forties wearing a major’s uniform sat. Captain Denham raised an eyebrow at her, and she was irritated to think he must have noticed her discomposure, but the senior officer was talking so she had no time to dwell on this and turned to give him her attention.

“Ah, Second Officer Heywood, I presume? Welcome to Heyrick Park!” He leaned forward in his seat, smiling affably, and Charlotte stood to attention. “Major Tom Parker, at your service.” He seemed pleased with his little joke.

“Thank you, Major.” Her voice was a little stiff, but she held his gaze, resolutely avoiding looking at the smug captain who, she could see from the corner of her eye, was watching her closely.

“Down from the Chess Club, eh? I’m sure Colbourne has put you through your paces!” the major continued. Denham smirked and Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something unwise.

“Yes, sir. And we have just finished, so I was about to request transport back to the station, if that would be possible…?”

Denham looked about to volunteer but the Major did not notice, rifling through papers on his desk and saying with a lofty wave of his hand without looking up, “Petty Officer Lambe has business in town, she will be able to take you. She is around somewhere, if you will just wait for her…” He trailed off and Charlotte understood herself dismissed, so turned to leave, still avoiding looking at the Captain.

Back in the entrance hall, Charlotte decided that she would most certainly not be waiting there in the open space where people were frequently walking by, so took herself off through the heavy doors and headed to the side of the building where she dropped her bags to the floor and leaned back against the wall. A mix of mortification and anger coursed through her, and she realised her hands were trembling as she reached into her handbag for her cigarettes and fumbled to light one. Breathing out the smoke, she picked a piece of tobacco from her lips, willing herself to calm.

“Oh, there you are,” she heard an American-accented voice say, and Charlotte turned to look at the woman approaching, who was short, her skin radiant and her tightly curled hair drawn back under her naval cap. “Well, if I must…” she winked, pulling her own cigarette case from her pocket and quickly lighting up. She flung her head back as she took her first drag, exhaling a stream of smoke over their heads, which was no mean feat considering she was even shorter than Charlotte. “One for the road, eh?”

Charlotte nodded, holding her gaze, then looked away to blow smoke in the opposite direction. “Petty Officer Lambe, I’m guessing?”

“The very same,” she agreed cheerfully, “and you must be Second Officer Heywood. Here to meet our mysterious Lieutenant Colbourne.”

“Mysterious?” Charlotte tried to keep the note of intrigue out of her voice, gazing nonchalantly out over the grounds where once a lawn had no doubt been but now was a neat vegetable garden.

“Hmm, yes, he appears out of nowhere a few weeks back, a little after we arrived, with Major Parker having very little warning of his coming, with a budget to renovate the old folly on the other side of the estate for his mission - a folly which no-one else here knew existed until that point.” Charlotte turned back to watch as Lambe took another drag on her cigarette, “And he seems to know all the staff. Not the army personnel, the staff who worked here before it was requisitioned.” She gave her another wink. “So yeah, mysterious… And not unattractive, eh?”

Charlotte snorted, “I’m not in the habit of noticing that about my superior officers…” but the blush on her cheeks rather contradicted her statement.

“Hmm, well honey, you are missing out.” She pronounced the last three syllables with delighted emphasis, grinned and then dropped the stub of her cigarette onto the gravel of the path and twisted her foot over it. “Come on, I hear you have a train to catch…”

—

Xander stared in astonishment at the closed door before finally sitting back in his chair as the sense of shock began to dissipate. She had walked out on him! He had determinedly returned to his reports when she had left the room, forcing himself to continue writing what he had started earlier that afternoon whilst he got his irritation under control. Once he had finished, he clasped his hands behind his head, steeling himself from reaching for the telephone to lift the receiver and place a trunk call to Bletchley Park, asking them what the devil they thought they were doing sending him such an insubordinate member of their ranks, when he needed someone… someone… here he faltered, what did he need?

He ran his hand through his hair once more, exhaling slowly to clear his thoughts. What exactly had muddled them he couldn’t quite put his finger on, though the first glimpse of her expressive eyes had been the start of his unmooring, he was sure of it. The curls framing her face, the tint of her lipstick highlighting her determined mouth, the pink rising on her cheeks… He should not be noticing those things, he chided himself, she was a respected member of SigInt’s renowned cypher-cracking squad and his junior officer.

His lips quirked as he remembered the sarcasm in her response to his dismissive remarks, the smile fading when he recalled her astute observations about Heyrick Park. Marred by the military, indeed, he thought wistfully. Pushing the thought from his head, he rose quickly, remembering his jacket at the last minute and shrugging it on as he made his way down the corridor.

Major Parker’s voice boomed out, so he was forced to stop outside his door, “Met that Heywood girl, Colbourne, expect you offered her the position, eh?”

Xander coughed, in lieu of an answer, and avoided his gaze. “Sir,” he said, nodding and turning to head for the front doors. With any luck, he would catch her.

Seeing no one around he headed for the stable block around the side of the house, although it had been a long while since the horses had been moved out and the unit’s motor cars, trucks and motorcycles had been moved in. One of the cadets in charge of the logbooks looked up as he approached, saying, “Do you need something, sir?”

“Yes, has anyone left to transport a guest into town?” He wanted to avoid asking directly after the junior officer who was supposed to be his responsibility that afternoon, not wishing to draw attention to the fact he did not know whether she had left or not.

The cadet raised an eyebrow, “She left with Petty Officer Lambe, sir, about ten minutes ago.”

A slight heat suffused Xander’s cheeks as he scowled at the cadet, who flushed himself at his superior’s show of displeasure and sat up a bit straighter. “I’ll need to take one of the motorcycles, then…”

“Yes, sir.” The cadet swung around in his seat and reached for the keys, handing them over with a nod. “Not quite a full tank on that one, sir, but will be fine for what you need.”

Xander grabbed his helmet and riding jacket from the peg by the door and swung his leg over the motorbike, starting the engine and immediately moving off from the stableyard in a cloud of dust. He held back on the drive, not wanting to send the gravel flying into the vegetable patches that now lined it, but once he was on the road he opened the throttle and enjoyed the satisfaction of the wind whipping past him. He couldn’t damned well fly, but this was the closest to it that he could get.

He eased off the throttle as he arrived on the outskirts of the town, weaving past parked cars on the approach to the station, including the one that Lambe had driven. He pulled up, leaning the bike into the stand and hitching his helmet on the handlebars by the straps. Noticing the American standing with Heywood on the opposite platform, he walked as nonchalantly as he could to the path over the tracks.

He watched as she leaned in, whatever remark she made making Officer Heywood laugh and then turn her head away to hide her smile. She really is beautiful, he caught himself thinking and shook his head quickly. Lambe gave her a cheery wave and headed back down the platform, passing him with a perfunctory nod. He couldn’t see her once she had passed him, of course, but he saw Heywood look over his shoulder and grin, so he imagined they had exchanged some kind of signal about him. He tried not to think about it.

“Second Officer Heywood, you didn’t wait for my decision.”

He saw her posture straighten, her chin lifting slightly as she replied, “There didn’t seem much point, sir.” She held his gaze, carefully he thought, like a poker player watching their opponent to give them a sign of their tell.

“The position is yours.” Her face blanched, momentarily, and her eyes widened. I’ve surprised her this time, then. “Assuming you still want it?”

“As I said before, I’m here on the orders of my superiors. I will serve where I’m needed.” She briefly looked to the ground, before raising her eyes to him once more, giving him the hint of a smile. “When do we start?”

Chapter Text

The Folly

Charlotte stepped out the front door, her shoes crunching on the gravel of the drive. Mary and Aggie followed her out into the morning sunshine, looking around them at the well-ordered gardens where, in the distance, a couple of land girls were bent over, tending the green shoots of the vegetables they were cultivating, where she assumed previously a lawn must have been laid.

Mary linked her arm through Charlotte’s as they headed off down the path. “Are you excited, my dear?” The older woman was such a warm, supportive person, and Charlotte smiled to see her a little giddy with anticipation where normally she was so calm and level headed. In their time together at Bletchley, Mary had always offered the young women a listening ear for their worries, especially when they were away from home for the first time and needed mothering. Charlotte did not know much of her history, but knew that she was very glad Mary had been recruited alongside her to the new team.

“I suppose I am, yes,” she said, squeezing Mary’s arm. It was only their second day at Heyrick Park, they had been given the day yesterday to settle into their new accommodation, with only a short briefing from Lieutenant Colbourne on their mission. Today would involve setting up the listening station, and clearly the others were as fired up as she was to get started.

Aggie strode along behind them, her dark blonde hair pinned under her cap, her appearance neat and her uniform immaculate, although her cap was at a somewhat jaunty angle. She quirked an eyebrow, “You’re quite the eager beaver, Mary!”

Mary affectionately rolled her eyes at her, and Aggie smiled slightly as she lifted her chin.

“I wonder how the boys are getting on with the generator?” Charlotte went up onto her tiptoes to peer down the road ahead, even though it didn’t add much to her height, straining to see if she could spot the truck Declan and Arthur would be using to transport the equipment down to the Folly. There was no sign so she dropped back down and carried on walking, feeling the sense of excitement building to see the place where they’d be based.

The path took them into some woodland, the late spring sunlight filtering through the dense branches and casting a gentle dappled light that shifted with the breeze that was salt-tinged even in the midst of the parkland. Aggie inhaled loudly, clearly as exhilarated by the scents in the air as the rest of them, but checked her enthusiasm with a determined shrug as a flush rose on her cheeks. This was her first posting after basic training, and by the firm set of her shoulders and determined look in her eyes, the nineteen year old was clearly desperate to play it cool and be taken seriously.

Charlotte took a deep breath and unabashedly exhaled with a loud “Aaaahh…!” winking at the youngster, who blushed again but smiled slightly. We’ll loosen her up. Eventually…

The path began to widen, and the facade of the folly began to appear. It was a round, stone pavilion, nestled among mature trees on one side, and Charlotte felt a frisson of excitement, admiring the fact that the coverage would mean the aerials they would certainly need would be hidden. But it struck her as sad that what once must have been a charming retreat from the world was so marred by the needs of the war, but there was no doubt it would be a great location for their operation. She wondered how the Chess Club had learned of its existence, seeing as even the army personnel based at the house had been unaware.

Looking up, she could imagine that when it was first built: the arched windows, gracefully curving at the top, would have allowed light to pour into the interior while framing beautiful views of the gardens outside. But these days the strips of bodge tape across the glass marred their elegance, and ivy that must have once draped the exterior had now become a little overgrown. This, combined with the camouflage paint daubed crudely over the beautiful architectural detail so beloved in the regency period, meant the folly blended seamlessly into the natural setting, but the harsh reminders of the war rendered it a shadow of its former glory.

The sound of wheels on the gravel path on the other side of the building disturbed Charlotte’s thoughts, and she looked down the road to see Arthur and Declan descending from the cab of the truck, driven by a young corporal who she did not recognise.

“Tally ho!” called Arthur, and the women hurried over to them. “Well, this is a fine spot for us!”

Declan grinned, “We’ll be tucked away, right enough,” he said in his soft burr.

Lieutenant Colbourne came out of the door to stand on the highest step, shrugging on his jacket. “Welcome to the Folly.” His voice was serious, but his eyes were warm. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

“How would you like us to proceed, sir?” Charlotte asked, quietly, moving up the steps to where he was standing.

“The first thing we need to do is find a safe spot to set the generator. We’ll run cables through the window slits, if we can.” Colbourne gestured to the driver of the truck. “Back up as close as you can get, Corporal, then we’ll unload it into the back room so the noise disturbs us less.”

At the sounds of the engine restarting and tyres turning, he turned to Charlotte, and Mary and Aggie who had joined her. “Before we unload the rest of the equipment, could you three come in with me and decide how the furniture needs to be arranged to make the best use of the space.”

Charlotte gave him a smile, nodding, “Of course, sir!” and followed him through the door which stood ajar.

As they entered, the circular interior was a little chilly, with a musty smell that made it feel damp. The plaster on the walls was crumbling in places, and hazy beams of light filtering through the ivy-strewn windows. The women looked around the space, their eyes adjusting after the bright sunshine outside, beginning to imagine how it would work best for the equipment and working areas.

“So we need to mark out some space for the notes and logs.” Lieutenant Colbourne looked at them, and Charlotte realised she was surprised he wasn’t just indicating his plan and getting them to move the furniture. Although he’d asked for their thoughts, in her experience the senior men in this war always took charge.

Mary indicated a spot where a small table was pushed against a wall, “They’ll need to be in a dry corner,” she said. “Ha! Well, no corners in a circular room, but you know what I mean.” She laughed lightly. “And somewhere to pin the map. How about there?”

With a faint smile, Colbourne agreed, “Good thinking, we’ll put the charts there. I’ll see if we can get an extra lamp in, too, as it’s a bit dark, in that corner.”

Aggie chuckled but seemed to catch herself, and coughed.

Charlotte gestured to a larger table that was pushed towards the other side of the room. “Do we need a larger work surface so we can lay everything out?”

“Actually, that’s a good idea,” Colbourne said, and as they moved towards it to begin dragging it across the room, their hands, which were down by their sides, brushed against each other’s as both headed for the same end of the rectangular table. Feeling an unexpected jolt where their skin had touched, Charlotte drew back, a little flustered, and felt his eyes on her as he said quietly, “My apologies, after you.”

Annoyed with herself for blushing, once she’d picked up her end of the table she chanced a look up at his face and caught his eye, and he gave her a small, closed mouthed smile, and she was relieved to feel herself more at ease again.

Pretty soon they had moved all the furniture around, so that the edges of the room were ready for the radio and other pieces of equipment, and the centre housed a round table for them to sit at for briefings. Aggie and Charlotte were dragging a pile of chairs in from the back room when they heard loud wheezing and turned to see Arthur coming through the door, hand on his chest and looking pale.

Colbourne gestured for a chair by the centre table and Arthur dropped into it, fumbling in his jacket pocket. “Are you alright?” he said, frowning, as Arthur waved one hand in the air and finally produced an atomiser, wrapped in his hankie – the glass cylinder about the size of a fountain pen, attached to a red rubber bulb at one end.

Charlotte watched the amber liquid inside glint in the morning light, as Arthur pulled off the cloth and unscrewed the metal cap, his chest heaved with the effort of pulling in enough air. He positioned the atomizer at his open mouth, and with his index and middle fingers, he squeezed the rubber bulb—once, twice, three times in quick succession. He breathed out shakily for a moment then repeated the process.

While Arthur continued to massage his chest, Mary moved to rest a hand on his shoulder, and Colbourne glanced up from watching the young man’s face to meet Charlotte’s eye. “I’ll just go and see if the others need any help, but come and get me if Arthur needs anything.”

She nodded, turning back to see Arthur let out his breath slowly through pursed lips and lower the atomiser back to his lap, giving a slight nod to the anxious faces around him.

“That’s better,” he said, wheezing. “Asthma.”

Seeing Aggie’s anxious face, Charlotte said quickly, “Aggie, I think I saw a flask on the side in the back room, can you fetch Arthur a little water, please?” The young woman fairly fled the room and Charlotte exchanged an amused look with Mary before they turned their attention back to Arthur, who’s breath was sounding far less laboured now.

“Are you alright?” Mary asked him, and he nodded, his hand still on his chest.

“I didn’t know,” Charlotte said quietly, thinking of times they’d worked together before.

“I didn’t have… much equipment… to lug about… at Bletchley,” he said slowly, with a bashful grin, and took another calming breath.

“That’s what set it off?” Mary asked, and, as Arthur nodded, she went on, “However did you pass basic training?”

“I didn’t!” He wheezed cheerfully, “but the Chess Club… are more interested… in how I am here…” he patted his head, “…than here!” His hand returned to his chest, rubbing it.

As Aggie came back through with a mug of water, Charlotte turned and headed to the door, saying, “As you’re alright, I’ll just go check if the others need any help…”

Arthur said brightly, although he still looked pale, “Please do! And... send them… my apologies.”

She heard Mary say, “Nonsense, Arthur, you couldn’t help it…” as she set off around the outside to find the driver, Declan and Lieutenant Colbourne carefully carrying the heavy machine through the door into the rear room, all of them straining a little with the effort.

Her eyes drawn to Colbourne’s rolled up sleeves and his firm biceps as they manoeuvred, she heard him say firmly, “Bend your knees, lads, not your backs!” as they lowered it to the ground. The fabric of his trousers strained against his thighs and Charlotte gave herself a slight shake for paying too much attention.

They stood, all breathing a little heavily, and Declan said quietly, “Thank you, sir.”

Colbourne acknowledged it with a small nod of his head and said, “Once you’ve got your breath back, you alright to get her connected up?”

“Of course, the cables are back in the van…” Declan headed past him and he turned, spotting Charlotte, and he moved towards her.

“Is Arthur alright?”

“He seems to be recovering. Is everything alright with the generator…?” Their work would be thwarted without it, and it would take weeks for another to arrive if there’s been any damage.

“The Lieutenant arrived just in time,” Declan said cheerfully, as he headed back up the steps from the van, “Billy and I were just about managing, but I’m not sure for how much longer…”

“All’s well that ends well,” Colbourne said quietly, looking away over her shoulder before catching her eye again, and Charlotte smiled up at him. He’s unexpectedly modest, she thought, again surprised.

“Well done, sir,” she said softly, and he held her gaze for a moment before he turned away.

“Let’s see about getting the rest of the equipment unloaded now.”

––

A few hours later Xander surveyed the room, which had been transformed by his team. Declan had efficiently laid the cables around the room, and the hum of the generator reassured him that they’d have all the equipment ready for use by the end of the day. Indeed, Aggie already had her headset on and was scanning frequencies, with Arthur leaning behind the radio adjusting dials at her reports of what she was hearing. It would be fine-tuned in no time, and he hadn’t even had to ask them to do it.

Mary and Charlotte were conferring quietly now they had fixed the map to the wall – the pins had often fallen out of the soft plaster, leading to a great deal of laughter and improvising. When Charlotte had hitched her skirt up a little to climb on the chair and reach higher, he’d averted his eyes, berating himself for paying her inappropriate attention, and headed out to confer with Declan, who had been attaching the aerial to the side of the building.

“Are you sure the signal will be strong enough, sir?” He’d asked as he climbed down the last few rings of the ladder. “The trees provide excellent camouflage from anyone flying over, but might interfere with the transmission…”

“I think we’ll be fine. When McKenna came out here with Major Stone to assess the site with me, he was pretty confident.” Xander looked up into the canopy, “But if we have any trouble, we’ll call him back down here.”

“As you say, sir.” Declan had said, and Xander felt another surge of confidence in the people he’d selected, people who were clearly good at what they did and who were taking the initiative whilst respecting his authority. He already felt a great deal of satisfaction in the prospect of his own listening station to command – he, too, was good at his job, and knew they’d be making a difference with this new operation for the Admiralty. The weirdness of being stationed at Heyrick without the others these last few weeks would soon be behind him: now they could get stuck in. He tilted his head to one side then the other to release the tension he’d noticed in his neck, catching Mary’s eye as she happened to look over at him.

He called the team to attention. “Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s adjourn for lunch, otherwise all that will be left for us will be the driest of sandwiches.”

They spilled out down the steps and onto the path, chatting and laughing, and he hung back to lock the door, satisfied with a good first morning’s work. He caught them up with a few long strides, checking in on Arthur after his asthma attack earlier in the morning, and then dropped back slightly to observe. He’d known of course about his weak chest, and was kicking himself for having forgotten and made the young man strain himself. Hopefully this would be the last lifting he’d ask any of them to do.

Aggie was chatting animatedly about the signal frequencies and their relative strengths to Declan, who listened quietly and made observations every now and then. An intense young man, with family ties to England despite his family’s farm being in Cork, he’d signed up for the Royal Irish Fusiliers but had quickly been redirected to Bletchley once his test scores were known. He caught Xander’s eye over the young woman’s head, and gave him a small wink.

Charlotte and Mary flanked Arthur, who still looked a bit pale, but was his usual cheerful self again. Mary smiled at both her companions, as she walked arm in arm with the young man, her motherly concern evident in the way she was watching his face closely. Her story was known to him, but not his to tell. He was glad that she was still willing to serve her country after what she had lost.

Charlotte laughed suddenly at something Arthur had said, her head flung back and eyes dancing. Her curls bounced around her face, freed from her cap in the midday sunshine, and Xander was struck by how open and free she seemed in that moment, compared with her more guarded expressions which, while warm, never seemed to reveal much of what she was thinking.

They drew near the entrance to the house and she turned back as she held the door open for her companions, taking it from Declan who had entered first. She smiled and gestured him in, his eyes adjusting to the darker interior after the brightness of the day – or that’s what he told himself to explain why he felt the need to blink rapidly. It wasn’t the softness in her expression, aimed fully at him.

––

The dining hall was thinning out, as most of the staff based at the main house had finished their food and were fixing themselves a cup of tea and carrying them back to their tables, so the Folly team made their way to the sideboard where the remaining sandwiches were laid out.

“Oh jolly good, there’s cheese left! After our Lieutenant’s warning, I feared we’d only have spam,” Arthur said as he reached eagerly for a plate, passing them down the line behind him like a genial host at a grand party rather than the decidedly dreary makeshift mess hall in a faded manor house. Charlotte was sure his past probably entailed many more cocktail parties than hers ever had, but she smiled affectionately at him. His background didn’t make him cocksure, unlike Captain Denham, who she saw was languidly making his way over to them from where he had finished his lunch, his long, slow strides giving off that distinct impression that the world should wait for Edward Denham.

“Afternoon ladies!” He made a small bow, in a gesture that was clearly meant to be charming. Charlotte wrinkled her nose at how smarmy she found it. “And gentlemen,” he added in something of a cooler tone of voice. Charlotte watched as Declan glanced up at the newcomer with a neutral expression, offering the barest nod before making his way down the buffet side. Arthur looked a little unsure but smiled warmly, as was his wont, and Mary offered a look of polite disinterest. He stood, looking down at them, and Charlotte watched Aggie blush under his gaze. She cleared her throat, not liking the way the older man was looking at Aggie, caught Colbourne’s eye and almost imperceptibly raised an eyebrow at him. She watched, gratified that he seemed to move a little closer to the young woman as if he had understood something of her meaning.

“Captain Denham,” she said, her voice quiet, with a polite smile but just a little frost in its tone. “I see you’re just on your way out, I hope you won’t mind if we get our food, we’re a little behind you this lunchtime.”

“Ah, off a poor start, Lieutenant, to make your team all late on their first day...” he said, his eyes widening in mock concern, and Charlotte watched as Colbourne’s jaw clenched and his mouth set in a tight line. He looked away over Denham’s shoulder before meeting his gaze, eyes narrowed.

Charlotte stepped in, “We had rather a lot to do, Captain, and so have worked up an appetite.” She nudged Aggie’s arm to get her to move down towards the platters of sandwiches, flustering her to have been caught so intently focused on Denham. “So if you’ll excuse us…” She looked back to see the two men, stood close to each other, their eyes locked and the tension radiating off their lean frames. After a few seconds, Denham dropped his gaze and stepped back a few inches, and Colbourne raised his chin a little higher, before stepping towards the sideboard to collect his lunch.

“I’ll leave you to your refreshments,” he said, his cut-glass accent not displaying any of the obvious irritation he felt. All these aristocratic men, used to being in charge and now having to muck in with the rest of us. What a great leveller this war is!

But not Lieutenant Colbourne, she reflected. He was harder to read, his presence more understated and certainly more guarded. She watched as he selected his food with the same deliberateness which she had seen him do everything today, feeling glad that he had been paying attention to their conversation to pick up on the silent message she had barely realised she was sending him. She had felt odd about the way Denham was looking at Aggie, and he’d picked up on her discomfort with merely a raising of her eyebrow.

Despite the initial embarrassment she’d felt when she’d first seen him at the briefing yesterday – thinking back on the disaster that was her interview those weeks back made a flush rise up her neck – she realised that after just this one morning she was already feeling relieved that, of all the officers whom she’d met so far at Heyrick, he was to be her commander on this operation.

––

Xander took his seat quietly on the table where the others had joined Declan, Arthur munching happily on his food and Mary gently cajoling Aggie to eat up. She leaned her head down to catch Aggie’s eye, who was scowling down, clearly still a little irritable with Charlotte for hurrying her down the food line. Charlotte sighed and shrugged at Mary, who smiled back at her.

He felt a little out of his depth, having such a young and inexperienced woman on the team. But her references had been impeccable, and Bletchley had strongly encouraged him to take her on. Thank God Mary was willing to take on the assignment, too, he already knew he was going to need her experience in offering guidance to the youngster. And Charlotte too, it seemed.

The tension in his neck was back, and he dropped his shoulders in an effort to relax. He shouldn’t let Denham get under his skin, he could tell that he had let his flare of irritation show. He was so used to schooling his features it should be second nature, but somehow seeing the way that man had been looking at Charlotte and Aggie, his protective instincts had kicked in. Colbourne knew that look… and evidently so did Charlotte, who had turned to him and enlisted him as an ally, so naturally it seemed impossible that they had only been working together a day. Especially after the inauspicious start they had made at the interview.

He stifled a silent groan, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the thought of what an idiot he had been that day. He had an idea what had put him on the offensive before he’d even looked up at her that day – it was beyond trying to see the house being treated with such disdain by the army, but it was only as it must be under the Requisition Order. He had tried to quash the rising feeling of failure he felt whenever he thought about what would become of the staff, and the house – after the army had used them carelessly and the toll of the war had worn it down even further – by putting on his gruffness like a mask. And having Parker not only lording it over the estate, but also refusing to keep the setting up of the listening station on a need-to-know basis… He sighed. Just like today, he had failed to hide his irritation, and just like today she had refused to be intimidated by him. Despite being only a little older than Aggie, it was clear Charlotte had more experience and confidence. He wondered what she had been doing prior to this assignment, knowing he could request more details if it wasn’t in her file. Stop it, Xander.

He furtively glanced up at her, and was glad she was engaged in conversation with Declan, eating her sandwich while she listened to his responses. He could study her without her notice, relaxed as she was with the people she had known from Bletchley. Although she was clearly comfortable with them, he felt there was a sadness about her, and wondered, of the many possible ways this wretched war could have wreaked pain on her, which had stolen some of her ease with the world. Suddenly realising he wished to take away her sadness, he sat up straight and pushed the feeling aside. Focus, Xander, for God’s sake.

His movement in his chair drew her eye, and she held his gaze for a few moments, looking a little quizzical. Without meaning to, he felt the corner of his mouth quirk into a small smile, and slowly she returned it, before he dropped his eyes to his plate once more, trying to ignore the way his stomach had flipped.

“Shall we head back over, sir?” Mary said brightly, and he nodded, wondering what, if anything, the older woman had noticed. Her bright eyes told him it was a little more than he had hoped.

“Ready everyone? Let’s get going then.” He stood, pushing his thoughts out of his mind. They had work to do.

Chapter Text

Night Shift

Xander silently cursed, as he looked at the shift schedule he had pinned to the inside of his wardrobe door. He’d relinquished the responsibility for organising the shift patterns to Mary, when the others had said she was excellent at that kind of organisation, and she’d modestly agreed that actually it was something she was happy to take on. He had been glad to have one element of the work taken care of, so he could concentrate on liaising with Bletchley, but tonight – heading onto a night shift alone in the Folly with Charlotte – was going to try his determination that she was simply one of his junior staff and he would not pay her any more attention than Declan, Arthur, Aggie or Mary.

Closing the door or the cupboard with one hand, and in the other holding the tie he’d just grabbed from the rail back of the door beneath the shift schedule, he turned away and began to flip his collar up in order to tie the half-windsor knot. The first fortnight at the listening station had passed in a flurry of adjustments and fixes, so that now they had the room organised efficiently, the equipment running smoothly and the team working well together in their rotating pairs. His fingers worked quickly, his mind elsewhere as he mindlessly completed the task he’d done practically every day since Samuel had taught him all those years ago, to prepare his little brother for boarding school.

His mind roamed to the team, pleased with how they were settling in. Arthur had proved himself definitely worth the risk of taking him on despite his incapacity, and Xander was glad he’d had the sense to listen to Lieutenant Finkley who’d heartily recommended him. He was adept at getting the equipment fine tuned, almost always the quickest to pick up the first trace of even the faintest of signals when he was scanning. Xander frowned as he thought of Aggie’s black mood when she had not been able to pick up the signal and had had to ask for help - he was already aware that her moods were somewhat mercurial and unlikely to be improved by not being able to do something well. He huffed out a sigh – it’s not the girl’s fault that she reminds me of Lucy.

The wooden chair in the corner of his room creaked as he sat down to put on his shoes, and he reflected on the similarities of Aggie and Lucy’s posture, and that raise of the chin when challenged. Same schooling, he thought darkly – although he didn’t know Aggie’s background, he would bet a shilling she was from money. Lucy had always hated to be seen as anything other than entirely competent, even if, in those days, it had just been hosting dinner parties that had taken her time and energy. He wondered briefly what the wife of a Colonel would be doing for the war effort, immediately ashamed of the stab of satisfaction he felt thinking it was surely not the life she’d imagined before the war broke out. Still, I’m sure she feels it’s better than the wife of an impoverished landowner who couldn’t keep the lights on at his estate…

Shaking his head slightly to clear the image of his former fiancee from his mind, he focused on how different Charlotte was to the women he knew who were born to society life. He did not know her story, only what was on her file – she had passed basic training easily, her fitness was already good before she had been drilled for military life, and her test scores had immediately put her in line for assignment at the Chess Club. She had been assigned to Whitehall briefly, but returned to Bletchley after a year and then been assigned to Heyrick. It wasn’t that she wasn’t poised, he reflected, but her movements were more fluid somehow, less clipped, her posture more open. Despite this, he recognised something of the same guardedness in her as he knew of himself – in her facial expressions and when the others were sharing about their lives outside of the war effort. He’d also noticed how she was with Aggie, not putting up with any of her teenage angst and teasing her out of the worst of her moods. I bet she has younger brothers and sisters.

Checking his appearance quickly in the mirror, he ran his hand through his hair briefly and grabbed his jacket from the bed where he’d laid it earlier. A glance towards the window showed him that the early evening sun was peeking in from behind the pulled-back, heavy drapes, so he left it draped over his arm as he headed for the door. The walk to the Folly would be a pleasant one, after he stopped by his study to check for any messages from Bletchley.

––

Charlotte arrived at the old stone building, the evening light dappled through the trees overhead, and smiled as she pulled open the door. Arthur was stretching back in his chair, the wire from his headphones taut, and Mary was standing at the centre table organising the pages of transcripts into some semblance of order.

Coming onto shift after these two was likely to be a calmer affair than when Aggie and Declan had been working together - the Irishman, in his quiet way, had immediately detected he could easily get a rise out of her, and Aggie clearly had no experience trying to ignore the provocation and had been flushed and sarcastic by the end of the shifts they’d done together. Perhaps I should have a word with her, and share some of the secrets I’ve learned from ignoring Alison and David and the others..

Charlotte once again thanked her lucky stars that she had been billeted with Georgiana and not Aggie – it would have been rotten luck to go back to sharing with someone who was like another annoying younger sister. It had been bad enough in the dormitory at Bletchley, but sharing a room with just one other person here at Heyrick meant that, although there was a modicum more privacy generally, they were hard to escape from. She also thought that as Aggie’s room mate, Mary could offer her some much needed mothering and guidance – a role she is infinitely better suited to than I am!

“Evening, you two! How’s it been?” Charlotte called out, taking off her cap ready to hang it with her bag on the hooks in the rear room.

“Actually pretty quiet,” Mary said, looking up, “which is good for you, because it means I’ve had time to type everything up from yesterday and get things organised. So you and Lieutenant Colbourne can get started on them straight away.”

As if she’d summoned him with his name, Colbourne came through the door with a manilla file under his arm, his other hand rubbing his stubble as his eyes took in the room. Charlotte thought he looked a little on edge and wondered what was making him uneasy, smiling at him gently as his gaze fell on her. His lips quirked into a tight smile and he gave her a small nod, before his face fell again as he looked away over her shoulder. He turned to put the file on the table and look at the papers Mary had laid out, and the two women exchanged glances, silently wondering at his mood.

“Evening, sir,” Mary said softly, watching him as he glanced up and acknowledged her with a tilt of his head, but he was cut off from replying by Arthur’s tired groan, who put his headset down on the desk and rubbed above his ear where the band had been.

“I’ll leave it set up with the speaker on, so you can hear if there’s any chatter, dearie,” he said, and yawned loudly. “There’s not been anything for a while so I do think you’ll be able to spend the time looking at the transcripts tonight. Oh, hello sir, I hadn’t heard you come in.”

“Evening everyone,” Colbourne said, turning to lean on the table and face them all, “shall we get started? You look like you could both do with getting off for your dinner.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir, I am fresh as a daisy,” Mary said, smiling widely. “Arthur on the other hand…”

Arthur gave her a withering look, but then grinned and rubbed his face vigorously. “You have me bang to rights, sir, I am, indeed, in desperate need of some refreshment.” He moved his chair round and sat down heavily at the table, while Mary leaned over to pick up a couple of piles of papers.

“So, these are your transcripts from today,” Mary waved the first pile in her hand, and then at the second with her other hand, “and these are from yesterday. A few references to supply convoys but it’s hard to say if it’s meaningful.” The low rumble of a passing truck outside made her pause and glance at the shuttered window. “Aggie was convinced that what they picked up yesterday might link up with that coded phrase from earlier in the week.”

“Aggie is always convinced that her transmissions are vital,” Arthur said, with a wink, before starting to yawn again and covering it with his hand.

Charlotte grinned, holding out her hand to take the papers from Mary. “I took a look yesterday and couldn’t see a link, but I’ll give it another go.”

“Thank you for getting everything so organised, Mary, it does make it so much easier.” Colbourne nodded at her before returning his eyes to the rest of the papers, “And the rest…?”

“Ah yes, well, as I went through and tidied up…” she and Charlotte exchanged another look, they’d already had words with Aggie for leaving the desk in disarray after her first couple of shifts, “...I found a number of pages that hadn’t been bundled with other intercepts, presumably because they didn’t fit the pattern we’d picked up on the first few days. So I wondered if we should review them together, in case they are deliberately being sent more spaced out, to draw less attention to them.” She shrugged, “Just a thought.”

Colbourne narrowed his eyes, “It’s a good thought, we’ll take a look.” He met Charlotte’s eye and nodded to her again before turning to Arthur, saying, “You’re off tomorrow, yes? Get some rest, I know you’ve been working hard.”

“Copy that, sir,” Arthur said, rising from the chair and blinking tiredly.

As Arthur and Mary gathered their things to return to the house, Colbourne disappeared through the rear door and Charlotte began leafing through the transcripts. She was glad that the Lieutenant seemed to already have relaxed a little slightly since he arrived, but she felt a pressure on her chest at the thought of spending the shift with him if he was going to keep himself distant from her.

What the hell is wrong with you, Charlotte? You have never lost the plot over some man. Just because you’re experiencing some chemistry with someone for the first time since… well. You’d better pull yourself together…

She dragged the piles of transcripts towards her and quickly flipped to the assorted, odd ones that Mary had organised, which had not fit any patterns earlier in the week. Scanning down the first page, she didn’t look up as Colbourne reentered the room, her attention caught by a letter grouping she didn’t remember seeing before. Turning the page it caught her eye again, and again on the next page. She absentmindedly slipped into the chair, the side of her lip caught between her teeth as she continued scanning, and reached for a pencil without taking her eyes off the pages. Stopping only to get to a new leaf on her reporter’s notebook, she quickly made notes on what she was finding.

—

Hanging his jacket on the hooks in the back room, Xander scrubbed his face with his hand. He’d seen the look Charlotte and Mary had exchanged at his distant demeanour, and he needed to – no, wanted to – do better. Where was his vaunted self-control around her? This was not the time to be so distracted. Their work was important and he was doing her a disservice by not creating a comfortable environment for her to work.

Returning to the main room, he watched as she slid into her seat, completely absorbed in the transcripts she was reading. He could tell she was excited about something, there was an energy radiating from her body, the stillness of her posture almost vibrated despite the only movement being the scratching of her pencil. Then, in a quick, confident movement she leant across the table to reach for the manilla file containing the latest update from the Admiralty, urgently flicking through until she exhaled a rush of breath and returned to scribbling furiously again.

He let her continue for a few minutes more, despite a burning curiosity to know what she was thinking. Moving over to stand beside her, he resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at her notes, and instead leafed through today’s transcripts, noting with interest the repeat of the motif they’d sent over to Bletchley the day before. Reaching for a pen, he was suddenly aware of how near her body was. He stepped aside as discreetly as he could, risking a glance at her and exhaling silently that she did not seem to have noticed.

“Sir…?” Her voice, coming out of the blue, made him start slightly – What is wrong with you? You are as edgy as a cat, for god’s sake! – and he turned to see her upturned face and bright eyes. “I think I’ve got something!”

“Okay,” he was mortified that his voice was a little strangled, and he cleared his throat, “talk me through it.” He leant in towards her, picking up the scent of lemon coming from her skin, and took in her notes, which were a series of neat, double-digit numbers.

“Look, here…” She tapped the page, briskly. “You see this sequence of letters? *U-M-D-O-3… it reappears in three separate messages, days apart, from the transcripts left over from the first week we were here – each time adjacent to what seems to be a grid reference.”

Xander’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the pages she was pointing at. “‘UMDO3’? I don’t remember that being in the list of ciphers Bletchley flagged.” He glanced at her, briefly, as she tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear and looked up at him, her gaze clear. “But I’m guessing you’ve found a pattern?”

She grinned at him, clearly having enjoyed the puzzle and eager to share it with him, which made him smile too, as she pointed at the fourth line with her pencil. “I think so. In the other references from this week, it is sometimes labeled as ‘…UMD… O37...’ Sometimes it’s truncated to ‘UMD...’ Others are somewhere in the middle. Each instance is followed by a date and a two-digit number. If we lay them out…”

She grabbed her notebook, drawing a circle around the numbers she had written, grouping the fragments. “Look at these pairs: 12, 14, 27… I checked the Admiralty’s record of the known whereabouts of U-Boats in that first week, and the first three of these numbers correlates with the next day’s intercepted coordinates.”

“So, those pairs might represent targets or routes for a given date?”

“That’s my suspicion, yes.”

Xander rubbed the stubble on his chin, remembering the latest dispatch that he’d brought over with him from his study, and reaching into his folio case to pass it to Charlotte. “Bletchley say they’ve flagged some unusual sequences pointing to supply routes in the Atlantic.” He perched on the desk, facing her as she read the update quickly. “If we assume ‘UMDO3’ is a code marker for those routes, then these pairs—12, 14, 27—could be referencing times or specific U-boat channels…”

“That was my thought too.” She slid the papers toward him, excitement clear in the way she moved –deliberate and confident. “Every mention of ‘UMDO3’ is followed by a day and location reference. Perhaps it’s a signal about repositioning submarines at certain coordinates on specific dates.”

“If we cross reference the Bletchley coordinates with what we’ve got here…” He felt an excitement begin to stir in his chest. We might actually have something here!

“...Then we might have something big that we can send up to the Admiralty!” She finished for him, beaming.

––

“We can get this done more quickly if we work together to plot the coordinates on the map,” Colbourne said, and Charlotte felt the tightness in her chest ease, realising how glad she was that he was wanting to work with her rather than setting her the task and withdrawing. Whatever had caused the tension in him earlier was clearly passing, and she could tell he was beginning to share her excitement at this discovery, as he leaned over her notes once more.

It was always so gratifying to spot a pattern and puzzle it out with others whose minds worked in the same way. Since starting at Heyrick she had felt the weight of this posting, feeling that it was her big opportunity to do something important for the war effort, confident that her skills were the perfect complement to what the team needed. She had never felt alone since joining the Y Service, whereas in her earlier life her dogged curiosity had not only marked her as odd, but had also largely been dismissed as not something a young lady ought to indulge in. Even her father, who had happily encouraged her love of mathematics and taught her to play chess, was bemused by the way her mind worked. Her work at Bletchley had stretched her for the first time in her life, and she felt as if she had come alive since finding herself valued for the independent thought and unique way of seeing the world. He sees that, she thought suddenly, which made her inordinately pleased in a way she did not have time to think about now. Focus, woman!

As she gathered the papers they needed from the central table to decamp to where the map was pinned on the wall, she found herself bouncing on her toes. The lieutenant picked up her notebook and pencil, moving across the room to sit down in the chair. Immediately leaning in and resting his elbow on the table in front of the map, he angled his body to where she had come to stand next to him and was gathering drawing pins from the pot on the desk, ready to add small slips of paper to the various coordinates marked on the map. His thighs were spread and as she leaned forward, her leg brushed his and she felt a rush of electricity bolt upwards from the point their bodies had made contact. She froze, momentarily, not daring to look at him, nor to wonder whether he had noticed their contact the way she had.

Realising that her stillness was probably drawing attention to how flustered she was, she made a conscious effort to reach for her pencil which was by his arm on the desk. For heaven’s sake, Charlotte, you are not a giddy school girl. She internally rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness and braced her shoulders. “Ready when you are, sir.”

“Let’s plot the Admiralty’s known sightings of the U-boats last week first,” he said, a curl falling over his forehead as he looked down and traced his finger down the page of her notebook. Her eyes lingered on his hand and she realised with a jolt that she was imagining his finger caressing her… Charlotte gave herself another internal shake.

He proceeded to read aloud the coordinates, Charlotte writing them quickly on the slips and pinning them up. As they worked, the pattern appeared before their eyes, as she had predicted, and they exchanged smiles at the notion that they were probably on to something big – she realised she had never seen this smile on him before: wide and full, crinkling his eyes, his head tilted as he looked up at her. Her stomach flipped and she had to forcibly resist the urge to let her hand fall to her midriff.

Just as they were mapping the coordinates from the latest transcripts, the crumbling plaster behind the map on the wall gave way and the pin she had just placed fell out, tumbling onto the desk and showering her notebook with dust.

“Oh!” She was immediately embarrassed at her exclamation, covering her mouth, and he huffed a laugh, eyes again crinkled as he passed her the pin.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” he said quietly, still smiling, and their fingers brushed. This time Charlotte was sure he had felt the shock of it, as his eyes widened, but for only a moment before he schooled his features, but their eyes remained locked for a few moments more.

She fumbled the pin, dropping it onto the desk and grabbing at it quickly, her cheeks flaming. “Oh, I’m sorry, my butterfingers!” she murmured, the blush intensifying on her cheeks at the childish phrase which had popped out before she knew what she was saying.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “we’re nearly done, so let’s take a break after these last two, shall we?”

She nodded gratefully, avoiding his eye as she stood on her tiptoes to be able to push the pin in with more force this time, thankful it gained the purchase it needed. She turned her head away and puffed out her cheeks to calm her breathing, resisting the urge to put her hands to her flaming cheeks.

–

They stepped out through the main door into the greyness of the early morning light, onto the wide top step of the folly that circled the old stone structure and gave a viewing point over the bluffs, the sea distant beyond them, and the woodland that flanked it. The night air was chilled after the close proximity of their bodies by the map, and Xander felt the turmoil in his stomach, but refused to acknowledge it, only thinking how glad he was that he did not blush the way Char.. Heywood clearly did. This won’t do, Xander. Get a grip on yourself, man.

They’d agreed that they’d smoke first and have a cup of tea afterwards, in their only break of the night, and he’d used the time that she’d disappeared into the back room in search of her cigarettes to scrub his face furiously with both hands – disturbing his hair again no doubt – but needing to bring his thoughts back from where his senses had taken him. Her small smile as she came back in, gesturing with the packet and heading for the door, had soothed him slightly. She didn’t seem uncomfortable with him, at least. Which is lucky, he berated himself.

Just to the right of the door there was a weathered stone bench, a remnant of the structure’s more romantic past, and a place where many must have sat to contemplate the view. He gestured to it, but she shook her head.

“I’d rather stand, thanks,” she said quietly, looking down to take out a cigarette. He leaned in to offer her his lighter, sparking the flame and holding it steady for her as she lit up, trying not to look at her lips as she did so and failing miserably.

Exhaling smoke in a long stream, Charlotte fell back gently to lean against the wall, her arms loosely crossed. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if relishing the silence, as Xander lit his own cigarette. He propped one foot up against the bench and loosened his collar to let in a trace of the cool morning air, glad he’d put on his jacket against the chill but feeling the need for more air around his neck.

“Hopefully I’ll get a little more sleep today than yesterday…” she said, glancing over to him as she took another drag. “The first night is always the worst, right?”

“Yes, that feeling of your brain being tired out, but your body insisting it’s time to be awake. I really hate that feeling.” He watched her rub her forehead with her ring and little finger, keeping her cigarette away from her head. “I fully expect it when I lie down later on.”

“Well, I’ll be thinking of you as I hopefully drop off,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall and looking up to the canopy of trees, and he looked down, feeling his stomach contract at the image her words had conjured in his mind. When he glanced back at her, he saw that the blush on her cheeks, which had been receding in the cool air, had returned and she was holding herself very still, clearly realising what she’d said. He felt the corner of his mouth quirk but stopped himself smiling by taking another drag.

“Are you settling in well?” he said, changing the subject to steer them to safer ground. “You’re billeted with Miss Lambe, is that right?”

“Yes, she’s a great roommate!” She turned her head to grin at him, “No snoring, which makes a change from the dorm at Bletchley.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, he laughed quietly.

“Well, I only hope Miss Lambe would report the same thing,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at her and smiling at the outraged expression on her face.

“Of course she would, I do not snore.” She crossed her arms again, huffing defensively.

He turned his head away to exhale a stream of smoke, and winked at her as he turned back, “We’ll have to ask for verification, I think.” Are you flirting, Xander? What is wrong with you! “As you very well know, we SigInt’s need to double check our sources. Can’t be too careful.”

She laughed, shaking her head, “I suppose you’re right, sir.”

He didn’t miss the sarcastic tone and raised both his eyebrows in mock indignation. “Is that insubordination I hear, Heywood?”

She blushed and laughed again, “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Hmm, well, I’ll have to reserve judgement on that,” he said, grinning back at her.

Their eyes held for a moment too long, and Xander felt his brain freeze as he battled the knowledge that he ought to look away. Eventually, after what he knew was too long, he took the last drag on his cigarette and dropped it to the ground, exhaling downwards as he ground his foot over it on the stone floor. “I’m done, I’ll go make us the tea.” He glanced at her again, and she nodded.

“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, gesturing with the remains of her cigarette, “I’ll just finish up out here and join you in a minute.”

As he made his way into the main room once more, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the lamps around the room, he shook his head. She’s remarkable, he thought, the speed with which she picked up that pattern and worked out what it meant. He remembered the adorable crinkle between her eyes that he’d noticed always preceded her blush, in the second after she realised that she’s spoken without thinking…

You have to rein this in, Xander, this is a dangerous game. He felt the scowl replace his relaxed smile, and closed his eyes. He wished more than anything that he could let himself have this. But the work was important, he wouldn’t let anything compromise that.

––

They walked quietly back to the house, both lost in thought after handing over to Mary and Aggie. The remainder of the shift had passed quickly, as the radio had squawked back into action not long after their break, meaning Charlotte had spent the rest of the night taking down what she was hearing.

She had glanced across the room at the Lieutenant, in between signals, watching him taking notes on the other bundles of transcripts. He was confusing her a little, his lightness during their cigarette break had been replaced with careful reserve. The tight smile was back, although she had detected genuine admiration for her in his voice as he told Mary about what the pattern she had found. She was annoyed with herself for the heat that rose to her cheeks at that. What is wrong with me, I’m not a blush-er!

She peeked up at him as he walked beside her, his jacket slung over his shoulder and their notes from the evening in the manilla file under his arm. There was no denying it, she found him incredibly attractive.

He was not as traditionally handsome as Sidney had been, but with Colbourne it was more about the energy he gave off, his restrained physicality, his intelligence, his confidence. The depth of his eyes. Walking beside him in the soft morning breeze, she realised she could not have stopped herself watching his body move under his uniform if she tried, and being near him and smelling the scent of bergamot on his skin sent a warmth to her core. She turned her head away, determined to change the directions of her thought. He’s my commanding officer! I cannot hope to stay on here and do the work I’m supposed to do – the work I know I’m good at – if I let myself get distracted.

Pulling her from her thoughts as they arrived at the front door, he said, softly, “You really did good work tonight, Heywood.” His eyes held hers, and she could see admiration in them. Then he gestured with the folder, “I’m going to get this sent off to Bletchley straight away.”

“Thank you sir,” she said, her smile wide at his praise. “I.. uh… enjoyed working with you. On it,” she finished awkwardly.

Still holding her gaze, he tilted his head, his lips pressed together for a moment before he spoke. “I enjoyed working with you too.”

Then he turned away and headed through the door, moving quickly into the dimness of the house.

Charlotte let out a long breath and leaned against the wall beside the door. Perhaps a cigarette would clear her head before she headed inside…

––

Xander stood under the stream of hot water, aware that the time before the shower would run cool was short. The only advantage of working nights was that there was no wait for the bathroom and no one queuing in the corridor outside waiting for him to be finished, so he rolled his shoulders under the warm water and scrubbed his face with both hands.

Images of Charlotte floated into his mind, the shape of her backside as she bent over the desk the write on the slips of paper, the way he had been able to see her breasts silhouetted when she reached to push in the pins into the map, the light from the lamp behind her showing him every curve. He closed his eyes, suppressing a groan that he knew he should not be thinking of her in this way.

He also knew that the chemistry he had felt when their skin connected was very real, and he felt sure she had experienced it too. The way she had stilled after brushing against him, the flash of her eyes as their fingers touched. His cock twitched at the memory, the warm water running over him doing nothing to cool his ardour.

The tension in him coiled in the base of his stomach, the temptation dragging at him to give in to imagining her soft body pressed against him, running his thumb over the lip she nibbled when she was concentrating, stroking the beautiful breasts he had seen through her shirt when the light was behind her, her leaning over him the way she had stretch across the desk to press the pins…

It was no good, he could not hold himself back. He took himself in hand under the running water, the memory of her calves as she’d climbed onto the chair on the first day sending his imagination spiralling into stockings, garters and the soft flesh of inner thighs. The tension tightened as he stroked faster, giving himself over to the thought of her here with him, her hand, her…

He stood panting after his climax, the water beginning to cool now. That’s your penance, then, Xander – to have to wash in cold water after indulging yourself. He knew he ought to feel terrible – she’s your junior officer for god's sake! – but the feeling just didn’t arrive. As he soaped his body and hair, a languid tiredness came over him. Perhaps I will sleep after all…

Chapter Text

A Day Off

Charlotte sat at the desk which doubled as a dressing table, in the bedroom she shared with Georgiana, the tarnished mirror propped up against the wall where they’d taken it down from the wall, its heavy metal frame making it a two-woman job. Neither of them were exactly tall, and the hook for it to hang on had clearly been placed by a man. Yet another thing that reminded them they were the outsiders in this requisitioned house. She leaned in to apply her mascara: she was running out and it was an extravagance to use it when she wasn’t going to the dance hall, or even the pub, but it was her day off and she just wanted something to help her distinguish the day from the run of exhausting hours that she had spent in the Folly over the past few of weeks.

It was such a joy to get the chance to continue working with Mary, Arthur and Declan, and even if Aggie displayed some teenage petulance every now and then, it was good to have the youngster on the team. She felt that Lieutenant Colbourne had been as frustrated as the rest of them – along with, she was sure, their superiors at Bletchley – with the fanfare that accompanied their arrival, as the need for discretion seemed to be completely lost on Major Parker. Their commanding officer could clearly not be circumspect if his life depended on it. Sighing, she inhaled the scent of old wood, mixed with Georgie’s rose soap, and the tang of kerosene from the oil lamp.

Unscrewing the jar of beetroot juice that Georgie had filched from a sympathetic Mr Richardson in the downstairs kitchen, she dabbed it on her cheeks as a substitute for blusher. Although she knew Mary well from their shared accommodation in the prefab hut in Bletchley’s grounds, she was glad to be sharing with the American, who was fast becoming a close friend as well as roommate. Georgie was always ready to laugh at the absurdities of life, which was just as well as life at Heyrick provided a lot of material.

She snorted quietly to herself as she remembered Georgie’s eye-rolling tales of meetings with Major Parker. She was responsible for relaying the concerns and requests from her superior at the US Naval Base further down the coast, whilst Captain Denham provided the Major with the up-to-date information which he should really have had at his fingertips, but would never be able to to lay his hands on on his overcrowded and chaotic desk. It would have been laughable if it didn’t cause a sense of unease to everyone; when you’re supposed to be ‘keeping calm and carrying on’, useless leadership doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. There was enough to be frightened about without adding that to the anxiety. Plus it was not exactly encouraging that Captain Denham was the man seemingly keeping the show on the road. She still felt wary of him, despite the tension between him and Colbourne seeming to have abated now his team was more settled.

She felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought of the Lieutenant. There was no denying they had chemistry, which she desperately hoped wasn’t obvious to everyone else despite the jolt of electricity she felt if they ever made contact, and the tension buzzing in the air between them if she even stood near him. Mary was wont to give her assessing looks, and Charlotte always avoided her eye at those times.

She thought about his quiet, understated intensity – his stillness while he was assessing what needed to be done or listening to the team, the depth of his gaze if it rested on her. Although he seemed guarded, hands often deep in his pockets as if he was holding himself back, the team caught glimpses of his dry sense of humour. When his lips quirked into a smile, which didn’t happen often, Charlotte felt a warmth that they were somehow sharing the joke. It was not as if he was lacking in arrogance – he was a man after all – but she saw he was thoughtful and deeply self-contained.

it was a little confusing to be so attracted to him, he was so different from Sidney. And not a little inconvenient, seeing as she wanted to do well with this assignment, and falling for the boss was definitely a complication. Well, whatever this is, there’s nothing to be done about it…

Gathering up the letters she’d written to her family to take to the post room on her way out, she inhaled sharply as she knocked over Georgiana’s precious “L’Aimant” perfume, grabbing the little bottle up quickly, relieved none had spilled. She then dug out her lipstick from her handbag and applied it quickly before dropping it back in her bag and glancing out the window to check whether she would need her rain mac. She smiled to see the warm sunshine, even if it was currently only barely seeping through the greying nets and heavy blackout curtains, which gave the room a dark, enclosed feeling even during the day. At last, today she would have some time to enjoy the sun on her face, for longer than the walk through the grounds from the main house to the Folly on the furthest edge of the estate. She always enjoyed the walk to her shifts, especially the sections of the track that took her through mature trees, but today she’d get the change of scenery she was craving.

Charlotte paused at the top of the wide wooden stairs, observing the bustle in the hallway below. The activity level had increased massively since the quiet of that day she’d first come for her interview, now the local factories and workshops, which had become war suppliers, were delivering to Heyrick Park for everything to be sorted centrally before distribution. The high-ceilinged rooms off the grand entrance hall had become storerooms, piled high with boxes of assorted sizes, men and women in their army uniforms and standard issued clipboards taking inventories and checking quality.

Charlotte spotted Georgie, who waved at her from the other side of the hall as she headed down the stairs. Turning back briefly to finish her conversation with the woman standing beside her taking notes, she then mimed drinking a cup of tea, but Charlotte laughed and shook her head, indicating the front door. Georgie then held up her hand – wait! – and Charlotte relished the feeling of having someone here with whom she could communicate so effortlessly, already, again glad that the American had made her feel so welcome.

They met at the bottom of the stairs and Georgie rolled her eyes, “God it’s a madhouse in here today, with the Major insisting there’s some discrepancy in the records of what’s been sent out and Denham attempting to smooth things over. So we’re having to go back through the stock to check, and with all the new stuff arriving… I need a cigarette!”

“I’m just off to town but I’ll smoke with you before I head off if you like,” Charlotte said, starting to rummage in her handbag, but Georgie cut her off.

“If you can hang on fifteen minutes I can drive you in, I’ve got to chat to some of the shopkeepers about their delivery schedules.”

“Sure, I’ll wait for you outside though, I’m sick of being indoors and need the fresh air!”

––

Xander sat at the desk in his study, elbow on the table and head supported on his right hand as he wrote the briefing for HQ. In such a small operation he couldn’t afford a secretary, and he didn’t trust any of Parker’s men to be discreet enough. So he was always careful to ensure his left-handed scrawl was legible.

Mrs Wheatley had just brought him a cup of tea and a biscuit, which he’d acknowledged with a smile of thanks, and he turned to pick up the mug to take a sip when he heard voices in the corridor just outside the door.

“My my, Lieutenant Colbourne does get very personal service, doesn’t he, Mrs W?” Knowing Denham’s snide tone of voice would leave the housekeeper scowling, Xander rolled his eyes before schooling his features, as the captain was undoubtedly heading his way to snoop around.

Barely bothering to graze the door with his knuckle, Denham came into the office, looking around with undisguised curiosity. Xander looked up briefly to meet his eye, before returning to his report-writing.

"Quite the setup you’ve got here, Colbourne, a private office and all," Denham remarked, after the moments of silence had begun to stretch and it was obvious Xander wasn’t going to start the conversation. His voice was smooth and condescending, and Xander looked up to see him adjusting the cuff of his immaculate uniform. He looked pointedly at the jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and Xander’s rolled up sleeves.

“It’s enough for me,” Xander said, with a slight shrug.

“You don’t seem bothered to be relegated to the wilds of Sussex…” Denham made no secret of inspecting his face closely.

“Whereas you…?” Xander left his question dangling, feigning disinterest while he picked up the pages he was working on, to read back what he’d just written.

“Oh, I go wherever I’m sent, Colbourne. It’s an honour to serve,” Xander glanced over and caught the slight grimace before Denham hid it behind a tight smile, “like my father before me.”

“The Great War?” Xander held his gaze. “We owe him a debt. Where was he based?”

“He served with Lord Northcliffe at the War Office.”

Xander bit his cheek to prevent himself scoffing, and cleared his throat. So, comfortable ensconced in Whitehall, then, feeding propaganda to the Daily Mail. How admirable. He tried and failed to resist the temptation to needle his fellow officer. “You must have hoped for a similar assignment then?”

Denham’s face was impassive. “I wouldn’t dream of presuming. And besides…” he tugged again at his cuffs, and then studied his finger nails, “there is something to be said about being integral to a small operation.”

“Big fish in a small pond, eh?” Xander barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the man sitting across from him, if there was anything he detested it was false modesty and Denham was as insincere as they come.

“Something like that, yes.” Denham took a seat uninvited in the only armchair in the room, legs crossed at the knee, one polished boot bouncing faintly in a rhythm that was clearly designed to suggest he had better things to be doing with his time. "The Major was keen to know if everyone’s…settling in. New teams can be tricky, after all.” His mouth curved into a practiced smile, though his eyes were a shade too shrewd to match it.

Xander suppressed a sigh, wishing his superior officer had allowed the establishment of the new team to have been accomplished with fewer people aware of their purpose at Heyrick Park. Many of his fellow Y-service officers had been able to establish their listening stations completely under the radar, with even those working at the same property having no idea SigInt were now also based there. But he supposed it was unrealistic to have that be the case here, given that the only property on the estate that could have housed that additional staff was too small and would have required too much renovation. Although his team had been used to living in the prefab huts at Bletchley, here they would have been incredibly isolated.

His jaw clenched, before he said, in a clipped tone, “They seem competent enough.” They were more than competent – he was pleased with his picks – but there was no need to say more. He took a sip of his tea. "Though I expect you’ve already formed your own opinions."

Denham’s smile widened fractionally, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Oh I I’m sure I’ll have time to get to know them thoroughly," he said. Xander felt the muscle in his jaw tighten again; he did not like the idea of Denham ‘getting to know’ Mary, Aggie and – his teeth clenched painfully – Charlotte. He breathed out silently, he wouldn’t let himself be needled.

The captain leaned forward slightly, uncrossing his legs, fingers steepled under his chin. "But it must be quite the adjustment, for all of you. New faces, new responsibilities. Takes a certain kind of leader to make it work.”

Xander put down his pen and held Denham’s eye, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll manage.” Nice try. Xander allowed the trace of a smile to cross his lips. It infuriates you that you don’t know where I’ve been or what I’ve done before this deployment, doesn’t it?

“Glad to hear you’re feeling confident, Colbourne. Just doing my due diligence. Parker’s orders, you understand."

Xander stifled a sigh. Still, his face betrayed nothing.

"Of course," he said evenly. "But you needn’t trouble yourself. The team’s settling in fine. I’d hate for Parker to think you’re wasting your time."

Denham’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation breaking through his polished exterior before he reined it back in. "I’m sure you’re right," he said smoothly. "Still, I’d like to stop by the listening station at some point. Always good to see how the operation’s running from the ground."

Xander met Denham’s gaze with a calm, unblinking stare. “No can do, I’m afraid, Captain, authorised personnel only. And you don’t have the clearance.” The irritation on Denham’s face was more evident now, and Xander felt a stab of satisfaction.

"I’ll be sure to inform you of any pressing developments – any that you’re cleared to see, anyway,” Xander went on, his tone as dry as parchment. "In the meantime, feel free to pass along my regards to the Major."

Denham rose from the chair. "Of course," he replied. "Always a pleasure, Colbourne. I’ll see myself out.”

He strode to the door at his usual unhurried pace, and Xander picked up his pen again to resume writing, making sure if Denham looked back he was presenting the picture of professionalism, even while his mind began turning over the conversation for what he had learnt about his fellow officer.

Denham would require watching closely.

––

Once they were in the car, Georgie visibly relaxed her posture, rolling her shoulders back and smiling over at Charlotte. She pulled out a cigarette, lighting up and inhaling greedily, while Charlotte rolled down the window to let in the air. She’d smoked while waiting for the lift, tilting her face up to the sun. Now she watched as the vegetable patches lining the driveway slid past and then they were out on the coast road.

“So did you get the inventory straightened out?”

“No, I’ve left them to it. It took a while to even locate the right crates that needed checking, but Elinor and Alf are on it. I can’t say I was disappointed to make a dash for freedom. Parker is driving me mad, and I know when Pryce comes next he’s going to be telling him to buck his ideas up!”

Georgie’s boss, the US Naval Commander Captain Rowleigh Pryce, visited Heyrick infrequently, given that there were a number of requisitioned estates which co-ordinated the supplying of the base in Southampton. Petty Officer Lambe was his right-hand woman at Heyrick, a job Charlotte knew she loved despite her frustrations with the army systems and Major Parker in particular.

They were entering the town now, the old streets narrowing, and the cobbles starting as Georgie drove carefully around the few people milling about on the promenade. Charlotte looked over to the seafront, imagining it once lively with colourful Regency terraces and elegant promenaders, but parts of the beach were now off-limits and blocked with barbed wire and anti-invasion defences. The old faded bathing huts had been repurposed for military storage, and she looked away, depressed at the reminders of the war which were never that far away.

Georgie parked behind a delivery truck by the greengrocers, and as they stepped out of the car, the gentle sound of the waves was accompanied by the hum of distant aircraft.

Charlotte looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I need to head to the stationers, then the chemist.”

“Ooh, could you pick me up some cold cream, I’m nearly out! I’ll pay you back later.” Georgie grinned at her and winked.

Charlotte laughed, “I suppose I can do that for you, but I should start keeping a tab.”

“You know I’m good for it, it’s not like you don’t know where I live!”

Chuckling, the women turned to head towards the shops, Georgie speeding up suddenly and calling out “Esther!”

A beautiful woman turned at the sound of her name, her strawberry blonde hair in victory rolls framing her delicate face, the rest set in gentle waves over her shoulders. Immediately Charlotte knew this woman was from a different social circle than herself; she had the unmistakable refined features and poise of someone from the upper classes.

Charlotte smoothed the front of her skirt self-consciously, but the woman had already drawn near and was saying “Georgiana, it’s good to see you.”

“And you, honey.” Gee grinned, “Charlotte, meet, Lady Esther Dewhurst.”

I knew it. “Nice to meet you, Lady Dewhurst.”

“Now, now, none of that, please call me Esther, Georgiana is being a minx as usual.” Esther’s intimidating cut glass accent was softened by her wry smile.

“And please call me Charlotte.”

“A new recruit to Heyrick Park I presume. Helping with the logistics?”

“Something like that,” Charlotte said, calmly, and turned to Georgie. “I’ll walk up to the chemists and then the stationers, shall I meet you back here in a bit?”

“If you’re happy for some company, Charlotte, I’ll walk with you,” Esther said, and Charlotte schooled her features to hide her surprise. Was Esther curious about the work at the Folly? Did she suspect something? Stop being paranoid, Charlotte, she chided herself. Perhaps this was someone who, like Georgie, was in want of female friends in this male dominated war.

“That would be lovely,” Charlotte said with a smile, and Esther looked pleased behind her cool demeanour.

“Why don’t you come and join us at the tea rooms, Georgiana, once you‘ve finished your work? My treat.” Generous, then.

“Well, that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse! Thanks, honey.” Georgiana grinned, setting off with a wave. “Ta ta for now…” Her imitation English accent made Charlotte smile.

Esther indicated the path ahead with a regal hand and Charlotte fell into step with her, feeling a little intimidated.

“So what do you make of Sanditon, so far, Charlotte?”

“Well, I’ve not been here long, but I grew up not far from here. Along the coast and inland a bit.”

“Ah, well, you’re practically local, so I will refrain from saying that it’s a bit of a backwater then.” Esther smiled, wryly.

Laughing, Charlotte said quietly, “Sometimes backwaters are better than the alternatives…” When Esther looked over at her from the corner of her eye, Charlotte cleared her throat and continued. “There are worse places to serve.”

“Yes indeed,” Esther said thoughtfully, still watching her, and then, laughing, continued, “but not much call for the land girls in those kinds of places.”

Charlotte’s head snapped round in some surprise. “You’re with the land army?” She looked at Esther’s immaculate nails, unpolished but neat and well-looked after.

Esther snorted, “No need to sound so surprised. I’m the coordinator for the contingent based out of Sanditon House, and the representative on the county War Ag committee. We send the girls over to Heyrick Park as well, maybe you’ve seen them?”

Charlotte thought back to the girls she’d seen in the distance, working on the vegetable beds near the driveway and in the fields as she walked the track to the Folly. “Only from a distance so far. But like I say, I’ve not been there long.”

“They’re good girls, for the most part, some of them aren’t used to working hard when they come to us, but they toughen up quite quickly.” Charlotte thought of her younger sister Alison, working alongside their family on their farm, too young yet to be called up for service away from home. Charlotte smiled to herself: there was no way she’d willingly choose the land army, knowing how keen Alison was to flirt with men and get away from the dirty labour of farming. She was hoping to do a secretarial course as soon as she could and go into the WRENs like her big sister. Their youngest brothers would stay to help their father, David having been called up a few years ago on his 18th birthday. Charlotte swallowed down her fear for him, knowing he had been excited to join the RAF. Why couldn’t he have chosen something safer, like fixing the planes? she thought ruefully, but she knew he wanted to fly.

“So you’re ATS, then, under Major Parker?” Esther picked up the conversation, noticing Charlotte’s distraction.

“Umm, WREN actually.” Charlotte watched as Esther studied her, her shoulders tensing slightly in preparation to deflect attention away if necessary, wondering again at her motives, but Esther simply broke into a smile.

“Good choice. Navy is so much of a better colour for you.”

Charlotte snorted. “Thanks,” she said, shaking her head.

“Did you know Georgiana is a singer? Good as well. Hopefully you’ll hear her if you come to the dance on the 19th.”

“I wondered about that, she has a poster of Josephine Baker on her wall. The Casino de Paris one, with the cheetah.”

“Esther laughed, “Yes, I can see her enjoying that story.”

They’d arrived at the chemist, the green lettering of the painted sign above the door faded by the sea air, and Charlotte went in through the door ahead of her as the shop bell tinkled above their heads. The scent of camphor hit them, along with the polish used to keep the old cabinets and long wooden counter gleaming, and a subtle sweetness from the soaps and talcum powders. The displays around them were pretty sparse, but the proprietor was clearly trying to keep the mood buoyant in here, with Max Factor’s Pan Stick, Pond’s and other adverts from before the war moved to cover the empty spaces where stock would once have filled the shelves. The much newer "Keep Fit for Victory" or "A Healthy Nation is a Strong Nation” posters stood out amongst the faded colours of the older ones.

Mr Smithson poked his head out from the stockroom to see who had entered, the buttons on his white coat done up tightly, and gave them a cheery “Hello, ladies! Do let me know if there’s anything you need,” before crouching down to presumably retrieve something from the lower shelves.

Gathering the cold cream, mascara and aspirin that she had come in for, Charlotte dug in her handbag and found her purse. Esther was looking at the lipsticks on the counter, idly holding them up to one another to compare shades. The chemist smiled at them as he rang up the sale, “That’ll be 9d, please.”

Counting out the coins, she paid and they headed back into the sunshine.

“So no excuses for the dance, now you’ve got a new mascara!” Esther grinned, and Charlotte looked down at the pavement.

“I’m not sure, I’ll have to see if I’m on nights…” Charlotte immediately kicked herself as she realised her slip, as Esther’s head snapped round.

“Logistics has night shifts…?” She asked, curiously, looking very keen to ask further questions, but just then a man called out to her from across the street, and Charlotte silently sighed with relief.

—-

The weathered leather of his motorcycle jacket creaked as Xander leaned into the curve of the coastal road, the wind tearing at his dark hair. The motorbike beneath him roared, vibrating through his body dispersing the tumult of his thoughts.

He was annoyed at himself for letting Denham’s call on him in his study ruffle him. He was doing a good job, the team was working well, why couldn’t he let go of that man’s blatant attempt to unsettle him? Denham was an entitled bastard, who believed he had the right to knowledge and power because of his background. And the right to women too, Xander thought with a stab of something in his gut. It was just him feeling protective, he told himself, of all the women in his team. He quashed the thought that it was very reminiscent of the green-eyed monster that had reared its ugly head with Lucy. Not that that had been unfounded. But he had no right to feel jealous over Char… Heywood.

His mind drifted to those intelligent eyes that had lit up while working on the breakthrough with the u-boat coordinates. And that smile that transformed her entire face when he had told her how impressed the Chess Club was with her work, which had sent an unwelcome warmth spreading through his chest. He had to be careful. Squeezing the accelerator and feeling the thrum of the engine in his thighs, he forced himself to remember she was his junior officer. This has to stop Xander…

—-

“Lady Dewhurst! Can I have a word?” A tall broad-shouldered man in a neat but somewhat worn brown suit was crossing the road, a slight limp in his gait. He had a rugged face, with earnest, deep-set blue eyes, and his accent was clearly local, Charlotte recognised it from home.

“Mr Stringer, of course,” Esther said regally, but with enough warmth to put the man at ease.

“I was hoping to see you before the next committee meeting. There’s been quite a lot of upset recently while we’ve been waiting for the new chap to take up the chairmanship, from over there in East Sussex.” He said this as though it might have the moon, and Charlotte schooled her face to stop from smiling. Twas ever thus.

“Yes, I haven’t met him yet, but I’m sure he’ll be up to speed soon enough,” Esther said smoothly.

“Well, he’d already be more so than Lord Brisley, God rest his soul.” Mr Stringer removed his hat as he said this, and Esther bowed her head briefly to acknowledge his mark of respect, but Charlotte thought she detected the ghost of a smile on her new friend’s face.

“The supply chains are a mess, if you don’ mind me saying so, and between leaving the farms and getting to the shopkeepers here and along the coast, there’s boxes missing, an’ even a few missed deliveries, completely. The shopkeepers are struggling to get what they need to meet the ration books, let alone anything more.”

“Oh, that is strange. I know the deliveries have been going out from Sanditon House and Heyrick Park as usual. I’d have to check with Gregson out at Cresswell’s but I haven’t heard of any issues. And to be honest, now the operation at Heyrick is in charge of distribution, that’s more Major Parker’s jurisdiction.”

Mr Stringer turned his hat in his hands, his face clouded. “Well, that’s just it, Lady Dewhurst, Major Parker isn’t interested in hearing about problems in the village or around about.”

“I see,” said Esther. At that point Charlotte noticed Georgie approaching, rubbing her forehead as she joined them on the pavement. “Ah here’s Petty Officer Lambe now, perhaps she can help us iron this out…”

Charlotte watched Georgiana paste a smile on her face, which was an action she noticed her new friend did a lot, usually when she was around male officers unused to listening to a diminutive black woman, and an American at that. She watched as Georgie listened carefully to Mr Stringer’s complaints, which he delivered respectfully, despite his obvious frustration.

Catching Esther’s eye, Charlotte pointed to the stationers across the street and whispered, “I’ll meet you at the tea rooms.” Esther nodded to show she understood and returned her attention to the conversation.

As she crossed the road, Charlotte saw Captain Denham walking ahead of her. What’s he doing here? Surely he’s needed back at Heyrick to sort out this stock issue? She slowed her pace to avoid their paths crossing further along the pavement, although she needn’t have worried, as he diverted back to meet someone standing out the front of the greengrocer’s, another tall man in civilian clothing. Where were these men’s uniforms? She knew there were reasons that men were not able to serve, but a flash of irritation rose in her at these young and seemingly able-bodied men not joining up, when her little brother had had to. And Sidney… But then she remembered Mr Stringer’s obvious limp, and felt a little guilty at her hasty judgment. Come on Charlotte, you know better than to leap to conclusions.

By the look of him, the man speaking with Denham was confident in himself and was not abashed to be clearly a civilian among all the uniforms. Too far away to hear any of what passed between them, she saw Denham clap the other man on the back, laughing, and went back the way he came, much to Charlotte’s relief. She now had a better view of the man in the sharp suit, as he stood glancing down the street. A red and white paisley handkerchief was artfully arranged in his top pocket, the colour matching with his dark red tie. His leather briefcase between his feet, shoes highly polished, he felt in his pocket for his cigarettes and took one out, long fingers deftly opening the silver lighter.

As he looked up after taking a long drag, he caught Charlotte’s eye and gave her a long look, exhaling slowly and beginning to smirk. She quickly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught watching him, and hurried through the door of the stationers to restock her stock of envelopes after writing her letters home, the bell jangling above her head.

—-

The motorcycle’s engine screamed as Xander took the bend in the open road a little too fast, the bike tilting precariously before he corrected. The momentary fear jolted him back to his senses, and he eased off the throttle, his heart pounding. The escape he looked for in riding fast wasn’t worth an accident.

He pulled over at the clifftop viewpoint, cutting the engine and sitting in sudden silence. The crash of waves on the beach below filled the void. Xander rubbed a hand across his face, feeling the stubble that had grown throughout the day.

Duty. It’s what you’ve always done. There’s no room for anything else. Bitterness rose like bile. Fat lot of good it had done him. The debt was too great, the damage too far gone. But duty to king and country, that was a different matter. He had a purpose again. Something he could excel at. Stay focussed on that. This is what you’re here for. Don’t get distracted.

But as he turned the engine back on to head back to the house, her face – open, excited, beautiful – as she’d shared the triumph of spotting the pattern with him, that night, came back to him. We’re a good team, he realised with a start. That would have to be enough.

Chapter Text

Duty and Heartbreak

Xander made his way to dinner in the Officers’ Mess, which was a grandiose way of saying one half of the old dining hall. The large doors, which could be drawn across to make two smaller spaces, were left wide open and the other end of the room held smaller tables, where the rest of the personnel ate together. The two trestles, on which the dishes were spread out buffet-style, were pressed against the wall on either side of the open doors – it made marginally less work for the kitchen staff than if the doors had been closed, but more than was necessary, in his opinion. In such a small base and with as few personnel they had here, in his view it was ridiculous to have a separate table and space just for the officers. But Major Parker was keen on the perks and considered this a great opportunity to be lord of the manor. Good luck to him, Xander thought bitterly.

A low hum of conversation filled the two halves of the room as Xander entered quietly. One of the kitchen staff caught his eye but then immediately dropped her gaze and she hurried past him, out the door.

As he moved toward the large oak table he saw the already familiar dynamics playing out, his heart sinking. Major Parker sat at the head of the table, gesturing wildly with a fork in hand as he regaled the officers nearest him with some story that he had no doubt was being well and truly embellished.

“...And then I said to the general, ‘Sir, if you think I’m going to fit that many men into that little space, you’d better find yourself a magician!’” Parker slapped the table and laughed at his own anecdote. Xander had to work at not rolling his eyes. The man is a buffoon.

“Ah, Colbourne!” Parker called out, spotting him mid-guffaw as Xander settled into a chair a few seats away, his expression neutral. “You’re just in time. Entertain us – what’s the most ridiculous order you’ve ever had to carry out?!”

Xander gave a tight smile. “I’m afraid the list is too long, sir. And classified, of course.”

A ripple of laughter went around the table, and Parker grinned. “Ah, yes, always the model officer, eh?”

“Someone has to be,” he replied, looking down and earning another chuckle.

Further down the table, Captain Denham leaned back in his chair, an unreadable expression on his face. “Of course, secrecy is second nature to you now, eh, Colbourne?”

Xander glanced at him, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly and fighting to hide the flash of irritation he felt. He paused before tilting his head and saying, “Astute as ever, Captain.”

Denham’s lips curved into a faint smirk as he shook his head mockingly. “Careful, Lieutenant. Compliments from you might go to my head.”

“Yes, perish that thought,” Xander replied, his eyebrows lifted slightly before turning his attention to the plate of stew being passed his way.

Parker leaned forward once more. “Come on, then, Captain, why don’t you share some of your exploits? You must have some great stories.”

Denham shrugged lightly. “Oh, mine are all dull, I assure you, sir.”

“Not even one?” one of the officers pressed, grinning. “Come on, man, you must have been in Whitehall? Or at least HQ?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Denham said, his tone just a little clipped as he looked at his plate. Xander wondered if anyone else detected the note of bitterness. “I’m sure I’ve nothing of any interest to share.”

Xander’s gaze flicked toward Denham: Well, well. Daddy’s influence wasn’t enough to get you where you wanted to be, eh? Oh, how that must grate on you! He caught Denham’s eye when he looked up.

Parker, clearly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, clapped his hands loudly. “For heaven’s sake, gentlemen, lighten up, will you? We’re off duty!”

“That’s not really possible, is it…” Xander muttered, trying to hide the exasperation in his voice, his jaw tight. Has this man never heard that “loose lips sink ships”? Quite literally, in my line of work.

Parker narrowed his eyes. “You always have to be the sharpest in the room, eh, Colbourne?”

Bloody hell, that’s not exactly a high bar... He held Parker’s gaze for a moment, before returning his attention to his meal, and the Major huffed slightly before beginning another anecdote.

Xander let his eyes drift to the other half of the room, seeing the members of his little team – those who were not on duty at the Folly that evening – eating together with Georgiana. Their laughter floated through and he was pleased to see them enjoying their time away from their work.

His eyes lingered on Charlotte, and she caught his eye. Out of nowhere a wave longing swept over him, shocking him to such an extent that he had to clench his stomach to prevent himself reacting. He looked down, wanting to rub his neck in frustration. It’s no good! For all the careful distance he was trying to keep from her – avoiding standing too close, keeping his tone measured whenever he spoke to her directly – it still felt as though the air shifted, even when she was across the other side of the large dining room.

Xander exhaled, forcing his attention back to his dinner. Don’t be a fool, Xander. And anyway, she deserves better than to be tangled up with someone like you...

He glanced up, disconcerted to see Denham had been watching him.

––

Across the dining room to the officer’s table, Charlotte noticed Colbourne seemingly lost in thought. Though she couldn’t make out the story the Major was telling, she could tell he wasn’t listening. He keeps himself apart from everyone. I see him do it with us, which is understandable as we’re his subordinates, but it’s obviously not just us.

The war had made them all cautious, but she saw that for Colbourne, it went beyond that. He was deliberate in everything – each sentence measured, each glance calculated. It made her heart ache for what he must have experienced to make him this closed off.

She spotted Georgiana watching her closely out of the corner of her eye, and quickly returned her attention to Declan, who was recounting an anecdote from basic training. The familiarity of Bletchley was something all the folly staff had in common, and a number of the people in the story were known to her, but Charlotte found herself laughing only half-heartedly in the right places, with her thoughts drifting back to Colbourne. Lieutenant Colbourne, she reminded herself, shaking her head slightly to clear it.

Her mind drifted to the past few weeks of working with him in the Folly. She was proud of the work she was doing, knowing she had spotted the coordinates that had been hidden by the enemy spacing out the transmissions, and that the Admiralty had sent thanks via Bletchley. Colbourne had passed on their approbation, although his gaze had been over her shoulder for the most part. He’s avoiding me; the thought gave her a painful stab in her abdomen.

She sighed, resisting the temptation to rub her forehead – she was working hard to hide her attraction to him. It was ridiculous – having known him a few short weeks, really – the magnetic pull of him. If she could simply chalk it up to his looks, then maybe she could set it aside. But it was more. It was his intelligence, his mind, the promise of something deeper behind those unreadable eyes. But she could admit it was also the way his dark hair would fall just so over his forehead, and how the line of his jaw looked sharper under the dim lamp’s glow. She repeatedly told herself that she had no business thinking such things.

He caught her eye, just then, and she held his gaze for a moment before turning back to the table and joining in the laugh as Declan’s story ended with the punchline. Charlotte, you’re being a fool. Once bitten twice shy, remember?

––

Once safely back in his room, Xander reached for the letter he’d thrown onto his desk after skimming it earlier. Strangely, receiving the letter from his brother had only served to make him feel lonelier, which the dynamics in the dining room had then exacerbated that further. Hoping to banish his melancholy, he began to read through Samuel’s news again.

He looked around at the faded wallpaper, remembering many childhood evenings spent there, avoiding their father. It’s a mixed blessing. But he knew Mrs Wheatley had meant well. He felt a stab of guilt at how she must be faring under the Army’s regime – he should find a way to have a chat with her over the next few days. Sighing heavily, he carried on reading.

He could hear the glee in Sam’s voice and smiled. His brother had always thrived on drama.

Xander scowled. Samuel always made it sound so simple. He rubbed his forehead against the throb that was starting.

Easy for you to say, Xander thought bitterly. His irritation at having been lumbered with the burden of the estate was quick to surface, but there was no point nursing that old hurt. Even before the war had broken out, Samuel had apologised for his selfishness, and he had forgiven him. He knew it was more important to him to have Sam in his life, than allow his anger to keep him isolated. He huffed out a breath, willing himself to relax. It was good of Sam to recognise his hard work.

I should go up, it has been too long. Xander pursed his lips at the token gesture of the scotch – he would barely have any, whereas Samuel would very much enjoy himself – but he knew being with Sam would be good for him. And some distance from… well… It wouldn’t go amiss…

Rubbing the back of his neck, he felt some of the tension release and smiled. Thanks to Sam, he did feel better…

—

Heading out of the dining room into the tiled entrance hall, Georgie said laughingly, “I could really use a smoke!”

“Me too,” Charlotte said, automatically turning towards the front door, but Georgie stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Come with me,” Georgie grinned, “I have somewhere I haven’t shown you yet.” She led her up the grand staircase and then continued up the second flight towards the rooms where the junior personnel were billeted.

“I’d rather not smoke in our room, Georgie, I’ll never sleep,” Charlotte shook her head, “and I don’t want to hang out the window like a schoolgirl!”

“Trust me…” Georgie said enigmatically, opening their door and breezing through the room, heading straight for the window. She turned to check Charlotte had come in and shut the heavy old door behind her to block the light from the oil lamp on the corridor, before pushing aside the heavy blackout curtains and dusty nets. The dusk light allowed her to see what she was doing, leaning up to undo the old brass fastening, which was stiff under her slender fingers. With a grunt she pushed, its wooden frame sticking slightly before giving way with a faint creak. She pushed open the sash window fully and grinned. “Here pass me that chair, would you? I need a hitch!”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows at her before giving in and pulling the chair out from under the desk, wincing at the scraping sound on the wooden floorboards. Lifting it to carry it over, she placed it in front of the window and Georgie stepped onto it, sticking her head out into the summer’s evening.

Nimbly sitting herself down on the ledge, she swung her legs over the windowsill, her skirts hitching around her thighs as she carefully lowered herself onto the flat roof below. Charlotte smiled, her head tipped to the side at her friend’s daring as she followed, hesitating slightly as she adjusted her footing, her shoes scuffing against the stone ledge.

Feeling the evening air on her face, the trace of summer in its warmth still, Charlotte breathed in deeply, the tang of the sea never far from her nose here at Heyrick. The first stars were beginning to prick the deepening blue of the sky, and clouds blew slowly past, lit up by the deep lavender and pink of the sunset that had just passed. She sighed appreciatively: it was beautiful.

Georgie was settling herself down on the flat roof, propped up against the wall and legs stretched in front of her. Charlotte followed suit and felt the granular stonework slightly warm from the sun’s heat, now cooling as the evening settled. Smoothing her skirts instinctively, she felt the grit of the rough surface against the fabric.

“How did you discover this?”

“One of the women in the other wing told me they went out onto the parapet on their side of the house, so I figured I would try it. I was a bit worried about falling through the roof into the officer’s mess, but I figured I’m only small so it would probably take my weight.” Her grin was bright in the dusk light. “And talking of the officers’ mess…” she continued, rummaging in her bag for her smokes, then looking up at Charlotte and smiling. “You were a little distracted when Declan was telling us his Bletchley story earlier…?”

“I’ve heard it before, plenty of times.”

“Oh, I’m not buying that, my friend! You couldn’t take your eyes off a certain Lieutenant on the other side of the room.”

Charlotte blushed, but didn’t look away.

Georgie lit up and blew the smoke above her head. “So, you’re in the mood for some romance at Heyrick Park, huh?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”

“Why ever not? We’ve got to live for each moment, surely this war has taught us that."

“This war has taught me plenty about sacrifice and duty. Love? Not so much.” Charlotte turned away slightly to light her cigarette, inhaling deeply, and then exhaled out of the corner of her mouth, blowing the smoke away from her companion. “Duty, and heartbreak.”

“Heartbreak, eh? Do you want to talk about it?” Georgie’s look was intense, and Charlotte considered saying no, wondering whether her new friend would let it rest if she did. She narrowed her eyes, debating what to say.

Georgie said softly, “This war has taken so much from us all, already. Was he killed?”

“Well, yes, but that was after he broke my heart…” Charlotte picked a piece of tobacco from her lip, scowling, her voice sounding harsh against the soft noises of the gathering gloom.

Georgie’s eyebrows shot up. “Well I gotta say, honey, that wasn’t what I was expecting you to say. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but… bastard.”

Charlotte snorted a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re terrible.”

Georgie frowned, “He broke your heart, of course he was a bastard. Or an idiot. Possibly both.”

“Well the RAF didn’t think he was an idiot, so I think that rules that out.”

“Boy from home?”

“Hardly!” Charlotte tilted her head to the side as she took another drag. "I grew up with village boys and farmers. Sidney was definitely not a boy."

“Mmmhhmm, so now you have to tell Georgie everything cos this sounds like a tale." She laughed, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Well, we met when I’d just finished basic training with the WRENs,” Charlotte began, leaning her head back against the wall behind her back, “I’d been posted to London to support a service I didn’t know anything about, and I was nervous as anything on my first day. As you can imagine, a young woman shows up in the office full of men, and what do they get me doing but making the tea.” Georgie met her eye roll with one of her own, before Charlotte went on, “I was pretty cross, but what was I supposed to do? I was sent in to take a cup into an officer, Palmer, and he was incredibly rude, didn’t even look up from his desk.” Hmm, I can think of another officer who did the exact same thing. "Assumed I was the secretary cos he didn’t even notice the uniform. Sent me off with some typing.”

“Well, he sounds like a doll.”

“Later that week, once I was starting to find my feet, the major I was working for sent me to the archive room to retrieve some files, and on my way back down the corridor the same guy rounded the corner without looking and slammed into me, all the files went flying. I was furious with him, but he did at least help me pick them up. That was when I noticed him.” Charlotte smiled slightly to herself and Georgie sniggered.

“Oh, I know that look, my girl, spill the beans!”

Charlotte grinned, taking another drag on her cigarette, eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “He was definitely all man. Broad shoulders, taut stomach, piercing eyes. And let’s just say he knew how to wear his uniform. As much of a spitfire as the one he had flown, if you know what I mean…” her voice tailed off with a nostalgic smile.

“So bumping into that chest and having those eyes on you had you falling under his spell, then eh?”

“Something like that. Although I still thought he was an arrogant prick. But then, if we ruled out all the arrogant ones there’d be none left.” She thought of Colbourne, whose arrogance had infuriated her in the beginning, but now she was coming to know him a little better she was feeling like his self-assurance was something she could rely on. She pushed the thought aside.

“So how did he come to notice you? You must have impressed him with your intelligence and wit, huh?”

“Hmm, well it wasn’t exactly like that. The first night the major invited all of us in the department to the bar after work – he was meeting some top brass at the Dorchester and needed pretty women to take along with him, you know the drill.” Georgie rolled her eyes and nodded. “Well, we were in the bar and Sidney arrived… I mean, the man is handsome in the daytime but in the lowlights of the club…” she exhaled a plume of smoke slowly and deliberately, and Georgie grinned delightedly.

“So he got you on the dance floor, eh?”

“Yes,” Charlotte’s eyes were soft. “He was a good dancer. I always loved the way he moved, but he really knew how to lead, if you know what I mean.”

“I sure do. And so that was the start of you two…?”

“Not exactly,” Charlotte grimaced. “When we were having a drink afterwards at the bar, he asked me what I thought of the way the department was running, and I mistakenly thought that he was actually interested in my opinion…” She rolled her eyes at Georgiana, before adding, bitterly, “Ha!” She took another long inhale of her cigarette. “He then tore a strip off me for telling the truth about the various men and their ridiculous egos and eccentricities.”

Georgie groaned, “Urgh, men!”

“Uh-huh…” Charlotte felt the stab of annoyance again at Sidney’s behaviour, and scowled.

Georgie’s next words interrupted her reminiscing. “So he must have gone up in your estimation at some point, how did that happen?”

Charlotte tilted her head, thinking back to those London days. “I guess we kept meeting in the department, at the bar at the Dorchester, and he seemed to be softening towards me. I was still pretty fed up with his attitude, but…” she grinned broadly, “the man could dance.”

Georgie laughed softly, “So it was like that, was it? Purely physical?”

Charlotte blushed, “Yes, I guess it was, thinking back.” She looked down at the ground, briefly, before meeting her friend’s eye. “Once we…” she cleared her throat, “got together, it was pretty special.”

“Oh, yes?”

“I was clearly not the first woman he’d been with, but I guess I didn’t mind that.” She paused, twitching her lips. “I think I benefited from it, actually…”

“Well, girl, that’s a good attitude to have. Why should men have all the fun, eh?”

“Oh trust me,” Charlotte winked, “there was plenty of fun to go around…”

Georgie squealed. “Charlotte, I’m surprised at you!” Charlotte laughed as Georgie went on, “But I’m happy for you. We deserve our pleasure, too.”

Charlotte smoked speculatively, “Yes, we do. And… there was definitely nothing wrong with us between the sheets. It was just everywhere else…” Georgie raised her eyebrow in question and Charlotte went on, “We really didn’t see eye to eye on anything, and he always made it pretty clear he didn’t value my opinion on much. He used to rib me for only knowing the world through books.” She deepened her voice so it was rough and manly, “Where have you actually been, Charlotte? Until this war you hadn’t seen anything outside of Willingden.” She ground her cigarette into the rough stone surface.

Georgie frowned, “Okay, so he definitely sounds like a jerk.”

Charlotte looked up into the darkening sky, “We broke up, plenty of times.” She sighed. “It was easier to stay broken up once he’d left the department and been deployed somewhere else.”

Georgie looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “Where was he stationed?”

Charlotte looked away, “I never knew. It was…”

“Ah, this is where you say it was classified and I stop asking...”

“Something like that, yes. But once he got back to London, he would always come to the Dorchester to find me. And, well, we clicked again…”

“I’m guessing that happened a few times, eh?”

“Yes,” Charlotte closed her eyes and blew out her cheeks, “yes, a few. The last time, he’d been injured and told me thinking of me was what had got him through the pain during those early days in the hospital. He was ‘his best self with me, his truest self’...”

Georgie simply raised her eyebrows, waiting for Charlotte to continue.

“That last time he was different, calmer, less impatient. He did his physiotherapy, got himself back on his feet. He… relied on me.” Charlotte ground out her cigarette on the gravel of the roof by her side. “But once he was better, it turned out that while I was at work he was meeting up with an ex of his who was based at the war office, Eliza.” She spat the name out.

Georgiana’s eyes flared. “Bastard!”

“Yes. He got the letter telling him he was to ship out on his next assignment, so we’d just found out he was leaving. I confronted him about the cheating, we had an enormous row, and he left.” Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes. “And within a fortnight… the department received word he was dead.”

“Bloody hell, Charlotte, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve said that about him, but that must be…” Georgie paused to find the right word, “...complicated.”

“Yeah, it was... complicated…. alright.” Her voice trailed away. “When he left I still had the feeling he’d be back. Grovelling probably. Telling me how sorry he was. Saying he’d changed. Knew how special I was… Wanted me and no one else. But then… he was gone. It took me a long while to stop feeling hollow. It’s been a year, and I’m still angry with him. For the cheating. For dying on me.” She opened her eyes and met her friend’s eye. “But it’s not the same as it was, not anymore. I’m not the same, and I’m glad of it. I’m not that girl who’d take him back anymore. I’m grateful for the gift he gave me, for helping me know who I am and what I want.” She stretched her arms above her head, towards the darkening sky. “And this war means life is unbearably short sometimes, and so I want to have fun and not apologise for it. I figure, as long as I’m not hurting anyone, right? I want to feel and think and do all that I can…”

Georgie looked at her out of the corner of her eye as she stubbed out her cigarette. “So tell me again how you’re not here for romance…?!”

Charlotte snorted. “I think I’ll leave that to the girls going starry eyed over the American GI’s. But their eyes wouldn’t be quite so starry without the stockings and cigarettes…”

“You old cynic!”

“Well, what about you? Are you hoping for an airman of your own to sweep you off your feet?”

“Only if he has the chest to match your Sidney’s, by the sound of it…”

Charlotte leant across to Georgie and whacked her arm. “Be serious!” A different man drifted before her mind’s eye, with a lean, trim waist and thighs that gripped a motorbike, eyes that she wanted to hold her gaze across their workstation as his hair fell onto his forehead… but she pushed the image aside. She shook her head. “He’s not my Sidney, anyway. But come on, what is it you’re looking for?”

“Well,” Georgie’s tone was thoughtful, “I guess I’m not really here for romance either. Well, not that I’d say no,” she winked at Charlotte, who chuckled, “but before I left home I was singing, little clubs all over Bronzeville…”

“Esther told me you sing. She said you’re pretty good.”

“Oh she’s right, honey, I am.” Georgie grinned. “It helps that I’ve been doing it a long time.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, “But you’re only, what, 22? You must have started really young, then. Your parents let you sing in bars…?” She didn’t want to sound incredulous, but it seemed unlikely.

Georgie smiled, nostalgically. “My folks – they were churchgoers, real devout – but they weren’t the kind to box you in. When I was about fifteen, I told them I wanted to try singing in a local bar. My mama nearly fainted, but my daddy? He just looked at me and said, ‘If you’re gonna do it, Georgie, you better do it right.’”

Charlotte raised eyebrows, impressed. Her own father never travelled further than their village, the idea of him supporting her in performing was incomprehensible.

Georgie laughed, a rich, warm sound. “Oh, mama was on my case the whole time, but Daddy always had my back. Said music was a gift, and I should share it. He used to drive me to my gigs – sat in the back corner with his hat pulled low, keeping an eye on things. Always made sure I was safe. That man was my biggest fan.”

“How wonderful,” Charlotte said. “What sort of music did you sing?”

“Jazz, mostly. Blues sometimes, if the crowd was in the mood for something slow.” Georgie’s eyes took on a distant look, her voice soft. “I loved it. The lights, the energy, the way people would stop whatever they were doing to listen. It felt like...freedom, you know?”

Charlotte smiled at her friend, it was nothing she’d ever experienced but she was so pleased for Georgie. “And Josephine Baker? The poster?” She tilted her head towards the window. “You admire her, don’t you?”

“Adore her,” Georgie said, a flicker of awe crossing her face. “She’s everything – bold, fearless, glamorous. When I was sixteen, I saved up my tips and bought this picture book about her. It had photos of her performing in Paris, living this fabulous life, breaking barriers. She made me believe I could do more than just sing in smoky little bars in Chicago. I’d love to find ways to perform over here, in London if I can…”

“That’s a great idea!” Charlotte leaned over and squeezed her hand.

“You wait,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “One of these days, I’m gonna find my way onto a stage in London. Maybe not now, but when this is all over? You’ll see. I’ll be up there with the lights on me, the band behind me, and a room full of people hanging on every note.”

Charlotte laughed lightly. “I’ll be in the front row, cheering you on.”

“Damn right you will,” Georgiana said with a wink. “Until then, though, I’ll just have to settle for commandeering the band at the dance for some numbers. You are coming, aren’t you? The dance, on the 19th?”

“Esther mentioned it earlier,” Charlotte looked down, “She said you might perform.”

“And you said, ‘Yes, Esther, of course I’ll be there…’” Georgie tilted her head, catching Charlotte’s eye. “Didn’t you?”

“Oh I don’t know, Georgie,” she said, huffing out a breath, “I might be on shift…”

“Nonsense! And anyway, you can check, you have the shifts on the inside of the wardrobe door. And I bet I could persuade Mary to swap you…” Georgie waved a hand to fend off any objections. “Where the hell’s that ‘go getting’ spirit you just told me about?”

“You’re right. I guess I’m just…” she tailed off, thinking about forbidden fruit.

“You have to come, to hear me sing,” she went on, her tone wheedling.

Charlotte smiled. “Oh, alright then…” If she couldn’t act on whatever this chemistry was, she might as well distract herself with some dancing, meet some new faces. You’re letting all this caution hem you in, Charlotte.

Georgie squealed, “Yes!! I knew you’d come through for me. And besides,” she winked again, “there might be some of the guys over Portsmouth that weekend, Pryce is bringing some people over to see the operation here. Maybe there’ll be a dishy sailor for you to do whatever you want with…!”

Charlotte swatted her friend’s arm. “You’re ridiculous!” She stood up, brushing dust off her skirt. “I’m going in, coming?”

Georgie got up too, letting out a yawn. “Yes I think I’m done for the night. You?”

“Yes, although I might read for a bit if it won’t disturb you?”

“Not at all, I’ll be out like a light!”

They climbed back over the window ledge, feeling for the chair with their toes in the dark room. Only when they were both inside, the window pulled closed and blackout curtains pulled tight did Charlotte light the lamp. Standing in the gloom as the light flickered into life, she thought about the upcoming dance. She knew there was only one man she was hoping would be there, but she pushed the thought away. You just can’t think like that, Charlotte. Get a grip! But she went about her nighttime routine with her mind full of a pair of whiskey-coloured eyes, imagining his gaze on her.

Chapter Text

The Sandpiper

“I didn’t have time to tell you yesterday,” Georgie said, as Charlotte buttered her toast half-heartedly at the breakfast table – she missed being able to have it hot so the butter melted. “I finally met the infamous Mr Lockhart.” She took a sip of her coffee – no milk, no sugar, as strong as she could get it, which was not very, with all the rationing, despite the supplies from the US base – and continued. “He was being introduced to Parker as the potential solution to the distribution problems. He has a fleet of vans, apparently – used to run a delivery business in London, but wants a quieter life.”

Charlotte tilted her head. “I bet he does,” she said wryly. But she couldn’t blame him, it had been a relief to move out of Whitehall back to Bletchley, the air raids were relentless.

“Denham knows him apparently, although I’m not sure how…”

“Oh, I wonder if he’s the chap I saw in Sanditon the other day, the Captain went over to speak to a man by the grocers.” Charlotte thought back, “Tall, natty dresser.”

“Sounds like him.” Georgie said, “And handsome, too.” Charlotte watched as a faint blush spread up Georgie’s neck, her friend seemingly becoming very interested in her breakfast. “He, err, asked if we’d like to go to the pub tonight. I said we’d be there…”

“Georgie!” Charlotte hissed, “What if I don’t want to go to the pub?”

“Oh, live a little…” Georgie said, smirking over her coffee cup. But her expression changed to worry. “You will come, won’t you? For me?”

Charlotte sighed. “I suppose so, yes…”

“Good girl!” Georgie’s face returned to its previous expression, confident once more, as she rose from her seat. “With Lockhart and the meeting yesterday, I couldn’t get any time with Parker – Mr Stringer nabbed me again when I was in town the other day, they have even more concerns about supplies, so I really must try and get in with him before Denham monopolises his time all day. I’ll see you later, then…? ”

Charlotte nodded and watched her leave, not entirely happy to have committed to an evening in the Sandpiper later, but resigned. You need the distraction, remember? And who knows who you might meet? Finishing her tea she took her cup to the sideboard and spotted Mary through the door and hurried to join her into the entrance hall. “Are you off to the Folly? I’ll walk with you.”

Mary smiled warmly, “That would be lovely.”

They stepped out into the morning air and Charlotte looked up at the dull, grey sky, frowning, a little resentful that her one opportunity for the sun on her face could well be lost for the day. You’re worse than Aggie, she thought suddenly, and snorted a laugh. Mary turned her head and raised a quizzical eyebrow, and Charlotte chuckled again.

“I was just telling myself off for being grumpy,” she said, “the voice in my head sounded like Aggie!”

Mary huffed a laugh, “Yes, I wonder what our girl will be like this morning after a night shift with the Lieutenant.”

“Oh my,” said Charlotte, feigned a look of horror. “We should probably hurry, then…”

Mary grinned, “I think our commanding officer has dealt with more difficult situations than a little teenage petulance, my dear.”

Charlotte kept her voice level, not wanting to give away how curious she felt. “What do you know about him, Mary? He seems very…” she paused, considering the right word, “…guarded.”

“Mysterious, you mean?” Mary tilted her head, and Charlotte blushed a little and immediately felt irritated with herself. After just a second’s pause, Mary went on, “He was involved in a big operation last year, all hush-hush of course, but apparently the powers-that-be thought he did an excellent job, and this assignment was in recognition of that.”

Charlotte nodded, waiting to see if Mary would continue as they entered the woodland section of the path, glancing at her between checking the path ahead for tree roots and brambles. When she didn’t, Charlotte asked, “Does it seem to you like… he knows this place really well?”

“Heyrick? What makes you say that?”

“Oh I’m not sure, really,” Charlotte said, thinking back to why she had formed that impression. “I’ve seen him with the staff, you know, the house staff, not the army people. They seem to know him.”

“Well, that’s not that surprising, he was here for quite a while before we all arrived.”

“Hmm, it feels like more than that. And a few times he’s answered questions about the coastline with a knowledge that seems unlikely for someone who has only been here a few months.”

“Perhaps he grew up round this way, then?” Mary said, “that would explain it.”

Charlotte shrugged, “I guess you’re right.” She hesitated. “Do you feel like he holds himself back with us?”

“Well, I think that’s inevitable really, he has to be a bit distant, as our senior officer…” Mary held a branch out of the way for Charlotte to walk past her on the path. “He’s a good man, I’m sure of it. And we’re all still settling in, aren’t we?”

“Yes…” Charlotte said, trailing off into thought. She couldn’t put into words this morning why she wished for more from him. Well, I probably could, but pushed that feeling aside. A few minutes later, they stepped back out from the woodland, and began crunching up the gravel of the path to the old stone structure. She squared her shoulders, shaking off the out-of-sorts feeling, inhaling the scent of the sea air before being confined inside for a while.

––

The morning light filtered through the narrow, icy-strewn windows of the folly, casting muted patterns on the well-worn floor of the listening station. Xander sat at the central table, its battered wooden surface cluttered with logbooks and scattered notes, and rubbed his eyes. Glancing across at Aggie, sat slumping at the desk by the window, he sighed quietly. The steady hum of the radio equipment, which normally felt comforting in its familiarity, jangled his nerves. He was definitely ready to leave the confines of the folly behind, especially the stale air, tinged with the scent of the damp that lingered despite their attempts to dispel it by propping open the doors when the sun was out.

Aggie’s face was etched with fatigue and had been sporting a permanent scowl for the past several hours. She sighed loudly, wrenching off her headset and rubbing her ear roughly, and muttered, “If these damn signals get any louder, I’ll go deaf…”

“You know, there is a volume controller you could use…” he said, tiredly, as he looked up from stacking his notes together. He caught her pressing her lips together, clearly containing the caustic remark she wanted to make.

“Yes, sir,” she said through a clenched jaw. Luckily for him, just then the door opened and the scent of fresh air, lemon and damp morning earth wafted in along with Mary and Charlotte, diffusing the tension that had made him want to say something sarcastic.

“Oh thank God for that…” he heard her mutter, as she sprang out of her seat. “You’re here!”

She stood, rubbing her forehead, as Mary moved towards her while Charlotte headed for the back room to stow her bag and cap. He watched as Mary cocked her head questioningly at the young woman, who sighed and looked down. Intrigued, he wondered what their silent communication was about, but he was distracted as Charlotte came back into the room, tucking a curl behind her ear and smiling at him. He looked down at the desk in front of him, shuffling papers and chiding himself for the tightening of his stomach, even though it was involuntary. Glancing back up, he saw her exchange looks with Mary, and he cleared his throat.

“Morning, ladies. I think it’s fair to say we’re glad to see you.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, and Charlotte grinned.

“Long night, sir?” She asked, with a tilt of her head.

“You could say that!” Aggie said, dropping into a chair by the large round table with a dramatic sigh. “It has been non-stop, with barely a break.” The youngster quickly glanced over at him, biting her lip, clearly realising he might resent her implication that he hadn’t let her take a break. He stifled the urge to rub the back of his neck, frustrated with himself for letting her attitude needle him, and silently counted to five.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Mary said, smiling slightly. “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing that some food and some sleep won’t cure.”

“Chance will be a fine thing, I never sleep after nights…” Aggie said, leaning her elbow on the table and placing her head in her hand.

“So…” said Charlotte, a little louder than was necessary, turning her body to face him, “what have you got for us this morning?” She caught his eye, her lips pursed and eyes bright, and he felt she was letting him know she knew how difficult the past few hours had been. He gave her a strained smile in return, and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, there’s plenty,” Aggie said, darkly, “I hope for your sakes the radio quiets down a bit, it’s been lively!”

“Well, that’s if you consider static and the occasional German chatter lively,” he said dryly, and Charlotte laughed, earning her a scowl from Aggie. He felt his lips twitch into another half-smile, and their eyes met and held for just a second.

“We’ll take it from here, then, Lieutenant.” She held out her hand to take the sheaf of notes he was holding, and he handed it to her, careful not to brush her hand. Even in his tiredness he was acutely aware of the nearness of her body, and did not trust himself not to react if their skin touched. “You get off, you look exhausted.” Her voice was soft, as she watched him. “Both of you,” she said more loudly, turning to Aggie.

Xander silently exhaled a breath, and stepped away to collect his jacket from the back of his chair, tapping the pocket as he put it on to check his cigarettes were still there.

“Thank you,” he said, looking at Mary and then Charlotte in turn, looking away over her shoulder after a second, feeling the weight of her gaze on him. Then he stepped through the door, pausing just outside and leaning heavily against the wall. He took a deep breath of the familiar air, filling his lungs and exhaling slowly.

Aggie breezed out onto the wide top step. Being released from the shift had seemingly given her a burst of energy, and he smiled at her, tightly, before looking down at the ground. “I hope you get some rest, Aggie.”

“Thank you,” she said somewhat hesitantly, and then added “sir,” clearly as an afterthought, blushing slightly at her carelessness. “You too.”

He let her go ahead of him, closing his eyes tiredly before he heard the sound of the door opening again as Charlotte began to prop it open. Their eyes locked and he saw sympathy in hers, as well as something else he didn’t dare name. Alright, he did dare – he recognised the dark look of longing, and was sure she saw the same in his. His chest tightened, the familiar loneliness moulding to what he couldn’t have. But wanted. Wanted with every fibre of his being.

Mary’s voice drifted from within and Charlotte smiled, sadly, still not breaking his gaze. “Just a moment, Mary!” Her voice was cheerful and she shrugged slightly, but her eyes were still soft for him. She turned and went back inside.

His hand flew to his chest, rubbing over his heart where the tightness was beginning to ache. After a few moments he pushed himself off the wall, resisting the urge to look back through the open door to see Charlotte at work.

––

The knock of the door was quiet but firm, and Xander looked up from the notes he had been rereading, to call out “Come in.” He had come to the study after sleeping off the night-shift, knowing that the updates from the past few days needed to go off to Bletchley tonight, ideally.

“Evening, sir,” Mary said cheerfully, as she slipped through the door, leaving it as it had been, ajar. “I brought you over what we compiled today, so it could go off with the courier this evening.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you, Mary, thank you.” He glanced at the papers she handed to him, noticing Charlotte’s neat, deliberate handwriting. “Were you busy?”

“The radio chatter was on and off, and we took turns, so it wasn’t too bad.”

The door swung open wider, just then, and Mrs Wheatley came bustling in backwards, bearing a tray of tea and a plate of biscuits, saying “Here you are Xan… oh!” Her exclamation came as she turned and saw Mary in the room. “I do apologise, sir, I hadn’t realised you had someone here.” She chewed her lip briefly before turning away again to place the tray down on a sideboard on the opposite side of the room to the desk.

He stood, Charlotte’s notes still in his hand, and said quickly, “Thank you, Mrs Wheatley, you remember Mary?”

“Of course I do. How are you settling in?” The old housekeeper smoothed the skirt of her burgundy tweed suit, her voice level.

Mary smiled at her, seeming to sense the older woman’s unease, saying warmly, “Very well, it’s so comfortable here.”

“Well, I’m very glad to hear you say that,” Mrs Wheatley said, with a small smile, clearly relieved, “and if me or my staff can help you with anything, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you, that’s kind of you.” Mary glanced over at him, and he felt the question in her look, although she didn’t say anything more.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs Wheatley.” Smiling his half-smile at her, he glanced back down at the notes, before looking back at Mary. “And thank you for bringing these over. I’ll let you get off, you’ve had a long day.”

Mrs Wheatley bowed her head in acknowledgement and turned to leave, as Mary said brightly, “I’m going to grab an early supper, as Charlotte is dragging me to the Sandpiper tonight. ‘All work and no play makes Mary a dull woman’, apparently.” She chuckled, “Although I’m pretty sure she wants me there because Miss Lambe is meeting Mr Lockhart there and Charlotte wants moral support being the moral support. And not to be a gooseberry…”

She’s sweet to go with her friend, he thought, his mind immediately on Charlotte. And I bet she’s going to check out this Mr Lockhart, too. He’d seen her protective instincts with Aggie firsthand already, he knew she wasn’t about to let her friend meet a man without meeting him first.

Mary headed for the door, pausing just before it and saying, “You should come, sir, have a drink…”

“Oh… no…” he felt his cheeks flush, and looked away over her shoulder, “I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Stealing a glance at her face again, he saw shrewd curiosity. “I’m not much one for the pub…”

She watched him, seeming to be wrestling with whether to speak, before saying, quietly, “That’s fair enough, sir. Have a good evening.”

As she left, he felt a sinking in his stomach at the thought of another evening with the officers, here, in this house. But he shook his head quickly to clear his head. He had his book, and the radio in his room. He didn’t have to stay downstairs and listen to Major Parker drone on. Maybe he would write to Samuel. He was content. It was better this way.

––

Charlotte and Mary’s heads snapped round as a loud cheer went up just as they stepped over the broad, worn threshold of the Sandpiper Inn, startled that their entrance into the cosy pub could have caused such an uproar. Instead they saw a short, older man being clapped on the back by his friends while another collected the darts from the board in the corner, the loser being ribbed that the drinks were on him. Removing their coats, they looked around the wood-panelled bar, the rationed lighting of the lamps on the walls making the two halves of the pub feel cosy behind the blackout curtains. Not seeing Georgiana, they crossed to the bar opposite the door to order their drinks.

They waited at the old oak bar, with its brass rail along the outer edge shining despite the many hands that had grasped it or bodies that had leaned against it to place an order. As the barman came towards them to find out what they wanted, Charlotte scanned the room on the left-hand side of the bar, away from the raucous darts match, and saw Georgie waving, standing, having spotted them at last. She had been so keen to get here she’d gone on alone, and Charlotte had not really known what to make of her friend’s eagerness, especially as she’d practically begged her to come with her while they were at breakfast. Still, they were here now.

Carrying their drinks across the snug, the tall, well-dressed man Charlotte had noticed in town that day was now standing, gallantly, next to Georgie, his pinstripe suit and accessories a combination of dandy-ish and ‘end-of-day’ dishevelled. Charlotte suppressed a snort, it had probably taken a lot of work to look that nonchalant about his appearance. He was handsome, she could admit, and tall, his mop of dark, curly hair coming loose from its Brylcreem.

“Ladies!” He said, a hint of Welsh lilt in his booming voice, “So wonderful you could come.”

Georgie grinned, “Charlotte, Mary, this is Mr Charles Lockhart…”

“But you must of course call me Charles!” He bowed slightly, before gesturing to the other seats at the table, “Please, sit.”

They all took their seats, and Charlotte said, politely, “I hear from Georgiana that you are going to be helping with the war effort, Mister Loc…”

“Charles, please,” he interrupted, lowering his head in a humble gesture. “And it is a privilege to be involved in such important work.” He looked over to Georgiana as he continued, “Here, as I was in London.”

“Oh, you were doing the same for the army there, too, were you?” Mary asked, with her usual cheerfulness.

“I know the importance of keeping the shelves stocked for the brave people of the East End, who’re enduring the nightly bombings,” he said, his eyes flicking to Mary before returning to Georgie.

So, no, then, Charlotte thought wryly.

“What brings you to Sanditon, Charles? Are you from this part of the world?” Georgie smiled at him, and he returned it with a wider grin.

“No, I’m from Wales.”

Mary chuckled. “I thought as much, whereabouts?”

“Carmarthenshire, in the south.”

“How did you know?” Georgie looked a little put out, and Charlotte leaned across to squeeze her arm.

But before she could answer, Charles said, smiling, “I think they could tell from my accent. As I’m sure you could tell someone was from New York rather than Chicago.”

“I’m from Chicago,” she said, holding his gaze. “How did you know?”

“Oh, just a lucky guess,” he said, and Charlotte watched their eyes lock.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave London. I was there for a while, and the raids were relentless.” She took a sip of her drink, eyeing him carefully.

“Yes, it was getting rather hairy,” he admitted, “I’d moved into Soho when I left Wales, my father has family around there. It’s not the East End, but the place is quite the shell of itself, now. Although I’m glad to say that most of the clubs are still standing…” He cast a furtive glance at Georgiana before continuing. “I do miss the club scene, it has to be said, although Sanditon has its charms, of course.” This time he turned his full attention towards Georgie, and gave her a dazzling smile.

“I’ve never made it to a London club, I’m so envious,” she said, and Charlotte was surprised to hear that her voice was a little breathy.

“Well, perhaps we can go,” he said, and then looked around the table, smiling, “we could all go!”

Charlotte and Mary exchanged looks, but Georgie was already saying, “Oh that would be wonderful. I’d love it. You’ll come, won’t you Charlotte?”

Charlotte smiled briefly at her friend, “We’ll have to see about the rota, Georgie…”, before catching Mary’s eye, who shrugged almost imperceptibly. She can’t go alone, was the unspoken message. “And it’ll have to be after payday!”

“Oh no, this will be my treat! What do you say, girls, a day out shopping in London, plus a night of dancing?”

Well, this beats those GI’s with their cigarettes and stockings into a cocked hat! Georgie is most definitely not as cynical as I am… Charlotte watched as Lockhart steered the conversation to acts he’d seen in various venues across the capital, Georgie listening intently and laughing animatedly at his anecdotes. She was torn between her innate distrust of the man – based on what she couldn’t quite put her finger on – and joy at seeing her friend so happy. He’s an attractive man, she’d already allowed, and they clearly have something in common.

Charles declared it was time for another round, waving away their offers to pay their way, and headed for the bar. Charlotte raised her eyebrow at her friend, who simply smirked. “What? I’m only following your example, and going after what I want!”

“Hmmm,” Charlotte said, narrowing her eyes, playing with her near-empty glass on the table before swallowing the last mouthful of her cider. She smiled at Georgie’s happy expression, and huffed a small laugh. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you.”

“I feel I have definitely missed something,” Mary said, with a quizzical smile at them both.

“Oh, Charlotte has simply told me this war has taught her to have her fun, as life can be unbearably short – ‘as long as I’m not hurting anyone,’ that’s what you said, right?” Georgie winked at Charlotte. “You said ‘I want to feel and think and do all that I can…’ as I recall…”

Charlotte’s cheeks flushed brightly, muttering, “Yes, that is what I said, but I feel like you’re taking it a little out of context…”

“Am I?” Georgie made her expression all innocence, then snorted a laugh. “I don’t think so, honey…”

Charlotte glanced at Mary, who was looking at her with a mix of curiosity and something akin to motherly concern. Charlotte smiled, deliberately, trying to give off an air of confidence that she didn’t feel under Mary’s scrutiny. “I also said this war had taught me about duty and sacrifice,” she said, somewhat stiffly.

At that point, Charles returned to the table, Captain Denham at his side. “Look what the cat dragged in! You all know Edward, don’t you?”

Georgie’s smile faded a little, but she said “Good to see you, Captain.”

As Georgie spoke, Mary leant over to whisper to Charlotte as she squeezed her hand under the table, “This war is teaching us all hard lessons, my dear…” before she straightened up to nod to Denham. “Captain.”

“All this formality, surely he can be Edward here! Or even Ed!” Lockhart clapped his friend on the back, and Denham smiled tightly, clearly not at all enamoured with his name being shortened so familiarly.

“I’m afraid we can’t just throw off the rules when we want to,” Charlotte said, her voice level and her smile a little forced. Denham inclined his head to her, his smile seeming genuine this time, and she relaxed a little. Perhaps he would not make things uncomfortable, after all, she thought as the men took their seats.

To Denham, Charles said, “We’ve just been planning a little trip up to London, Georgiana here has never been to a club there - I was thinking Marino’s?” Charlotte saw Lockhart glance at her friend surreptitiously before he went on, “When Oscar and Harry’s band is playing?”

“Oscar Rabin?? Oh, that’d be wonderful!” Georgie said quickly, “Especially if Beryl Davis is singing. I’d love to see them.”

Denham nodded, a little smirk playing around his lips briefly, before he said seriously, “An excellent suggestion. Let’s find out when they’re next on the bill.”

“Wonderful,” Lockhart said enthusiastically, “this plan is taking shape! Let’s drink to that!” He raised his glass, the rest following suit with varying degrees of enthusiasm, chinking them together in the air over the little round table.

––

Charlotte and Mary paused a few yards from the door, Charlotte lighting her cigarette as they turned to watch Georgie speaking to Lockhart for a few moments. “You’ll have to go, Charlotte,” Mary said, quietly. “She can’t very well go alone.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Charlotte said, blushing a little at the whingeing tone that crept into her voice.

“You said this war had taught you about sacrifice, my dear,” Mary said, chuckling lightly.

Charlotte exhaled smoke, and a sigh. “It’s not fair to turn my words back on me, Mary.”

“Mary winked, “Oh, all’s fair in love and war, don’t they say?”

“The only person with love on their mind is Georgie, I’d say.” Charlotte frowned, but she couldn’t help the smile that came when she heard her friend laugh. “I only hope she doesn’t fall too fast. We don’t know him at all.”

“Well, love isn’t something we have a lot of control over, my dear, I can tell you that for nothing…”

Charlotte eyed the older woman with interest, waiting, but she said no more. So instead she said, “I’m not sure what to make of him being friends with Denham. It seems a little convenient that he’s just got the distribution contract…”

“Well, we all need to do our part. Perhaps we should be grateful that Mr Lockhart is here and willing to get stuck in,” Mary said, with her usual optimism.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right, I know Mr Stringer is complaining a lot about the distribution, Georgie says he accosts her every time she goes into town. Hopefully this will help.”

“Exactly,” Mary said, “and if our friend enjoys his company, then that’s a lovely bonus.” Charlotte saw her look over to her out of the corner of her eye, and she went on, “Perhaps we can find you someone, to help you “feel all that you can”, as well? I think that was the phrase.”

Charlotte nudged her in the ribs with her elbow. “Stop it, you!”

“Well, it’s only a little while til the dance, you never know…” Mary chuckled and Charlotte rolled her eyes, tipping her head back to exhale a stream of smoke over their heads. Seeing Lockhart bow over Georgie’s hand before their friend made her way over to them, they turned to begin the walk back to Heyrick, Mary looping her arm through Charlotte and offering her other to Georgie as she caught up. They walked quietly through the gathering gloom, quiet except for their muted footsteps on the tarmac of the road. Charlotte thought back on the evening, not sure what to make of it all, but deciding that she could not blame Georgie for taking her own advice. If only I could do the same, she thought wryly. Could she just have a fling, to forget herself? You can’t have what you want, Charlotte. So why not? Her thoughts jumbled, she listened to Georgie’s excited chatter all the way back to Heyrick.

Chapter Text

Ms Winder’s Myths

Charlotte carried the book she had finished reading that morning, heading to the library to return it, her fingers caressing the soft leather cover. With its gold lettering in the spine it was a much finer copy than one she would ever own herself. On their first day at Heyrick, Mrs Wheatley had – somewhat reluctantly it must be said – shown the new Listening Station staff down the corridor past Lieutenant Colbourne’s study to see the Estate’s magnificent collection.

Although they’d all be told they could borrow books, it was only Charlotte and Aggie who were making use of it: Declan preferring the newspaper and Mary and Arthur distracting themselves with the cryptic crossword. Why they want to spend their leisure time doing puzzles beats me, she thought to herself as she came to the door of the Lieutenant’s study, ajar as usual. She wondered briefly about stopping and popping her head through to speak to him – just the way Mary does, she told herself – but she shook her head, realising she was not sure what she would say. She despised feeling this adrift – it was confusing, it was new to her and it was definitely unwelcome. On returning to Bletchley last year, after Sidney, she had passionately sworn she would never put herself in a man’s power again – she could now admit she hadn’t really known what she was talking about. She growled to herself in frustration and kept walking.

At the end of the corridor she reached for the brass door handle of the library and entered, savouring the aroma of old paper and polished wood, mixed with a mustiness which told of how little the room must have been used in the past decade. Charlotte quietly breathed in the faint hint of pipe tobacco that lingered, the smell comforting her with the memory of quiet evenings sat with her father in his book room at home. It grounded her, her thoughts clearing. She seized gratefully at the sense of knowing who she was again, feeling a swell in her chest. I’m living life on my own terms.

She moved over to the now-familiar shelf, carefully sliding ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ back in between the volumes of other classic novels. She hadn’t read it since she was a child, and she didn’t have a clear idea of why she’d reached for it last time she was here. Perhaps it was the same sense of nostalgia that had her seeking solace in this room.

A mental picture of a book she’d had as a child came to her, bound in green cloth, with a whimsical picture of a figure riding… was it a white donkey? She couldn’t quite recall, maybe a horse? There was a river, she could remember that. It was Greek myths retold for children, David had especially loved her reading it to him. She began to scan the shelves near where she’d found ‘Gulliver’s Travels’.

__

Xander froze in the leather wingback chair as someone entered the library. He had been so used to being the only one who used it, he felt a flash or irritation that had nothing to do with this room but had everything to do with the struggles he’d wrestled with for the past few years since his father died. He took a deep breath, but the faint smell of pipe smoke that still lingered catapulted him back to his father’s time sat here, brandy sloshed on the side next to the glass, and a half-empty decanter on the side. The resulting churning of his stomach gave him pause, he breathed carefully.

Watching Charlotte make her way to the shelf in the alcove, returning the book she’d evidently borrowed and then scanning the shelf intently, he suddenly felt the need to move out of the seat and was moving towards her before he’d had a conscious thought.

He cleared his throat, turning to face her, “Do you need any help?” he said, and she whirled around so fast her hair whipped out behind her. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He was standing too close, he realised, as she tamed her hair in embarrassment, and so took a step back. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No… I umm…” she said, blushing red, “I didn’t realise anyone was here… sir.” Her hand went to cover her heart, and she exhaled sharply before smiling up at him. “I don’t normally jump, otherwise my brothers would have had a field day… No harm done.”

“My brother Sam would have been the same,” he said, his hand gravitating to the back of his head as he looked down at the ground.

“I’m guessing that’s what made you so stoic, then?” As he caught her eye she grinned at him, and a smile tugged at his lips.

“I suppose so,” he said, and felt he had to break his gaze again, this time looking at the shelf behind her. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

She laughed quietly, “I am, it’s a little embarrassing really. I’ve got a hankering to read a children’s book!”

“Oh yes, which one?” He was intrigued, watching her closely as she turned to face the shelf.

It’s a book of Greek myths, I think by a Ms Wilder, it’s illustrated and has a green cover, or at least our copy did…”

“I think I know the one you mean. It’s not here…” he cut himself off suddenly, biting his lip and feeling her eyes on him. How would I know that? He kicked himself internally for his slip.

She narrowed her eyes, and he blushed, there was nothing he could think of to say so he stayed silent.

“Oh,” she said after a moment, “well, that’s a shame… I felt like reading an old favourite…” she began scanning the shelf again, pulling out a battered copy of Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado About Nothing’. “But this will do nicely…”

“Why was it such a favourite?” he blurted out, his chest tightening at the thought of that being the end of their conversation.

—

She watched as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor in front of him, thinking how boyish he looked. When he glanced up again she smiled, tilting her head, and she thought she read a little desperation in his eyes before he looked away over her shoulder once more. But then his gaze was back on her, steadily, the stoicism had returned.

“Well,” she said, “mum and dad were always busy with the farm, so as the eldest I often had to keep my brothers and sister busy. I’d read them stories then we’d act them out - the boys usually wanted pirates or knights, and my sister was happy with princesses in ballrooms, or in towers waiting to be rescued. But at least with the Greek myths the girls could have as much fun as the boys…” He chuckled, as she went on, “I’ll have you know, I’m a dab hand with a bow and arrow.”

“Ah, Artemis, the hunter. Did you have a pack of trusty hounds at your side?” His smile was crooked and his eyes had lit up.

“One trusty hound, Patch, when David hadn’t commandeered him for Apollo’s chariot.”

“David is your brother?” She nodded. “Is he still at home?”

“No, he got called up. Joined the RAF. He always wanted to fly. When he wasn’t racing chariots across the sky, he was Hermes, dashing about between the realms of the gods and the mortals.” She felt the familiar pang of anxiety for him. “I can’t help wishing he’d be ground crew, but he’s got his pilot’s wings already.”

“Where’s he based?”

“Bexleyheath,” she said and saw him wince slightly, and she sighed. “Yes, right in harm’s way…” Her arms wrapped themselves around her body, instinctively. Wanting to distract herself, she said, “So what was your favourite myth, then?”

His eyes looked down briefly, “I loved the story of Perseus. He has a dangerous mission, but he… err…” Colbourne looked a little sheepish, “knew brute strength and bravery weren’t everything. He thought it through, figured it out…”

“Ah yes, an intelligent mind!” She cocked her head at him, “But I don’t think he can claim to have figured it out, not really. He couldn’t have done it without the help of a clever woman!” He grinned at her mischievous look.

“Fair point,” he said, “and, don’t tell me, you were fair Athena too?”

“Obviously!” She laughed, “David tried to persuade Alison to be Medusa, even caught some grass snakes for her hair. Let’s just say she was not impressed! Alison isn’t one for getting her clothes dirty or her hair out of place.” She rolled her eyes, enjoying being able to make him smile.

“She sounds quite different to you,” he said, and she playfully nudged him in his side.

“Hey, are you saying I look wild and unkempt?” she said, but then her smile faded as the realisation hit her that she’d invaded his personal space, her cheeks flushing. Charlotte! What are you doing?

He grinned more broadly, and she silently exhaled the breath she’d held, “No, Heywood, I’m saying that you seem like a woman who gets stuck in and doesn’t worry about looking the part.”

Not wanting to show how self-conscious she felt, she drew herself up to her full height, chin held high, saying with mock seriousness, “I have always believed independence of spirit is something to be encouraged…” and he burst out laughing.

God, he’s handsome, she thought, a warmth coursing down to the pit of her stomach, and she immediately blushed again, though she couldn’t help but smile up at him.

His laughter faded, and their gaze held, and Charlotte felt the air between them change as if a summer thunderstorm had rolled in off the sea. Her hand, which was not holding the book fluttered by her side and she stilled it, shocked at the sudden urge to reach up and touch his cheek. The moments stretched and she saw his eyes drop to her lips, then seem to shake his head and look away over her shoulder. She pursed her lips and breathed out quietly, attempting to calm her racing heart. He stepped back, and the moment had passed. But she had no doubt he’d felt it too.

“Well,” his voice sounded taught, and he swallowed, “I’m only sorry the book doesn’t appear to be here. But I hope Bill will do instead.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, softly, feeling a pang of sadness and realising it was at the loss of his closeness and his gaze, her hand twitching again, “Beatrice and Benedict will cheer me, never fear…”

He walked to the side table where he’d laid down the book he had been reading. He grasped it to his side tightly, his knuckles a bit white, and she wondered briefly if his hands needed controlling as much as hers seemed to. “I… uhh… better get on,” he said, speaking to the floor, and headed to the door. “See you later.” He paused at the exit and looked back, and again their eyes locked.

“Yes,” her voice sounded breathless, “see you later.”

Once he was gone Charlotte flung herself into the nearest chair, breathing out hard. She replayed what had just happened, her hand resting on her stomach as she remembered the tension between them. This is not something I’m imagining. She cursed loudly, feeling the irritation that this incredible chemistry was with someone she shouldn’t have. Couldn’t have. Her foot bounced on the floor. Because if it was someone else I’d just have it off with him and be done with it. It was over a year since she’d done it, and frankly she missed it. Plus it would definitely blow off all this tension. She growled in frustration.

––

Xander walked quickly to his study, and straight to the tall window overlooking the driveway. With his back to the door he adjusted his trousers, and breathed out hard, head swimming. He couldn’t even think about what had just happened without the tension coiling back into the base of his torso, and he was trying to get himself under control.

He cleared his throat and exhaled heavily – of all the bloody luck! Why? Why did it have to be her?

He took his seat behind the desk, and leaned back to try and ease the discomfort, hands scrubbing through his hair. God he wanted her, this was a mess. He thought about the evening ahead, and how they would be spending the night shift together at the folly, alone. His hands covered his face and he stifled a groan. This was torture.

I’ll have to let her go. Make up some excuse. Have her called back to Bletchley. But his stomach twisted, that wasn’t fair, and the work would suffer. She was brilliant with the raw signal data, but more than that, she was brilliant with the other team members, bringing them together. I don’t think she even realises she’s doing that, he thought. She’s invaluable, I can’t lose her.

He resisted the urge to put his head in his hands, regulating his breathing. You just need to get a grip on yourself, Xander, he told himself sternly before he snorted quietly. Yes, that would be a great relief, but there’s no time. He pushed the thought away and picked up the pile of papers on his desk, willing his body and mind to calm. I just need to think about this bloody war, that should do the trick…

—

A knock on his door a quarter of an hour later made him look up, to see Mary peering round into the room, her eyes registering surprise at seeing him behind the desk.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, sir, as you’re on a night tonight.” She raised her eyebrows in question, and was reminded of Mrs Wheatley giving that same look countless times over the preceding years. From that exact same spot, he thought wryly. “I was just going to leave these here for you,” she went on as she handed him a manila file.

“I just wanted to get some things organised,” he said, smiling up at her, “and thank you.”

“Don’t work too hard, sir,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took his measure, and he felt a warmth in his chest at her motherliness, especially knowing all she’d lost.

“I know, I know, all work and no play makes Alexander a dull boy, isn’t that what they say?” His smile widened.

“I’m glad to see you’ve been paying attention sir!” She tilted her head. “I admit it was good to have a change of scenery last night, get off the estate for a bit. Even if the cider isn’t great at the Sandpiper.” She laughed, “And see the youngsters enjoying themselves. God, I sound like an old woman!”

Xander dropped his gaze to the notes in front of him, not trusting himself to meet her eye when she might see in them just how curious he was to hear about Charlotte’s evening. “A good night then?”

“We only stayed for a couple of drinks, but Georgiana did seem to hit it off with Mr Lockhart. And Captain Denham made surprisingly good company…”

“Denham was there?” Xander knew he’d blurted out his question, but the stab of something in his gut had forced it out of him.

Mary narrowed her eyes a little – bloody hell, this woman misses nothing! – and said, “Yes, he and Lockhart are friends apparently. The Captain introduced him to Major Parker.”

“Right,” he said tightly, managing to calm the feeling of jealousy long enough to register that this piece of information was interesting. He gritted his teeth: could Denham actually be more self-serving and irritating? Of course, he would get a job for his friend. He would be expecting his back scratched in return, no doubt about it. Well, the army stuff isn’t my concern, he reminded himself, he had enough to be getting on with.

He pulled his attention back to the conversation, and looked up to see Mary watching him. Realising he’d been frowning, he smiled tightly to clear his expression.

“The girls were talking about the dance next week,” she said, holding his gaze, “I do hope you’re planning on coming.”

His cheeks flushed, “Oh, umm, I’m not much of a dancer…”

“Well, I don’t suppose that’ll matter, as there’ll be plenty of men over from Portsmouth for girls to dance with, or so I hear.” He was sure she saw him flinch a little at that, before she went on, “But I’m sure it’ll still be fun even if you just go to enjoy the band, Georgiana said they’re quite good.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, and she smiled.

“See that you do, sir!”

––

Charlotte made her way to the dining room for a bite to eat before her night shift. She’d laid on her bed before heading into a night shift, but – just as she’d figured she wouldn’t – she hadn’t slept, her head had been too full of the encounter in the library. Dealing with the sexual tension at her own hand hadn’t even helped. Well, I rested my eyes, as mum would say. She smiled to herself as Mrs Richardson bustled in with the tea trolley, seeing the toasted crumpets piled on the platter next to the jars of strawberry jam. Oh, perfect timing! she thought, as she glanced at the pitifully dry sandwiches on the side, their edges curled up.

As Charlotte sat down with her plate filled and her cup of tea, Georgie’s voice caught her attention, as she came through the door. She was fairly hissing at Captain Denham, “Would it have killed you to back me up? You know how often I’ve gotten complaints from the shopkeepers! Mr Stringer is on my back every day, practically.”

“It’s not my problem that your commander didn’t take you seriously,” Denham was saying, scowling but with a hint of a smirk. He held his hands up in a mocking gesture of defeat, “I am but a lowly captain in the British Army, why would the esteemed US Navy Commander Rowleigh Pryce take note of anything I say?”

Georgie bit out through gritted teeth, “But the Major would have, and you know it…” She blew out a breath, and the Captain couldn’t contain the smirk any longer, making Georgiana scowl again.

“Look,” Denham said in a tone that Charlotte thought was supposed to be conciliatory, and would have been more convincing with less of a glint in his eye, “truth be told, I believe all these reports are greatly exaggerated. It suits the shopkeepers very well if they can claim items are missing from the deliveries, so they can keep them under the counter for buyers willing to pay the extra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” With a wave of his hand in something akin to a salute, he turned his back on her and strode across the dining room into the officer’s half, where Major Parker and a man Charlotte didn’t recognise had just seated themselves.

Georgie’s fists were balled by her side, her face contorted with frustration as she walked stiffly over to Charlotte’s table and sat down. Charlotte went to begin speaking and immediately Georgiana held up a warning finger, angling her chin away and closing her eyes. She remained still, in that same posture for a full half a minute, clearly trying to get her irritation under control. Charlotte munched on her crumpet and waited.

“I am having a frustrating day,” Georgie eventually ground out, her jaw still tight.

“I am getting that impression, yes,” said Charlotte, one eyebrow raised lightly. “Would tea help?”

“You English and your bloody tea…” Georgie muttered, but Charlotte took it as a sign she was gradually getting over the worst of it, so went to fix her friend a cup from the urn by the side.

“Crumpets, eh?” said a drawling American accent, and Charlotte turned to watch Denham placing a plate in front of the heavily jowled man who was sat with Parker. “I do enjoy a nice bit of crumpet, as I believe you English guys say? Best thing about letting the girls into this damn war.” Turning back to Georgie, she didn’t wait to hear Denham’s reply.

Walking back towards Georgie, Charlotte saw she had frozen in position mid eye-roll, her lips moving silently, clearly counting to ten. “Oh… my… God…” she closed her eyes again. “This better be the best damned tea in the entire world…”

Charlotte placed it on the table in front of her, and Georgie took a fortifying sip. “I take it that’s your boss, then?” Charlotte asked, carefully.

“Yes,” Georgie ground out, “although until this visit I wouldn’t have said he was a boor… Honestly, I have never known him to be as dismissive as he was today. Couldn’t give two hoots that there are problems in the supply chain, food going missing, as long as it doesn’t affect the supplies to his base.” She exhaled, hard, before reaching across to swipe the remaining crumpet from Charlotte’s plate.

“Oi!” she protested, and Georgie gave her an unapologetic smile before sinking her teeth into it.

“Honestly, all this frustration has got me famished! Oh god, these are good, what do y’all call them again?”

Charlotte sighed. “Crumpets.”

Chapter Text

A Turn About The Grounds

Charlotte found herself restless. After she’d had her breakfast, the idea of heading to her room to sleep was stifling. The night shift following her conversation in the library with Colbourne – Lieutenant Colbourne, she chided herself – had passed uneventfully, thankfully, albeit with her struggling to concentrate, his nearness an almost unbearable distraction.

She had been monitoring the radio signals while he poured over the reports from the day shift, sat at the large round table in the middle of the room, thighs spread as he leaned forward, hand raking through his hair. She was so aware of him. The way he moved, the lock of hair that fell forward over his eyes and the quirk of his mouth as he concentrated.

He had caught her eyes on him, once, when he’d sat back and stretched out. She had inwardly cursed the heat in her cheeks giving her away, even as she quickly turned to look at the arches above the windows in a show of determined concentration, one hand busy with the dials and the other pressing the earpiece tighter to her ear.

Whatever she ended up deciding to do with her morning, she needed to change, the collar of her uniform was now scratching at her neck. Heading to the room she shared with Georgiana and knowing her friend would be ensconced in the Major’s office for a while, she stripped and dropped her clothes into the floor before setting about using the sink in the corner to freshen up. After her wash, she dabbed jasmine-scented talc on her skin and made her decision, getting dressed in a soft blue, open-necked blouse and her wide-legged trousers. She brushed out her hair, deciding to pin up each side away from her face for ease, and checked her appearance, reaching for her lipstick out of habit, but deciding to forego it this time as she was only planning to walk around the grounds.

Heading out the front door, she stopped on the step and tilted her head back to feel the sun warm her face, feeling the tension of being cooped up overnight in the folly melt away. Then she headed around the side of the house, past the steps leading down to the kitchen, glad to feel the warm salt-tinged breeze on her face and feel the stretch of her limbs as she walked towards what would have once been the stable block. The cadet on duty in the first stall, which had been converted to a small sentry office, looked up briefly at her approach but merely lifted his chin in acknowledgement and returned to his ledger, pen clasped between his teeth.

As she rounded into the courtyard she was met with the sight of a motorcycle leaning on its kickstand, a toolbox next to it, and the long, lean legs of a man laying on his back, his head hidden under the body of the bike. Instinctively, she stopped and drew back slightly, not wanting to be seen. She felt a warmth spreading through her body at the thought of wanting to watch unobserved – she’d know that figure anywhere.

The faded fabric of his trousers clung to his thighs, as Colbourne bent them to shift his position and gain a better purchase on the bolt he was working on, tightening or loosening it, she didn’t know. His forearms – revealed by his rolled-up sleeves and dusted with a light sheen of oil and sweat – flexed, and her eyes fell to his taut abdomen where she saw a line of hair rising above his waist, as his worn khaki shirt was pulled up by his arms working above his head.

Damn, I could look at that sight all day.

He was sitting up now, twisted at his slim waist, reaching to put the spanner back in the toolbox and pushing his hair back from his forehead. He caught sight of her and smiled involuntarily, before his eyes narrowed and became more intense than she’d ever seen them. Charlotte felt warmth bloom at her centre, and her hand fluttered down to rest on her stomach before she made herself calm, finally breaking his gaze and looking down as she smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles in the fabric of her trousers.

When she risked a glance up he was on his feet and had grabbed a rag to wipe his hands. He was watching her, and she made a decision to stop avoiding his eye, smiling slightly. He moved towards her, almost as if he’d made a decision too.

“Are you not tired, either?” He said, his lips quirking as he used the rag to clean his hands.

“I am tired,” she admitted, “but the thought of heading inside had me restless. I thought I’d go for a walk to clear my head before I try and sleep.”

He nodded, “Good idea.”

“How about you?” She tilted her head briefly towards the sentry office, “I wouldn’t have thought they’d have you down for maintenance duties?”

He smiled and pushed the lock of hair back from his forehead, looking boyish again. “I love working on bikes. I find it relaxing. So I asked Jones if there was anything that needed doing.”

His smile was infectious, and she grinned back at him. “You certainly looked at home down there.” His eyes gleamed mischievously and he smirked, making her laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you to your oil and grease. I’m off for my walk.”

She turned and started walking across the courtyard, enjoying the sudden thought he’d been flirting with her again with that smirk, and the swoop her gut had taken at his unguarded smile. She didn’t think of herself as someone who went for a boyish look in a man, but she’d definitely started seeing him in a different light. And not just that taut stomach, she smiled to herself.

––

Xander watched her walk away, still smiling, and shook his head to himself as he turned to gather up the toolbox to take it back into the stable block. Making her laugh had made him giddy. It seemed he simply couldn’t be his disciplined, guarded self around her.

Not giving himself time to think, he grabbed his jacket from the hook on the wall where he’d stripped it off earlier, and hurried after her, shrugging it on as he went.

“Heywood!” He called out, and she turned and stopped walking, a look of surprise on her face which turned to a warm smile, and his stomach flipped. “Is it okay if I join you?”

“Of course… sir.” She looked down, cheeks flushing, and he realised she probably wasn’t sure what to call him, out here in the fields rather than in the confines of the Folly or the house.

“Call me Alexander,” he said, quickly, hoping not to embarrass her but finding himself pleased at the idea of hearing her say his name. What the hell is wrong with me? “I think out here we can dispense with the formalities.”

He saw her silently blow out a small breath, before she said, “Well then, out here, I’m Charlotte.” Her smile was tentative, but her eyes were bright.

“Charlotte,” he repeated, and tried not to think about how saying it made him feel.

As they began to stroll along together, Xander breathed in the fresh, green scent of the grounds he loved, and tried to relax at the novel sensation of being with someone, out here, who felt like they fitted as much as he did. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her arms swinging naturally as they hiked along – her trousers meaning she could stride along and she was surefooted, taking in the sights and sounds around her. No lipstick today. She’s so natural. Beautiful.

His thoughts were interrupted when she spoke, and he blinked to clear his head.

“So, Alexander, you seem pretty comfortable out here in nature, not a city boy then?” She cocked her head questioningly, and he wondered if she’d prefer it if he was.

“Well, I grew up in a place like this, and my family… worked the land.” His voice was a little hoarse, and he cleared his throat as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to say they’d been landowners, not when he didn’t yet know this woman, who he realised he very much wanted to think well of him. The war was levelling the playing field, and who knew what her background was. Perhaps she would think him a snob, or be resentful of his inherited wealth. Ha. What inherited wealth…

Truth was, his ancestors had expanded the manor for their famed country-house lifestyle, and a century later he had been left facing crippling running costs, repair bills and lost income as the generation of young men did not return from the trenches and people left the countryside for the pull of factory work in the cities. What was left, after his father’s mismanagement, had been eaten up by the estate taxes after his father’s death, and he knew taxes were bound to rise to support the war effort. The requisition was almost certainly the last straw; he had all but resigned himself to the loss of the estate.

He felt a stab of sadness at the thought of eventually having to say goodbye to this place, where he and Sam had grown up, running wild over the fields, finding the best hiding places for when life in the house was best avoided. It was usually easier for him to bear it when he was inside the house, where the need for renovations were blindingly obvious. Outside on the land – even though it was so changed by the Cultivation of Lands Orders that insisted every bit of soil was used to grow food – his heart felt heavy as he looked around, trying to relax his clenched jaw.

“Ah, so you’re just like me. I grew up on a farm.” She smiled at him, her expression open. He felt his heart flip; just being with her was soothing him in ways he didn’t comprehend.

“Oh yes?” He asked, curious. “Whereabouts?”

“Just over the border into Hampshire, actually, so not far. Actually pretty close to where the naval base is. My father is also one of their suppliers, although he doesn’t know where I’m based of course. I just saw it from his letters and thought it was a coincidence.”

He smiled and nodded, enjoying the way she seemed so comfortable telling him about herself.

She went on, “I was glad to be back by the sea, after Bletchley. The air is different. Softer somehow…”

He glanced down at the path as he said, without thinking, “That’s the ionised air..” Then he felt his face flush, and began to apologise, “Oh sorry, there’s me sounding like a know-it-all…” He tailed off, embarrassed.

“Not at all, it’s interesting, isn’t it? It’s why all those regency folk built these sea resorts – they were right, although they didn’t know the science, the sea air was good for them.”

He looked at her happy expression, eyes wide and soft, feeling unmoored by having someone be interested in the science that he thrived on. Lucy had always berated him as a show-off whenever he shared his knowledge with her. He couldn’t help but grin. “Yes, and the water too. Those old bathing machines on the beach are quite a reminder.”

“Yes, I’m just glad that us girls can swim without all that fabric of those ridiculous bathing dresses around us.” He watched as a flush of colour immediately spread up from her collar, and she looked away, and he realised she was probably embarrassed at having put the picture in his mind of what she might wear to go into the sea. He hid a grin and pretended he hadn’t noticed.

“Do you like to swim, then?”

“Yes, I love it. I’ve been nagging Georgiana to come and take a dip with me.” She met his gaze again, and it was his turn to look away as he felt his mind picturing her stripping down to her underwear… But then a thought occurred to him that booted his brain back into action.

"Do be careful,” he said, sharply, “there are riptides and strong currents off this coast, and they can be lethal. My brother…” He snapped his mouth shut, realising he might have given himself away.

She looked at him curiously, and he knew she was observing him closely. “Oh, are you a local, then?”

“Yes,” he gazed off into the distance, keeping his voice neutral. “Yes, we grew up… near here.” He felt her eyes on him and schooled his expression as he met her questioning look.

She paused for a moment longer, but then changed the subject, as he silently sighed with relief.

“We used to dip in the lake near Bletchley on days off, in the summer,” she said. “The brass didn’t like it, thought we were cavorting, but there was little else to do and we were cooped up all the time in those stifling tin huts…”

“Yes, I know…”

“Oh, were you at Bletchley, then?” She asked, brightly.

“Yes, for initial training, so only briefly. I then went up to Scotland…”

“Ah, number 30 Commando’s then? My… um, I know someone else who was trained there? Sidney Palmer. Did you know him?” He noticed something in her voice, and tried to study her expression, but the openness was gone and she looked away into the distance.

“Hmm, vaguely.” He remembered the arrogant RAF officer, but wasn’t sure what her guarded expression meant so kept any hint of his opinion of the man out of his voice. “We weren’t training at the same time, but I remember him from exercises here and there. I never worked with him closely.” Xander’s stomach roiled at the memory of his own reassignment, just days before the Dieppe raid which had ended in the deaths of Palmer and so many others he’d trained and worked with. The guilt had crippled him for months, and he still lay awake some nights, his mind rolling over and over the question of why he got to survive. He swallowed, realising his heart rate had sped up, and took a steadying breath. He watched her carefully, to see if she had seen his moment of anxiety, but she had been turned away admiring the view across the barley field, and only now turned back to him. He concentrated on her expression, trying to figure out what she was thinking, about Palmer and his not really knowing him. He thought she perhaps looked relieved, as her shoulders dropped, as if she was forcing herself to relax.

She smiled again, although not as brightly as before, and changed the subject. “It’s good to have Mary and Aggie here, and Arthur and Declan, too. You chose well, they’re among the best.”

“Thank you. I like to think I gave them a rigorous interview.” He gave her a knowing smile as her head snapped round from where she had been checking the path ahead of her. They had come to the edge of the woodland, now, and the path was a little overgrown with the fresh growth of brambles. She paused as she held his gaze, and he took the opportunity to reach past her and hold the prickly branch aside for her to pass. She inclined her head in a small gesture of thanks, but was clearly waiting for him to say more.

He blushed slightly, but went on, "I, err, wanted to speak to you about that… the day you came for the interview.”

It was her turn to flush, too. “No need, sir,” she said, looking away.

So we’re back to sir. He swallowed heavily, steeling himself to press on. “You caught me on a bad day. I was… no, it doesn’t matter, the point is I was rude. And I’m sorry.”

She turned to face him, a quizzical look in her eye, and he willed himself to hold her gaze, wanting to convey how much it meant to him that she might let him undo some of the slights of their first meeting.

Brown eyes looked up at him, softening. “Thank you… Alexander.”

Silently, Xander let out a long breath.

––

Charlotte walked along the woodland path, distracted by his apology which had come completely out of the blue. It had been awkward, but there was something so sincere in his eyes, like he had been desperate to make sure she knew he was sorry for the start they’d made. Why is it so important to him? I’m just a junior in his team.

But she knew that wasn’t true, not anymore. She couldn’t imagine him taking a walk with Mary, or Aggie, and not even playing billiards with Arthur or Declan. No, this was different.

He was different, out here. He seemed so much more relaxed, less guarded. He hadn’t given her much by way of information about his past. Well, not intentionally, anyway. She felt sure there was something he was keeping hidden from everyone, and although she had her suspicions, he was clearly not comfortable sharing it. Yet, she hoped.

As she walked, the air was cool and rich with the scent of damp earth and pine which replaced the ever-present tang of the sea, temporarily. He was quiet, and the silence between them felt comfortable and light.

As they paused to again move past a bramble threatening to rip their clothes, she paused and said, “Might I make an observation?”

His lips quirked into a slight smile, as he glanced away briefly before focusing on her face once more. “You’ve already made the observation, you might as well share it,” he said, wryly.

“Well, I’ve noticed you… you keep yourself apart from everyone,” she began. “Not just us at the Folly, although I understand it must be hard not to, as our commanding officer.” She looked up at him, watching his face for signs she was irritating him. “I see it in the mess hall too, with the other officers. So I know it’s not just that. Not just being senior…”

He shifted slightly from foot to foot, his eyes roaming above her head. “I have my reasons,” he said, his voice hardening. He looked as if he was forcing himself to stay beside her, planting his feet as his fists balled slightly by his sides.

Charlotte waited, remaining still, eyes fixed on his until he met her gaze again. When he didn’t elaborate, she went on, speaking gently, “It’s just that, we’re such a great team, and there’s so few of us. I think you could, perhaps, let us in a bit? Let us share the load.” He looked down at her, and she smiled softly. “You know we’re discreet. And reliable. Well, to be fair, I suppose you don’t exactly know that yet…” she tilted her head slightly to the side, “but our references tell you we are, and I can vouch for the others.”

She saw his jaw clench, and he narrowed his eyes slightly, before fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. “Charlotte, I…” he began, looking down, “I’m used to handling things alone. I had… a lot of responsibility. Before the war.” He looked up and held her gaze, and she saw his vulnerability in his eyes. “Joining up was… the first time I’d been part of… well, I suppose, the first thing I wasn’t expected to do on my own.” His lip quirked into a close-mouthed smile. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Charlotte resisted the urge to reach out to place her hand on his arm, but only barely. “When I think of all this war has taken from us,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m still… grateful somehow. I know that sounds terrible,” she said quickly, a faint flush rising on her cheeks, “oh, I don’t mean it like…” She cleared her throat. “I just mean it has created something I hadn’t really known before, a collective effort? Pulling together. Relying on other people.” She saw him watching her closely, nodding just a little, so she went on, “And I know there are people out there who are exploiting things and only looking out for themselves, I’m not naive. But I know there are far more people that are wanting to work together and see we succeed.”

His gaze was intense, now. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

––

Xander watched her take a breath before continuing, clearly warming to her subject now. “And as a woman, it’s given me something I really value. A way to be independent.” She smiled slightly, ‘Without marrying, without having family money. I can live life on my own terms.” He returned her small smile, and then she shook her head ruefully. “My father is worried about us, he says standards are slipping.” Her voice had grown deeper in an unconscious impression of her father, but then she went on in her normal tone, “I’ve always admired him but... I think he’s wrong. Women are getting to choose in a way they haven’t before. And I think that’s a good thing.”

He felt something in his chest expand, as he watched her earnest expression and sensed the passion beneath her words, even though they were calmly spoken. He admired her spirit, whenever she spoke of things she cared about – whether that was a decoding problem she was wrestling with or now, revealing something of what made her tick. He realised he desperately wanted more of her.

He’d met many women throughout his training, some with morally-questionable skills in espionage, but more who were like this woman in front of him, intelligent and hardworking. All of whom were challenging him, purely because they had more influence in his world than ever before. But none had made him question so many assumptions about the world before Charlotte. His eyes dropped to her lips before he dragged them back up, cleaning his throat. “Yes,” he said, belatedly. “I think it’s a good thing, too.”

“So,” she smiled again, “perhaps you could trust us, and let your guard down a bit? I promise we won’t bite.”

A sudden image of her mouth on him flashed before his eyes, and he closed them briefly before composing himself, clamping his lips together. He willed himself to relax. “No, I don’t suppose you do. Ok, you’ve made your point. I’ll think about it.”

She flashed him a grin, “See that you do.” She set off again down the path, as his thoughts whirred. He had known she was observant, and now he was feeling the full force of her perceptiveness. He felt exposed and unmoored. Why does she always have this effect on me?

After only a few moments they reached the edge of the woodland, and were faced with the track that connected the folly to the house, and they turned to head back. She yawned behind her hand, and he realised he was beginning to feel the effect of fresh air after the night shift, too.

“This is such a beautiful place,” she said, looking across the fields stretching away from the path, filled with the new shoots of wheat, still low to the ground and green-stalked.

“Yes, my brother always…” he stopped abruptly, looking at her surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye to see if she picked up on his slip. She glanced over to him, no doubt noticing he had stopped talking. He felt himself blush. Why do I keep wanting to tell her about my childhood? He hurried on, “My brother always loves coming back down here to the seaside as well. He’s in London now. A barrister. Working in the Ministry of Supply, one of their parliamentary counsels.”

She narrowed her eyes briefly, before tilting her head and softening her expression. “Ah right,” she said, “I was in Whitehall for a while. Was very glad to be called back to Bletchley, as the bombing was becoming tiresome. I can see why he’d want to escape sometimes.”

Feeling as if he had managed to distract her, his mind went to her choice of words. The bombing was “tiresome”? Having spent a little time in London suffering the nightly air-raids, that wasn’t the word he’d use. This woman is quite remarkable. And brave.

He was called back from his thoughts when Charlotte said, slowly, her voice a question. “Alexander?”

He was distracted by the frisson he felt when she said his name. “Yes?”

She tilted her head to the side, “The staff know you. Here. At Heyrick.”

He stiffened, his stride momentarily shortening before he recovered his step. “Well, I’ve been based here a while…” he looked away into the distance, focusing just above her head, “before… you know, before setting up the Folly.”

“Hmmm. Yes.” She looked sceptical. “But… I think the staff from the old house know you. Mrs Wheatley. Mrs Richardson. Some of the maids…” Her voice tailed off, watching his face.

A flash of irritation shot through him, he really didn’t want to be talking about this. Looking down at the ground, he said coldly, “It’s none of your business…”

After a brief pause, Charlotte said, “I’ve spoken out of turn. I didn’t mean to… pry…” At this he moved his gaze back up, slowly, realising she had not taken her eyes off his face, her eyes narrowed.

“Well, it’s a little late for that…” He tried to smile, to relieve the tension, but his jaw was tight. He found a spot above her head to focus on.

Her forehead was lined with a frown, “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

“Not at all,” he said, his voice expressionless. He closed his mouth in a thin line.

—

The remainder of the walk back to the house passed in awkward silence, the only sound the crunch of the gravel of the path beneath their feet. Everything of the open, happy expression on her face was gone, replaced with a tightness that stabbed his gut with every step.

They parted with a brief nod at the bottom of the stairs, her taking them quickly and disappearing around the corner to make her way up the second flight to the junior personnel’s rooms. He ascended more slowly, heading for his room on the first floor with heavy tread on the polished oak floor.

He was irritated that she had seen through him, but if he were honest with himself he was more irritable with himself for being so slack and not being more careful in what he said. Why does this woman undo me so easily? He had sworn to himself that no one would know Heyrick was his family home, and yet she had guessed within weeks.

As he entered his room and flung off his jacket, more than anything he wanted to withdraw from everything and everyone even more, to keep himself to himself and guard his secret. I could eat at odd hours, have a tray sent to my room, immerse myself in work so I’m not needing to interact with her... I mean, with everyone. But then he stopped, thinking of what he’d said to Charlotte, that “old habits die hard”. This was how he’d always dealt with everything, and where had it got him?

He’d been telling the truth when he’d told her he’d never been part of something where he could rely on others before. Lucy had always complained that he would not let her in, wouldn’t share what was bothering him. But then she had always judged him, finding him lacking. She had grown weary of being pushed away, and eventually found solace in the arms of another. I hope life as a colonel’s wife is all she wanted. The thought was bitter and he pushed it away.

He sat down heavily on the wingback chair in the corner of his room, which was soft brown leather and much more comfortable than the overstuffed formal chairs around the rest of the house. Mrs Wheatley had moved it out of the drawing room before Major Parker had taken that room as his office, her distaste for the requisition more fierce than his own. It had been her home a long time, too, he thought. No wonder she despises the men who treat it with such carelessness.

But not all of them were careless – he thought of the bright, dedicated team who were doing an amazing job with deciphering the patterns in the signals they were picking up. Charlotte was right, they were good sorts, he could rely on them. But could he bring himself to let his guard down? Stripping off, as exhaustion began claiming his tired body and overwrought mind, he knew he had to sleep before making any decisions.

Chapter Text

Show Your Hand

Charlotte’s first thought on waking was one of relief. Twenty-four hours away from the Folly! Stretching languidly, her mind drifted back to her walk that morning, and tension stole immediately back into her limbs, along with a stab of irritation. Whether she was cross with him or herself, she couldn’t tell. Why couldn’t you just hold yourself in check? You always speak when you should hold your tongue… She tossed back the covers in frustration, and threw her legs over the side.

No! He had no reason to react that way. He should know that I wasn’t going to spread gossip – for God’s sake, the Navy trusts me with its bloody secrets. He was out of order…

She stomped across and threw open the curtains, surprised at the lengthening shadows, how long had she slept? Grabbing up the alarm clock, its burgundy calfskin case cool in her hands, she saw it was gone five o’clock. Her irritation with herself grew – she had wanted to make the most of her day off and was now sure she wouldn’t sleep tonight. The clock snapped shut in her hand, her grip too tight, and the usual sense of comfort and satisfaction at the soft click of the closing didn’t come. She took a deep breath and slowly unfolded the three sides again, taking care to stand it back on her bedside table so she would see it from her pillow later. She saw her father’s face as he’d presented her with it the day she’d left for basic training, his eyes glistening as he told her how much better it would be if she had her own alarm clock. He would have had no way of knowing she’d end up doing night shifts, but usually she’d have set it to wake early enough to get some sleep later, and the thoughtfulness of the gift often made her feel connected to her family, despite the distance and not being able to tell them what she was doing in the war effort. Letters were filtered through a navy base in Humberside, of all places. They would be shocked she was actually less than one hundred miles from home.

Homesickness rose in her throat, but she pushed it down. She had so little left of this day, she wasn’t going to waste it moping around. Going to the sink in the corner, she cranked open the hot tap and heard the ancient pipes gurgling above her head. The only advantage of nights was hot water, although she’d have to be quick before the rest of the army personnel came back to their rooms to freshen up before dinner. Well, not quite the only advantage…

She allowed her thoughts to drift back to the times she had been alone with Colbourne in recent days – on night shifts, in the library, and then out in the glorious grounds of Heyrick earlier. The powerful connection she felt – knew he felt too – simmered up from the pit of her stomach, but it just added to her frustration. She growled and grabbed the wash cloth with much more force than necessary. She needed company and distraction. She’d go to dinner then persuade whoever was around to have some fun tonight!

—

Xander woke up in a tangle of sheets, the warmth of the afternoon intruding through the heavy drapes. As he freed his long legs from the covers and stretched out, slowly coming to, his mind drifted to the tranquility of the barley fields, the green tips giving way to gold as the crop began to ripen. It had been a beautiful sight, and he’d been with a beautiful woman who seemed as delighted with it all as he had been…

The memory of the rest of their walk crashed in on him, Charlotte’s pinched face as they made their way back to the house. His stomach dropped and he raked his hands over his face. Urgh. Reliving the light, open, happy expression on her face vanishing because of his coldness sent a stab through his guts. It was his old friend shame. Shame that he could do nothing but push people away.

He instinctively began pushing the feeling down into the vault, closing his mind to the sneering voice in his head. But then he breathed carefully, remembering her words about this war being an opportunity for – how did she put it? – “A collective effort… Pulling together. Relying on other people.” He swallowed, “Letting other people share the load.”

His heart gave a hollow thump, he wanted that. Really wanted that. But, by God, that’s scary. Could he do it? Open up to people? They’ll soon leave you, the voice taunted him. They’ll see how you’ve failed and no-one will respect you.

But… Charlotte’s face came into his mind’s eye, her eyes soft as she listened to him, drawing him out. She’s guessed, and she doesn’t seem to think any less of me. He exhaled again, slowly.

He didn’t have to share everything. His sense of failure at not being able to save the estate was something he thought he could never let anyone see. But he could, maybe, let people a bit closer. Let them see a bit more of himself. Just a little.

Her words rang in his head: “Perhaps you could trust us?”

He would make a start. And try to put right the damage he had done to Charlotte’s trust of him. He wanted to see her smile, her openness, her curious eyes on him. He wanted to hear her laugh. And call me Alexander… Nope. Too far. Just be satisfied with her trust and respect.

It was all he could hope for. He pushed himself off the bed, determined to do better.

—

The dining hall hummed with the low murmur of conversation and the clink of cutlery on plates. As it was the earliest sitting for dinner, Charlotte easily found a table. Such was her mood that, seeing Aggie at a table in the corner on her own – and not having been spotted by the youngster – she decided to sit behind her rather than be forced to have any conversation that would further try her patience while she was still feeling so grumpy.

Aggie was sat hunched over a SigInt manual, her empty plate beside her. Charlotte watched as Captain Denham approached with practiced casualness, his uniform still somehow immaculate – how do posh people do that? He paused beside Aggie’s table, clearly affecting surprise. “Third Officer Markham! Working through dinner again, I see.”

Aggie looked up, startled, nearly knocking over her glass of water. “Oh! Captain Denham, sir. I was just… reviewing some procedures.” Charlotte was glad to see her close the manual quickly away from prying eyes.

“May I?” Denham gestured to the empty chair across from her, but was already settling into it without waiting for her response. “You know, I’ve been hearing rather impressive things about your work over there.” He cocked his head to indicate the Folly. “Ninety-seven percent accuracy rates, isn’t it?” Charlotte’s eyebrows raised – How does he know that? Has Mary spoken of it? She doubted it. Maybe Dec had been teasing her where Denham might have overheard.

A flush crept up Aggie’s neck. "Oh… thank you, sir… I mean, I just do what’s required of me."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Tell me, how long have you been a Third Officer?" Charlotte grudgingly admired his tactic of appealing to the young woman’s obvious ambition – oh, yes, he’s good…

Aggie replied with some bitterness in her voice. "Nearly eight months now, sir. Since last September."

Denham scoffed. "Eight months of exemplary service, and you’re still..." He glanced meaningfully at her single stripe. "Well, I suppose promotion can be rather slow in some departments." Charlotte couldn’t have stopped herself rolling her eyes if she’d tried.

Aggie’s fingers unconsciously touched her sleeve. "Charlotte…" she cleared her throat, self-consciously, and Charlotte’s ears pricked up, expecting some barbed comment. "Second Officer Heywood says these things take time. That my work will speak for itself." Interesting. She was listening.

"Heywood is quite right, of course. Though I can’t help but think she herself has advanced rather quickly." Charlotte bristled. She watched him pause, studying Aggie’s face as the observation hit its mark. "Different superiors have different ways of creating... opportunities, shall we say." He leant back, and Charlotte saw the smirk he hid immediately. A flush rose to her cheeks – what is he insinuating?

"I hadn’t really thought about it that way, sir." Aggie looked as though a new thought had occurred to her, and Charlotte sat, clenching her fists.

"You’re far too modest, Markham. In my experience, the most capable people often are." He leaned in, conspiratorially, “Of course, I know Lieutenant Colbourne is too busy to notice…” He let the sentence linger, watching Aggie closely.

Charlotte stood, having heard enough. Clearing her throat she moved to stand between Aggie and where Denham was still leaning over the table towards her.

“So sorry to interrupt, but I saw you’d finished…” she gave Aggie a bright smile, “so I thought we could go through to the rec room. I fancy a games night!”

Denham scowled briefly but hid it immediately, as Aggie looked up at Charlotte, a little dazed.

She took her elbow and all but lifted her from her chair, hurrying them across the room. “What was all that about, Aggie?” she hissed.

“Captain Denham was just…” Aggie seemed to remember herself, pulling her arm from Charlotte’s hold and straightening her jacket. “He was just remarking on my performance. It’s nice to be noticed, for a change.”

“We’ve all been saying how well you’ve been doing, Aggie…” The bubble of irritation rising through her chest was threatening to burst. “Come on, let’s find the others…” Hopefully they’ll stop me telling you what a spoiled brat you can be…

___

Xander wandered past the open door of what he dimly recalled had been the parlour his mother had used for afternoon entertaining, and stopped to watch the scene unfolding. The room he remembered as a small boy was unrecognisable – gone were the ghastly scarlet-velvet chaises and ornamental side tables, replaced with a scruffy-but-serviceable billiard table, and folding tables lined with baize, along with old dining chairs. A gramophone sat in the corner, the horn clearly dulled by years of use. Georgiana was leafing through a small stack of records perched beside it, a recording of the Glenn Miller Band in her hand as she looked through the other choices. Aggie was perched on the edge of a chair, absentmindedly shuffling a pack of cards, watching something just out of view that was making her smirk.

As Xander peered further round the door, he saw Charlotte holding her cue and assessing the angle before lining up her shot, the edge of the table coming to her waist. Arthur stood on the other side, dusting the tip of his with chalk, grinning at his opponent who was biting her lip in concentration. He watched as she leant across the table, hitching her hip up as high as she could, one leg off the floor. Hidden as he was, Xander let his eyes roam over her pert bottom and slender waist.

“I could fetch you a box to stand on, if it helps.” Arthur said, and Charlotte poked her tongue out at him, which did little to relieve the tension in Xander’s trousers. Xander! He shook himself. She deserves better from you.

Narrowing her eyes, Charlotte straightened and said indignantly, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Arthur shrugged, feigning innocence, and her lips twitched as she concentrated back on the shot. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much,” she said, bending down again and shifting her weight to plant her feet more securely. The cue slid awkwardly over the worn felt, and she tried to stretch just an inch further.

Barely suppressing his laughter, Arthur stepped forward and nudged the ball closer to the cushion. “Here! A little friendly assistance. No one’ll know.”

Charlotte shot him a mischievous look, shaking her head, as Georgiana and Aggie laughed. “If I get this pot, it’s thanks to pure skill, I’ll have you know – and not a word about my height,” She settled in to aim again.

“Hmmm, ” Arthur clearly pretended to think about it, before nodding slowly. “Alright, I promise not to mention it…too often.”

She rolled her eyes as he winked at her, but couldn’t hide the grin. Then with a final adjustment, she sent the cue ball rolling across the table, and the ball she’d been aiming for rattled around the pocket before dropping in.

Charlotte raised her hands in victory, crowing. Georgiana stepped forward to hug her, laughing at Arthur covering his heart and bowing, as he said, “A worthy victor!”

“Pah,” Aggie said, rolling her eyes, “If that’s allowed, then anything goes…”

Charlotte made her way across to where Aggie was sitting and nudged her in the ribs, grinning, while Xander tried to duck back out into the corridor. But knew he was too late when she called out, “Lieutenant!”

He paused and his eyes locked on hers. She was still smiling from her victory celebrations, although it faded as she looked at him, a questioning expression replacing it. She held his gaze as Arthur peeped round the door and said, “Come in and join us, sir, Charlotte has just been crowned billiards champion.”

Arthur was smiling at him, but again he looked at Charlotte, assessing whether she would welcome him after his rudeness to her earlier.

She tilted her head to the side and said, “No bikes to be fixing this afternoon then, sir?”

He felt the knot in his stomach unravel, and smiled at her. “No, not this afternoon,” and his eyes dropped to the floor, feeling a mix of embarrassment that the others would realise she knew something about him that they didn’t, and a thrill that they shared something private just between them. He glanced up to see Georgiana watching him closely, so he cleared his throat. “I could spare a few moments…”

Charlotte moved a couple of chairs out from the edge of the room, and gave him an encouraging smile. “I think I’m ready for a new challenge, Aggie, get dealing! Rummy or whist, sir?”

He felt Georgiana watching him, still, and feeling somehow assessed, he flushed a little as he sat down, avoiding the American’s eye. She slowly turned away, saying, “Anyone mind if I put some music on while you play?” The group murmured that they had no objections, so she began to line up the needle to the record on the turntable. The sound of the opening bars of ‘At Last’ filled the room, so he knew she’d picked the Glenn Miller one after all. She came back to the table and stood between Charlotte and Aggie, who were busy arranging the card table as Arthur pulled up a chair, and he dared to look up at her, only for her to offer him a sly wink as she tilted her head almost imperceptibly towards the gramophone. Is she trying to tell me something? Feeling flustered, he realised everyone had sat down and were waiting for him to choose the game, and he blushed and looked down at the scuffed green baize. Much as he’d love the excuse to partner with Charlotte in the team game, he didn’t feel up to the challenge while he was feeling so awkward. “Rummy, I reckon…” he said, looking up and seeing Charlotte smile. The tension in his chest eased a little more.

“Rummy it is, then,” she said, as Aggie shuffled ceremoniously, flicking the cards into one pile on the table from both hands, looking pleased with herself.

“Very impressive, my dear,” said Arthur, kindly, and Georgiana rolled her eyes to the heavens, Xander just about resisting the urge to do the same. He caught Charlotte’s eye as she bit her lip, and his lips quirked a little.

“I’ll just listen to the music, if that’s alright,” Georgiana said, moving away again to the gramophone corner again, settling in with her head leaning back on the wall, eyes closed.

Aggie began to deal out the cards, with a combination of precision and flourish, but Arthur put his hand on her arm to stop her, saying, “Right, so basic Rummy, yes? Seven cards, meld in sets or runs. None of this fancy nonsense.”

Opening her eyes, Georgiana said from across the room, “Fancy nonsense? You mean like playing properly? We play with ten cards back home. And you can draw from the discard pile, even if it isn’t the top one.”

Arthur spluttered, “That’s madness!” His hands flew about as he emphasised his point. “The whole point of the discard pile is that it’s dead to you unless you’re quick. It keeps it exciting, you see…” He ended by waggling his eyebrows and Georgiana rolled her eyes before closing them and tilting her head back again.

“What a tragically dull life you must have led, if that seems exciting…”

Charlotte gave a small laugh, but then frowned a little as she said, warningly, “Aggie…”.

Aggie shrugged, turning back to Arthur and sniffed, “I think you all just like the rules that make you win. I remember someone…” this time they all looked pointedly at Arthur, “…changing the rules halfway through last time.”

Huffing, Arthur said, “I did not! I merely clarified a grey area.”

Charlotte laughed. “A grey area that just happened to let you lay down three queens after Declan had declared rummy?”

Arthur’s look was all innocence as he said, “Coincidence!” But it was immediately undermined when he grinned.

Charlotte pouted, “Coincidence? It was treachery, is what it was.” Xander was distracted by the way her lips moved, and dropped his gaze immediately, looking down and hoping no one had seen the direction of his gaze. He peeked up and saw Georgiana watching him, her head tilted questioningly. He hoped she couldn’t see exactly what he was looking at from across the room.

Georgiana laughed, “Hurry up and decide, or you’ll never even get started. Why don’t you vote? Seven cards or ten?”

Charlotte jumped in immediately, “Seven. It’s faster and I actually stand a chance.”

“I vote ten,” Aggie said, lifting her chin, “I like a bit more to work with.”

Arthur said, “Seven. Less chance for Aggie to suddenly pull a miraculous hand.”

Augusta grinned, “I am rather good, aren’t I?”

“Ten.” Georgiana called out from across the room, “Just to spite Arthur…” It was his turn to roll his eyes.

“I’m not sure you get a vote if you’re not playing,” Charlotte said, “but that makes it two-two.” She looked up at Xander, smiling, “Looks like it’s up to our fearless leader to break the tie.”

He flushed, his stomach flipping and feeling incredibly awkward, but decided to play along. “Ten cards. But if Arthur starts bending the rules again, we’ll switch to gin rummy and gang up on him.”

He was rewarded with a laugh from Charlotte, as Arthur leant in to Aggie and said in a stage whisper, “Deal quickly then – before anyone remembers I owe them points from last game…”

Georgiana said quickly, “Oh yeah, you owe me tea rations!”

“I owe you nothing but a sound defeat, which is, I’m assuming, why you’re too chicken to play…”

Xander listened quietly to the banter as Aggie dealt and he examined his hand, looking up to see Charlotte watching him. She leaned in and whispered, “Bravo, sir.” The thud of his heart was less hollow this time.

The rounds began, with the players pretty evenly matched. Although he remained quiet for most of it, he laughed a few times at their competitiveness and even teased Aggie for her pride in her shuffling, which had her lifting her chin in that way he found most irritatingly like Lucy. But Charlotte had caught his eye and winked at him, and all he could think about was wanting to make her smile as often as he could.

“I thought you’d appreciate my precision, sir,” Aggie said, sniffing, “or perhaps you don’t reward good performance in your team.”

“Aggie…!” Charlotte admonished, and Xander tried to hide his scowl.

“It’s just as Captain Denham said…”

“What did he say?” Xander failed to hide his irritation, his words clipped around the tightness of his jaw.

“Just that he doubted… people…” at this she looked down at the back of her hand, “would get the recognition they deserved.”

Xander swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting to stay in control of his temper which had flared at the knowledge that Denham was trying to interfere in the running of his operation, his team.

“We’ve only been up and running a few weeks, Aggie,” Arthur said, and he saw Charlotte was observing her carefully.

“Yes, well, I rather think the Army should stay out of the running of an operation they know so little about…” Xander said, tightly, pressing his hands down onto his thighs under the table to contain his anger. He glanced over to where Georgiana sat, holding her eye for a second before frowning and looking back at Aggie, who was looking at him with a mix of defiance and trepidation. He felt something gently rest on his forearm, dropping his eyes briefly to see Charlotte’s hand there. Flicking his eyes to hers, he saw her send him a look that was clearly meant to calm him, and he breathed deeply as she immediately removed her hand.

It had been so fleeting he’d wondered if he’d imagined it, feeling the need to flex his hand to release the current that had shot through his arm, but then heard her saying, “Lieutenant Colbourne will look after the best interests of his team, Aggie, and I’m sure you’ll agree that the mission is the most important thing, not who gets the credit…?”

Aggie blushed and cleared her throat, looking down and picking up the deck of cards to shuffle them again. Arthur and Charlotte exchanged a raised eyebrow, then turned to Xander and both smiled, Arthur giving him a wink.

He relaxed back into his chair, saying, “Of course Aggie agrees. She wouldn’t be so gauche as to demand the limelight.”

Aggie’s head snapped up in surprise, and Arthur guffawed, “Just so, sir.”

Georgiana jumped out of her chair, “Well, I don’t know about you limeys, but I need to hit the hay. Are you coming, Charlotte?”

Charlotte grinned at her friend, grateful to her for breaking the tension, “Yes, I’d better at least try and get some sleep, despite staying in bed too long this afternoon.”

As they gathered their things, Georgiana was saying, “You know me, I’m out like a light, so feel free to keep the lamp on and read if you need to…” and Xander stood up too.

“That’s me done, as well, night everyone.” They chorused their good nights, and he took the stairs, two at a time, before hesitating outside his door. But then he opened it decisively, grabbing the book on his side table and turning around to head back to the staircase.

Georgiana was already halfway up the second set of stairs when he met Charlotte on the landing, and she paused, turning to him as he offered the green book out to her. She looked at him quizzically, as he said, “I thought you should have this. As it’s your favourite.”

Their hands touched briefly as she took it from him, and he felt the current down his arm – he was coming to expect it now. Turning it over, he watched as recognition dawned on her as she saw the woman in the turquoise dress, riding the white mythical beast. “Ms Winder’s myths…” she murmured, and then held his gaze. “Thank you… Alexander.”

His lips quirked up in a closed-mouth smile, trying to hide the elation of hearing her call him by his name, glad that they had gotten past the way they had parted earlier, and were back in the library and the golden fields of Heyrick’s grounds.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said, quietly.

She smiled. “Until tomorrow.”

––

Charlotte closed the door and immediately leant against it, the book clasped to her stomach.

“What have you got there?” Georgie said, eyeing the book with interest as she rubbed cold cream onto her face.

“Oh, just a book… from the library.”

Georgie turned back to pick up the washcloth and Charlotte opened to cover, looking down at the front page to see, written in a scratchy childish hand, “Alexander Colbourne, Heyrick Park, 1920”.

Chapter Text

Unguarded Moments

The walk over to the folly was warm and bright, the still-lengthening days of early Summer making the prospect of a night shift less onerous. Charlotte found herself anticipating seeing Alexander again – caught between wondering if the tension between them would become unbearable and a longing to feel the delicious, magnetic pull of him. Neither of which is conducive to doing your best work, Charlotte, so you’d better rein yourself in. You might have noticed there’s a war on.

She wondered whether they would talk about his book, and the admission he had given her in sharing it. It was incredibly moving that he’d allowed her in, a sign of trust and – could it be? – affection? No, that was too strong. Trust, definitely. She would be cautious, she decided, with this fragile shift in him, and let him take the lead with how much he wanted to share.

Mary was flustered as she arrived at the Folly, and before Charlotte had even made it over the threshold was saying, “Ah good, you’re here. Aggie is on her way but might be a little late…”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow in question – were there going to be three of them on the shift, then? She swallowed down the disappointment that she wouldn’t be alone with him. “Aggie…?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Colbourne was unexpectedly called to Room 39,” Mary said. She was hurriedly straightening a pile of papers on the central table and barely offered Charlotte a look.

“He’s gone up to the Admiralty…?” Charlotte said abruptly, without thinking, “Why?”

“As if he’d tell me, Charlotte – honestly!” Mary said sharply. Arthur leaned back in his chair and Declan looked up from his desk, both clearly surprised at this unfamiliar tone from both of them.

Mary spoke again, more softly this time, now looking at Charlotte. “I’m sorry, it has been a little stressful rearranging the rota to cover it at short notice, is all. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s alright, Mary,” Charlotte said, softly, “I understand. I didn’t mean to be rude either.” The last thing she wanted was to be at odds with this dear woman who was such a stalwart of the team.

The door swung open and Aggie swept in, chin lifted, and Charlotte had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at how much she appeared to be relishing her role as saviour of this particular crisis.

Mary bustled across the room, taking Aggie’s hands in hers. “Thank you so much, my dear, I know it’s your night off.”

“Oh that’s alright, Mary, we all need to do our part.”

Well! She’s certainly changed her tune since last night. Charlotte knew her churlishness was rooted in the disappointment of not seeing him and she wasn’t being fair. Still, working with the youngster definitely tried her patience...

Mary excused herself, pleading fatigue after having been woken in the midst of sleeping off the night shift, and they all wished her a good night. Once Arthur gave them the handover from the day, Aggie said, “Do you want me to take first-watch on the transmissions?” and was already moving over to the bench where the listening apparatus stood.

“Thank you, Aggie. Yes, let’s start this way around.”

As Aggie picked up the headphones and busied herself with adjusting the dials. Charlotte breathed deeply, as quietly as she could. This would not do, to be so out of sorts. What is wrong with me? She tried not to think about the hollow ache of disappointment in her stomach that his unexpected absence had caused – and even more what it meant that she felt it so strongly – and got on with her work. Which is actually why I’m here, after all…

——

Xander stepped onto the platform at Victoria station and tilted his head back, studying the great iron arches that stretched overhead. Steam from the departing trains drifted up through the latticed girders, catching the dim light that filtered through the soot-stained glass panels above. Whenever he got to see it in person he appreciated again the elegant mathematics of it all. He always marvelled at the calculations behind those sweeping curves, how the Victorian engineers had figured out exactly where to place each beam and rivet.

The whole structure hummed with activity – footsteps echoing off the brick walls, the screech of brakes, the roar of fires being stoked – yet the ironwork itself stood solid and unchanging, a monument to practical brilliance that had been holding up this corner of London for decades.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ He revelled in it, even as he made a conscious decision to ignore the ghosts in his head that had always mocked him for his love of science and knowledge.

“Brother!” He heard a familiar voice call, seeing Sam’s raised hand across the concourse.

Crossing to him, he shook his brother’s hand as Sam said, smiling, “Good journey up?” At Xander’s nod he went on, “Come, I have plans for us!”

Xander rolled his eyes, but felt a swell of affection – despite how he infuriated him at times, it was good to see his big brother.

——

Aggie sighed, “Another weather report, that’s the third one today, makes you wonder if Jerry’s even more interested in the weather than we Brits are.”

Charlotte laughed, sipping at her tea, looking down at the notes from the past few days. “Are they using the old cipher, or the one Bletchley decoded earlier this week?”

“The new one. And they seem inordinately interested in the moon tonight.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes, I’ve written down ‘Mondjäger’ three times already.”

“Moon-hunters?” Charlotte moved across to look over Aggie’s shoulder at her notes. ”That’s a new one on me. I’ll check Dec and Arthur’s notes… if they heard anything like it.”

After scanning the transcripts and not finding any moon references, she deliberately slowed down and reread it all carefully, looking for anything that might relate to it, even tangentially. The word for ‘sun’ now leapt out at her, in various forms, but her eyes rested on ‘Sonnenfresser’ – “Sun-Eater” – with a sense of foreboding. It didn’t immediately ring any bells, but she felt sure they’d discovered a new puzzle that needed to be solved.

—-

Xander nursed the whisky Sam had insisted he have, watching his brother across the crowded bar from the quiet table where he had sat himself. Nothing demonstrated the difference between them more than watching Sam schmooze the politicians and Whitehall staff, all the while keeping an eye on the pretty girls dancing with officers from all the different services, their skirts twirling out revealing shapely legs, their lipstick focusing the men’s attention on their mouths, exactly as intended.

Sam had tried to get him to dance but he’d refused – it wasn’t as if Xander hadn’t noticed a number of the women casting an eye over him in admiration, and he could not deny it had made him walk a little taller. But he was very rarely persuaded to dance, in any case, and tonight he was vaguely disconcerted to find he was comparing the women to a certain junior officer back at Heyrick.

He felt a little exposed, having given her the book and with it the knowledge that she had guessed correctly, and then to not have been able to speak to her before he had had to leave for London. He rubbed his hand over his face – “perhaps you could trust us?” He heard her voice in his head and it relieved some of the anxiety he felt, although he knew he was only focused on trusting her. It’s always her.

He felt the swell of emotions rise in his chest, hope competing with duty. She felt it too, he was certain. But it was simply not acceptable to let himself act on the feelings, she was his junior officer and he could not – would not – have her be made to feel uncomfortable in the workplace. Of course, he knew it was not exactly unheard of for people to meet through their work. The war-effort was bringing men and women together in new ways – from vastly different backgrounds as well – and he knew from personal experience that it could be mutually enjoyable for all. But the fact he was her CO was just insurmountable in his mind. He could not take advantage of her. He sipped the whisky, letting the burn in his throat reinforce his determination to do the honourable thing.

—

Charlotte was relieved to step into the warm, salt-tinged breeze of a summer’s morning after the night in the folly, and looked back on a good night’s work between herself and Aggie. They had taken turns transcribing, and Aggie had gone back further through the previous weeks’ transcripts, spotting other uses of ’moon’ and ’sun’. Charlotte was proud of the youngster as she’d spent the night focussed, sharing duties and collaborating cheerfully. She’s not so bad after all.

While Aggie excused herself to go and change, Charlotte headed straight for the mess hall for breakfast, having arranged with Georgie to catch up over their morning meal.

“Hello stranger!” Gee called out, and Charlotte waved while loading a plate with items from the sideboard and grabbing a cup of tea from the trolley, before taking a seat beside her friend, who proceeded to scrutinise her face. “You look exhausted – nights aren’t good for your complexion.”

“Thanks, Georgie,” Charlotte said, sarcastically, “really encouraging.” Gee giggled and Charlotte turned her attention on her, “Whereas you, my friend, are positively glowing! So how did it go?”

Charlotte was tickled to watch as Georgie sighed, looking for all the world like the cartoon characters with stars in their eyes. Wow, the date must have gone well. She’s falling fast!

“It was wonderful!” She thrust her wrist under Charlotte’s nose, “Have a sniff of this! Charles bought me a new perfume, isn’t it lovely?”

Charlotte swallowed her mouthful of toast, not fully appreciating the French perfume around the flavour of her breakfast, but hid her smile at her friend’s enthusiasm and nodded, as it was clearly the expected response.

“He’s so thoughtful,” Gee blushed, “he remembered I had said I was sad about getting down to the last dregs of my L’Aimant and thought Shalimar would smell even better on me. And he was right!”

Her wide smile was infectious, falling only slightly when she said, “He tried to find Sous le Vent, but it was impossible…”

Knowing her friend’s admiration for all things Josephine Baker, Charlotte understood her disappointment, but even so, the gift of Shalimar was recklessly expensive. “He seems determined to spoil you…” she said, with the hint of a question in her voice.

Gee did not seem to hear. “Yesterday afternoon he drove me over to the Grand Hotel in Littlehampton, and insisted on ordering all these delicate pastries. I didn’t even know those were still available!”

Charlotte felt uneasy, wondering what might be his motivation for sweeping Georgie off her feet with luxuries and treats. Perhaps he’s just a demonstrative chap, with cash burning a hole in his pocket. And Georgie is a remarkable woman… “It sounds lovely,” she said warmly. “I’m glad to see you so happy, Georgie.”

Georgiana clearly couldn’t help but beam, her cheeks flushed. “I can hardly credit how extravagant he’s being – but I can’t help liking it. No man has ever made me feel so… special, so seen. We spent so long talking, and he says he wants me to succeed in my singing more than anything.”

“You do share a love of music,” Charlotte said, squashing her misgivings down, determined to be happy for her.

“Oh, and he gave me all the details for our trip to London on the 21st, he has double checked the billing at Marino’s and Oscar Rabin’s band is definitely playing, although it’s not confirmed whether Beryl Davis will sing, but I’m hopeful. He’s booked our train tickets and arranged for a room for us at a bed and breakfast which he assured me is very respectable…”

“Whereabouts is it, did he say?” Charlotte thought she’d be the judge of where was reputable, but the area of Holborn Georgiana named was fine. Close to Sidney’s old flat, she thought absently.

“He says he’ll speak to Mr Marino while we’re there about me possibly getting a slot with the house band there. Wouldn’t that be something?” Gee’s eyes shone with excitement, and Charlotte reached over to squeeze her hand where it had come to rest on the table.

“It certainly would, my friend.”

—

Xander hurried through the streets of Victoria, leaving the pressures of Whitehall behind.

He understood why he’d been summoned: Bletchley were reasonably sure that a significant sea operation might be mounting, and he and other listening station chiefs had been gathered to be briefed.

He would have time to ponder the intelligence he had learned, but right now he was inordinately keen to get back to Heyrick – so as not to let the team down, he told himself. He would do the night shift even if he didn’t have time to nap in his bed. He would close his eyes on the train…

—

That evening, after sleeping as much as was possible in the overly warm air of the afternoon, Charlotte made her way over for her second night shift in as many days. She was due to be on duty with Alexan… Colbourne again, and was not willing to admit to herself quite how much she was hoping he’d returned from London in time.

Arriving to the tired-but-contented faces of Declan and Arthur, who assured her they’d heard from the Lieutenant that he had indeed arrived back and would be serving on the night shift with her. She ignored the flip of her stomach, and they chatted aimlessly as they waited for him to arrive to complete the handover.

Once it became clear that he must have been held up, but assured he was coming, Charlotte turned to a clean sheet in her notebook and took detailed notes. They were reluctant to leave her on her own, but she shooed them off – the idea of being alone before getting to be alone with him was something she relished.

Despite the dank and somewhat depressing interior of the Folly, she always admired the elegant sweep of the domed ceiling, arching gracefully overhead, and she became aware that being alone here was giving her a welcome sense of peace. The thought of seeing him again sent butterflies scattering through her chest, but she was determined to ignore them. She was happy, she realised, and puffed out a breath, a little disconcerted. It felt strange to let go of the perpetual worry at what the war might turn up next.

As she stood at the central table, she began humming a song that had been drifting through her mind since she had shared the story of her love life with Georgiana the other week. She didn’t miss Sidney, she missed the idea of Sidney. She missed the intensity, the passion and most of all the release. The song spoke of who she had been, back then, but as she hummed it now she knew the words also expressed something of her desire to disregard what everyone might say, if she and Alexander let down their guards and allowed themselves this incredible connection.

The tune rose into the space above her, and she felt the stones reflect back even her soft humming, turning it into a rich sound. She was no Georgiana but she thought how much she’d love to hear the resonances of this unique room if she sang out. So, moving to stand as near to the centre of the dome as she could, with her thigh pressed against the large, circular table, she began the first line of the lyrics.

“They say, you have no lips for a fool such as I…”

Her voice was tentative at first, but as it grew stronger, she smiled at the warmth of the sound rebounding back to her, making her sweet voice more full and rounded. Helen Forrest, eat your heart out!

—

Xander approached the stone building, hurrying, hating how late he was to start the handover. It was a matter of principle for him to be on time, he would never have tolerated it in any of the team. But he hoped the extenuating circumstances of his unplanned trip would be enough, even though in reality he’d only been detained by Parker blathering on about nothing important.

About to throw open the door and apologise profusely, Xander registered in the nick of time that they weren’t all there waiting for him, and slowed his step. The crumbling building hummed with sound, her voice having hit the sweet spot to make the old stone sing. The tune caught in his ribcage, the rich sound of her voice taking him unawares. He almost skidded through the doorway in coming to such an abrupt halt, his heart pulsing in his chest. He stilled himself, leaning around the door as his breath caught: she was standing in the centre, head tilted back, mouth a beautiful shape as she sang out the lyrics. He stood, mesmerised.

“Let them talk.

Let them think what they want to.

If it makes them feel happy that way.

I know I’ll always love you,

no matter what they say…”

She closed her eyes briefly, her hand gently rubbing her chest, and alongside the desire to reach for her to comfort her, he found himself desperate to know what this war had been like for her before coming to Heyrick. It was too personal, he could not pry, he had no excuse for the longing to know more of her. He squashed the feeling down.

She began to hum the music that followed the end of the lyrics, a small smile on her lips, and he watched her move her attention to the papers in front of her on the battered oak table. It had been a private moment, but in spite of that he couldn’t bring himself to regret having heard her let loose her voice in the space. She was clearly not what he’d call a performer, but the joy she’d taken from the way the building itself seemed to join in the song and the feeling she’d imbued the words with… he felt privileged to have shared that experience. This place, so full of static and stress, felt different somehow. But he did feel he had to allow a few moments before he stepped through the door into the space where her humming was fading away.

“I’m sorry for being late…” he murmured as he walked across the room, and she looked up from the notes. He saw her blush – is she wondering if I heard her? His eyes had locked on hers, full of admiration, he knew; she was the one to break his gaze, smiling shyly.

“Not a problem, sir, and I hope it went well up at the Admiralty. And I told Arthur and Declan to head off after they gave me the update, as I…” she looked up at the high ceiling, “…I was happy to wait for you to arrive." She looks happy. The thought made the tension in his shoulders from the travel of the past few days ease and he felt a grin spread across his face.

She looked up to catch him smiling and blushed, gathering papers almost shyly, saying, “Sir, while you were away I think we spotted something…”

He felt the ease he had felt for those short moments drain away, instantly, as he remembered the Admiralty briefing and the higher stage of alert he knew they had to be on. He resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck, and settled into the chair at a main table, saying, “Alright, why don’t you fill me in?”

She sat down beside him – and he tried not to notice her thigh brush against him briefly – neatly laying out the transcript pages on which the team had highlighted all occurrences of ‘sun’ and ’moon’, with extra emphasis on the sections which included ‘Moon-Hunters’ and ‘Sun-Eaters’. As she talked him through it, he drew the pages towards him, feeling the stirring at the back of his brain of what these phrases reminded him of, but it didn’t become apparent to him for a few minutes more, as they both looked over the papers in thoughtful silence.

“Sköll and Hati!” He exclaimed, startling her a little as the thought finally crystalised.

She looked at him quizzically, “That’s a… I want to say… Norse myth?”

“Yes, that’s right. They are of the giant race – wolves – descendants of the monstrous Fenrir, ancient, chaotic forces…”

“Well if you ask me, sir, the fact the enemy are referencing them wouldn’t seem to bode well,” she said wryly, and he huffed a laugh.

“No indeed.” He said, rubbing his forehead. “From memory – which is a little sketchy, it has to be said… To be honest I’m more familiar with Greek myths…” Her head snapped up and their eyes met, and he smiled gently, seeing hers soften. She understands. “But from memory, Sköll chases Sól, the sun goddess, across the sky, whilst Hati chases Máni, the moon god. They hunt endlessly… Their pursuit is responsible for the movement of the sun and moon across the sky. As night follows day, it’s because the wolves are always on the sun and moon’s heels…”

“Again, sir, this is not exactly reassuring stuff. It all feels terribly… sinister.”

“You’re not wrong…” He puffed out a breath. “I think we spend tonight continuing to listen carefully, and looking over the transcripts from the past weeks again with that story in our minds, to see if there’s anything else that stands out.”

“I’ve looked through them all more recently, sir, why don’t I take the first listening stint and you review everything?” She smiled at him, warmly, and his chest expanded. It is good to be back. He wouldn’t allow himself to think ‘with her’.

––

The night was calm, and warm despite the late hour. Charlotte tapped her pen on the notebook, the radio sounding nothing but a faint hum of static, and the stale air clung to the inside of her nose. She glanced over at Alexander – No! he has to be Colbourne here – hoping to see if he was restless too, but he was deep in concentration, the fingers of his right hand moving slowly down the page of the transcripts, while his left hand held his pen poised over the sheet of paper where he was writing notes. Her thoughts drifted to wondering what his fingers would feel like tracing light patterns on her skin. Charlotte! Focus. She really needed a break.

Twisting her neck back and forth, she longed for the fresh air outside. At Bletchley she would have had to wait for an officer to sanction the break, but was that really necessary here? It was not like her to be reticent. But the boundaries between herself and her commanding officer were somewhat muddled in her mind, their encounters in the past few days coming vividly to mind.

Call me Alexander, out here, he’d said, as they’d meandered through the park and spoken of so much that was real for them both. After his cold denial of her deduction about the house, hadn’t he gone on to tacitly tell her she was right? He’d offered the book as... what? A peace offering? Of sorts. No, definitely – she had felt his apology in the gesture. He had allowed her something of his private self. No, she was no longer sure exactly where they stood with each other.

Again her mind drifted to times she had touched him – of course when they handed things to each other, including Ms Winder’s Myths, but other times too. She had rested her hand on his leg under the card table, and felt the strength of his thigh briefly while trying to help him calm his temper at Aggie’s petulance. Her cheeks flushed, remembering how she had nudged into his side at his teasing her in the library, forgetting herself and finding herself so close she could smell his scent and feel the warmth of his breath.

She had very much liked the side of him she’d seen in the library – boyish, playful, yet thoughtful. And he had clearly listened to what she’d said, out there in the fields, choosing to spend time with the team in the billiards room. Had we met under different circumstances… She sighed heavily. But they had not.

She pushed her chair back resolutely, placing the headset on the desk in front of her, threading her fingers together and taking her hands above her head, to release her shoulders from the ache of sitting in one position for so long. Seeing he had looked up, she said quickly, “I need a break, sir. I hope that’s alright?”

“Of course,” he looked back down at his notes, hand flying to his hair, a gesture she was already familiar with when he was a little frustrated with himself. Familiar too was the curl that fell forward onto his forehead. “I’m not quite done, otherwise I’d join you.”

“Not a problem, I’ll bring you a cup of tea while you finish off.” She moved to the back room – ridiculously conscious of the route across the room, her proximity to him, in a way that made her squirm. But it seemed there was nothing she could do to switch off this hyperawareness of him. She rummaged in her bag for her cigarette and lighter, the metal casing cool on her fingertips, and dropped them in her pocket. Then, turning to the workbench, she picked up the large flask Mrs R always filled for them to bring over. Realising it was very full, she used both hands to carefully pour from the heavy canister into the army-issue mugs that lived on the side. With no way to keep the milk cold over here, they had adjusted to having it black.

Turning back into the room, she saw he had shifted in his seat, still absorbed in the task. With his legs spread and his hand resting on his thigh, the sight made her core clench. She closed her eyes, briefly, inhaling silently. For god’s sake, Charlotte! She resolutely headed to the table, depositing his cup next to the pile of papers, and he looked up and smiled.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and blinked twice to break their gaze, turning his attention to the tea.

“I’ll just step outside for a bit,” she said.

The air was fresher but not chilly, the midsummer warmth lingering even into these early morning hours. She carefully set her mug down on the stone bench, and lit up before stowing her lighter back into her jacket pocket and picking up her drink.

Reason told her there was nothing she could do about this thing she felt for him, that she had to accept that the chemistry between them must remain unacknowledged and that they would have to work to ignore it.

But her instincts, that independent spirit that she had claimed in the library the other day – be honest, Charlotte, its rebelliousness – was telling her that life was to be lived, even amidst the strain and anxiety of war. Perhaps even more so because of it. Look at Sid: killed in the line of duty, never to fight with her or desire her or break her heart again. And countless other lives cut short. If this wasn’t a time for ‘carpe diem’ she wasn’t sure what was.

A stab of hypocrisy hit her suddenly and she snorted softly. Not that long ago she had sworn off romance, bitter about Sidney’s casual infidelity, and where was that resolution now? It seemed it had simply been extinguished in the face of this incredible chemistry, like the pulling of blackout curtains at dusk.

She felt caught between reticence and seizing the day – both born from heartache and the strain of war.

Could she pursue him? No, that wasn’t an option, not if she wanted to maintain the respect of the others in the team, and his professional opinion for her work. She exhaled smoke in a long stream, up towards the inky black of the night sky.

But she could allow things to develop between them – be unguarded in the moments where their connection broke through his reserve. She had seen him let down his guard in the card game, just a tiny bit, in their earlier exchange over the Norse gods – but he would continue to hold himself back to some extent, she had no doubt. She thought back to what he’d said on their walk, about having responsibilities that he faced alone, which had made him restrained and distant. She briefly wondered what had happened for him to have so little support. Thoughtful, she drained her mug and put it down on the bench once more.

She could encourage the moments when he was being more open, could allow her gaze to lock on his when the air crackled between them. Was that her style? She coughed a little at the thought. Did she even have a style?! This was the first time the magnetic pull of attraction had struck her in this way, despite her collision with that chest in that corridor. To discover more than her animal attraction to Sidney she had had to work through her dislike of his attitude, his personality. There were no such obstacles here.

“Mind if I join you?” She startled and huffed her annoyance with herself, when did you get so jumpy? Then she smiled up at him, seeing his small smirk that he’d definitely noticed.

“Sorry, I was miles away… of course you can.” He pulled out a cigarette and her hand shot to her pocket without thinking, pulling out her lighter and sparking the flame. “Here, let me…”

He leant in, concentrating on the light, his eyes dark, and then their eyes met as he pulled back. She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat, clicking the lighter closed.

“So what were you thinking about, that had you so far away?” He asked, exhaling the smoke away from her, but turned his attention back to her immediately after.

She blushed. You. “I was… um, thinking how things can change.” She picked a bit of tobacco off her bottom lip, with her ring finger and thumb, but didn’t break his gaze. “Things we thought we knew about ourselves, getting upended…”

He took another drag, nodding, and waited for her to go on.

She paused, looking down at her feet for a moment. “And in such a short period of time…” she tailed off, wondering if she sounded as incoherent as she felt, trying to describe her tentative thoughts without giving too much of herself away.

A little crease appeared between his brows, “I hope coming to Heyrick has been a positive change for you…” His voice rose a little at the end, making it sound like a question.

“Oh yes, I love it here.” Her smile was soft, “I love the work, the people I’ve met here – well, most of them…” He snorted and her smile widened. “And sometimes Aggie is a lot…”

“Hmm,” was all he said, and took a drag, and as she did the same she watched the sinews of his neck as he leant his head back to exhale. Then he went on, “Mary mentioned there’s a dance coming up…”

“Yes, it’s next week.” Her heart fluttered at the thought of dancing with him, their bodies close, but she clenched her free hand to stop her thoughts running away. “Arthur has offered to be on shift with Mary so the rest of us can go. He says his asthma stops him tripping the light fantastic these days…” she flashed him a mischievous grin, “…although he says he thinks that the ionised sea air is improving his breathing a bit.”

He grinned briefly at the reference to their discussion on their walk, saying, “That’s good to hear.” He seemed thoughtful, looking up into the clear night sky, and she waited to see if he would say more, but he was quiet.

Trying not to over-analyse her motivations, she said softly, “Do you dance, sir?”

His eyes flew to hers, though in the early morning darkness she couldn’t read the expression in them. “Um…” he murmured, “no, not for anything…” She thought she saw him blush slightly, but the darkness was making it hard to see. He seemed to be watching her curiously, though, but then the corner of his mouth quirked slightly.

“Ha, well…” she said, grateful for the cooler night air and that darkness would hopefully hide her blush, as well, “…the music will be good anyway, so you should still come. I think Georgiana is planning to try and get some time on the stage with the band. She sings, you know…”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that.” He tilted his head, looking down to gauge how much of his cigarette was left. “It’s just I’m… I’m not really one for this kind of thing…” His eyes were on his boots, and even if the dark she could see he was frowning slightly as he scuffed his foot on the stone floor.

“You should still come.” He looked up and as she held his gaze, she smiled. “I’m sure Declan and I will keep you company, even if Aggie is too busy dancing.” He narrowed his eyes questioningly so she went on, “Apparently there’ll be a fair few sailors from out of town, as there’s a Minesweeper docked for repairs...”

He flicked the ash from his cigarette, looking away over her shoulder as he said, “I’m sure you’ll be dancing all night, too.”

“Oh, I doubt it, I’ll want to have plenty of breaks…” she gestured with her cigarette, grinning playfully again, and he laughed.

“Well, I won’t dread it so much then…” he said, holding her gaze this time.

“You’ll come? That’s great!” She winced a little at how breathless she sounded, but determinedly put it aside – she wouldn’t second guess herself. They smiled at each other, the moment stretching, Charlotte holding her nerve, and her breath.

She didn’t want to break the moment, but her cigarette was finished. She knew she had no more excuse to linger, so she dropped it to the floor, breathing out quietly, stepping onto it to grind it out with the toe of her shoe.

“I’d… umm, better get on…” she said, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

He nodded, taking his last drag, “I’ll be right behind you.”

Despite the warmer, staler air seeping into her nose as she pushed open the door, she felt refreshed, and a little excited. You wanted unguarded moments, Charlotte. Well, you got them.

Chapter Text

PS. Georgiana sings this song:

Hope you enjoy!

Seen and Heard In The Assembly Rooms

“They are lovely,” Charlotte said, smiling as Esther arranged a bouquet in a vase on the WRVS refreshments table. “Wherever did you get them? I can’t believe anywhere is still growing flowers!”

Esther chuckled. “My aunt threatened the gardeners with her cane when she saw them approaching the flowerbeds out the back of the house. I told her the War Ag would take a pretty dim view of her setting a bad example, and she told them that if they were so keen on waging war on her flowers, perhaps they’d find themselves more suited to the frontlines than her back gardens. Needless to say, the flowerbeds continue to thrive.”

“And she let you pick some?” Charlotte laughed.

“I told her it would be ‘doing her bit’ to boost morale.” Esther arched an eyebrow. “It was either that or she’d have to come. And this society is definitely beneath the great Lady D!”

Charlotte laughed again, looking around the assembly rooms. Its grandeur had clearly faded – the single chandelier with half its crystals missing cast a honeyed glow over a room that was no longer grand. It was remarkable to think of it as it had originally been built, for Georgian gentility. Charlotte allowed herself a flight of fancy, imagining the formality of a Regency dance compared with a ragtag bunch of civilians and servicemen and women who were gathering to let their hair down after the pressures of the endless days of rationing, frustration and fear. Well, I expect the buzz of anticipation would be the same, in any era…

Charlotte sipped her cider, grimacing – they were clearly getting to the barrels that had been buried at the back of the cellar of Old Mr Stringer’s pub. She watched Mr Stringer’s son come in through the back door, carrying a tray of glasses, his smile contrasting with his father’s scowl.

Looking around she saw sailors, who were temporarily stationed at the docks, standing awkwardly in a group, caps in their hands. But their eyes were bright as they looked around at the local girls giggling behind their hands, and it wasn’t long before the boldest of them broke off from the crowd and approached the young men, hips swaying and a wide smile on her red lips. Charlotte grinned as the others began streaming across the space, not wanting to miss out on the chance to get a dance with a lad from out of town.

Georgiana was conferring with Reggie Palmer, the lead musician in the quartet who were warming up to play. Although they were only local ARP men by day, Georgia had assured her that they were actually pretty good. It was a secret what Georgie hoped to sing, and it was clear from her bright smile that Reggie’s band were up to the job. As she turned to cross back to where Charlotte was standing, she winked at her.

“They can do it! I’ll go up after their first set, and the dancing will get the crowd warmed up,” she said, delightedly, and Charlotte grinned at her excitement. “So who will you be dancing with to get the fun started? Maybe Colbourne will turn out to be smooth on his feet.”

Charlotte smacked her arm, “Enough, you.”

“Who’s Colbourne?” Esther asked, her eyes twinkling.

“Lieutenant Colbourne...” Charlotte said with emphasis, “is my CO.”

“Her handsome and mysterious CO,” cut in Georgie, and Charlotte rolled her eyes at her. “Who cannot keep his eyes off Charlotte when she’s in uniform. I think we’ll see steam come out of his ears tonight with her all dolled up!”

Charlotte blushed and scowled at Georgie, as Esther said, “Oh, this is going to be good…”

“Stop it, both of you. He’s the last man I should be dallying with, and you know it.”

“Pfft, where’s your ‘carpe diem’ spirit gone, honey? Live a little!”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a war on!” Charlotte ran her hands down the front of her skirt, flustered, before looking up and seeing Esther’s eyes on her, which were crinkled with veiled amusement.

“Talking of ‘carpe diem’…” Georgie said, as Lockhart came into the room and flashed a grin at the woman at the door, who blushed. He looked up and his eyes locked on Georgie’s, who after a moment turned back to give Esther and Charlotte a wink and sauntered over to meet him.

Charlotte chuckled, turning back to see Esther still watching her.

“She’s right, you know,” she said, leaning in so she could lower her voice. “In this bloody awful war, if you meet someone, don’t let anything hold you back. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”

Before Charlotte could reply, the band started up, and there was a general hubbub as partners were pulled towards the dance floor.

Esther smirked, leaning in again to say, “Make sure you disdain his every move, first, though. But, if he perseveres…” she tailed off, shrugging and tilting her head with a knowing look. Charlotte rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help but laugh.

She sipped her drink, watching the dancers and seeing Lockhart offer his hand to Georgie with a dazzling smile. She pondered if others would see things the same way as Esther and Georgie. Could we be discreet? If they’re already speculating about us… It wasn’t something to be entered into lightly – although she’d already been involved with a senior officer, this was different – Heyrick Park and the Sanditon Assembly Rooms were hardly the Dorchester and their private London digs.

She thought about Mary, and Dec and the others. What would they think? She couldn’t bear for them to think less of her, like she was an officer-chasing trollop, out to snag a husband.

And what if it didn’t work out? They’d be stuck in the folly, day after day, night after night, souring the team dynamics with their awkwardness. No, I’d leave. Request a transfer back to Bletchley if that was the case. She wouldn’t jeopardise the work, it was too important.

Her heart clenched at the thought of having to give it up. This was her moment. She had so much to offer. She couldn’t risk it.

The risk went both ways, though, she realised – living with this unbearable tension wasn’t an option either. This is driving me mad! I have to get Colbourne off my mind…

And then, as if she’d summoned him, he entered the hall behind Declan, who turned to him, grinning, to offer some kind of observation or remark. He smiled his closed mouth smile, leaning down to pay his admission. He came!

Charlotte watched as he straightened and paused, his tall figure suddenly still against the doorway’s frame. His eyes swept across the room with unusual intensity until they found hers. She felt a thrill at the mixture of vulnerability and desire she saw in his dark eyes, usually so guarded. Transfixed, Charlotte watched the subtle transformation in him when he saw her. The hard line of his jaw softened, his shoulders dropped a fraction beneath his formal attire. His lips parted, just barely, as though a breath had caught somewhere in his chest. As his eyes widened with what she was sure was hunger, Charlotte felt a hot flush rise from her collar to her cheeks, surely visible even in the warm light.

For three heartbeats, they stood locked in mutual awareness, the crowded dance hall dissolving into insignificance around them. Charlotte’s head tilted slightly, a question in the gesture. The corner of Alexander’s mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but the ghost of one trying to emerge through his composure.

Then someone passed between them, breaking the spell. Charlotte’s gaze dropped to the floor, her heart beating hard.

When she looked up again, he had followed after Declan. They were heading over to where she stood, Esther whispering, “That is Lieutenant Colbourne, I’m guessing?!”

Charlotte blushed again and nodded, mortified that her emotions were so close to the surface. She had never seen him in his dress uniform before. The jacket clung to his broad shoulders and the gilt buttons caught the light as he moved, drawing her eyes to his chest. He had taken off the peaked cap, and as he held it in one hand Charlotte knew with a jolt that he was resisting running his other hand through his hair. She smiled to think she had come to know his mannerisms. He was a mix of confidence and awkwardness, so she smiled widely as he approached, determined to have him relax.

“I’m glad you came,” she said brightly and Declan quirked an eyebrow, “that you both came…”

Dec grinned and bowed his head to Esther, who was watching proceedings with a her lips pursed, clearly hiding her smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, yes,” said Charlotte, sounding as flustered as she felt. “Lady Dewhurst, meet Second Officer Declan Fraser. Declan, meet Lady Esther Dewhurst.”

Dec flashed a mischievous grin, “Good to meet you. A lady, eh? I’ll have to mind my P’s and Qs…”

Esther angled her chin away from him in a look that was designed to be haughty, but was undermined by the sparkle in her eyes. “See that you do.” His grin widened.

“And this is Lieutenant Alexander Colbourne,” Charlotte went on, annoyed with herself at the blush that had reappeared.

“Nice to meet you, Lady Dewhurst.” Alexander said, quietly. “Good to see you, Charlotte. You look like your glasses are empty, can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you.” Esther handed him her glass to return to the bar, “Although I won’t be repeating the experience of the delightful Mr Stringer’s cider. I’ll try the beer instead, just a half though, to be on the safe side.”

“Same for me please,” Charlotte said, kicking herself for how breathless her voice sounded.

“I’ll be right back. You stay here, Declan, your conversation is far more entertaining than mine,” and with a close-mouthed smile he turned to head around the crowd of dancers to the other side of the room.

—

As he waited at the bar, Xander looked over at the man holding court: Lockhart, he presumed. Major Parker had been crowing about the contract and he had been curious to meet him since Mary had told him about their evening at the Sandpiper. His suit was well-tailored, he noted, not the utility clothing most civilians were making do with these days, and a silk handkerchief peeked from his breast pocket in flagrant disregard of fabric rationing. Xander knew the type. Lucy would approve.

"Another round for my friends here!" Lockhart called to the harried-looking man who Xander presumed must be Mr Stringer, slapping a five-pound note on the counter with theatrical flair. Exactly how lucrative was this contract? Xander schooled his features to hide his surprise.

A woman Xander didn’t know, but whose face was pinched with annoyance, cleared her throat. "Very generous, Mr. Lockhart, but I’d rather have the cases of tinned peaches that were supposed to arrive last Tuesday."

Lockhart’s smile never faltered. "My dear Mrs. Thackeray," he said, placing a familiar hand on her shoulder that she subtly shrugged off, "these are difficult times. Paperwork gets lost, orders get misrouted…"

"Five times in the last month?" An older man said, his weathered face flushed with more than just the warmth of the room. "And always the items that fetch a pretty penny elsewhere?"

Lockhart clapped the older man on the back with enough force to make him stumble a little. "You’re not suggesting impropriety, I hope, Jenkins?"

"Here we are, then," the bartender announced, placing a tray of drinks before them.

A younger man with a limp made his way from behind the makeshift bar where he’d been helping serve drinks, scowling, and Lockhart looked a little wary. Despite his obvious disability, he was a tall, broad shouldered man, matching the businessman in height and outdoing him in bulk.

“Mr Lockhart, I’m James Stringer, from the War Agricultural Committee. I had an interesting conversation with Mr Chawston earlier. It seems half his flour allocation has gone missing three weeks running. The Ministry of Food is asking questions he can’t answer.”

Lockhart’s expression shifted to one of exaggerated concern, eyebrows drawing together as he leaned in confidentially. "Between us," he lowered his voice, forcing them to lean closer, "there’s been some issue with the ministry’s paperwork. Absolute mess since that bombing in London took out their records office." He tapped the side of his nose. "Not supposed to say anything, but I’ve been working directly with some higher-ups to sort it all out.”

"That’s funny," the younger Mr Stringer said, "Because there’s been no mention of any special arrangements in the committee’s paperwork.”

Lockhart put his arm around Stringer’s shoulder, angling him slightly away from the rest of the group and closer to where Xander was stood, “We all know what a muddle things have been in since Lord Brisley passed away, and, let’s face it,” at this he tilted his head to one side and shrugged, “it wasn’t as if he was on top of everything even before that. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Stringer eyed him skeptically, and didn’t reply as Lockhart turned back to the group, “Look here,” he said, his tone shifting to sound appeasing. "I understand your concerns. Truly, I do. And I assure you…" he placed a hand over his heart, through his eyes flicked across the room, “…I’ll personally look into each discrepancy first thing Monday morning."

"You said that last week," Mrs. Thackeray muttered into her glass.

Once Xander had all his drinks on a tray, he began to turn away, watching Lockhart raise his glass. "To better days ahead, friends! Now if you’ll excuse me," he said, already backing away, “I understand Miss Lambe plans to sing, and I intend to have the best view in the house!”

Xander was deep in thought as we walked back around the room. He had not realised there were complaints and suspicions about the supply chain, although it explained the harried looks on the faces of the junior officers and the barks coming from the Major’s office, commanding that invoices be located and paperwork found. He remembered what Mary had said – how Lockhart and Denham were friends – and his hackles rose further. That man was not to be trusted – even though in reality he had more than enough to deal with in his own operation without concerning himself with the hash Parker was making of his…

He handed the drinks around, giving Charlotte hers last, and was rewarded with a bright smile as she raised it in silent thanks, because just then Georgiana had taken to the small stage and a hush fell over the crowd. It was remarkable, he thought, how someone so diminutive in stature could command the crowd’s attention like a beacon.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the bandleader announced, "all the way from Chicago, America, Miss Georgiana Lambe!” Georgiana grinned delightedly at the crowd, her arms out in a gesture of thanks for the applause.

—-

The small band struck up the opening notes, bright and hopeful. Georgiana stood perfectly still, eyes closed, absorbing the rhythm before she began to sing. When her voice emerged, it filled every corner of the hall - rich, but infused with sauciness.

The crowd cheered noisily at the irreverent song she’d chosen and she winked back at them. Charlotte couldn’t help grinning, looking up at Alexander in time to realise he had been watching her instead of the performance. He looked down, blushing, and his hand fell to his side between where they were standing.

Charlotte felt it brush against her wrist, experiencing the now familiar shock of the connection, but didn’t dare turn her head to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw he was studiously watching Georgiana on the stage as she was coming to the end of the second verse.

Tentatively, Charlotte twitched her pinky finger so that it brushed the outside of his palm. She felt him start, glancing at her out of the side of his eye. Her lips twitched in a tiny smile of victory, but found herself a little breathless at the same time. The crowd around them were oblivious as Georgie cheekily bent her knee, her foot pointing up behind her and her hands on her thighs, and they whooped as she sang.

This time Charlotte felt something against her little finger, realising his was seeking hers, and she responded, letting them intertwine. The feelings being produced in her body from this small amount of skin to skin contact were overwhelming. Her heart was pounding. She could not have stopped smiling if she’d tried. And she wanted nothing more than to turn and gaze into the eyes of this impossibly handsome man, to offer him more skin, press herself against him. But all she could do was relish the sensation of their linked fingers, in this crowded room.

The crowd was reacting to Georgiana’s performance with shrieks and laughter, giving Charlotte the cover she needed to glance over at him fully, and their eyes locked. His were dark, his mouth open slightly. She briefly wondered what he saw in hers, before she dragged them back to the stage, taking a steadying breath.

Georgie was coming to the crescendo now, and Charlotte both longed for it to continue, and longed for it to end. What would happen after it ended? What should she say to him?

“There’ll be joy and there’ll be laughter,

And there’ll be no morning after,

For we’ll all be drunk for months and months and months!”

The cheering applause started in earnest before the band finished playing, the crowd surging forwards to offer congratulations. Charlotte had clapped automatically in delight for her friend, and, as she realised their lost connection, turned to look at him. A blush was on his cheeks, his jaw tight but his lips quirked into a small smile, looking down to the floor as he joined the applause.

—-

Charlotte seemed to hesitate, her gaze scanning his face as he looked back up at her. “Go congratulate her,” he said, “I’m just going to head outside for some fresh air.”

God, I cannot believe I just did that… He needed to get himself under control – that was reckless, Xander! He knew he shouldn’t have touched her like that, but the temptation had been too strong. It was completely inappropriate, especially in such a public setting, but every time he was near he seemed to lose all reason. Puffing out his cheeks as he turned to the door, he froze momentarily as he spotted Denham watching him, a wolfish smile on his face. Bugger. What did he see?

Denham turned to walk away, and Xander noticed he was heading over to where Lockhart stood, watching Georgiana being hugged and congratulated. Xander decided that, after everything he’d overheard at the bar, he absolutely wanted to hear anything those two were discussing, and so made his way around behind them as if he were heading to the courtyard for a smoke. He then hid himself in the shadows, standing as close as he could to the two men, who had begun talking in low tones.

"We have a problem," Lockhart muttered. “The locals are getting demanding."

Denham didn’t look up from his drink. "Keep your voice down." His voice was clipped. "And stop looking so bloody conspicuous."

Lockhart bristled, "Easy for you to say. You’re not the one they’re cornering. Young Stringer is suspicious about the paperwork.” He bent his head to light a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "We need to adjust the manifest numbers at your end. Make it look like the shortages are happening before the goods reach me."

"And implicate Parker’s operation?" Denham’s laugh was soft and cold. "I think not."

"Then give me something to work with!" Lockhart’s voice rose slightly before he controlled it. "The Americans are paying triple for the whisky and cigarettes, but if we can’t explain the shortfalls…"

"Lower your voice," Denham hissed, glancing around. "The American commander is coming over again on Tuesday. Of course he knows nothing, Crowe is handling him. And they’ve requested another fifty cartons."

"Fifty?" Lockhart whistled softly. "That’ll be noticed."

"Not if you’re clever about it. Spread it across multiple manifests. Different delivery routes."

"And what about that naval intelligence fellow? Colbourne?" Lockhart nodded toward the bar. "Word is he’s sharp. And he’s stationed right there with you at Heyrick."

"Colbourne is busy with his codes and wireless signals," Denham dismissed with a wave of his hand. "He has neither interest nor authority in supply matters."

Lockhart didn’t appear convinced. "What about the rest of his team?”

Something flickered in Denham’s expression. "Leave them to me. I’m making headway with the women.”

Did he mean Charlotte? Xander’s throat constricted.

“Female officers always respond well to attention from a captain," Denham said with smug certainty. "Especially one with my family connections. I’ll have them doubting Colbourne and questioning anything he says.”

Lockhart looked skeptical. “What about Charlotte? She’s sharp. Much sharper than most, less trusting than Georgiana.” Xander breathed a sigh of relief. Yes she is.

“I have a plan."

"When we’re in London?" Lockhart shot him a sidelong glance.

Denham nodded, his eyes scanning the room over Lockhart’s shoulder. "She can be won over." Xander’s hand tightened into a fist. "You just handle the shopkeepers."

Lockhart nodded slowly. "And the delivery on Thursday?"

"The manifest will show twenty cases," Denham said, crushing his cigarette under a polished boot. "Make sure fifteen arrive. The rest go to the usual drop point on the headland road."

"And our friend in Portsmouth?"

"Will pay on delivery, as always." Denham straightened his already straight tie. "Now stop looking like we’re plotting treason. Smile. Go find Miss Lambe and fawn over her performance as I know you’re itching to. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

Once the two men had separated, Xander felt it was safe to move from where he’d stationed himself. Heading for the patio, thoughts of his time with Charlotte had been driven from his head. His mind turned over what he’d heard. He knew it! Bloody Denham. Of course he’s racketeering. He was perfectly placed to make a pretty penny from the black market. And what did he mean about London?

—-

Georgiana was surrounded, being offered congratulations on all sides. Charlotte hung back, watching with pleasure as her friend beamed delightedly.

“She was very good, wasn’t she?” Captain Denham had appeared out of nowhere at her side, and he was smiling what she thought might be the most genuine smile she’d seen from him. “Our trip to London couldn’t be better timed!”

“Indeed. Georgie is incredibly excited.”

“I do hope you are excited too, Charlotte?” He looked at her earnestly, “If I may call you Charlotte…?”

“Oh. Umm. Yes, I suppose,” Charlotte said hesitantly.

“Oh, good,” he said, exhaling softly, “as we’ll be spending time together away from base, it wouldn’t do to still be ‘Captain’ and ‘Second Officer’, would it now?”

“I suppose not…” Charlotte looked up into his face, trying to detect any sarcasm or derision, but he seemed sincere.

“Well, I will leave you to your friend, and if I don’t see you before, I look forward to our little sojourn…” As he turned to go he bowed to Aggie, who had appeared out of nowhere. What is it with people creeping up on me tonight? “Markham.”

Charlotte watched him go, puzzled. But before she could process the conversation, Aggie’s breathless voice broke into her thoughts. “Charlotte, you’ll never guess? Ed… Captain Denham has promised to look over some of my report-writing. He says I show incredible promise and he’d like to take me under his wing, as it were.”

Charlotte looked at her sharply, “Whatever do you mean? You know you can’t share reports with people outside Y-Service!”

Aggie blushed, scowling. “Of course I know that. He said I could write something hypothetical so he could advise me on style. He’s not interested in content…” she scoffed, derisively.

“Aggie, you’re being ridiculous! Why else would Denham be interested in a lowly SigInt processor if it wasn’t to get a look at what we’re working on?”

“Why?! Because, as I said the other night, he sees I’m under-appreciated in this team, and believes I deserve better!” She narrowed her eyes at Charlotte, chin raised defiantly. “And just because you’ve never had a senior officer take an interest in you…”

Charlotte closed her eyes to stop from rolling them, and sighed. In a gentler tone, she said, “Aggie, I appreciate that you’re trying to forge your own path, but we’re a team and we support each other. It will be far better if you get feedback from one of us. Or Lieutenant Colbourne…”

Aggie snorted. “As if he’d take the time for that. I’m not even sure why he brought me here. I’m certain he thinks I’m a waste of space.”

“That’s nonsense,” Charlotte said, pressing her fingers into her forehead and trying to be patient. She is young. And naive. And incredibly self-absorbed. “He wouldn’t have brought you into his team if he didn’t think you were going to do a good job.”

Aggie harrumphed but closed her mouth into a tight line. Clearly there wasn’t any point in continuing the conversation tonight. “Let’s talk to Mary tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Aggie said petulantly. “I’m going to get a drink.”

Charlotte closed her eyes again in frustration. And I’m going outside for a smoke.

—-

Xander leaned on the outside wall, his thoughts blurring. To go from the confusing and thrilling sensation of touching Charlotte – how could I have been so inappropriate with her? He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t, didn’t, regret it; her skin so soft, the way she’d shivered at his caress – to overhearing those two conniving bastards and their schemes. They were taking her to London! Why hadn’t she told him? How long had it been planned? He felt a stab of irritation at her for having him find out this way.

But that was unfair, he knew – he was nothing to her, no more than her CO, and what she did with her days off was none of his business. But she’s not nothing to me, the voice in his head reminded him. He huffed out a breath, patting his pockets to locate his cigarettes.

And… he hadn’t imagined the glint of triumph in her eyes when he’d reached out to her, had he? She had responded with no hesitation. He thought she had perhaps enjoyed the moment all the more for all its illicitness. His lips twitched into a smirk, and tension coiled in his core.

He lit his cigarette, hand covering the flame briefly out of habit in the still air of the courtyard. You can’t have her, Xander. The thought was like a bucket of cold water over him, freezing the pleasure he’d allowed himself to feel. There are protocols. You want the team’s respect, for them to respect her. It’s too risky.

Blowing out a plume of smoke, his traitorous heart clung to the secret smile she’d shared with him. But you’ll break her heart, you selfish bastard. You’ll run her off like you have everyone else, and you’ll have ruined her career, her reputation, in the process.

But – the voice was persistent, holding onto hope – she saw through me, worked out about the house, challenged me to open up. She’s not like everyone else.

He took another drag, and this time a different voice in his head – one that sounded suspiciously like his father’s – whispered, ‘She didn’t tell you about London, though, did she?’ He closed his eyes against the stab in his guts.

Denham was dangerous. He didn’t know this Lockhart fellow at all, but from what he’d seen and heard tonight he was not to be trusted. No-one associated with that snake could be…

What had Denham meant by saying "She can be won over”? It was clear he was aiming to manipulate her, but how far would he go? Lockhart was right though, Charlotte was smart. She’ll see through him. Won’t she?

He felt something different coil in his stomach this time, the irritation with her re-emerging when he thought about how she could be so damned trusting. Why was she letting herself get drawn into his schemes? The sneering voice was back, reminding him that Denham was a good looking man, charming if he wanted to be. Perhaps she prefers him to you? It wouldn’t be the first time.

He squashed the feeling, and the voice, back down, deep, the years of practice kicking in. The cold blankness replacing the fear, and whatever else. He took another drag.

Someone else stepped into the courtyard, stopping just outside the door and lighting up, aggressively snapping her lighter shut. He knew her from her silhouette before the blackout curtain had swung closed, but the warmth that her appearance would have stirred in him just a few minutes before didn’t come.

He watched as she exhaled a long plume of smoke. “Is something bothering you…?”

She glanced up, surprised, clearly not having seen him. “It’s just Aggie. She is so bloody naive.”

“Ah. Yes. You know, I’m incredibly grateful to have you and Mary to support her. I’m afraid I have little experience with what young women expect or need.”

“Yes, well…” Charlotte looked up at him in the darkness, “I think she does actually need more from you…”

“What do you mean?” He said, bristling, his stomach tightening at the thought of not doing enough, not fulfilling his responsibilities. As usual. The sneering voice was back.

Charlotte went on, “You know, what she said the other night at cards? She’s still feeling under-appreciated, apparently,” Charlotte rolled her eyes, which made him feel a bit better, albeit temporarily, “and apparently Denham has…”

“What has he done now?!” Her head snapped round at his bitter tone, and he instantly regretted it when he saw her flinch. His jaw tightened but he held her gaze.

“He…”

“Oh, there you are Charlotte! Denham said you’d headed this way. Wasn’t I magnificent?” Georgiana grinned, clearly unheeding of the tension in the air.

Charlotte glanced at him, before turning her attention to her friend and smiling. “You were! You knocked our socks off!”

She looked back at him, still smiling, clearly willing him to join her in praising Georgiana. He smiled tightly, but it felt more like a grimace.

“Charles came to find me to say he’ll be sure to introduce me to Mr Marino on Saturday and ask if I can have a slot with one of his house bands.” She jiggled from foot to foot. “It’s a dream come true Charlotte! A club in London!”

Xander’s voice was hard as he cut in, “Yes, what is this I hear about London?”

Charlotte glanced at him, warily, “Georgiana and I are going up for a night, to see Oscar Rabin’s band play. At a club in Soho.”

“Oh, just the two of you going, is it?” It was beneath him, this pretence he didn’t know. Manipulative really. He squashed down the thought.

Charlotte looked puzzled at his tone. “Noooo,” she said, elongating the word as she was figuring out where he was going with this line of questioning.

Georgiana’s eyes glittered at him in the darkness. “No,” she said coldly, “as I just said, we’re going with Charles. Mr Lockhart.”

“I see,” was all he said, and looked down to gauge how much was left of his cigarette before taking another drag.

Charlotte frowned, and turned to her friend so he couldn’t see her face. “Georgie, I’ll be in in a minute.”

Xander watched as Georgiana gave Charlotte a questioning look. His irritation rose as he saw Charlotte tilt her head then nod.

Moving deliberately, she turned back to him and moved closer, searching his face. He looked away to the point just over her shoulder, although he saw her roll her eyes, before she turned away and took a drag on her cigarette. She exhaled in a long plume high above their heads.

“So, am I expected to guess why you are upset with me about this London trip?”

“I’m not upset.”

She snorted, “Of course not, sir.” Her sarcasm had him clenching his jaw.

“Why would I be upset? You don’t have to tell me what you do when you’re off duty. I’m only your commanding officer…” He tailed off, dropping his cigarette and allowing his gaze to follow it, grinding it under his shoe.

She crossed her arms. He felt her watching him before he glanced up at her, seeing her frown. His gut clenched.

“Only my commanding officer, are you?” She waited, and he looked back to the floor.

“Alright, then,” she said, coldly, and turned away, but spun back after having only taken two steps towards the door, heat rising in her voice now. “No, actually, it’s not alright.” He watched her eyes flash, impressed by her temper. “None of this is alright. Whatever this is, it’s not alright. You cannot treat me like this. You simply can’t behave like you did tonight, flirt with me, pull me in close, then hang me out to dry like this.” She dropped her cigarette and didn’t bother to extinguish it. “I won’t have it, Alexander.”

He met her eye as she said his name, and willed himself to hold her gaze. Watching as her hands clenched by her side, she raised them briefly away from her body before seeming to contain the movement and bring them down firmly, before she said, “You have some decisions to make.”

And she left.

He stepped on the smouldering cigarette butt, and closed his eyes. Damn it.

Chapter Text

Communications

Xander flexed his fingers, thoughtful, before picking up his pen. He had spent a good chunk of the night awake, rehearsing what he needed to say and do today, after the debacle of the night before, and so he was already on his second correspondence of the morning.

The first had been a note to Charlotte, which he had pushed under her door on his way from his room to the study where he now sat, the Official Dispatch form on the desk before him. His words, scrawled on the scrap of paper he’d found on his nightstand, had been considerably less formal and considered than what he was trying to convey in this second message.

He ticked the box PRIORITY DISPATCH - OFFICIAL COMMUNICATION and entered the date. So far, so only half true.

To: PARLIAMENTARY COUNSEL, COLBOURNE, S.

At: MINISTRY OF SUPPLY, WHITEHALL

From: LIEUTENANT COLBOURNE, A

Re: ……

Xander paused – how to word it?

Re: VERIFICATION OF CIVILIAN SUPPLY ALLOCATION REPORT

He could imagine Sam’s eyebrows rising when he read that. He flexed his fingers again and began writing in the main message box.

REQUEST IMMEDIATE CONFIRMATION OF MARINO CONSIGNMENT SCHEDULED SATURDAY NIGHT.

PACKAGE HANDLERS ED (AS PREVIOUSLY DISCUSSED) AND CIVILIAN PARTNER CL NOW OPERATING OUTSIDE DESIGNATED PARAMETERS.

ADVISE FULL ASSESSMENT OF ACCOMPANYING DOCUMENTATION PARTICULARLY RE: FEMALE STAFF PRESENT AT EXCHANGE.

CONFIRMATION IMPERATIVE FOR ONGOING OPERATIONS.

COLBOURNE, A

HEYRICK PARK

He almost laughed – he was relying on Sam’s quick brain to interpret this cryptic message, so he could only hope when he read it he’d not had a skinful the evening before, nor (to be fairer) have been caught in incessant raids all night. The message would pass muster at Sam’s end – the only clue this was not entirely legitimate was that it was from Sam’s brother in Signals Intelligence rather than the army staff at Heyrick – but Xander felt sure Sam would blag his way through any over-zealous enquiries.

As ever, Xander was glad he did not report to Parker, as this would not fool anyone this end if it was seen before being dispatched. He placed it carefully in a dispatch pouch, the worn leather soft under his fingers as he threaded the cord through the closure and reached for the wax stick, melting it with his lighter before stamping it with the seal he kept at the back of his locked desk drawer. Then he strode across the room, standing in front of the teleprinter. Not strictly for personal use, he typed his message:

To: SAMUEL COLBOURNE

FLAT 4, 12 CLAPHAM COMMON SOUTH SIDE, LONDON

YOUNG LADIES FROM HOME COUNTIES AT MARINO’S SATURDAY NIGHT STOP

CONCERNED ABOUT LAMBS AMONG WOLVES STOP

DISCRETION VITAL STOP

RESPOND WHEN ABLE STOP

XANDER

Then he straightened his tie, pulling on his jacket and buttoning it. He needed to look every inch the Naval lieutenant before the eagle eyes of Parker’s officous administrative assistant who ruled the dispatch office. He would get this sent off and then come back to wait for Charlotte. If she comes…

—

Charlotte hesitated before the door of the study, his note crumpled in the fist of her other hand. As soon as she’d woken up she had seen it, pushed under her door well before their alarm had gone off. Georgie had simply raised an eyebrow as Charlotte bent to pick it up, turning away ostensibly to dress, but Charlotte knew it was to give her privacy. She hadn’t shared with her roommate what had happened, but after blundering into their conversation in the courtyard last night she had clearly picked up that there was tension between Charlotte and her boss, and was putting two and two together.

It had been such a rollercoaster of an evening, going from the thrill of seeing him looking so incredibly handsome in his dress uniform – daring to believe he had come just for her, which she’d felt had been almost confirmed by his teasing, clandestine touches – to his shocking, cold withdrawal in the courtyard. She had taken an age to drop off to sleep, listening in the dark of their room to Georgie’s soft breathing, anger and sadness alternately pulsing through her. Why had he taken such a risk to touch her in public if he didn’t want her? Or was this withdrawal simply – how did he put it? – his old habits “dying hard”. He’s been used to being alone, trusting no-one. She understood his loneliness. She had reached out time and time again. But she was angry now, angry at being toyed with. Irritation spiked in her stomach – very much as the cider from last night had at three in the morning – and she knocked smartly on the door with her knuckles, pushing the door open without waiting for his response.

He stood at the window, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his jacket discarded on the back of his chair, and as he turned she took in his purple-smudged eyes and felt herself softening immediately. The rigidity of her posture did not relax, however, and she crossed her arms across her chest, feeling a need to cover her heart somehow.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, simply, his eyes intense on her face. “I… wasn’t sure you would.”

“You’re my commanding officer, as I think we established last night.” She raised an eyebrow at him and watched him wince at her acidity. “Of course I was going to come.”

His face became unreadable for a moment, and then he cleared his throat, looking down. “Yes… about that…”

He tailed off, and she let the silence grow. She regretted nothing about the challenge she had laid out for him before she had left. I’ve had enough. It was up to him to begin to make this right.

He looked up, tilting his head and fixing his eyes on a point over her shoulder, “I… I regret our conversation… last night.” He cleared his throat again, “That is to say I regret how the conversation went. My words were…” He tailed off.

She felt her exasperation spike, but kept her expression neutral. Patience, Charlotte. Why are men so bad at things like this?

He huffed a frustrated laugh. “You wouldn’t believe I’d rehearsed this, would you…”

She raised an eyebrow again and waited for him to go on.

He swallowed. “I… understand your frustration with me, and I regret how the evening unfolded.”

“Me too,” she muttered, unable to hold it back, and he looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I should say…” he said, holding her gaze for the first time, “that I regret how the evening ended.”

“Yes.”

“So,” he said, watching her closely and moving slowly away from the window, so he was facing her in the centre of the room, “you do not regret the… the rest of the evening?”

“What’s your point, sir?”

“We’re back to sir, then?” She saw his jaw clench, giving her a childish stab of satisfaction.

“You made that very clear.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was an idiot.”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips, head tilting until he took a deep breath. “That’s all the response you’ll give me?”

She closed her eyes, hugging her arms around herself and letting her chin fall, willing the pain lodged in her ribs to pass.

“Well, you’re certainly not going to make this easy for me, I see…”

Her eyes flashed open. “Why should I? I meant what I said. I’m done with having you toy with me, like a housecat with a juicy mouse.” Her lips quirked involuntarily into a smile at the image she’d conjured before she frowned again, and he stepped closer to her, his eyes intent on her face. “I’m serious, Alexander. I do not deserve… this…” She gestured with her arms wide. “...This… whatever this is. This confusion. It’s not alright. It’s disrespectful.”

“You’re right.”

She raised her chin, eyes narrowed, waiting for him to go on.

“You must know how complicated this is…”

“Oh, for God sake…” she straightened and stood a little taller, her voice rising, “I’m not that naive. Do you think I don’t know why we’ve both been holding ourselves back? Because anyone with eyes can see we are attracted to one another. Half the team have given me knowing looks at one time or another.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m your commanding officer…”

“As we’ve established…” she ground out through clenched teeth.

“I cannot have people think I am taking advantage of you…”

“Look…” she cut him off, but willed herself to gentle her voice, exhaling slowly. “I know what the risks are. I know the protocols, as well as you do.”

He closed his eyes, nodding. “I know that. Of course you do.”

“We have to make a decision, Alexander. I cannot live with having you let your guard down one minute, and then immediately slamming the drawbridge shut again.” She saw he was watching her again, and she stepped between the arm chairs to stand facing him. “I’ve seen you doing your best to open up, to the team – although you do need to do better with Aggie…”

He blushed and rolled his eyes, and she smiled before going on, “I think, actually, it makes it worse, when you shut me out, knowing you are open with them now…”

He closed the distance between them, stooping a little to catch her eye. “You must know… Charlotte, you must know, it’s different with you…”

She raised her eyebrows, mouth opening a little, “How would I know?” Infuriating man! “How do you expect me to work that out when you don’t tell me?”

He looked down, nodding slightly. “That is fair, I suppose. It’s just that…” he looked up and she saw real vulnerability in his eyes, “... it’s so different with you. You see through me. In ways no one ever has before…”

“No one…?” she tailed off, her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. Her frustration drained away, in a moment, replaced by sadness that he had clearly been so alone.

He sighed, moving over to the desk and sat on the edge, crossing his arms. “I’m…” he started, then drew in a deep breath. “I’m someone who has had to hide his feelings, sometimes hide completely, my whole life.” She held his gaze, silently, waiting for him to go on. “My father was… he was someone who did not hide his feelings, especially when he had been drinking.” She watched him intently, a swell of sadness in her chest at this admission. He went on, “I learned early not to react. To not show any emotion.”

He looked down at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck, before looking up at her once more. “And that the only way to get through was to just do everything myself. I told you the other day I had a lot of responsibilities…” she nodded to show she was listening, and so he continued, “…well, I took them to heart, believing I had to do it all on my own. That it was weak to show how hard it was, how scared I was that we’d lose everything to the debts my father had left us with.” She moved closer, taking a seat on the desk next to him, head turned so she could see his face. “I built up walls around me, and I drove everyone away.” He smiled, tightly. “I... I’ve kept everyone at arm’s length. I always have.”

“You don’t have to, you know? Not anymore.” Charlotte raised her hand and let it rest gently on his forearm, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Old habits die hard, I know.” She smiled at him, softly, and she felt him sag a little, his weight against her. So she stayed where she was, and the realisation that he was seeking comfort from her struck her suddenly.

“I’ve kept it secret that I own this house, told the staff to pretend not to know me. I’m almost too good at keeping secrets. But you… you saw through them. Through me.” Their eyes locked, and he went on, “And that terrifies me.”

She felt the air shift between them. “And I’ve fought against whatever this is between us.” His deep brown eyes remained fixed on her intently. “And yes, there’s the protocols, and what people will think. But if I’m honest, it runs deeper than that.”

The silence between them was thick, and she realised her breathing had become shallow as she waited for him to go on. “I’m scared to let you come close, Charlotte. But this thing between us…”

His eyes dropped to her lips, and her heart pounded as he leant towards her, his hand rising to cup her jaw and draw her in. His movements were slow, respectful, waiting to see if she would pull back. When his fingertips made contact with her cheek, she watched his expression transform – wonder, longing, and something like relief washing over his features. She let her eyes flutter closed at his touch, but opened them again so there could be no doubt at how much she wanted him, lifting her chin in silent invitation.

As his lips met hers, softly at first, her stomach swooped and she remained still for a heartbeat, relishing the sensation. But she knew she wanted more and deepened the kiss, moving her lips over his and slipping her hand around his waist. He shifted closer, his hand sliding to cup the back of neck and his fingers threading through her hair, his other arm pulling her closer.

Charlotte felt her body melt into his embrace, her hands now gripping his shoulders. She felt that all the tension that had built between them over the weeks – of attraction, caution, holding back after letting go, all the longing – was being transformed in this moment into a different kind of intensity. It was glorious, the feel of his taut hard body under her hands, his bergamot scent, the surprising softness of his hands on her face and in her hair. She gently took his bottom lip between hers, sucking gently and he moaned, his tongue meeting hers. God she wanted him, all of him – this kiss was everything and not enough. She surrendered to the sensations of him, free of all the doubt that had plagued them.

But he pulled away, suddenly, his head jerking round to look at the door, the sounds of a tea trolley moving down the corridor beyond. They froze, momentarily, before he stood and hurriedly moved back behind his desk, his eyes on the door again. Charlotte stood, straightening her hair and smoothing her skirt, and then there was a knock, and Mrs Wheatley’s head poked in. “Would you like some tea, Lieutenant?”

He cleared his throat. “No, thank you, Mrs Wheatley.” She tilted her head, questioning, and briefly glanced at Charlotte, but he held her gaze, steadily.

“Alright then, I’ll pop back in later in case you change your mind…” The housekeeper disappeared and he remained watching the door until the rattle of the trolley grew fainter. His cheeks flushed as he turned to her.

“Charlotte I… forgive me…”

She moved round behind the desk, her hand going to his arm again, with a wide smile. “There’s literally nothing to forgive.” She had a sudden flashback to all the times she had held herself back from touching him.

He rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand. “Are you sure? I…. I can’t help thinking it’s just too complicated for us to be anything to each other other than…”

“It’s complicated, there’s no doubt,” she said softly, “but I am a grown woman. I’ve had complicated relationships before… well… one seriously complicated relationship. With Sidney Palmer – I mentioned him the other day.” He nodded so she went on, “We had a fling. While working in the same department.”

“He wasn’t your CO, though, was he?” Xander said, tiredly. “It’s different…”

“Of course, it’s different,” Charlotte said, “but it was complicated. And we were discreet. Then he died. Suddenly.” She looked down briefly before looking back into his eyes. She felt certainty – which had eluded her since she had first felt the chemistry spark between them – then, and it filled her chest like fire. After all her prevarication and second-guessing, she felt sure. Her voice grew even stronger, “Because this bloody war does not care about you, or me, or anything. It just rolls on, relentless.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. “And I, for one, will not let it ruin everything. I don’t know if there’s a bright future for any of us, but I know I’m damned well going to try and find joy and happiness wherever I can…”

She drew his head down, finding his lips with hers, hoping she could convey the certainty she felt and dispel any lingering doubts in his mind. She felt the strength of his arm as he drew her into him, returning her kiss and deepening it. God, it felt so good, so right. For now, she reminded herself, who knows what tomorrow holds.

Pulling apart, gently, she brushed her thumb over his lips and onto his cheek. “About London…” she said softly, and he closed his eyes briefly, “I’m going because Georgie is desperate to go to a club and get to hear Oscar Rabin’s band. She’s hoping that Beryl Davis will be singing. And obviously…” she raised her eyebrow at him, “I would not let her go alone.”

“I know, and it’s not that I don’t want you to go, I just want you to be safe.” He sighed. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bothered by you going with Denham. I don’t trust him.”

“And you think I do?” She rolled her eyes. “I can spot men like Denham a mile off. I fully intend to keep my eyes firmly open to what he and Lockhart are up to. Because they are up to something…”

“Yes they are. I overheard something last night… Oh God, aren’t you supposed to be on shift?” His eyes had gone to the clock on the mantelpiece over her shoulder. She looked round and stood up, hurriedly.

“Oh my goodness, I am, yes.” She laughed as she turned to head for the door, “Well, that’s not a good start to my affair with my boss, being late for work…”

She winked at him and he groaned, before saying, earnestly, “If I don’t see you before you go to London, promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course I will…”

“If the sirens go off you must find a shelter…”

“I’m not a bloody idiot, Alexander.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, and his lips quirked.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just… I want you back here, safe, on Monday.”

She paused at the door. “We’ll talk? Properly, then?”

“Yes. We can talk. When you’re back. Now go, get over to the Folly.”

“Yes, sir,” she grinned, and headed through the door.

—

Xander lay down on his bed, feeling the tiredness of his restless night catching up with him. He must get some sleep to face the night shift, otherwise the work would suffer and – whatever else he had discounted in his mental gymnastics to justify his decision to kiss Charlotte – he had sworn to himself that this work they were doing was too important.

He smiled in the darkness of the room, the blackout curtains doing their job just as effectively keeping the daylight out as they did to prevent light escaping at night. Kissing Charlotte… those kisses, the first tentative on his part, met with her growing certainty, the second deepening within moments of their lips touching. He had never known anything as intense – his chest simultaneously squeezing and expanding, his heart thundering, every nerve ending in his body firing at once. God, I want her… All the longing of these past weeks, the tension of convincing himself he could not have her, had shattered as he felt her tongue sweep his… his cock hardened at the memory and he felt no compunction this time, for the first time, as he palmed himself at the thought of her body against his. She wanted him! The tension in his core thickened as his strokes became firmer, faster, the muscles of his stomach tightening as he arched into his hand. He imagined running his hand up her skirt to the soft skin of her thigh above her stockings, higher, feeling her desire for him, watching as she caught her lip between her teeth… and he came in hot bursts across his abdomen. God, how am I going to last with her? What she does to me…

He cleaned himself with his handkerchief, discarding it to the floor to deal with it later as sleep started to claim him, more easily than it had in weeks.

—

“I said, have you already packed the jar of blush? I can’t find it.” Georgie’s voice sounded exasperated.

“Hmm?” Charlotte responded from where she was sat at the dressing table, brushing out her hair. She blushed at the memory of meeting his eye across the central table in the Folly, as Arthur had thankfully managed the necessary handover to Alexander and Declan as they came to relieve them of duty, at the end of the shift she had arrived late for. The way her stomach had flipped under his gaze was not new, but the knowledge of what they had agreed, what they had done that morning, made her cheeks warm. Get it together Charlotte, this is not exactly demonstrating your ability to be discreet!

“Oh, nevermind…” Georgie huffed, leaning over her to pick up the little jar she was looking for and carrying it over to the washbag she was packing. “I’ve got it.”

“I’m sorry Georgie, I was distracted,” Charlotte said, turning to her friend.

“Yes, I can see that,” she replied, wryly, meeting her eye in the mirror. “I’m assuming the meeting with your Lieutenant went well this morning, then?”

Charlotte bristled, “He’s not my Lieutenant…”

“No, I suspect he’s your Alexander now, but don’t worry,” Georgie grinned, holding up her hands in mock surrender, “your secret is safe with me.”

Charlotte’s eyes were pleading, “Seriously, Gee, no one can know…”

“Honey, I promise you right here right now, that I won’t say a word, although I do reserve the right to tease you every now and then, but…” she held her hand up to cut Charlotte off as she was about to interrupt, “only here, when it’s just the two of us.”

Charlotte let out a breath. “Thank you.”

Georgie nodded. “Right. As the signed-up members of the Carpe Diem club, we have got to get packed for our trip tomorrow. Cos I’m seriously hoping you won’t be the only one of us to get kissed this weekend!”

Charlotte chuckled. “Well I’m sorry to say you’ll have no privacy, because the note from Lockhart says we’re staying at a different guesthouse to them.”

“Oh well,” Gee said airily, “there’ll be a dark corner somewhere, I’m sure…”

“Let’s hope we don’t end up in an air raid shelter with half of London’s revellers then.” Charlotte eyes her friend. “The raids in London are something else, Georgie. We have to get to a shelter quickly if the siren goes off.”

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just hope I’ve heard Beryl sing before that happens, then…”

They finished their packing, Georgie chatting excitedly about what she knew of the band and why she was so excited to see them play especially. Charlotte smiled indulgently, but was only half listening, her thoughts drifting back to the study.

What had Alexander overheard, she wondered? They’d run out of time that morning – she smiled, she had no regrets as to how they’d spent that time. But now she was curious why he was so mistrustful of Denham, in particular. She knew she had never felt comfortable with him, and was very wary of how he seemed to be turning Aggie’s head. She would have to stay sharp and watch how he conducted himself away from Heyrick Park.

“Alright, you sap,” the pillow Georgie sent across the room barely missed Charlotte’s head, “you are clearly dreaming of your commanding officer and not listening to a word I’m saying. We might as well go to bed and get some beauty sleep…”

Charlotte smiled, tossing the cushion back to her friend, “I’m sorry Gee, I’ll be better company tomorrow, I promise.”

“You’d better be or that train journey will feel twice as long.” She grinned, “But seriously, Charlie my girl, I’m happy for you. You deserve it.”

—-

Returning to the house after his night shift, Xander pushed open the door to his quarters and bent down to pick up the slip of paper that had been pushed underneath. He unfolded the telegram:

WILL ENJOY MY EVENING IN SOHO STOP

SAM

Chapter Text

Empty Handed

“But Charles, I’d hoped we’d listen to the music together…” Georgiana was pouting up at Lockhart, as Charlotte watched the pair of them over the rim of her glass of gin and tonic – watered down, she was sure, but a treat nonetheless.

“And we will, my sweet, it’s just that…” Lockhart glanced across at the men in dark suits by the door to the back room, his eyes catching Denham’s before he went on, “…we’ve been offered a rather unique… ahem, business opportunity which we’d like to take advantage of…”

“But where will you be?”

“Just next door, my dear.” Charlotte noted the curtain covering the entrance and the men filing through it. “You just enjoy the band and we’ll be back before you know it.”

He bent to kiss her hand and she rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself.

“Will Beryl sing?”

“Mr Marino says she’s warming up as we speak,” he said, grinning at her beaming smile. “It’s all you could hope for, yes? And we’ve had a lovely afternoon?”

Georgiana nodded, lifting her wrist to admire the new silver bracelet that sparkled in the lights from the stage where the band were taking their places. “Yes it has. Thank you.” Her voice was dreamy and Charlotte thought wryly that at least Gee and her expensive taste had made the most of the Bond Street excursion which Lockhart had funded.

“We will be back before you know it,” he said, smiling, “and Mr Marino’s staff know to take extra good care of you in the meantime…” He nodded to the bar-keep, who raised his hand in acknowledgment, his glass-drying cloth waving in the air.

“Adieu, for now,” said Denham with a slightly apologetic bow, and both men disappeared behind the curtain.

Charlotte looked around, the air thick with the cigarette smoke which was hanging in blue-grey clouds beneath the low ceiling, catching the amber glow of the few scattered lamps. She had to admit that despite her trepidation, the basement of the Marino Club felt like a shelter – and a comfortable one at that – alleviating some of her nervousness at bringing Georgie to London.

The small stage at the far end of the room was barely elevated, just enough to lift the band a foot above the crowd. The musicians took to the stage, Oscar Rabin standing with his saxophone gleaming under the single spotlight. The others arranged themselves into a tight semicircle – piano, drums, bass, trumpet, and trombone – all within arm’s reach of each other in the confined space.

As they launched into ‘Stompin’ at the Savoy,’ the room transformed. Rabin’s saxophone wove between the piano and trombone, sometimes plaintive, sometimes joyous, always soulful.

Georgiana’s eyes were shining, her attention completely on the music, swaying in her seat. Beryl Davis stepped forward to take the spot in the centre of the stage and Charlotte watched her friend wriggle to the edge of her chair, turning briefly back to Charlotte to give her a Cheshire-cat grin, before her head whipped back around to watch as the woman on stage began to sing. Her voice was smooth yet textured, sweet with just enough bite to keep you paying attention. The sound was so different to anything on the wireless or gramophone that soon Charlotte was enthralled.

—-

“Thank you so much.” The applause died enough for Ms Davis to be heard over the microphone, “We’ll be right back after this break.”

Charlotte turned to ask if Georgiana would like another drink, to see a pair of bright eyes watching her. The man seated a few tables away felt familiar, and she wondered if they had met in Whitehall back in the day. She expected that he would come and introduce himself, but he simply raised his drink to his lips, smiling slightly, before breaking her gaze. Just then, Lockhart and Denham emerged through the door, laughing, with Denham rubbing his hands together and Lockhart clapping him on the back. They headed straight for where she and Georgiana were sitting, grins still plastered on their faces.

“Ladies!” Lockhart boomed, “can I buy you another drink? Perhaps some champagne?”

Georgiana’s eyes sparkled as she said breathlessly, “Don’t tease us, Charles, that’d be more than I can take after the performance we’ve just seen!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my sweet,” he said as he made his way to the bar, returning moments later with a dark-haired, thickset man of around sixty, thinning hair slicked back but wearing the most exquisite tailoring Charlotte had ever seen. His black shoes were polished to such a shine that the light from the lamps reflected back off them.

“My, my, Lady Luck is not the only wonderful woman you are with this evening, gentlemen!” His voice was accented with an inflection that made Charlotte think he must be Italian, confirmed when he said a moment later, “Ammazza che fortuna! Such beautiful ladies!”

Charlotte smiled, feeling inexplicably nervous suddenly, but Georgiana beamed. “Why thank you, sir.”

“Mr Marino,” Lockhart said, resting his hand on the man’s arm and raising his eyebrows at Georgiana, who started at the sound of the club owner’s name, “may I introduce our friends Miss Heywood and Miss Lambe.”

Mr Marino swept both of their hands into his, bending low over them and planting kisses on their knuckles, “Che belle! You are like the finest wine from my family’s vineyard in Sicily…” He punctuated each of the next words with more kisses, "…rare, exquisite, and far too preziosa for an old fool like me to deserve your company.”

Charlotte looked up, feeling her cheeks flush, and Denham winked at her. This was not the kind of night she had expected. She put it down to the gin.

“Ah, but their beauty is not even their greatest accomplishment,” Lockhart was saying, holding Georgie’s eye, “Miss Lambe here is a wonderful singer and performer.”

“Santa Maria, Signore, you are sharing all your luck with me tonight!” Mr Marino turned his full attention to Georgiana, “you must come back another evening and perform! Our house band, although not quite in Oscar and Harry’s league, are benissimo, and love having guest singers perform with them. Say you will?”

Georgiana’s eyes were wide and shining, “Oh Mr Marino, that would be a dream come true! Wouldn’t it, Charlotte?” Gee turned to her and Charlotte nodded, smiling. Despite feeling uneasy, she was incredibly happy for her friend. I came for her, didn’t I? And this is all she was hoping for. Well, all except that kiss, but the night is still young…

Lockhart and Marino were now discussing how to make the arrangements, Georgiana listening avidly and nodding occasionally. Charlotte watched as another thickset man, also in a well tailored suit and with a dark brow that was clearly perpetually set in a frown, leaned in to whisper something to the older man, who replied in rapid fire Italian, “Torniamo questi uomini ai tavoli…” [Let’s get these men back to the tables…]

The stocky man turned to Denham, saying through a thick accent, “I’m sure you are keen to get back to your buona fortuna, eh, Signore?” His arm was out to shepherd the Captain towards the rear door, once more.

“Come, Charles, I believe our hosts will take care of Miss Heywood and Miss Lambe. There is more to be discovered, I’m sure!”

Lockhart bent to kiss Georgiana’s cheek – not quite what she had in mind, Charlotte thought – as a bottle of champagne arrived, with an ice bucket with four glasses. Mr Marino poured two with a flourish causing Gee to giggle, while Charlotte looked on in quiet astonishment. Champagne! Just how much money was Lockhart willing to spend? Just then the band began taking their places on the stage once more, and the last thing Charlotte noticed, before being swept up in the sound of Miss Davis’ voice, was the man from a few tables over disappearing through the door to the back room, the heavy curtain swishing closed behind him.

—-

“I think you’ll find, my friends, that here the card games never end…” Charlotte heard the voice of the man from earlier as he emerged ahead of an ashen faced Denham, followed closely by Lockhart, who looked positively green around the gills. “Why don’t I buy you both a drink? You look like you could use it.”

The man left them to walk to the bar, and for a moment Charlotte thought Denham might stumble. She had never seen him look anything other than completely composed, and it was intriguing. With all the talk of luck with Mr Marino and his associates, she was assuming the ‘business’ had been with dice or cards. She wondered now just how much money he had lost.

They both settled into the seats opposite Georgie and Charlotte. Georgiana was looking at Charles with concern, raising her eyebrows questioningly. He managed a weak smile before their new acquaintance was back with two glasses of whisky, which he placed on the table. “Get that down you, gentlemen…”

“Why don’t you introduce us to your friend?” Charlotte said impatiently, after neither men had gone to do so, instead knocking back their drinks.

Denhams hand was shaky as he brushed the back of it over his lips, and the man watched with a little twitch of his lip.

“Just call me Samuel,” he said, leaning over to them and holding out a hand to Charlotte, who took it expecting yet another kiss to the back of it, but instead he shook it gently but firmly, before offering it to Georgiana and repeating the gesture. Charlotte felt inexplicably relieved.

Samuel again looked at the ashen-faced men with a wry raise of his eyebrow, before saying, “I had the pleasure of getting to know your friends out the back, and it’s even more delightful to make your acquaintance, Miss….?”

“Heywood,” Charlotte said with a slight smile, and tilted her head as she said, “and this is Miss Lambe.” Georgie gave him a distracted smile before leaning in to whisper something to Lockhart, who’s expression took on the ghost of a smile, although it did not last once Georgie’s eyes roamed around the room the other patrons.

“So, Samuel,” Charlotte said with a quirk of her eyebrow, “did you eschew your uniform for something nattier this evening, sir?”

“Ah no, I am but a humble civil servant.” Samuel said, his eyes twinkling at her as he bowed lightly in his seat.

“I’m wondering,” Charlotte said, “have we met before? It’s just you seem awfully familiar?”

“I do not believe so, Miss Heywood, no,” he smiled. “But I’m intrigued where you thought we might have met?”

“I was based at… various Whitehall departments a year or so back…” Charlotte watched Denham’s eyes spark interest at her words, and saw Samuel had also noticed.

He gave her a minute shake of his head, “Well, if you happened to have been around the Ministry of Supply at all you might have seen me there…” If possible Lockhart looked even queasier at this, and Denham scowled.

At that moment Mr Marino walked past their table, flashing the women a dashing smile, his hand over his heart. “Ah, belle signore…” he said with a melodramatic sigh. “I’m afraid I must steal your gentlemen away once more as our business has not been concluded to everyone’s satisfaction…”

Charlotte watched as Denham flinched slightly, turning her head to see more of Marino’s well-built associates standing by the exit, sharp tailoring not disguising their rather intimidating bulk.

Samuel eyed the men shrewdly. “Gentlemen, why don’t I arrange for a cab for Miss Heywood and Miss Lambe? So you may part ways here, and the ladies will not be detained by your business…”

“Nonsense, Mr…” Georgiana began, casting a pleading look at first Lockhart and then Charlotte.

I think it’s time to give up on your kiss, Georgie, she thought ruefully.

“It really is no trouble, Miss Lambe, the cabs stand ready outside, and it would be an honour to see you safely on your way,” Samuel said with a tiny bow, already drawing out his wallet.

“My sweet, we will see you back in Sanditon,” Lockhart said weakly, reaching for Georgie’s hand and gesturing for her to stand. “You have your train tickets for tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, we do, but…” Gee was pouting again, and Charlotte saw fit to intervene.

“Come on, Georgie, it’s late and…” she flashed a smile to the men around the table that was a little too bright and cheery, “...we have had such a wonderful evening. Let’s go and find a cab.” Taking Gee’s arm, she encouraged her friend to rise from her seat to don their jackets from the back of their chairs. The men all stood – again Denham was a little unsteady – and they made their farewells, Lockhart leaning in to kiss Georgie’s cheek once more.

Charlotte noticed Samuel positioning himself between them and the muscle men by the door as they made their way out and up the stairs to street level. In the balmy air of the summer evening in the capital, Charlotte breathed out as she saw a line of hackney cabs in the street, just as their new friend had predicted.

“I must thank you,” Charlotte said, after she had leaned in to let the driver of the vacant cab know the address and Samuel had drawn his wallet and paid the man, “that is exceedingly generous of you, Mr…?”

“Colbourne, Samuel Colbourne…” He saluted cheekily as they drew away, calling after them, “At your disservice!”

—

Rain was pouring down the window pane and hammering on the sill, the old guttering unable to cope, reminding Xander once again of the state of the house and darkening his mood.

He was feeling frustrated, the references to Sun-Eaters and MoonHunters were nagging at the back of his mind. It felt like looking through the viewfinder on his box brownie on those occasions when the scene was dim, the edges smudged and it was impossible to bring it into focus. What was the significance of Skoll and Hati? Charlotte had been right, it felt ominous.

Charlotte. It had been twenty four hours since she’d left and he’d heard from Sam. Was she alright? Had there been any air raids? Had those conniving bastards been gentlemen? He felt another stab of irritation – and jealousy, if he was honest with himself.

What should he do about what he’d overheard at the assembly rooms? He had no doubt about what it meant, but also suspected that Major Parker would dismiss his concerns if he presented them without proof.

At that very moment he heard the Major’s voice from down the corridor, and sighed heavily. His avoidance of Parker was in the most part successful, but it felt like his luck may have run out this morning.

The Major didn’t pause at the half-open door, moving through it even as he knocked. “Might I have a word, Lieutenant?” he said, somewhat arbitrarily as he went about settling himself in the chair across from the desk uninvited, adjusting his uniform jacket in a way that made Xander want to roll his eyes at his self-importance.

“How can I help you, sir?” Xander set aside his paper and looked over at him, his expression neutral. I’ll be as polite as I can and hopefully he won’t drag this out, so I can get on with the twenty more important things I need to do...

“You know, Colbourne, in my experience – and though admittedly I’ve not been in the Army for long, I’ve worked in the service of my community for my whole career – it’s clear to me that mixing duty with... personal inclinations... leads to nothing but trouble." Xander was a little surprised at this, coming as it did completely out of nowhere – they had barely discussed personnel before, let alone personal matters. He clenched his jaw to control his irritation at the man’s presumption.

“I’m not sure I take your meaning, Major?"

"Take Second Officer Heywood, for instance." Parker crossed one leg over the other, clearly warming to his subject. "Lovely girl, dedicated to her work. Bright future ahead of her, I’m sure. Wouldn’t want to see that compromised by unwanted attention from a superior officer."

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Unwanted attention…"

“Oh, I’m not suggesting anything untoward, of course,” Parker said, waving his hand vaguely. “But you must understand how it looks – a man of your position taking special interest in a young woman under your direct command. These situations... they’re inherently problematic, wouldn’t you say?”

Feeling his stomach clench as the thing he had feared was spoken aloud, he said, “I’m not sure what you mean, ‘taking special interest’...” He needed to be cautious, here.

“Oh, I’m only going from what Captain Denham reported to me. He’s sharp as you know, keeps his eyes open. Mentioned he’d seen you escorting Heywood walking about the grounds…”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, myself and my team walk about the grounds in order to get to our place of work,” Xander interrupted, the emphasis on the words showing his displeasure at his integrity being questioned, but Parker seemed not to notice.

“Yes, yes, but he also reported seeing you and she behaving quite intimately at the dance the other night.”

Bugger, so the bastard did see us.

Parker was going on, “Naturally, he was concerned – not for any impropriety, you understand, but for the appearance of... undue influence.”

“Undue influence?” Xander said, through gritted teeth.

“A junior officer, as Heywood is – dependent on your good opinion for her career prospects, her very position – how can she possibly refuse your... attentions... even if she wished to?”

Xander made his face carefully blank, even as his insides erupted in a nauseating wave of shame and self-recrimination. But years of suppressing his feelings, not to mention his intelligence training, meant he managed the outward appearance of being entirely unbothered.

It wasn’t necessary, it turned out, as Parker was characteristically oblivious. “These wartime situations – all these heightened emotions, close quarters – they can lead to young women feeling... obligated. Particularly those away from home for the first time…” Xander allowed himself a small exhale. He doesn’t know Charlotte at all. But Parker was still going, “It would be the charitable thing to maintain appropriate distance. For her sake, you understand.”

“So you believe Second Officer Heywood feels... obligated." Xander’s voice was icy.

But again the undertone passed the Major by. “Well, naturally, a girl of her background – provincial, inexperienced in military life… might find it quite impossible to refuse the attention of her commanding officer. It would be career suicide, wouldn’t it? Whether she welcomed such attention or not.”

Xander’s hands clenched into fists under the desk. Despite the fact that Charlotte was not as green as Parker thought, nonetheless his words struck a nerve and joined forces with the doubts that had been eating at him for weeks.

“And of course, I’m not your commanding officer, per se…” Parker was saying, as Xander’s irritation with the man spiked once again, “but as a word to the wise…” he even had the audacity to wink, “...we men of the world must be careful not to put these young women in impossible positions. It’s a question of honour, really."

"Honour." Xander worked hard to disguise his strangled voice.

"Precisely. A gentleman doesn’t use his position to... well, let’s just say a true gentleman considers the lady’s situation. Her inability to refuse. Her dependence on his good will." Parker leant forward conspiratorially. "Between you and me, I’ve seen it happen before. Girl thinks she has no choice but to accept a superior officer’s advances. Tragic, really."

It was all Xander could do to hide the flinch, feeling as if he’d been struck in the solar plexus. He forced air into his lungs as quietly as he could.

"So you understand my position," Parker continued, and Xander thought bitterly that this whole situation was worse for the fact that the man was clearly entirely oblivious to the wreckage his words were making of his heart. "As the senior Army officer on this base, I feel responsible for protecting personnel from... compromising situations. Can’t have junior officers feeling pressured, can we?"

Xander’s features were set in hard lines. “You’ve made yourself very clear, Major.”

—

Work forgotten, Xander stared unseeing at the papers on his desk, replaying the conversation he’d had with Charlotte – was it only yesterday morning? – as the familiar sensation of shame threatened to drown out all rational thought.

When he’d told her he was worried people would think he was taking advantage of her, she hadn’t denied it, but instead said she knew the risks, the protocols. She’d said she wanted him to be open with her, and he’d been sure that meant she wanted him. And because of that he’d gone right ahead and told her how she saw through him, and why he struggled to share anything of himself. He closed his eyes in mortification, had he misread her? Was she just being kind? God, maybe he had imposed on her…

Once he’d opened up to her – be honest, Xander, you practically told her she was the only one to save you! – maybe she felt pity? He groaned, his hands on his face. She’s kind and thoughtful. She wanted me to open up to the team. So then I pour out my bloody sob story and now she has no choice but to allow me to… He swallowed heavily. I’ve touched her. In public. Kissed her… He groaned again.

“I’m a grown woman…” Her voice came back to him, and he felt grateful for the anchor in the storm of his thoughts. Was she just saying that, though? No, she must have meant it. She knows the risks…

But his thoughts turned to how she, like everyone, was clearly feeling the pressure of the war. “This war is relentless…” It’s making her throw caution to the wind. She isn’t taking the consequences seriously. How can I be so selfish to ruin her prospects when she’s vulnerable?

His mind went back over the moments in his study. But did she not kiss me? “We’ve both been holding ourselves back, because anyone with eyes can see we are attracted to one another,” she had said. But she’d been holding herself back for a reason, and he had been willing to ride roughshod over her worries the minute she relented. This war has taken – is taking – so much from her, how can I be so damned selfish to demand she give up the respect of the others if they find out?

His mind was tangled, and Parker’s words shouted the loudest in his head: “A true gentleman considers the lady’s situation."

How can I face her now, knowing that I’m just taking advantage of her bravado and uncertainty about the future? I can’t let her disregard the consequences of this, just because I need her. He swallowed, hard, his chest tightening at that notion, as he acknowledged it for the first time. He wanted more than anything to ignore all these voices, to drown out everything and join her in “damned well trying to find joy and happiness wherever they could…” But was that honourable?

Just at that moment the teleprinter sprung into life, making him jump. Going to retrieve the message, he read:

To: COLBOURNE A

HEYRICK PARK SUSSEX

LAMBS SAFE FROM WOLVES STOP

SAM

——

Charlotte watched the rain pouring down the train window, leaving rivulets of coal grime streaking the view of the green fields they were passing. They had left the grey of the capital behind them, and Georgiana being out of sorts had initially dampened their mood just as thoroughly as the weather. But as the journey had gone on, her enjoyment of the evening before – the unadulterated pleasure she’d felt at seeing Beryl Davis perform with the magnificent Oscar Rabin’s band – broke through the storm clouds of Charles’ distraction and the distinct lack of kissing. This, combined with the glittering jewellery purchased on Bond Street, and the promise of a date performing with Mr Marino’s house band, had eventually left her chattering happily about their trip, even as the cool, damp air seeped into the draughty railway carriage.

Charlotte gave perfunctory responses, distracted as she was by the thoughts about what had befallen Denham and Lockhart, after their evening of evidently heavy losses at the tables in the back of Mr Marino’s club. What happened to them after we left?

Samuel Colbourne had clearly shielded her and Gee from any repercussions from whatever ’business’ had resulted when Lady Luck had deserted the pair. His solicitousness was welcome, but what had prompted him to be there in the first place? There was only one answer. Her heart swelled at the thought, Alexander’s protectiveness was clear to see. But whilst she had been grateful to have an escort out of the club once it was clear that Lockhart and Denham were not in a position to ensure they stayed safe, distracted as they had become, she baulked a little at the presumption they would need help. But you did, Charlotte! She had to admit it was true – the atmosphere in the club had been different from her times at the Dorchester, or wherever the Major had taken the department out after work. She’d always been in a larger group as well, she realised. But no doubt, there was an unfamiliar air of menace at Marino’s.

Still, she felt unnerved. She did not want to end up feeling as if she was relying on someone. Of course, Sidney’s death had been in active service, but in this god-awful war it wasn’t just being sent on a mission that could tear couples apart in an instance – either of them could be redeployed to another division, or simply be in the wrong place at the wrong time and not get to the shelter. She shuddered thinking about the bombing in Hastings the previous month, when the bomber had dropped the last of their doodlebugs before flying back across the channel. You didn’t have to be in London to be at risk.

She put her thoughts aside, trying to recapture the certainty she had felt in Alexander’s study. Yes, she would have her fun – enjoy spending time with him, giving into the amazing chemistry, exploring their connection. She would claim this joy and freedom, but she would hold it lightly.

—-

Xander sat, parked outside the train station in Sanditon, listening to the incessant rain beating a drum on the roof of the army-issue car. If he’d had his way he’d be far from here: speeding along roads on two wheels rather than idling here on four, despite the risk the slippery, rain-soaked roads would pose. But petrol rations, and the necessity to account for the need to borrow the motorcycle, meant he could not indulge his need for speed – so he had checked the arrival time of the London train and here he was, hunched against the cool air, rain hammering against the windscreen. It was the honourable thing to do.

He almost choked. Honourable. Ha! Hardly.

He knew what he must do. It chafed. Painfully. But he was here.

The train chugged into the station and he stepped out, folding his collar up against the heavy rain and opening an umbrella. He hurried to the exit from the platform nearest him, spying Charlotte with her suitcase raised above her head, Miss Lambe stood behind her, both peering out at the incessant downpour.

“Heywood!” She saw him then, and rushed towards him, a smile lighting her features. He swallowed, hard, beckoning the two women towards the car. The umbrella was useless, by the time they had slung their bags into the boot and clambered in, all three were wet through.

“Thank you, sir,” Charlotte said, pushing her bedraggled curls back from her face, her dress clinging to her legs and a shy smile on her lips. “I thought we’d have to wait it out for hours!”

“It’s the least I could do.” Xander felt the weight of his words. He would set her free from the reckless choice she had made, if it was the last thing he did. Even if it breaks my heart...

He glanced in the rearview mirror to see Georgiana smile at Charlotte, and the lump in his throat swelled. It was fair enough for him to have to keep his eyes directly ahead, concentrating hard as he was on the little he could see through the downpour – he did not want to catch their eyes. Although there was silence between the three people in the car, it would have been difficult to hear each other over the noise of the rain, so he drove them carefully back along the coast road, through the gates of the estate. He sensed they were having a near silent conversation, but didn’t look back.

As they approached the front door, Georgiana said brightly, “If you just drop me here, Lieutenant, Charlotte can come round to the stable block with you.”

His heart sank – she knows, then. He nodded, tight lipped, and Gee jumped out, grabbed her bag and dashed to the door.

Without looking around, he pulled the car forward, but instead of driving straight to the stable block, he took the turning towards the folly, glancing in the mirror to see her smile widely. Despite himself, he smiled back, briefly, before remembering what he had to do. He caught her puzzled look at his frown, her smile fading.

All I want to do is make her smile. His heart plummeted to his stomach.

After a few moments he stopped the car, looking down for far longer than was necessary as he turned the key in the ignition to stop the engine. Before he could look around at her, he heard her get out, quickly, and the front passenger door was flung open. She dived in, laughing lightly and wiping the fresh flurry of rain from her forehead, before settling into the seat, her body angled towards him.

Almost against his will, he looked up into her eyes and his heart thumped painfully at the soft smile she was giving him.

“Charlotte—”

“Thank you, Alexander—”

They both spoke at once, and she chuckled lightly, “After you.”

He almost took the coward’s way out, then, saying she should go first. But it would only delay the inevitable, so he sucked in his stomach to brace himself, and said, “Charlotte, I’ve been thinking…” He watched her smile fade, eyes narrowing at him as she took in his frown. He cleared his throat, “about the impossible position I put you in. The unfairness of it.”

“The unfairness of what, exactly?” Her voice was hard-edged, already.

“Of expecting you to… to navigate a relationship with your commanding officer. Of putting you in a situation where you might feel you had no choice but to accept my attention.”

“No choice but to accept?” She huffed out a breath. “Alexander, we’ve been through this…”

“Yes, yes, I know, but you aren’t thinking through the consequences. To your reputation…” He ran his hand through his wet hair, roughly, “You’re understandably anxious about the future, what the war will bring, and you’re throwing caution to the wind, and I can’t let you…”

“Let me…?” she interrupted, her eyes glittering.

He closed his eyes. Idiot. “That was a poor choice of words…” he began, forcing himself to look at her, but she cut him off again.

“So tell me again how I’m disregarding my future, overcome with anxiety, and can’t be trusted to make my own decisions?” His eyes shifted again, finding focus just over her shoulder, as she went on, “And how you won’t allow me to make that choice?”

“You have to admit…”

“What?” She cut him off once more, and he could tell she was gritting her teeth, “What do I have to admit?”

He clenched his jaw, and let his head fall back against the headrest, before he said, “I would not be doing my duty to you, as your commanding officer, if I didn’t try to protect you from…”

She flung open the door and jumped out, walking quickly away from the car towards a large tree by the side of the track. The rain was still falling so heavily that he could barely make her out, even at so short a distance, so he pulled hard at the handle and stepped out.

—

“Heywood, please… Charlotte, get back in the car, you’ll get soaked.”

Irritation spiked in her chest, as she shouted above the drumming of the rain, “I’ll get back in when you stop treating me like a stupid, hysterical woman!”

“I’m trying to protect you!”

“Aarrggh!” She growled, watching as he abandoned the car, childishly gratified by the soaking he was getting. Serves him right. Infuriating man!

He hurried over to her and she stood, facing him, hands clenched into fists at her side, “Protect me from what? From making my own choices?” She pushed wet hair out of her eyes. Enough!

She went on, her voice rising, “Do you want to know about power, Alexander? About choice? All my life I’ve had people telling me to lower my expectations, to expect less than I wanted out of life. A lady doesn’t work, Charlotte, you’ll never catch a husband if you’re cleverer than them, Charlotte. That I couldn’t choose. And do you know what? Here, for the first time in my life I get to be me, make my own choices. Where I go, what I do. I don’t have to pretend to be less intelligent. I know that here, I’m respected for what I bring, all of me, not in spite of being a woman, but because I’m here on merit.”

“But don’t you see? That’s why you shouldn’t throw all that away, you shouldn’t risk it, for this. For me.” He gestured into the space between them, and she saw the vulnerability in his beautiful whisky-coloured eyes. It both drew her in and terrified her.

She squashed down the fear, allowing her indignation to carry her through. “But don’t you see, what good is it, if I still have people making choices for me?”

“Charlotte, please, at least get under the trees…”

She closed her eyes, hugging herself tightly against the desire to go to him and the warring instinct to stand her ground – literally and metaphorically. But then she sighed, realising how cold she was becoming in the incessant downpour. She moved towards him, then, under the canopy under the large oak tree where there was at least a little shelter.

Closing her eyes once more, and keeping her voice as level as she could, she said, “I am not some weak minded female who doesn’t understand the risks I am taking, Alexander. For God’s sake don’t treat me as if I don’t understand the situation.”

She took a deep, slow breath before opening her eyes and seeking his, holding his gaze. “You’re worried you’re abusing your power over me. That’s it, isn’t it?”

His eyes widened, and she wondered if it was in shock that she’d guessed, or the same fear he’d described in the study about being seen by her? Then he nodded, looking unnerved.

“So let’s talk about your power over me, then.” She crossed her arms, against the chill but also to shore up her resolve. They would have this conversation – though she longed to soothe him, she was still irritated by his high-handedness. “What could you actually do to me, to make me feel an obligation to you?”

He rubbed his hand over his face, clearly wanting to try and explain. But as the silence stretched she knew he was struggling to find the words, so she pressed on, “I do not believe, for an instant, that you would do anything to make my life uncomfortable or difficult if I did not pursue this relationship.”

“Of course not, no…” He whispered, as he dropped his gaze to the floor, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, hard. Her heart melted a little more – he’s so hard on himself.

She went on, “So what’s stopping me? If I truly had no choice, if I was truly powerless, what is it that would stop me from telling you right here and now that your advances are unwelcome?”

“Nothing, but…”

“Nothing. Exactly! Nothing.” She flung her arms out to the side. “The only thing stopping me is that I don’t want to.” The certainty was back, with a vengeance. The knowledge she wanted to touch him, hold him and explore this connection they both felt. She stepped closer to him, a small smile on her lips as she felt him, almost imperceptibly, yielding to her. “Because I choose to be here, having this conversation, in the middle of a bloody thunderstorm, trying to talk sense into the most infuriatingly noble man I’ve ever met.”

She watched as he closed his eyes, blushing, and saw with satisfaction that his lips quirked at her description of him.

She stepped a little closer still, waiting until he opened his eyes again, and said, softly, “You are not wielding power over me. The only power you have over me is what I choose to give you.”

There was barely a trace left of the anguish in his eyes now, as he said weakly, “You don’t understand…”

“I understand perfectly.” She moved even closer, until they were almost touching, and she could feel his uneven breath on her cheeks. Suddenly aware of just how stirred his emotions were, of how she affected him. It stunned her a little, but she stored it away to think on later.

“I understand that you’re so afraid of becoming someone who abuses their power that you’re throwing away something real and precious. I understand that you’re so afraid of hurting me that you’re hurting me anyway.”

“Charlotte, we should…”

“Should what? Should pretend this incredible chemistry between us doesn’t exist? Should let other people’s opinions dictate our lives?” She reached up, placing her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to meet her eyes, feeling the now-familiar thrill of touching him. “I joined up because I was tired of having my future decided for me. Tired of being told what I should want, what I should settle for. And now you’re at risk of doing exactly the same thing.” She smiled. “And I’m not going to let you…”

He stepped towards her, and it felt like he was trying to shield her from the worst of the downpour with his body. It pleased her, and irritated her too. She was finding the push-pull of her emotions confusing, but set it aside, as he said, “Please believe me, I am just trying to do what’s right…”

“What’s right for whom? For me?” She left one hand on his cheek but placed the other on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under the sodden fabric of his jacket. “Because I’m standing here in the pouring rain telling you what I want, and you’re still not listening. What’s right for you? Because you look absolutely bloody miserable.” He snorted, and she went on, “For the Navy? Pah. Because in case you’ve forgotten, Alexander, we’re at war, and happiness is rare enough that destroying it seems almost criminal.”

He laid his hand over hers, on his chest, and she saw his self-doubt surface again, along with a depth of emotion that made her swallow. “What if I hurt you without meaning to?”

She felt herself pull back, just a fraction, but then said in a lighter voice, “We’re going to have some fun, you and me, and enjoy being with each other. We’ll take it day by day. No one can plan anything, so we’ll have our fun and stick two fingers up at the Jerries in the meantime. Stop borrowing trouble.”

He rubbed his eyes against the rain, and she wondered what he was feeling. “You make it sound simple.”

“It is simple. Not easy, but simple.” As she said it she hoped it was true. Studying his face, she saw the conflict in him. Us both. But they had to get past this. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes.” It was a whisper.

“Do you trust me to know my own mind?”

He paused, but then said with conviction, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Do you believe I am here because I want to be?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop trying to protect me from my own choices.”

His look was so intense that her breath caught a little in her chest, and they stared into each other’s eyes. She wanted to melt into him, mould herself to him, but more than that she wanted to know him, with a ferocity that took her by surprise. She watched his eyes darken and drop to her lips. The moment stretched, tension coiling up through her core.

A peal of thunder rumbled overhead, and Xander said suddenly, as if he’d only just noticed, “We’re going to freeze to death out here.” But he didn’t move away from her.

“So, are we finished having this conversation?”

He smiled – the first proper smile she’d seen since he’d picked her up, one that made her chest squeeze. The tension was broken, but the closeness was still there. “Are you going to get back in the car if I say yes?”

“That depends.” She grinned at him. “Are you going to stop making decisions about my life without consulting me?”

“Yes.” He took her hand and kissed her palm.

Wanting to confirm a hunch, she asked, “Someone talked to you, didn’t they? About us?”

He suppressed a groan, barely, and she watched his face intently. He closed his eyes again as he admitted, “Yes.”

“Was it Major Parker?”

“My God, woman, how do you know these things?”

She chuckled, starting to draw him by the hand back towards the car, “Don’t ever doubt me again, Alexander Colbourne.” She spun playfully as she approached the edge of the canopy. “And are you going to kiss me, or do I need to stand in this storm until I develop pneumonia to make my point?”

He pulled her into him, again, making her heart thump, and tangled his hands in her wet hair. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. Trusted us.”

Us. Determined to stay in the moment, she swallowed down the worry they were falling too fast. “Yes, you should. Now, promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that the next time someone tries to tell you what I’m thinking or feeling, you’ll come and ask me directly.”

“I promise.” He leaned down until his forehead touched hers, rain still streaming down both their faces. “Even if it means having conversations in thunderstorms.”

“Especially if it means having conversations in thunderstorms.” She rose up onto her toes, closing the little distance there was between them. “Now kiss me before we both drown.”

He cupped her cheek, gently, and drew her lips to his, and her stomach swooped. It felt so right, so much what she wanted, her lips responding to his gentle insistence, wanting more. The irrational sense of wanting to push away was still there – the fears she couldn’t silence, of losing herself if she let herself go, of the heartbreak she couldn’t face if the worst was to happen – but right here, under this tree, she realised she was where she was supposed to be.

Lightning flashed across the sky, then, and though she knew it would be anything but simple – hiding this thing between them from those around, the demands the war would make of them, the dangers ahead – her last thought about anything other than this kiss was that being with Alexander, for as long as it lasted, would be worth it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Chapter Text

Fate and Notes

Charlotte tucked a stray curl of her hair behind her ear, rereading what she’d just written. Was she brave enough to send it? It might be too early to tease him about being my CO. But she was pleased with the flirty tone. It’s going to be my job to keep him from overthinking things.

She would leave it on his desk in the study, knowing he would check in there after the night shift before heading to his room. There was a chance Mrs Wheatley might spot it if she tidied before the handover was complete, but Charlotte felt it was less of a risk than being spotted slipping it under his bedroom door. She could not justify being on the officers corridor, and they needed to be careful, especially with Captain Denham sniffing around.

She’d not actually seen Denham since she and Georgiana had left the club with their gallant protector, nor had she had the chance to discuss with Alexander what exactly the man who was clearly his brother had been doing in the exact same bar as them in the middle of Soho. That is a conversation we need to have, but not in notes…

The irony of finally giving themselves permission to be together, and then being on entirely opposite shifts all week, made Charlotte chuckle ruefully as she picked up the note to head down the stairs. Perhaps it was for the best, given how hard it had been for her to meet his eye during the handover that afternoon – the memories of that tree and that rainstorm still fresh in her mind. It seemed to her he was managing better, but then she caught his eye and saw a flush creep up his neck. Not that much better, then.

They would both have to be professional, and in truth, Charlotte wasn’t worried; their Y-service training would stand them in good stead. The waiting to see him was excruciating, though. The tension in her core had become almost permanent – she had been aware of it even when she had been concentrating on the intercepts through the afternoon. God, I can’t wait to kiss him again. And… She couldn’t deny she was hoping for more. It’s been a while…

—-

Charlotte stirred her tea, relishing being able to add milk while she was still over at the main house. It was definitely what she preferred, though she was now used to having it black over at the folly. Needs must. As she returned to her breakfast table, Georgiana hurried in, picking up the slice of toast off Charlotte’s plate and biting into it even before she sat.

“Running late?” Charlotte asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, and today is going to be full-on. Thanks, honey.” Gee did at least look a little apologetic while stuffing the rest of the slice into her mouth.

“Why is it so busy?”

“Well,” Gee said once she’d swallowed, “there are these two big convoys of supply ships due in over the next six weeks. Of course, no one knows exactly when, hush-hush and all that…”

“Obviously,” said Charlotte, thinking Gee was teaching her grandmother to suck eggs, but letting it slide.

“All the bases along the coast will be getting a massive influx of stuff to distribute, and because we’re furthest from the naval base, we’ll be getting more of those civilian supplies.” She took a hasty swig of Charlotte’s tea. “Which I hope gets Stringer off my back at last,” she muttered. “Denham is still acting like he’s making a mountain out of a molehill…”

“I haven’t seen him since Marino’s…” Charlotte’s voice rose slightly in question, wanting to see how her friend was feeling now about the evening ending rather abruptly.

Gee nodded distractedly, leafing through the papers in a manila folder she’d put down on the table. “He’s the same old Denham – sure of himself, bossing Parker around…”

“Oh, right…” The sound of suspicion in Charlotte’s voice must have penetrated Gee’s distraction as she looked up.

“Did you think he wouldn’t be?”

“He and Lock— Charles seemed…” Charlotte searched for the word carefully, “…less than pleased at how their evening was ending…”

Gee waved a hand and went back to her papers. “Oh, that. Charles explained they had a little bit of bad luck at the card tables, that’s all.”

I’m not sure it was just a little bit of bad luck. Charlotte tilted her head. “So you’ve seen Charles then?”

Gee’s face fell slightly, but she schooled her features, eyes still on her file. “Well… no. He left me a note, and told me he’ll confirm the date for my performance as soon as he’s sorted out a little business with Mr. Marino’s men.” She brightened and looked up, smiling. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Charlotte said warmly. Gee beamed at her, and Charlotte added inwardly, There’s no way I’d let you go back on your own. Something was off; she just knew it. But before she could share her suspicions with her roommate, she had to talk to Alexander.

Gee stood up, gathering her papers. “Okay, gotta go. I’ll be holed up all day, probably for days, getting the new system set up to keep track of the influx. The Major’s so sure it’ll be fine, says we don’t need to change anything, and Denham just keeps reassuring him everything’s working perfectly. So I’m going to have my work cut out for me, because Pryce is insisting on this all being up to scratch…” She finished Charlotte’s tea and dashed for the door, calling over her shoulder, “Thanks for the toast and tea – you’re a doll!”

—-

Xander arched his back, stretching out the tension of the long night in the Folly, before leaning over the desk in his study to see if anything had been delivered from Bletchley that morning. Nothing this time. Rubbing his eyes blearily, he spotted the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from under his blotter, pulling it out and smiling as he recognised the ‘A’ in Charlotte’s distinctive handwriting. Her mischievous grin at the handover just now suddenly made sense. Glancing at the door, he pocketed it to read in his room – he did not want to be interrupted.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he was suddenly less weary. He barely had the door shut before he was opening the envelope, reading it through quickly, and snorting with some surprise that she was teasing him about Parker and the whole ‘commanding officer’ thing. It felt a little close to the bone, if he was honest, but he took a big breath and reread the lines. Her cheeky tone made him smile, this time, and the thought of her reliving their kisses sent a pulse through his core. The mug in the folly sprang to mind, and he reached for his letter-writing supplies, his lips quirking up at the corner. Two can play at that game…

He paused, wondering if he should really be committing this to paper, but as he was planning to slip the note under her door again, the only other person to see it would be her roommate, who he knew already knew. He would sleep first, so the maid who cleaned the second-floor rooms would be finished and wouldn’t disturb it from just inside her door. The risks loomed large in his mind again, but he had to trust Charlotte. He’d done enough second-guessing and was determined to learn his lesson, and he certainly didn’t fancy another lecture, even if it wouldn’t be raining. He picked up his pen again.

He was enjoying himself, he realised, thinking of her smiling as she read. She was bringing fun into his life, and it made his heart swell. But would he really have to dance? God, he hated dancing.

There. He wasn’t promising anything. Although the thought of her dancing with any other blokes twisted a knot in his stomach. God, this week is going to be interminable.

—-

Charlotte sat at the monitoring equipment, rubbing absently at her forehead with her ring finger while she twiddled her pen in her other hand. The headphones were beginning to make her ears ache after three hours of continuous wear. She glanced over at Aggie, who was bent over a stack of codebooks, a wisp of her blonde hair falling forward as she meticulously cross-referenced yesterday’s intercepts.
"Anything interesting?" Aggie asked without looking up.

"Just the usual patrol coordinates," Charlotte replied, adjusting the dial slightly to clear some static. "Although they seem to be moving farther north than usual." She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on the crackle of German voices amid the sea of static. Her thoughts drifted briefly to Alexander – would he still be awake at the house? Had he found the note? The memory of their rain-soaked conversation made her smile despite her fatigue.

Pulling her attention back to what she was supposed to be listening to, a voice crackled through, speaking in clipped tones. She scribbled rapidly, catching phrases about provisions and coordinates that seemed routine enough. Then the voice paused, and when it resumed, the tone changed subtly. "Wir warten auf das blinde Auge der Nacht." Charlotte’s pen stilled. "We wait for the blind eye of the night…”

She furrowed her brow, tapping her pencil against her lip. The blind eye of the night... What could that possibly mean? Something about darkness, obviously, but there seemed to be a specific meaning beneath the poetic phrasing.

"Aggie," she called softly, “can you come look at this?"

Aggie glanced up from her station and hurried over, leaning close as Charlotte pointed to the phrase.

"The blind eye of the night," Charlotte murmured. "Does that sound like a coded reference to you?"

Aggie pursed her lips, considering. "Well, it’s certainly not standard naval communication."

"I’m wondering..." Charlotte tapped her pencil again. "What if it’s referring to a new moon? When the sky is completely dark."

Aggie’s eyes widened. "That makes sense. The blind eye – when the moon isn’t visible at all."

"Can you check when the next new moon is?" Charlotte asked, already reaching for the almanac they kept on the shelf.

"I’ll do better than that," Aggie replied with newfound enthusiasm. She hurried to the bookcase, pulling out both the astronomical tables and a naval calendar. "If it’s important enough to use such poetic code, they might be planning something around multiple lunar cycles."

Charlotte watched as Aggie spread the materials across the desk, her earlier irritability replaced by focused determination. This was the Aggie she’d known during their initial training – sharp, methodical, and eager to prove herself. After her recent moodiness, it was great to see.

"The next new moon is in..." Aggie traced her finger across the chart, calculating quickly. "Nine days from now. That’s not much time if they’re planning something."

Charlotte leaned closer, studying the lunar calendar over Aggie’s shoulder. "And after that?"

"Let’s see..." Aggie continued down the column. "Then another new moon in about five and a half weeks, and then another at nine and a half weeks from now." She flipped a page, her finger moving across the astronomical tables. Suddenly, she inhaled sharply. "Charlotte, look at this."

"What is it?"

"In seven weeks’ time…" Aggie pointed to a date circled in red on the chart. "There’s a lunar eclipse during the full moon."

"An eclipse?"

"Hmm. Not just any eclipse," Aggie said. "It’s a total lunar eclipse. The moon will appear red." "A blood moon!" Something nagged at Charlotte’s brain, and she quickly flipped back through her notebook, scanning previous transcripts until she found what she was looking for. Her pencil underlined the German phrase with three swift strokes: “Blutzeit." "Blood Time," she said quietly, the words feeling ominous. "That’s what they’ve been referencing. Not just any lunar cycle… they’re planning something for the eclipse." Aggie’s face paled slightly. "When the moon turns red... like blood in the sky." Tapping the “Blutzeit" notation with her finger, Charlotte then allowed the pages to fall back in place, before circling where she’d written today’s intercept about "the blind eye of the night." "I think it’s a sequence," she said. "The new moon first – the blind eye – then the blood moon." She traced her finger along the calendar. "They’re not just marking dates, they’re counting down." "But counting down to what?" Aggie said, eyes a little wide. Charlotte glanced toward the window, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the folly. "Something that requires precise timing with lunar phases." Her mind went through the possibilities. “For visibility reasons…?” "Or lack of it," Aggie added, thoughtfully. "The new moon would provide perfect darkness for covert operations." Charlotte nodded. "And the eclipse... what would they need the blood moon for?" Aggie’s fingers traced the astronomical chart. "It’s symbolic, perhaps? Or maybe they need that specific light condition for something technical?" "Or it’s the culmination," Charlotte said, her voice dropping low. "If Dunkeljagd is the hunt leading up to something, then Blutzeit could be the moment they’re waiting for… the time to strike." She looked up at the ceiling, thoughtfully. "We need to update the Lieutenant immediately. This feels significant."

“Well it’s a good job he should be arriving for his shift in about twenty minutes, then,” Aggie said, checking her watch. Charlotte studied her to see if she was showing any signs of suspicion. It was a good job the youngster seemed distracted by organising the papers in front of her, as Charlotte knew her cheeks had flushed. Get it together, Charlotte.

Aggie was saying, “…I think this is everything we have, all the references, the lunar charts, the pattern of transmissions." Charlotte leant forward, hoping it would hide her annoying blush, as they marked pages with small tabs and arranged them in order of discovery. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were uncovering something crucial, and couldn’t wait to tell Alexander.

—

The dance was still a few days away, but Xander’s mind kept returning to it as he walked with Mary toward the folly for their night shift. He had spent most of the day asleep, the letter to Charlotte hidden safely under his pillow, and now having slipped it under her door for her to find when she returned from her shift, he felt surprisingly refreshed despite his disrupted sleep pattern. "I do hope Aggie has improved her mood," Mary said, adjusting her jacket against the evening breeze. "She’s been positively dreadful all week." "Has she?" Xander asked, guilt pricking at him. He’d been so preoccupied with Charlotte that he’d barely noticed Aggie’s mood. "Denham’s been flattering her terribly. Filling her head with nonsense about how underappreciated she is." Mary shook her head. "Charlotte’s been trying to talk sense into her, but you know how she gets.”

"I’ll have a word…" he promised, vaguely.

The stone building emerged from the late afternoon shadows as they stepped out from the woodland path, the door propped open to let out the still musty air. He straightened his uniform jacket unnecessarily, suddenly acutely aware that Charlotte was inside, his pulse quickening even though he knew he was being ridiculous.

Mary glanced at him with a puzzled smile. "You seem rather eager tonight."

"Just keen to get back to it," he said, and he knew he’d sounded entirely too enthusiastic for a midweek evening on a night shift. Get it together, Xander. He gestured with his arm for Mary to go in first.

They entered to find Charlotte leaning over a table of papers, her dark curls falling forward as she pointed something out to Aggie. At the sound of the door, she looked up, and their eyes met. The warmth in her expression sent a jolt through him that he struggled to conceal.

"Lieutenant, Mary," Charlotte said as she straightened up, all professional but with a hint of a smile playing at her lips as she looked at him. Then she cleared her throat. "I think we’ve found something significant in the patterns," she finished, her eyes holding his for just a moment longer than necessary.

Xander nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral despite the warmth spreading through his chest. "Let’s hear it, then."

Charlotte began laying out the papers, and his gaze drifted to the table where Charlotte’s tea mug sat, a faint crescent of red lipstick marking the rim. He smirked to himself at what she’d read in his note when she returned to the house, then schooled his features as Aggie gathered the mug, along with a few others.

"I’ll just rinse these," Aggie said, carrying them to the back room. Ship-shape, indeed.

"As you know, we’ve been tracking these references to lunar cycles – Dunkeljagd and Blutzeit – and with what we intercepted today, we now believe they’re coordinating something specifically timed with the new moon and the upcoming lunar eclipse."

"Lunar eclipse..." Xander repeated, as his mind kicked into gear, connecting the references. "Skoll and Hati… of course."

Mary looked at him expectantly. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"The Norse wolves," he explained, leaning over the papers. "Remember our discussion about them? Skoll pursues the sun, Hati hunts the moon. In Norse mythology, eclipses occur when the wolves catch their prey."

Charlotte’s eyes lit with understanding. "And in the old myths, eclipses were seen as omens, harbingers of great change or catastrophe."

"Precisely," Xander said, his finger tracing the calendar. "The Germans aren’t just using lunar cycles for practical purposes, they’re invoking the symbolism. Dunkeljagd – the Dark Hunt – is Hati pursuing the moon. And Blutzeit…”

"…Blood Time," Charlotte finished for him. "When the wolf finally catches the moon and it bleeds across the sky."

"But what could they be planning that requires such a melodramatic set of codes?" Mary said, her hands resting on the table as she looked at the papers again.

Aggie returned from the back room, wiping her hands on a small towel. "Obviously, the new moon provides darkness for covert movements, but we did wonder if this is more about symbolism…."

"I’m inclined to agree," Xander said, flicking through the pages to check the references Charlotte had circled. "I don’t think these are just practical date references. There’s something… ritualistic about it."

Charlotte leaned closer, her shoulder nearly touching his. "If they’re invoking these old myths, it suggests something momentous. Something they believe will change the course of the war."

"A major offensive?" Mary suggested. “That would fit.”

"Or a new weapon," Xander said slowly, even as his mind raced through possibilities. God, how big could this be? "Something they’ve been developing in secret…”

"Or a coordinated attack," Charlotte said, looking up at him, her eyes widening. "The precision of Skoll and Hati. A wolfpack formation? Multiple U-boats moving under cover of darkness, then striking when the eclipse occurs."

They stood for a brief moment in silence, all eyes fixed on the documents laid out on the table, with the realisation of the potential magnitude of what they were going to report to Bletchley.

Xander reacted first. “Mary, I think I should…”

“Of course, you must. I’ll be fine here for a little while…”

“I could stay…” Charlotte said, her voice trailing off, and Xander thought maybe she was disappointed at the thought of not walking back with him. Or she’s just tired, the voice in his head reminded him. He shouldn’t get too invested. Still, he felt a swell of what felt like desperation to stay in her presence now that he was finally seeing her.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Xander said quickly, “Will it, Mary?”

“Not at all,” Mary said, a glint of something knowing in her eye.

"Let’s gather these materials and head back," Xander said, collecting the papers, "so I can send a priority dispatch to Bletchley tonight."

—

The three of them stepped out into the cooling evening air, leaving Mary to monitor the equipment. Stars were beginning to poke through the pale lilac sky overhead, and the gravel path crunched beneath their feet as they walked. Xander positioned himself between the two women, acutely aware of Charlotte’s presence beside him.

"So, what theory do you think is most likely, sir?" Charlotte said, her voice low. There was unlikely to be anyone around, but he appreciated her caution.

"I’m not certain," he replied, matching her tone. "But whatever it is, the coding definitely suggests something significant."

Their hands brushed as they walked side by side, and Xander felt an electric current run up his arm. He didn’t pull away, allowing their fingers to touch again. Charlotte’s sharp intake of breath suggested she felt it too.

Aggie broke the momentary silence that had fallen. "All this symbolism does trouble me a lot. The Nazis are obsessed with their Nordic myths, well, perverted versions of them, at least. The way they merge them with their version of what’s happening in the war is... unsettling."

"Indeed," Xander said, struggling not to be distracted by Charlotte’s proximity as they walked. "They blend mythology with military strategy to create a narrative for their troops – a sense of destiny."

Their fingers brushed again, and Xander felt Charlotte’s little finger deliberately hook around his for just a moment before releasing. He again struggled to maintain his train of thought.

"Imagine the effect on morale if they could time a major victory with an eclipse,” Charlotte said, her voice sounding steady, although she like him must be acutely aware that Augusta noticing their touches was a risky possibility. “I mean, that’s something their propaganda machine could spin as the fulfillment of ancient prophecy."

They had reached the front steps of Heyrick now, the house looming in the gathering gloom, somehow reflecting their spirits.

As they entered the main hall, Xander held the door, allowing both women to pass before him, the polished wood floor reflecting the dim light from the sconces. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked steadily, marking the hour.

"I’m going to wash up before dinner," Aggie said, stretching her neck as she rolled her shoulders back. "I’ll head up now, if that’s all right."

"Of course," Xander replied. "You’ve done excellent work today."

Aggie flushed a little, and he hoped that meant she felt appreciated. Good. "Have a good evening, then," she said as she began to climb the main staircase, leaving them momentarily alone in the hall.

He watched as Charlotte lingered by the newel post, her fingers tracing the worn wood. His heart thumped at her clear hesitation to leave him, and he felt equally rooted where he was, papers clutched in his hand.

"I should..." Charlotte said, her voice barely above a whisper, waving her hand vaguely towards the stairs, her eyes meeting his across the dim hall.

"Yes, you should…" Xander said, his voice equally soft, acutely aware that the longer they lingered, the more suspicious it would appear. Even if his body was refusing to move. "But…” He cleared his throat, lightly, “I left you something..."

"Under my door?" Charlotte’s eyes brightened.

He nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. As she turned toward the stairs, he stepped forward, the brush of his fingers against hers deliberate and brief, yet enough to send warmth spreading through his arm.

Charlotte climbed the stairs, and Xander watched her until she reached the landing. Then he disappeared toward his study.

—-

In her room, Charlotte closed the door behind her and leaned against it, then bent to scoop up the folded square of paper just beneath her feet. She quickly unfolded Alexander’s note and began to read.

Her lips curved into a smile as she got to the part about her lipstick-marked mug, a laugh bubbling up from her chest. The thought of him being distracted by such a small trace of her sent a delicious shiver through her body, and she pressed the letter briefly to her chest.

"The battle to stop thinking about kissing you," she whispered to herself, feeling her cheeks flush hot. The knot of desire that had been building in her since their embrace in the rain tightened further. She crossed her legs tightly where she sat on the edge of her bed, trying to ease the ache. This week is passing excruciatingly slowly…

She read on, and when she got to his self-deprecating comment about his dancing skills, Charlotte couldn’t suppress another laugh. She pictured him stumbling awkwardly across the dance floor, all stiff and self-conscious. The image was rather endearing.

"You can’t be that terrible," she said, smiling, touching the place where he’d signed his initial.

She rose from the bed, still clutching the note, and moved to her small vanity. Sitting down, she caught her reflection in the dim light. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. She looked... happy. The kind of happiness that had been in short supply since… well… She pushed down the thought and opened the drawer to pull out a sheet of paper and a pen. Biting her lower lip, she began to write, pausing occasionally to reread his words. Pressing her hand to her cheek, she smiled as she finished.

Charlotte folded the note quickly, heart racing as she glanced at the clock. If she hurried, she might catch him before he left his study. She tucked the paper into her pocket and slipped out of her room, moving quietly down the stairs.

The main hall bustled with activity, now, with officers and staff who had finished their day shifts moving between the dining room and common areas, their voices and footsteps echoing against the high ceiling. Charlotte pressed her note tighter in her palm and slipped along the edge of the wall, nodding politely at passing colleagues while carefully avoiding eye contact that might invite conversation. She quickened her pace, hoping Alexander hadn’t yet left his study. Reaching the door, she paused, smoothing her skirt with one hand while the other clutched the note. She took a deep breath and knocked softly.

When no answer immediately came, she pushed the door open slightly. The lamp on his desk still burned, papers scattered across its surface, but the chair was empty. Her heart sank.

Then she heard footsteps behind the partially open door. Alexander appeared, shrugging into his uniform jacket, clearly preparing to leave. He stopped abruptly when he saw her.

"Charlotte," he said, surprise in his voice. His eyes widened slightly as they met hers.

"I was hoping to catch you before you left…" she trailed off, suddenly feeling breathless. It felt as if the room had shrunk around them as they stood just inside the door. She was vaguely aware of being visible from the corridor, so she stepped further inside, drawing nearer to him as he buttoned his jacket.

"A few minutes more and I would have gone," he said, his eyes fixing on her face before dropping briefly to her hand where she clutched the note.

"I wanted to give you something before you left."

He stepped closer, the familiar scent of bergamot briefly distracting her. "Did you now?" The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"A response to your note," she said, quirking an eyebrow and holding up the folded paper between two fingers, "since it seems we’re destined to keep missing each other."

"Yes, a shame, that," he murmured, his voice dropping to a register that sent warmth spreading through her chest. "I much prefer our... in-person conversations."

Charlotte swallowed hard, her mind going instantly to how they’d spent Sunday afternoon, rain-drenched, under that tree. Her gaze dropped to his lips. “As do I.”

“Although I have to say,” Alexander went on, softly, “I am enjoying these notes…”

Their eyes locked, and an electric current seemed to pass between them. Charlotte stepped forward, closing the distance until they were just inches apart, and it was his turn for his eyes to drop to her lips for a moment. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, see the slight dilation of his pupils as they remained fixed on hers.

"Well then, for your reading pleasure, during the long night ahead," she whispered, lifting her hand to his chest. Her fingers brushed against the stiff wool of his uniform as she slipped the note into his breast pocket, her palm lingering against his heart.

She heard Alexander’s breath hitch as he moved his hand to cover hers, pressing it more firmly against his chest.

"Charlotte," he murmured, his voice sounding rough. His other hand rose, fingertips brushing the side of her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She tilted her chin, lips parting, as he cupped her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed as he leaned down, his breath warm against her skin.

She felt his lips brushed hers as a gentle caress that sent a quiver through her body. Deepening the kiss, immediately, she pressed herself against him, revelling in his nearness, his arms sliding around her waist. He pulled her flush against him as she wrapped her fingers in the back of his jacket, trying to draw him closer still and moulding herself to him.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, startling them so they broke apart. She felt Alexander still, his forehead on hers.

"I have to go..." he whispered, after a moment, his voice sounding strained.

"I know," she replied, slightly breathless again.

Neither moved for a long moment. Charlotte could feel his hesitation, the warmth of his hand still pressed against her back.

With visible effort, Alexander straightened and took a half-step back, though his hand lingered on her waist. "Mary…" he said, "it’s not fair to leave her on her own."

Charlotte nodded, reluctantly letting her hand fall from his chest.

"You should go," she said, stepping back, though her body instantly protested the distance between them.

"Yes," he agreed, yet he still didn’t move. Suppressing a smile, Charlotte bit her lower lip as she watched him seem to struggle with himself. His gaze dropped to her mouth at the gesture, his pupils dilating further.

"Alexander," she warned playfully, "if you keep looking at me like that, I can’t be held responsible for making you even later."

He cleared his throat, looking away over her shoulder for a moment and adjusting the knot of his tie. "Right. Yes. I should…" He turned toward the door, then paused to look back at her over his shoulder, the longing in his eyes unmistakable.

"Go!" she laughed, waving him away. "Before Mary calls for a search party."

—

Xander waited until Mary was scribbling away, hurrying to capture the transmissions coming in, before daring to unfold the note Charlotte had slipped into his pocket. The memory of her kiss lingered, and he had to actively push it aside so as not to embarrass himself with the arousal that was always just on the edge of his awareness. He forced himself to concentrate on catching up with the rest of the notes from the previous shift.

It was disconcerting, experiencing these heady feelings of longing, lust, and even fun at exchanging these clandestine messages, even though they existed alongside the foreboding sense of something dangerous lurking just off the coast, the war always ready to reassert its power to frighten and subdue.

There is plenty of time for fear. I just want to enjoy this thing with Charlotte. The pressure to keep their relationship secret hadn’t changed – to prevent anything from detracting from the importance of the work they were doing, to protect her reputation. Mine too, I suppose – but despite this, the actual experience of it was lightening something in him. The weight of loneliness was lifting, and the sudden realisation came with a rush of emotion that made him close his eyes. Stealing a glance at Mary, hoping she hadn’t noticed, he was relieved to see she was focused on her task. He smoothed out the folded paper and read.

He grinned, running his fingers through his hair. When she’d written it, she’d assumed the dance would be the next time they’d be alone. His cock gave another twitch at their stolen moment in his study.

Hearing Mary shift in her chair, he quickly slipped the note back into his pocket and turned toward her, hoping his emotions weren’t written all over his face. She tilted her head slightly, a question in her raised brows, but he held her gaze and concentrated on not squirming. Interrogation training. It’s the only explanation.

“It’s quietened down again,” Mary remarked. “It’s like Aggie said, the broadcasts are coming in bursts at the moment.”

He nodded, looking down at the transcripts. “I guess the Jerries need tea breaks the same as us,” he said wryly, pleased when she chuckled.

But then her expression became serious. "Lieutenant, may I speak plainly...?"

"Always, Mary," Xander replied, feeling a little unsure of what was coming as he noticed her change of tone.

"It’s about Aggie. It’s not just her mood I’m concerned about. It’s Denham’s interest in her." Mary’s voice dropped. "She told me he’s been suggesting she deserves more responsibility – specifically with access to more intelligence reports."

Xander scowled, his jaw tensing. "What exactly did he say?"

"According to Aggie, he thinks she has ’an exceptional analytical mind’ that’s being wasted on basic decryption." Mary’s tone made clear what she thought of this assessment. "He’s apparently offered to mentor her, help her advance her career."

"And she believes him?" Xander attempted not to scoff.

"Completely. You should see her face when she talks about him. It’s like she’s been dazzled by a bright light." She shrugged, “She’s young.”

Xander ran a hand through his hair, standing to pace across the small room. "You and I both know she’s shown promise, certainly, but she’s not ready for the level of responsibility he’s suggesting. Denham’s playing her. Has she shared anything with him?"

"No, thank goodness. I reminded her about security protocols, but..." Mary hesitated. "Lieutenant, there’s more. The staff at the main house have been talking."

"What are they saying?" Xander stopped pacing, his attention fully on Mary now.

"Apparently, Mrs. Wheatley overheard Denham and Lockhart in the library yesterday. They were arguing about supply manifests, something about numbers not matching up." Mary’s eyes met his. "And she said they specifically mentioned keeping you ’distracted.’"

"Me?" Xander’s eyebrows shot up. I really must catch up with Mrs Wheatley.

"Yes. According to what she overheard, they view you as the biggest threat to... whatever they’re doing." Mary hesitated. "They mentioned Charlotte and Georgiana, too.”

"Charlotte and Georgiana?" Xander’s voice hardened. "In what context?"

Mary shifted uncomfortably. "From what Mrs. Wheatley gathered, they were discussing their trip to London. Apparently, it went rather poorly for them at that club."

Xander leaned forward. "What happened? Did you hear anything specific?"

"Mrs. Wheatley said they were quite agitated. Lockhart was complaining that he’d lost a significant sum – several hundred pounds – at the card tables. He seemed to blame Denham for suggesting they play that last round. They also said something about ’that Parliamentary fellow’ as he called him." Mary’s lips quirked slightly. "Apparently, this man swept the girls off into a cab while they were still in a state of shock at their losses. It wasn’t the ending to the evening that Lockhart had been envisaging.”

"Samuel," Xander smirked.

"You know him?" Mary asked, surprised.

Xander nodded but didn’t elaborate. "Did Mrs. Wheatley overhear anything else? Did they mention what they wanted from Charlotte and Georgiana specifically?"

"Apparently, Lockhart said something about ’getting Lambe on stage’ being only half the plan. That the ’real opportunity’ was missed." She hesitated. "And Denham... he said Charlotte was ’sharper than expected’ and that he’d need to try a different approach."

"Different approach to what, I wonder," Xander muttered, his expression darkening.

"I’ve been thinking about that," Mary said carefully. "Given what we know about the supply discrepancies, and Denham’s interest in our intelligence work through Aggie..."

"You think they wanted information from them?" Xander completed her thought.

Mary nodded. "Or to use them in some way." Mary hesitated. "The way Mrs. Wheatley described it, they were frustrated that their plans in London had gone wrong."

Xander ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. "Obviously, this is confidential, Mary…” he said, holding her gaze as she nodded, once, for him to go on. “I’ve begun to suspect that Denham is involved in black market activities. The supply discrepancies, his convenient friendship with Lockhart who handles deliveries... I believe it’s all connected."

"And they see Charlotte as a threat…?" Mary’s voice sounded concerned.

"Charlotte is sharp; she sees things others miss. If she’s noticed the same inconsistencies I have..." Xander trailed off, his mind playing out possible scenarios, before going on, "and Georgiana’s connection to Lockhart gives them access to our team."

Mary nodded slowly. "We need to be extremely careful. All of us." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "And we definitely need to keep a close eye on Aggie.”

“Agreed.” Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the folly. They exchanged a glance, Mary gathering her notes as Xander straightened his posture.

"Morning, all!" Declan’s cheerful voice preceded him through the doorway, Aggie trailing behind him, looking a little tired.

"Good morning," Xander replied, nodding to them both. "It’s been a quiet night, for the most part. Some chatter about an hour ago that Mary noted in the log. Nothing conclusive yet, but keep monitoring the frequencies we’ve marked."

"Will do, sir," Declan said, already shrugging off his jacket.

Mary slid her chair back, gathering the last of her papers. "How are you doing this morning?" she asked Aggie. “I know it was a long shift yesterday, you must be tired…”

Aggie cut her off, a look of annoyance on her face. “I hope you’re not implying I’m not up to the job…”

“No, of course not,” Mary said soothingly, “This is important work and we all find it draining at times. Especially when it seems to uncover rather scary plans…”

“Scary, eh? I feel like I’m missing something,” said Declan, quirking an eyebrow.

“If it’s alright, I’ll let Mary and Aggie fill you in,” Xander said, feeling suddenly like he needed fresh air and to be moving, in order to think through everything Mary had shared with him. “I should check in to see if Bletchley have responded to the wire I sent last night.”

“Of course, sir, “ Mary said, “and if nothing has come in, then feel free to head to bed rather than coming back over here…”

Xander picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, but seeing the morning sunshine, decided to carry it over his arm. He pulled his cigarettes out of the pocket and dropped his hand into his trouser pocket to retrieve his lighter.

“Alright, have a good day, all,” he said as he pushed open the door, tipping out a cigarette from the open packet into his palm. He paused on the top step, lighting up and taking a deep inhale. Bloody hell! There was so much going on, what with the ominous transmissions and Denham and Lockhart’s scheming. He ran his free hand through his hair, feeling how often he must have already done that very thing, by the state of it. If only he could speak to Charlotte.

As he walked back, the thought struck him that Charlotte would be off today, preparing as she was to start nights this evening. She and Arthur would be covering them until the dance, with Arthur then continuing on to generously cover when the others wanted to take the evening off. The thought of her alone in her room was almost too much, but he didn’t dare go to her. The risk was too great. But he could write her a note and slip it under her door for when she woke up… He composed it in his mind as he walked.

Chapter Text

Lust and Logistics

Charlotte stretched beneath the covers as sunlight filtered through a gap in the blackout curtains. Yawning, she drew her arms back over her head like a cat waking up from a particularly satisfying nap. The room was quiet, Georgiana having left for her shift a few hours back. Charlotte had stirred briefly then, but knowing she had the day off and a short run of nights to prepare for, she had pulled a pillow over her head and gone back to sleep.

Rolling onto her side, she blinked away the remnants of sleep and noticed a folded piece of paper that was propped up in front of the mirror on the vanity they shared: Georgiana had clearly picked it up and put it there on her way out. God bless that woman and her discretion. She smiled appreciatively.

Sliding from beneath the warm covers and wincing as her bare feet met the cool wooden floor, she crossed the room, picked up the note, and returned to her bed, before propping herself against up the headboard as she carefully unfolded the paper. She felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of what he might have written this time.

After she’d read the note, she pressed the note to her chest, a smile spreading across her face. Her mind went to the “quick, stolen kiss” in his study, reliving the feel of his body as she had pressed against him, the smell of him... Heat pooled at her core at the memory. She could almost hear his velvety voice, whispering the words of his note against her ear, "I’m going mad with wanting you," and it sent a delicious shiver through her.

Her hand drifted down, over her stomach, tracing the softness of her inner thigh. She needed some relief from the aching – prompted by the memory, yes, but also just from all the tension and longing and wanting him and not being able to be near him for these past days. She let her legs fall open and slid her fingers into her wetness. As she began to move them, she imagined his body against her, hard and strong, feeling his breath hot against her skin – his hands replacing hers, his fingers circling, teasing, before slipping inside her. She bit her lip, stifling a moan, her hips lifting off the bed as she found a rhythm, her body chasing the pleasure that coiled tighter with her every stroke.

Her breath was coming in short, desperate bursts; she was close, so close, the tension building, building…

And then it broke. Pleasure crashed over her in waves, her body arching, her fingers pressing deeper as she rode it out, her mouth open in a silent cry. She longed to feel him, taste him, her heart pounding, her breath ragged.

When the last shudders faded, she lay, head back, the note still clutched in her other hand. Her skin was still humming, and she realised her body was still hungry for more. Oh god, when? When can I hope for the real thing? Is it too forward to hope it’s very soon? There was nothing she could do, the fates were conspiring to keep them apart, she would have to wait. Well, if we have to wait I might as well make it as hard for him as it is for me.

After waiting a few minutes so her legs wouldn’t wobble, she crossed the room and sat herself down at the vanity, reaching for notepaper. Grinning at a particularly juicy line she had composed in her mind, her smile faded then as her rational brain promptly kicked in. Careful what you’re committing to paper, Charlotte. Remember, loose lips sink ships. She sighed, unfolding his note again, Best stick to joking about dancing. She’d have to whisper what she wanted to say in his ear instead, when the chance presented itself at last.

Folding the page decisively, Charlotte slipped out of bed. She had promised to meet Esther at the tea rooms in Sanditon at eleven, and a glance at the clock told her she had just enough time to deliver her note before heading out. She selected a navy blue dress from her wardrobe and quickly dressed, pinning her hair up out of her way.

Her heart beat a little faster as she considered her plan. Alexander’s quarters were in the officer’s wing, on the first floor, and in reality she didn’t have a legitimate reason to be there. Still, she knew that Captain Denham would be in the Major’s study with Georgiana all morning, reviewing the new tracking system for incoming supplies. It was a risk, but less so than usual.

Charlotte slipped her feet into her shoes and tucked the note into her pocket. She checked her appearance one last time in the mirror, touching her lips with the barest hint of lipstick. She grinned at her reflection, I’ve clearly no need for blusher today…

—

An hour later, Charlotte pushed open the door to the Trafalgar Tea Rooms, the little bell above tinkling merrily. The place was in a prime spot on Sanditon’s seafront parade, its large bay windows offering sweeping views of the grey-blue channel beyond.

The interior still had some of its pre-war elegance, with ornate plasterwork ceilings and polished oak paneling, though the gilt-framed mirrors now bore the telltale crisscross of tape to prevent shattering during air raids. Several tables had been removed to create a pathway to the cellar door, which had a hand-painted sign beside it that read: "To Shelter: Keep Clear At All Times."

Charlotte spotted Esther at a corner table, waved, and began making her way over.

"You’re looking well," Esther said as Charlotte sat down. "I know I’m not privy to what exactly it is that you do, but from your bright and breezy appearance I know whatever it is, it must be going better than it is for Parker’s operation.”

If only you knew… Charlotte thought briefly of suspected wolfpack attacks and blood moons. “Heyrick does seem a little harried,” was all she said, careful not to reveal too much. She was hoping her friend would offer her some insights from the wider community into the issues with logistics, from her perspective heading up the Land Army locally and being on the War Ag committee.

“That wretched Parker,” Esther sniffed, “he simply will not listen to the residents’ concerns, despite Mr Stringer raising it time and time again. Thankfully the War Ag are now taking it seriously. Under the new chap…” her voice tailed off as her cheeks turned a rosy pink.

“Oh yes…?” Charlotte said, with a tilt of her head. “The new chap, eh?”

If anything Esther’s blush intensified. “Yes,” she said in what was clearly an attempt at an airy tone, “Lord Babbington took over last month.”

"Lord Babbington?" Charlotte couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. "So this is who you were corresponding with so diligently, last month?"

Esther’s fingers tightened around her teacup. "I sent him a couple of letters. Simply professional exchanges regarding what I knew of the distribution concerns, ahead of him formally taking up the role."

"Oh yes, of course, professional," Charlotte said, leaning forward with her eyebrows raised. "I’m sure if I asked the land girls at Sanditon House, they’d all confirm that you definitely never rushed to check the post in the mornings…?"

"Don’t be ridiculous," Esther said, giving her a spectacular eye roll which failed to convince Charlotte, especially when accompanied by a blush staining her cheeks. "Lord Babbington has been instrumental in trying to address the shortages, is all. Unlike some people, he actually pays attention."

Charlotte watched with delight as Esther’s usual composure cracked, grinning that the normally unflappable woman was actually at risk of getting flustered.

"Georgiana tells me he has rather handsome blue eyes; does he pay attention with those?" Charlotte asked innocently.

Esther’s head snapped up. "You’re insufferable."

"And you’re entirely too transparent," Charlotte said, grinning once more. "You should probably work on that.”

Esther snorted, “Pot, meet Kettle". She now grinned wickedly as Charlotte felt her own cheeks heat. “As if you’re any better when a certain Lieutenant is mentioned.”

“Oh, very well,” Charlotte said, chuckling ruefully. “Touché.”

They both took a sip of tea before Charlotte went on, “All joking aside, it must be good to have someone taking the problems seriously. Gee says Mr Stringer has been very insistent.”

"Stringer’s been a godsend, really," Esther agreed, her voice lowering. "He’s been concerned that with the rationing as strict as it is, and the local farms struggling to meet quotas, we’re headed for a genuine crisis. And honestly, the Ministry of Supply would have continued ignoring us without his keeping such thorough records. But now with the American supply convoys coming in, we might finally see some relief."

"I’ve heard about these convoys," Charlotte said quietly, leaning forward. "They’re bringing in substantial shipments?"

"Substantial is an understatement." Esther’s eyes brightened. "Lord Babbington showed me the manifests. Medical supplies, food stocks, mechanical parts – everything we’ve been desperately short of. There’s even talk of orange juice for the children."

Charlotte stirred her tea thoughtfully. "When are they expected?"

"It’s not certain, but they’re hoping it will be in the next six weeks. Babbington’s arranged for Sanditon to receive priority distribution given our... strategic importance." Esther’s lips curved into a small smile. "He’s been quite persuasive with the Ministry."

"I’m sure he has," Charlotte replied, unable to resist teasing her.

Esther ignored the jab. "The base will receive the lion’s share, of course, but Babbington insisted on there being specific allocation for civilians. Says it’s our right, given how much we’ve contributed to the war effort."

"And Lockhart and Denham are handling the military distribution?" Charlotte asked carefully.

"Yes, with oversight from Parker, of course." Esther raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

Charlotte hesitated. The lightness she’d felt earlier this morning was fast evaporating, as suspicion crept back in again. Although she wasn’t sure where Pryce fit in, she was sure that Denham and Lockhart were involved in something dodgy. And since their trip to London, she thought that, whatever it was, there was a distinct possibility they were in over their heads. She was also now convinced that Denham’s interest in Aggie wasn’t just inappropriate; it felt strategic.

"Just curious about the process," she said, keeping her voice neutral. "It’s quite an undertaking."

Esther studied her face. "You don’t trust them."

It wasn’t a question. Charlotte stifled a sigh, irritated with herself that she hadn’t done better at hiding her misgivings. It was a slip, and with everything that was going on she couldn’t afford to be sloppy.

"Let’s just say I’ve heard there are… inconsistencies. Things that don’t add up.”

Esther leaned forward, her voice dropping even lower. "What kind of inconsistencies?"

Charlotte hesitated again; she had already said too much. She felt Esther was trustworthy, but the fewer people who knew about her suspicions, the better, and she did not want to land Georgiana in trouble for speaking too freely of her concerns. "Well, I’ve heard that the numbers from the rationing office don’t match what’s actually being distributed."

"That’s exactly what Stringer’s been saying!" Esther exclaimed, then quickly composed herself as several heads turned in their direction. "Apparently, Lord Babbington’s been investigating it as well. The Ministry of Supply believes there’s black market activity, but they can’t pinpoint where in the supply chain it’s happening."

A sudden thought occurred to Charlotte. "Esther, you said the first shipments arrive within the next six weeks, but has anyone told you exactly when?"

"No. Babbington only said something about it depending a bit on visibility conditions for safer navigation, something about the phases of the moon or something.” Esther frowned. "Why?"

“I, umm…” Charlotte’s mind raced, knowing she couldn’t say anymore. She smiled to hide her discomfort. “I was just wondering how long until the good people of Sanditon will be enjoying their supplies.”

The conversation shifted, and Charlotte tried hard to appear as if she was paying attention, but her thoughts were coming fast. It can’t be coincidental that Denham had begun showing unusual interest in their naval intelligence work, targeting Aggie, just when the supply convoy route and timings were beginning to be tracked. I have to speak to Alexander today.

"Esther, I’m sorry, but I need to go. I have to get back." Charlotte stood, fumbling in her purse for coins.

"But I thought you had a day off!" Esther said, pouting slightly.

"Oh no, I have to work… later.” Charlotte remembered just in time that her friend was suspicious about her working night shifts.

“Oh that’s a shame,” Esther said, looking genuinely disappointed, “meeting you is the only sensible conversation I have all week. Well, except for…” She tailed off, blushing, and Charlotte laughed.

“Except for Lord Babbington?”

Esther rolled her eyes. “Oh, do get away with you…”

—

Charlotte hurried back along the seafront, her mind racing with the connections she was making. The convoy timings, Denham’s interest in Aggie, the inconsistencies in supply distribution – it couldn’t all be coincidence. The sea breeze whipped at her hair, loosening several pins as she quickened her pace.

By the time she reached Heyrick Park, her cheeks were flushed from the brisk walk. She slipped through the side entrance, hoping to avoid any encounters with Denham, or even Georgiana, before she’d managed to talk to Alexander. The house was relatively quiet – most staff would be at their posts or having lunch in the dining room.

When she opened the door to her room to deposit her jacket, her eyes immediately caught sight of a folded note on her pillow. Her pulse jumped as she recognised the handwriting. Dropping her handbag on the bed, she snatched up the paper and unfolded it eagerly.

A slow smile spread across her face at the playfulness of his words. This side of him – this teasing, flirtatious man – was such a contrast to the stern, reserved lieutenant she’d first met. She cherished being one of the few people who got to see behind his mask.

She read it twice more, her smile growing wider each time. This was fun, this secret exchange of notes, the anticipation building between them. But with everything she’d learned from Esther, they needed to talk properly. And soon.

This was their chance – the rare window when neither of them was at the folly. She tucked the note into her pocket and left her room, making her way down the corridor toward his study.

Her footsteps slowed as she approached his door. Was this too forward? She hesitated, straightening her dress and pinned back her wayward curls, before stilling her hands. Stop it, Charlotte, you don’t want to look like you’re rushing to a clandestine meeting with your superior officer.

The main hall was quiet, most of the army personnel either on duty or taking advantage of their day off elsewhere. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, forcing herself to act naturally, and headed down the corridor that would take her to the library. I should have brought a book… She shook her head ruefully. For gods sake, stop overthinking this! you know that’s his job. She smiled, relaxing a bit. This is all new, but you are both professionals.

Unusually, his door was not ajar, and she hesitated only briefly before raising her hand to knock. Hearing no response, she quietly pushed it open, to see Alexander leaning back in his desk chair, telephone clamped to his ear, one hand raking through his hair in that familiar gesture of frustration.

"I understand that, sir, but I need more information before I can… " His voice tailed off, and she heard the muffled sound of his superior interrupting him on the other end of the line. He turned and saw her at the door, and his posture softened, tilting his head as he gave her a closed-mouth smile. Warmth spread in her chest, and she smiled back.

“Yes, sir,” he said into the receiver, and mouthed silently to her, ‘Five minutes?’

She returned the gesture by mouthing back, ‘Library,’ inclining her head to indicate the end of the corridor, and he nodded.

—

Xander ended the call with a sigh, setting the receiver back on its cradle. Admiral Sutherland’s impatience was understandable, but they needed more concrete evidence before making recommendations. He straightened the papers on his desk, trying to organise his thoughts before meeting Charlotte.

Five minutes later, he tugged open the library door, his heartbeat quickening at the possibility to be alone with her again.

The afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows, illuminating countless dust motes that danced in the golden beams, and he smelled the familiar scent of leather bindings and old paper. His eyes adjusted to the contrasting shadows and light, finally finding Charlotte where she stood in the far corner, her attention focused on a volume in her hands. A shaft of sunlight caught the chestnut highlights in her dark curls.

Good girl, tucking herself away back there. We’ll have some privacy.

He stepped in quietly, and the door closed behind him with a soft click that made her look up. Their eyes met across the room, and his breath caught at the warmth in her gaze. Neither spoke as he crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

Charlotte closed her book, setting it aside without looking away from him, and as he reached her, he placed his hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her dress. She drew in a sharp breath at his touch, her eyes darkening. Without a word, he guided her deeper into the alcove, away from the door and any potential interruptions.

She moved willingly, her eyes darkening as her back met the bookshelf as he pressed her gently against it. The scent of her – a subtle mix of lemon soap and jasmine – filled his senses. He leaned in, close enough to feel her breath against his face.

"Alexander," she whispered, but he didn’t let her finish, capturing her lips with his own. The kiss began gently, almost reverent, but quickly became passionate as her arms wound around his neck, drawing him closer. He pressed her more firmly against the shelves, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other remained at her waist, his thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of her dress.

Everything else melted away, her lips moving against his, the soft sound she made in the back of her throat when he angled his head to deepen the kiss further, the feel of her fingers threading through his hair. His heart hammered against his ribs as her tongue met his, sending a jolt of desire through his entire body.

Eventually he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, struggling to catch his breath. His body hummed, but he forced himself to focus.

"Charlotte," he whispered, "as much as I’d like to continue this, there’s something we need to talk about."

She nodded, her eyes still dark as she took a deep breath. "I know. That’s why I came to find you."

He reluctantly stepped back, creating enough space between them that he could think clearly, though he kept one hand lightly on her waist, unwilling to break contact completely.

"It’s Denham and Lockhart," they both said simultaneously, then shared a small smile.

"You first," Charlotte said, tucking a curl behind her ear, and Xander ran a hand through his own already disheveled hair.

"At the Assembly Rooms’ dance, I overheard Denham and Lockhart discussing what could only be described as a racketeering operation. They were talking about skimming supplies from the military shipments and selling them on the black market."

Charlotte nodded, thoughtfully. “I suspected as much. It explains the discrepancies in the manifests that Stringer’s been complaining about."

"Exactly. And from what I gathered, they’ve been doing this for months, maybe longer. And that’s not all," he went on, lowering his voice further. "Mary told me Mrs. Wheatley overheard them arguing about numbers not matching up, and they specifically mentioned keeping me ’distracted’." He hesitated before adding, "They mentioned you and Georgiana, too."

"They did?" Charlotte’s brow furrowed. "In what context?"

"Apparently, they were discussing your trip to London. Denham called you ’sharper than expected’ and said he’d need a different approach." Xander felt his jaw tighten. "What exactly happened at Marino’s that night?"

Charlotte leaned against the bookshelf, crossing her arms. "It was strange from the start. Lockhart spent money like water – buying us champagne, having already bought an expensive gift for Georgiana. Then he and Denham disappeared to a back room for what they called a ’business opportunity’. They came out looking like they’d seen a ghost," she said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "Your brother seemed to imply they’d lost heavily at cards, but I don’t think that was the whole story."

"Sam didn’t give me many details," Xander admitted. "Just that he’d gotten you both safely away."

She gave him a pointed look. “What a coincidence your brother happened to be there.”

His lips quirked, and he tilted his head but said nothing.

"Yes, well, glad as I was of the escort out of there at the end, as Mr. Marino’s men had become rather intimidating as they came to collect Denham and Lockhart for more ’business’… when we first met him I didn’t realise who he was…” She raised her eyebrow, “He mentioned the Ministry of Supply, which seemed to unsettle them even more."

Xander nodded, knowing Charlotte would demand he account for calling on Sam later, but for now he didn’t care, his chest tightening at the thought of what might have happened had his brother not been there. "I think they lost money they couldn’t afford to lose."

"Yes, Denham looked so shaken. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

"Debts would certainly explain their desperation," Xander mused, his mind rapidly connecting the pieces. "If they’re in deep with someone like Marino..." She raised an eyebrow in question, and he went on, “I had Sam look into him. Nothing proven of course, but he’s a nasty piece of work by all accounts.”

"Well, they’ll need a steady source of income to pay him back, so this supply convoy must feel like a boon, timing wise..."

"Supply convoy?” he asked.

“I’ve heard it from Georgiana and Esther that there’s a couple major US supply convoys coming in over the next six weeks. It sounds like there’ll be a massive influx of goods."

"That would give them the perfect opportunity to increase their operation," he said grimly. "If they’re already skimming from the current supply chain, imagine what they could do with so much more."

"And apparently Pryce is concerned that the systems at Heyrick aren’t up to the job of keeping track of it all.”

“Clearly, they’re picking up on the discrepancies too.”

“Yes, I can’t figure out where Pryce fits in,” Charlotte said. “But either way, we need to stop Lockhart and Denham. And we’ll need proof. Solid evidence."

Xander sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Parker won’t believe a word of it without irrefutable evidence. He trusts Denham completely. Inexplicably,” he finished darkly, and she nudged him gently in the ribs.

“Yes, yes, we all know you were always suspicious of him…”

He caught her arm, then, and tugged her back towards him, smiling. “What do I get as my prize?”

She looked up at him, a teasing expression on her face. “Being able to say I told you so?” she said innocently.

He growled softly. “Not good enough, try again…”

She chuckled, and leaned up towards him, “Hmm, what else could you mean?”

Their lips met hungrily this time, the kiss instantly heated and their tongues meeting. He wanted to lose himself in the sensations of her mouth and the small moan she’d made, but he knew there was more to say, so gentled the kiss before pulling away again.

“I’ve had a thought,” he said, laughing lightly as she pouted at the kiss ending. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to caress her adorable bottom lip with his thumb. The pout became a small smile, and he relished the intimacy of it, that he was starting to read her so well. “There has to be a link between the convoys and what we’ve been picking up from the transmissions. The timing is too coincidental.”

“I had the same thought, especially when Esther mentioned what Lord Babbington had said…”

“And he is…?”

“Oh, new head of the War Ag,” she said, and he nodded so she went on, “Apparently, he mentioned the timing of the convoys’ arrival ‘depending on the phases of the moon‘…”

“I’ll mention it to Bletchley,” he said, “and I think we have to be really careful. If Denham realises we’re suspicious, he’ll cover his tracks.”

“You’re right.”

"What about Georgiana?" he asked, his mind working through potential allies. "She’s close to Lockhart, and obviously knows the issues with the systems and everything. Could she help us gather evidence?"

Charlotte’s expression shifted, a small crease forming between her brows. "I’m not sure that’s wise. She’s still quite taken with him, I’m afraid. The way she talks about him, the performance at Marino’s..." She shook her head. "I think her judgment might be clouded where he’s concerned."

"But surely she must have noticed something suspicious?" he said, leaning against the bookshelf beside her.

"If she has, she’s rationalising it away. She’s convinced he genuinely cares for her singing career," Charlotte said, tucking another loose curl behind her ear. "The champagne, the bracelet, the promise of performing at Marino’s… she’s dazzled by it all."

Xander sighed, frustration tightening his shoulders. "We need allies in this. If not Georgiana, then who?"

"I can work on Gee," Charlotte said. "She’s smart, she just needs to look more critically at what’s happening. But I can’t rush it or she’ll just dig her heels in."

"Are you sure? I don’t want to put either of you at risk."

"I can be subtle." A small smile played at her lips. "I’ve managed to keep us a secret so far, haven’t I?"

The reminder of their relationship made something warm unfurl in Xander’s chest. He glanced toward the library door, suddenly aware of how long they’d been alone together.

"We’re doing okay with that, aren’t we?" he asked quickly, the question slipping out before he could stop it. He gestured vaguely between them, his cheeks flushing, feeling vulnerable and disliking it immediately, though he pressed on. "This. Us."

Charlotte’s expression softened, her lips curving into a smile that made his heart skip. "If you mean are we hiding it from everyone, then we’re not exactly being tested. The dance might be more of a struggle when I’m in your arms." Her voice dropped to a teasing whisper. "And if you’re truly as terrible a dancer as you say, I’ll simply have to hold you very close to keep you in line."

Xander groaned, heat crawling up his neck at the thought of her body pressed against his in full view of everyone. He let his head fall back against the bookshelf. "God help me."

"Nonsense," she laughed, the sound warming him from the inside out. "Just follow my lead." She glanced at her watch, and her expression changed. "I should go. I need to get some sleep before my shift tonight."

"I wish I could go with you," Xander murmured, his voice dropping to a register that made colour rise in her cheeks, but she swatted his arm playfully, even though her eyes had darkened.

"Behave yourself, Lieutenant." She moved toward the door, pausing to look back at him. "See you at the dance."

—

Xander loosened his tie as he entered his bedroom, feeling the strain of the evening in the tightness of his shoulders. He rolled his neck, trying to release the tension that had built during his time in the billiards room. He’d made himself go to see if he could find out more, and it had certainly been enlightening. Denham was definitely behaving oddly – the way he’d winced when Lieutenant Collins had clapped him on the back, the stiffness in his movements as he’d leaned over the table to take a shot.

Something wasn’t right there. Denham typically moved with the easy confidence of a man who believed himself superior to everyone around him. Tonight, he’d looked almost... hunted.

Xander shrugged off his uniform jacket and hung it carefully in the wardrobe, methodically working through his evening routine while his mind continued to piece together the evening’s observations. He unbuttoned his shirt, remembering the conversations among the junior officers during their card game. They’d been surprisingly open – indiscreet, more like it – about their frustrations with the current inventory system.

"The invoices never match what’s actually delivered," Roberts had complained, shuffling the deck of cards. "It’s becoming a bloody nightmare to keep track."

"Just wait until those American convoys arrive," Wilson had added. "If we can’t manage what we have now, how are we supposed to handle that?"

Parker had overheard them, then, and waved away their concerns with his usual bluster. "Nonsense! Our systems are more than adequate. Denham has everything well in hand."

Xander snorted now at the memory. Parker’s blind faith in Denham would almost be comical if it weren’t so dangerous. The man couldn’t see what was happening right under his nose.

Xander stood and moved to the window, pulling back the blackout curtain just enough to glimpse the moonlight silvering the grounds below. There was so much happening beneath the surface – the ominous ‘blood moon’ code, Denham and Lockhart’s schemes, the impending convoy arrivals. The pieces were there, but the complete picture remained frustratingly elusive.

And yet, despite these complications, he couldn’t suppress a smile as his thoughts turned to Charlotte. Their meeting in the library had been all too brief, but the memory of her lips against his, the way she’d pressed into him, sent a pleasant warmth through his body. The notes they’d exchanged had become a bright spot in his days, something to anticipate with an almost boyish eagerness that surprised him.

When had that happened? When had he started looking forward to each day rather than merely enduring it?

He moved to his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper, his smile deepening as he recalled her teasing words about holding him close on the dance floor. The idea of dancing had always filled him with dread, but now he found himself anticipating Saturday with an impatience that was entirely new.

Xander picked up his pen, the words coming easily now:

Chapter Text

The Dance, At Last

Charlotte sat at the vanity in their shared bedroom, leaning close to the mirror as she carefully applied her lipstick. The bright red was more daring than what she usually wore, but with what she was daring to hope might happen, she’d saved it specially for tonight.

"Can you believe Denham’s been sent to London, tonight of all nights?" Georgiana said, pinning her hair into an elaborate updo. "I bet he’s ready to flip his wig at missing out."

Charlotte smiled as she dabbed a bit of beetroot juice onto her cheeks with her fingertip, blending carefully. Talk about perfect timing. "What did Major Parker say about it again?"

Georgiana was carefully applying Dixie Peach pomade to her hair – her supply was dwindling very low, Charlotte knew, so she sensed how important tonight was to her friend. "Something about urgent meetings regarding the supply convoy paperwork."

Charlotte’s stomach tightened at the mention of the convoys. Every time she thought about what Denham and Lockhart might be planning, she felt worried for Georgiana, who remained blissfully unaware of the danger her charming Charles might pose.

"Charles says he’s got news about my performance at Marino’s," Georgiana continued, her eyes bright with excitement. "I think tonight’s the night he’ll finally give me a date. Can you imagine? Me, performing in London!"

Charlotte pressed her lips together, forcing a smile. "That would be wonderful, Gee."

"You don’t sound convinced." Georgiana frowned, pausing with a hairpin between her fingers.

"No, I am," Charlotte said quickly. "It’s just... are you sure you can trust his promises? I worry that some men might… say whatever will make a woman happy in the moment."

Georgiana’s expression hardened slightly. "Charles isn’t like that. He believes in me."

Charlotte held her tongue. Pushing too hard would only make Georgiana defensive. Instead, she reached for her hairbrush and began tackling her unruly curls.

"Here, let me help," Georgiana offered, her face softening as she moved to stand behind Charlotte. "You’ll never tame these on your own."

"They’re impossible," Charlotte sighed, surrendering the brush.

"Not impossible, just spirited, like their owner." Georgiana worked deftly, separating sections of Charlotte’s hair. "We’ll do a victory roll on each side. Very patriotic, very chic."

Charlotte closed her eyes as Georgiana’s fingers worked through her hair. "Thank you, Gee."

"I even made sugar water to set them."

"Sugar water?" Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "Where on earth did you get sugar?"

"I have my ways," Georgiana replied with a mysterious smile, gently misting Charlotte’s hair with a small atomiser. "There. Now hold still while I roll this section."

Charlotte sat obediently as Georgiana worked, watching their reflection in the mirror. Her friend’s nimble fingers twisted and tucked her hair into submission.

"So..." Georgiana’s voice took on a teasing lilt. "Your Lieutenant Colbourne will be at the dance tonight."

Heat rushed up Charlotte’s neck, and she was grateful for the beetroot juice that might hide her blush. "I guess he might."

"Mmm, he might, might he?"

Georgiana’s eyes met Charlotte’s in the mirror, sparkling with mischief. "I think those notes you keep hidden in your drawer might have given you more certainty than a ‘might’."

"Georgiana!" Charlotte hissed.

"Relax, I haven’t read them," Georgiana laughed, securing another section of hair. "But I do have eyes. And ears. And a brain between them."

Charlotte bit her lip, unable to suppress her smile. "Yes, well… All I have to do now is work on not making it too obvious when we’re together."

"Well, thank goodness Denham won’t be there tonight to watch you two with those beady eyes of his. You’ll actually be able to dance with your lieutenant without worrying about who’s watching. Everyone else is on your side."

The thought sent a thrill through Charlotte’s body. An entire evening without Denham’s suspicious gaze following their every move. It was such a relief.

"I suppose it is rather fortunate timing," Charlotte said, smiling.

"Fortunate?" Georgiana snorted. "It’s perfect. You can finally seize the day – or night, rather…"

Charlotte’s mind flashed back to their conversations weeks ago, sitting on the flat roof outside their bedroom window and talking about how they should take their chances for happiness in the midst of this bloody awful war. And not letting fear stop them from finding moments of fun when everything else was so uncertain.

Feeling embarrassed under Georgiana’s watchful eyes in the mirror, she said, somewhat weakly, "I’m not sure what you’re expecting to happen…”

Georgiana secured the final pin and stepped back to admire her handiwork. "I’m expecting you to stop overthinking everything and just enjoy yourself. Remember what we agreed to? Our little Carpe Diem club?"

Charlotte met her friend’s eyes in the mirror. "I remember."

"See that you do." Georgiana gave Charlotte’s shoulders a squeeze. "Because life’s too short and this war’s too long to waste time hesitating. So dance with your dreamboat lieutenant, Charlotte. Seize the day."

"And what about you?" Charlotte asked, turning in her seat to face her friend directly. "Will you be seizing anything tonight?"

"Probably only the microphone, knowing my luck,” Georgiana sighed.

—

Xander adjusted his tie for what must have been the fourth time, checking his reflection in the small mirror of his quarters. His uniform was impeccable, every button polished, every crease sharp. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to tame the single unruly curl that refused to stay in place.

"Bloody ridiculous," he muttered to himself, abandoning the effort and reaching for his cap.

The walk to the assembly rooms would be just enough time to gather his thoughts. As he stepped outside into the cool evening air, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. Denham was in London. The thought still brought a smile to his face hours after he’d heard the news.

For once, he could be with Charlotte without those calculating eyes watching their every interaction. No need to maintain quite such rigid distance, to monitor every glance. He could actually enjoy himself tonight.

His pace quickened at the thought of seeing her. What would she wear? How would she have done her hair? The anticipation tightened his chest.

Of course, he reminded himself, they still needed to be discreet. The entire base didn’t need to know their business. But the attic would provide perfect privacy later. He’d gone up there this afternoon, cracking open a window for a while to air it out. Just in case they wanted somewhere... private.

Not that he was presuming anything would happen. But if they needed to escape prying eyes, even just for conversation, they’d have somewhere to go. He patted his back pocket for one last check. Not that he was presuming. But he wanted to be prepared.

Arriving at the entrance to the dance hall, Xander made sure the blackout curtain had shut behind him before he walked through the next door into the crowded assembly rooms. The low-hanging lights cast a warm glow, smoke hanging like a cloud over the press of bodies dancing. The band was playing a tune he didn’t know, but its upbeat tempo was proving a strong pull, judging by the number of couples on the floor. He scanned the room, his eyes hungry for the first glimpse of her.

Charlotte was standing by a table, chatting animatedly to Georgiana and a number of seamen who he didn’t recognise. One had his head bent next to her cheek, no doubt taking advantage of the loud music to lean into her presence. She pulled her head back to laugh, turning away from the man to reach around to the table for her drink. Xander noted with satisfaction the red lipstick she wore and the pink flush on her cheeks. He watched as she brought the glass to her lips, noticing the ring of red left on the rim as she replaced it on the table. A vision of drawing his thumb over her lower lip, gently smearing the tint – feeling the plumpness of it again as he had in the library – flashed in his mind, just as it had in the folly when he’d seen her mug. This time, he allowed himself to dwell on it.

Waiting in the shadows near the entrance for a while, he took in her figure in the light dress, which hugged her waist and skimmed her bottom as it fell away to flare slightly at her knees. He let himself imagine removing the belt from her cinched waist, pulling it slowly through the loops of her dress and watching it skim her curves, then opening the buttons down her back… and when she turned back to pick up her glass once more, he caught a glimpse of the sweetheart neckline and the rise of her breasts.

She glanced around the room while taking her sip and caught his eyes on her, a flush rising from her neckline. His smile was slow and deliberate, making no effort to hide the intensity of his look. She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he snorted a laugh, pushing off the wall where he was leaning to move towards her. She’d never been one to shrink from a challenge.

As he neared, her fingers trailed the rim of her nearly empty glass, watching him as unabashedly as he watched her. Any pretense that they could hide the electricity crackling between them was already gone.

“Can I get you another?” Xander ghosted his hand on the small of her back, inserting himself between her and the seaman, returning her raised eyebrow and smirking a little, knowing she had clocked his ruse to separate her from the other guy.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, winking, proffering him her now empty glass. “We wouldn’t want you to get dehydrated, would we?”

He leaned in close so his breath tickled her cheek, “No fears on that front,” he said, his lips feathering her skin, “I’m good to go…” Noting the goosebumps that had risen on the skin of her arm, he turned away towards the bar. He was glad he had come, even though he really wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge of keeping their relationship hidden in such a public setting. And now, if anything, he felt even less confident he could play the part of colleague – it was going to be a battle to rein in his raging desire for her.

Returning with their drinks to where she stood watching him, she took one of the glasses from him, and her fingers brushed his, warm and electric.

He watched her take a sip before catching her bottom lip between her teeth. His cock twitched, hoping he’d get to do the very same later and suck her lip between his… and he fought to keep his expression casual.

“So,” she asked, voice low and teasing, “I’d heard a rumour you were looking forward to dancing, for a change. Can I presume you’ve come over to accompany me onto the dancefloor? I’ve assured my commanding officer that I take full responsibility for the inherent risks. He’s very concerned about my health and safety. Or perhaps you’ve changed your mind…?” She let the question hang, tilting her head and taking another sip.

He held her gaze, heat rising to his cheeks, but felt himself stumble over his words. “Kindly give me a minute. I’ve… umm, only just got here…” He cleared his throat, a little irritated with himself for his loss of courage.

“It’s called a dance for a reason, sir.” She tilted her head with a mock pout. “Why else are you here?”

“I’m asking myself the exact same question…” he muttered. Despite their playful notes over the past week, it seemed he would still have to psych himself up to dance, in public. But then I might do just about anything if she continues to do that thing with her lips. He made himself take a deep breath before leaning in to whisper in her ear, again. “But… I seem to remember you saying something about having an excuse to be in my arms without causing a scandal. So,” he paused, just managing to resist the temptation to feather his lips over her earlobe, “I think we both know why I am here...”

Glancing down, he was satisfied to see goosebumps rise across her chest, this time, and he watched her take a deep breath.

She stepped back from him, a teasing glint in her eye. “Yes, I believe you said ‘wild horses couldn’t keep you away.’ But it appears they’ve made off with your courage. So, til you find it again, I’ll be dancing…” He watched as she walked away, aware that he was being too conspicuous but struggling to turn his eyes from her swaying hips. Not subtle, Xander. He headed for the bar as an American seaman took her hand and led her to the floor.

He caught the eye of the barman by raising his hand and ordered another pint, if anything, just to have something to do, so he wouldn’t have to watch her dance with someone else. Memories of the society functions he hated, before the war – with Lucy’s constant flirting with other men – filled his mind’s eye for a brief second, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply while waiting for his drink. She’s not Lucy. And you need to stop overthinking this, Xander. She says she wants this. If she is brave enough, then you need to be too.

Watching Charlotte over the rim of his glass, he could see how fluidly she moved, despite on occasion not knowing the steps her partner was expertly leading her through. Her easy laughter when she fumbled the moves made his heart swell. She never seemed embarrassed, always confident to be herself. He needed some of that energy in his life. Now drink up, and dance.

After what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes, the music shifted to something softer, the languid melody floating through the dimly lit room. Unable to bear the idea of her body being pressed against any other’s but his, he put his glass down on the bar a bit more heavily than he intended and was glad that the thud didn’t draw attention in the now quieter room. The sound of Georgiana’s laughter, surrounded by a crowd of men, thankfully gave him cover to approach Charlotte, who was drawing breath and smiling at her partner. Giving a curt nod to the young man, he reached for her hand and drew her away to a space on the floor, which was rapidly filling with couples who, like him, were clearly wanting to take advantage of this opportunity to hold each other close. He watched as Lockhart walked into the centre of the circle surrounding Georgiana and took her hand, commandingly, so that she giggled and put down her drink to join him on the now crowded dance floor.

Xander placed his hand around Charlotte’s waist, his fingers grazing the small of her back, the thin cotton fabric soft against his skin, the feel of her slip moving silkily underneath fuelling his imagination. The fingers of his other hand folded around hers, as her other hand came to rest on his shoulder. Aware of eyes upon them, he kept a respectable distance between them, but the feeling of touching her, her being in his arms, was intoxicating, and it took all the self-restraint he could muster not to pull her against his hip so she would feel what she was doing to him.

They began to move slowly, their bodies just close enough to feel the warmth between them, the smell of her enveloping him, the scent of lemon that he always associated with her, but with a hint of something different tonight – is it rose? His breath stirred the curls at her temple as he leant in, his voice low and rough. “You’re making it awfully hard to concentrate on my footwork,” he murmured, his lips brushing the air just above her ear.

She let out a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the music. “For someone whose dancing is functional at best, your footwork isn’t bad," she murmured back, tilting her head to look up at him. "But then, maybe you’re just lucky you’ve got a good partner."

He snorted, softly, his closed-mouth smile quirking his lips. Tipping his head back and looking up at the ceiling for a brief moment, he returned his gaze to her, his eyes dipping to her lips. “Oh, you have no idea how lucky I feel.”

She smiled knowingly, making his grip on her tighten just a fraction. “I think maybe I do,” she whispered, her eyes following his as he watched her taking her bottom lip between her teeth. “It is something of a shame, though, I was looking forward to holding you very close to keep you in line.”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a growl, and could not resist pulling her flush to his body.

She looked up into his face, seeing his darkened eyes, her smile widening. “Is this how you dance with all the girls?”

“No, sweetheart,” he whispered back, watching as goosebumps rose on the skin once more, as his words ghosted over her skin there. “Only the ones who tease.”

She tilted her head, her eyes wide and the picture of innocence, her lips pouting slightly. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

—

Charlotte saw his eyes darken even further, his arousal pressed against her thigh, and felt desire pooling at her core. Her stomach clenched deliciously at the power she had over him. “Although I do love to dance, I feel like it might be time to head back.”

His eyes roamed her face, seeming to assess if she was entirely serious in her proposal, before saying softly in her ear, “Meet me on the corner of Northumberland Street in ten minutes.”

Trailing his hand over her waist as he moved away, Charlotte watched Xander stride from the room and realised how heated her cheeks had become. Looking around she spotted Georgiana dancing with Lockhart, and was glad for the excuse not to have to say goodbye. She felt a pang of guilt that she would not be hearing her perform tonight. But needs must… a blush crept up from her neckline.

Esther would let her know Charlotte had left, hopefully long after the fact, so that her gregarious friend would not speculate loudly.

“I’m heading back,” Charlotte said, having to lean down so Esther, who sat near the band, could hear her, “I’m done in after…” she nearly said ‘working nights’ but stopped herself in time, “…working hard this week.”

Esther rolled her eyes, “Of course you are…” At Charlotte’s slightly pleading look, she relented. “Will you be alright getting back? I can come with you if you want.”

“No, it’s fine.” Charlotte knew her reply was a little too hasty. “It’s a full moon, it’s really bright out.”

Esther’s eyebrow quirked, but she said nothing, squeezing Charlotte’s hand. “Have fun, then.” It was Charlotte’s turn to roll her eyes, but she smiled as she turned and walked away.

As the curtain swung shut behind her, the echoes of the band could still be heard as she made her way down the street, moving past couples smoking and talking softly and a group of rowdy airmen who had clearly had a few too many pints.

Getting to the end of the road she turned on the Promenade, looking ahead to the next corner where she spotted the silhouette of a motorcycle. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she hurried along to meet him.

In the dim light of the moonlight, she saw the glow of his cigarette fall to the ground as he extinguished it and turned to her, catching her around the waist and pulling her into him. His hand was at her jaw in an instant and she felt his thumb running across her bottom lip before he captured it with his, deepening the kiss almost immediately. Charlotte’s hands came up to his neck, touching the soft hair at his nape with her fingers as she felt her insides liquify.

Breaking apart, she smiled at his ragged breathing and it was her turn to swipe her thumb across his lips, removing the lipstick mark. He caught the tip of it between his teeth causing her breath to catch. Then he turned them both towards the bike, swinging his leg over to mount and offering her his hand to steady her to climb on behind him. She winked at him as she hitched her skirt, then took his hand as she slid her leg over the seat to join him on the saddle, settling in with her body pressed against his. He reached behind to slide his hand up the outside of her thigh, his fingers brushing the bare skin above her stocking and lingering there for a moment. Charlotte shivered, though not from the cool air of the night. Her anticipation was growing at his every touch.

The modified headlight beam was almost too dim against the road in front of them, but the moonlight allowed them to see well enough, and soon they were speeding down the cliff road, Heyrick Park’s gatehouse looming ahead of them. She leant forward to feather her lips over his earlobe, tightening her hold around his waist and feeling the taut muscles of his stomach through the cotton of his shirt. His hand left the handlebars to cover her lower thigh, moving his fingers back and forth to grip her. Her pulse jumped. God, she wanted him.

Charlotte felt the urge to turn her face away and lean her cheek on Alexander’s back as they drove quietly past the gatehouse, hiding her face from any sentry on duty. She felt Alexander raise his hand from her leg and acknowledge someone, and was glad not to see who it was. This was risky, but at that moment, she could not bring herself to care. She wanted it, all of it.

He turned his face to her and leant back to say quietly, “I’ll drop you off at the corner of the house and then go and take the bike back round.” With one hand, he fished into the top pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small ring of keys. “There’s a door there, the longest key will unlock it. Head up the stairs to the top and wait for me.”

They pulled to a stop, the engine still running, and she dismounted, leaning on the hand he offered as she got her balance and smoothed her skirt. Taking the keys from him, her fingers lingered on his, feeling another thrill run up her arm.

“Go,” he said urgently, eyes almost black in the darkness. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Charlotte found the door a little way along the side wall of the manor and slid the key into the lock, but found it already unlocked. Moving into the darkness of the cramped hallway, she turned and locked it behind her, stowing the key in her pocket.

She could barely see the wooden stairs looming ahead of her, and she made her way over to them, feeling along the wall until she found the bannister, and wincing at the clatter of her heels on the floorboards. Leaning down to take off her shoes, she started up the stairs as softly as she could in her stockinged feet. Breathing in the scent of old linseed polish mingled with the cool air, her heart thumped so loudly she felt sure she would be heard. The flush of the anticipation of what lay ahead, combined with the desire to avoid detection, made her a little breathless as she reached the top floor.

The corridor was lit by moonlight from the skylights above and she looked around at the forgotten relics of childhood, wistfully imagining the young Alexander and Samuel playing here before the family fell on hard times. She gently pushed open a door to what appeared to be a school room, with a dust-covered globe on a shelf and two austere desks facing a chalkboard. Heir and a spare, she thought wryly.

Softly closing the door behind her, she moved over to stand under the skylight and looked out, hugging herself and shivering slightly in the night air. The moon was huge, casting a silver glow over the garden. She began tracing the outlines of the constellations she had learned as a child, finding the outline of Centaurus** with a soft smile.

She heard footsteps on the stairs at the other end of the corridor and shrank away from the windows into the shadows, in case it wasn’t Alexander. She watched as he strode up, pulling off his tie as he walked and opening the top button of his shirt as he reached the top step.

She stepped back into the centre of the corridor and he was there in a moment, his arms snaking around her and leaning in to kiss her neck. She arched into him, allowing him better access and his head fell further so he was feathering kisses along her collarbone, and she let out a small moan.

His hand ran up her side, over her breast and then down her arm, taking her hand and tugging her to follow him further down the hallway, to a second door she had not explored. Opening it quietly, they moved into the room, eyes locked on each other. She watched as he breathed deeply as he shut the door, then the shoes she’d been carrying clattered to the floor as he was pressing her against it, taking her lips in his and caressing them with his tongue so they parted. His hands were at her sides, caressing her breasts through the fabric of her dress, and she thrust her hips to meet his.

“God, Charlotte…” he broke off and dropped his kiss to her shoulder, leaning down to cup her bottom and hitch her up higher. She bent her head to capture his lips again, her tongue stroking his and eliciting another groan from the back of his throat.

He pulled back, reluctantly, to gaze at her face, still pressing her against him but asking, his voice hoarse, “Are you sure you want this?"

She leaned forward to capture his earlobe with her lips. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

With that, he lowered his hands, again grasping her hand to lead them across the room to where a bed sat by the window, covered by a dust sheet. He carefully folded the sheet back over on itself, so as to not fill the air with dust, making short work of folding it completely and dropping it to the floor before sitting himself on the edge and opening his thighs to pull her to standing between them.

She dropped her hands onto his shoulders, her fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck again. “I couldn’t imagine where we could go to be together. This is perfect.”

“Not perfect,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss along the neckline of her dress, “you deserve so much better. But it gives us some privacy and I just want to feel you, see you…” His hands moved to her stomach and began unfastening her belt, and she grasped his hair in anticipation.

Chapter Text

The Attic

Xander drew the belt through the loops at the waist of Charlotte’s dress, remembering how he’d imagined doing just that when he’d first seen her in this dress from across the dancehall. He felt her shiver, her hands falling to his lapels as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders. He shrugged it off, only taking his hands off her to drop it to the floor alongside the dust sheet, before standing and turning Charlotte so her back faced him. The feel of her body fitting against him felt so right, and his heart throbbed. Dropping his lips to her shoulder, his fingers began unbuttoning her dress, kissing the skin of her back as he exposed each new section. She sighed, allowing her head to fall back into him as he slipped the dress down her arms, and it fell to the floor, leaving her satin slip shimmering in the moonlight. His arms enveloped her, hands feeling the soft material as they skimmed her stomach up to her breasts.

Charlotte turned in his arms and slid her hand up to his shoulder, her other hand taking his jaw and holding his face so she could look him deep in the eye. “This week has been agony, I’ve wanted you so badly.”

He closed his eyes at the flood of warmth her words sent through him, and then he kissed her demandingly, lips taking control of hers.

She began unfastening the buttons of his shirt, but fumbled as he continued his searing kisses. Somewhere in the haze of desire, he recognised the effect he was having on her, and his heart stuttered. Eventually, she managed to undo enough of them and to untuck it from his trousers so he could pull back, briefly, to tug it over his head before resuming the kiss. Her hands ran up and down over his shoulders and arms, and the feeling of being wanted struck him hard.

His hands dropped to the hem of her slip, sliding it up her body and lifting it over her head before immediately moving to undo the fastening of her bra. He felt it fall away and watched as her nipples hardened as the cool air touched her breasts, before his hands covered them, palming them gently but firmly. Untucking his vest, then, and pulling it over his head in one swift motion, his chest pressed against hers, skin on skin. The intimacy of it was indescribable, and a small moan came from the back of his throat.

After a moment, he sank down to sit on the bed, his lips finding her nipples before his hands fell to the floor to slip off his shoes and socks. Soon, though his hands and lips were back on her, her breath catching as he traced one finger under her garter and down to the tip of her stocking.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined this,” he said, hoarsely, sliding down to kneel in front of her and deftly snapping the clasp free, feeling it release the top of the stocking before moving on to the next. His gaze never left her face as he worked, fingers moving slowly until all the garter clips were undone. Turning them, he pushed her gently down so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She leant back on her hands as he hungrily raked over her body with his eyes, before using both hands to roll down her stocking, following the path of it down the inside of her leg with his lips, repeating the motion with her other stocking.

—

Charlotte shivered, with want and the cool air, reaching around herself to undo the fastening on her garter belt. But his hand reached up to still her fingers, kissing her stomach and murmuring, “Wait, I want to see you…”

She felt a brief flush of shyness before recognising the desire in his eyes and leaning back once more, her head falling back a little, letting him take in the sight of her. Her previous experiences had not been this leisurely, and she felt a flush of pleasure at this languid undressing and being seen by him this way.

“You are so gorgeous, I can’t believe you’re here, with me…”

She looked up. The vulnerability in his eyes made her want to kiss away his fears. Reaching for his hair once more, she pulled him into her so she could capture his lips, before pulling away slightly to say, “You’re beautiful. Of course I’m here, with you.”

His cheeks flushed, and she let her hand drop down to his chest, feeling the smattering of hair there brushing her fingers. She gave in to the desire to run her lips over it, feathering her tongue over his nipples, and he groaned again.

He rose to stand, fishing into the back pocket of his trousers for a condom packet and throwing it on the bed beside her, then seizing the buckle of his belt to undo it quickly. She felt breathless as his trousers and boxers fell to the floor, and he stepped out of them in one fluid motion, before stalking over her and leaning behind her to finally remove her garter belt. The scent of him, his presence, made her crave the pressure of his weight on her.

She shimmied further up the bed, him following her and kissing up from her stomach to take her breast into his mouth, causing her to gasp quietly. The spark shot to her core as he settled beside her, his hand moving between her thighs, fingers brushing through the triangle of her curls before sliding into her wetness. She moaned this time, arching into his touch, and he began to explore with slow strokes, finding her apex and pressing gently. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw him watching her face, adjusting to move more quickly as her excitement built. A low, guttural sound emanated from her throat as she grasped at his shoulder, her other hand clenched in the sheets. Feeling cherished like this was intensifying her arousal, and she felt the first fluttering of her orgasm as he slid his fingers inside her, taking her breast in his mouth once more as she bit back her cry and pressed her hips up into his hand.

After a few moments, breathing heavily, she smiled as she ran her hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble and drawing him down for a kiss. She deepened it quickly, wanting to convey how much she wanted his body to possess her with this same intensity she’d just experienced.

He reached over for the condom from beside her on the sheet, but she took it from him, clamping the packaging between her teeth to tear it open, causing him to groan, which made her smile wickedly. Once it was free of the packaging, she took his hard cock in her hand, stroking it slowly from the tip to the shaft, revelling in his sharp intake of breath, before rolling the condom slowly down his length. God he feels amazing.

His hand captured both hers, bringing them up above her head to rest on the pillow, and the intensity she felt, their fingers intertwined, as he held her there made her arch into him. He was running his tongue up her neck as he moved over her and adjusted himself between her legs. Resting his weight on his other arm, he slipped himself along her seam to position himself and, with a moan, pushed gently inside her.

She raised her hips to meet his thrust, feeling the delicious fullness before he pulled back to enter her again, more firmly this time, but slowly, oh so slowly. She’d missed this feeling, but at the same time was struck in that moment by how new it felt, so different, feeling his strength and restraint as he moved almost reverently.

Her hand fell to cup his backside, urging him still further inside her, whispering into his ear, “God, Alexander, you feel so good…”

Pulling back slightly to gaze at her face, he began to move slightly faster, but even still, she felt he was taking his time to feel every inch of her, as he watched her face closely with each thrust.

His breath was hot on her cheek, and she arched her hips demandingly, revelling in the strength of him. She watched, thrilled, his self-control frayed as she began to clench around him, and whispered ”yes, yes…” to drive him on. Feeling herself tumbling over the edge once more as she tightened around him, she threw her head back in a silent moan as he too bit back a cry. She felt him throbbing into her heat, before he collapsed onto her, feeling the sweat on his brow as his temple rested against hers.

They stayed that way for a minute, their ragged breathing the only sound, before he adjusted himself to take his weight and checked her expression for signs of discomfort. He seemed worried he had been too heavy for her, and his consideration made warmth spread across her chest. Her hand came back to cup his face once more, a lazy smile quirking her lips. He grinned, and turned his face to kiss her palm.

“Wait right there, I’ll be back,” he said, gently moving his hand down as he withdrew, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to deal with the condom. She admired his muscled shoulders and back, content to lie against the pillow, the afterglow of her orgasms making her limbs feel heavy and relaxed. He turned to lie beside her, pulling the length of his body into contact with her, kissing her gently.

“That was wonderful,” he said, moving his lips along her jaw as she stretched like a contented cat. His expression held something like disbelief, and though she didn’t yet know where this fleeting insecurity came from, she knew she wanted to banish it.

“Yes, it was,” she said softly, turning her gaze on him, “because you, Alexander Colbourne, are wonderful.”

—

Xander was reaching for his jacket on the floor, fumbling for his cigarettes, when he started at her words, an uncertain smile creeping over his features, even as warmth spread through his chest. His body hummed with satisfaction, but his mind had already been racing ahead, wondering if this would be just a fleeting moment or if she could be persuaded to stay for a while. Now that he’d had her, he wanted more. If this is ‘just fun’ for her, she’ll not hang around, the voice in his head said. Trying to quiet those thoughts, he retrieved a cigarette and his lighter.

The moonlight cast a silvery glow across Charlotte’s skin as she lay beside him, one arm draped lazily across his chest. Her warmth against him felt like a miracle, and he anchored himself in the sensation.

"Would you like one?" he asked, offering her the cigarette pack.

Charlotte nodded, propping herself up on one elbow. "Mmm, please. But I’ll share yours."

He tapped one out and placed it between her lips, struck the lighter, and watched the flame illuminate her face. The sight of her – hair disheveled, lips slightly swollen from his kisses – made his heart constrict. She inhaled, then passed the cigarette back to him, their fingers brushing in the exchange.

"Thank you," she murmured.

They passed the cigarette back and forth in comfortable silence as they each lay on their sides. Xander watched as she brought it to her lips, the red stain of her lipstick now mostly gone but for a faint shadow. The intimacy of sharing the cigarette struck him, and he looked away, swallowing the rising emotion.

He studied the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks and water stains. This had been his childhood bedroom, though Charlotte couldn’t know that. The rest of the furniture was long gone, sold off years ago, except for this bed frame he couldn’t bear to part with.

"What are you thinking about?" Charlotte asked, her voice soft in the darkness.

He took another drag, watching the ember glow brighter. "About how strange it is to be here with you. In this room."

"Why’s that?"

"This was my room. When I was a boy." He gestured vaguely at the ceiling. "I used to lie right here and try to find the shapes of animals and things in those water stains when I couldn’t sleep."

Charlotte’s fingers traced circles on his chest. "So this is where little Alexander Colbourne grew up?"

He cleared his throat. "Actually, I... would you call me Xander?" The request felt more vulnerable than he’d expected. "It’s what my family always called me. Alexander was for formal occasions and strangers."

Charlotte’s hand stilled. "Xander," she repeated, clearly testing the name on her tongue. "Xander." She smiled against his shoulder. "I like it. It suits you better."

Relief washed through him. "Thank you."

"So, Xander," she emphasized his name with obvious pleasure, "did you and your brother get up to much mischief in these attic rooms?"

He snorted, passing the cigarette back to her. "More than our fair share. Poor Mrs. Wheatley… she’d come up here and find us playing pirates or knights. We’d turned one of the old desks into a ship once. Father was livid."

"I bet you were the sensible one, though."

"Compared to Sam? Absolutely. Though that’s not saying much." His smile faded slightly. "My mother used to say Sam had enough energy for three boys, and I had enough caution for four…”

She chuckled, “So Sam is younger than you, then?”

“Ah, no,” he watched as the surprise registered on her face, just as she took a drag, “no he’s older than me by three years.”

“But…” her confusion was obvious, “why did you inherit the estate then?”

“Yeah, it’s a long story,” he said as she passed the cigarette back, noting it was getting towards the end. “Another?” he waved it between his fingers, and she nodded and reached for the packet. She took a fresh one between her lips and leant forward to light it from the glowing ember of the first, and his cock twitched as the sheet slipped down from the gentle curves of her breast and stomach.

Exhaling, she said, “Well, we’ve got time.”

He hopped up and crossed the room to put the still-glowing butt in the sink, then returned to the bed, pulling the sheet back over them.

“To be honest, I don’t want to waste the time I have you in my bed talking about my brother,” he said dryly, and she laughed.

“Fair enough.”

“Suffice it to say, he felt he was not best suited to rescuing a crumbling estate from the mounting debts our father had left us.” Her eyebrows shot up at this. “I eventually forgave him.” Lucy flitted across his mind but he pushed the memory aside. Another time.

She passed him the cigarette, and he changed the subject. “How about your family?”

Charlotte shifted up the bed to lean back against the pillow, the sheet pooled around her waist, and Xander couldn’t help but admire her body in the moonlight. "Oh, come now," he said at her hesitation, taking a drag. "I’ve shared my childhood bedroom with you. Surely, I deserve to know something about where you grew up."

She smiled, accepting the cigarette from him. "Fair enough. I told you a bit before, remember? In the library that day."

"Refresh my memory." He shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to face her properly.

“I grew up on a farm in Hampshire. Willingden. Tiny place, you’d miss it if you blinked. I’m the oldest of seven children."

"Seven?" Xander couldn’t hide his surprise. The thought of such a large family was almost unfathomable to him. "That must have been..."

"Chaotic? Loud? Never a moment’s peace?" She laughed softly. "All of that. But it was good, for the most part..."

He watched the moon light her face, the way her expression softened when she spoke of her family. Something in her tone, though, a slight hesitation, made him curious.

"But?" he prompted gently.

Charlotte glanced at him, her eyebrows raised. "How did you know there was a ’but’?"

"I’m starting to understand your tells," he said, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. He reached out, brushing a curl from her forehead. "Something in your voice."

She sighed, passing the cigarette back to him. "I was the only one who went to grammar school. My father… he saw something in me, I suppose. Made sacrifices to send me. The others stayed and worked the farm."

Xander took a drag, considering this. "That must have set you apart."

"It did." Her fingers brushed back and forth on the sheet between them. "I came home with books and ideas, talking about things no one else cared about. My brothers and sisters were coming straight home from school and learning to mend fences and birth lambs, and I was excited by algebra."

The vulnerability in her voice made his chest tighten. He could picture her, young and eager, returning home with new knowledge only to find no one to share it with.

"I never quite fit after that," she continued. "Too educated for the farm, too... rustic, I suppose, for the circles my education might have led to. My mother worried I’d never find a husband, being ’too clever for my own good.’"

Xander snorted. "As if intelligence is a bad thing."

"It is when you’re a farm girl from nowhere who’s expected to marry a local boy and have babies." Charlotte’s laugh was tinged with something like bitterness. "I was always caught between worlds."

She sat up slightly, taking the cigarette from his fingers, her shoulder brushing against his chest. The casual intimacy of it, her bare skin against his, made something bright unfurl inside him.

"You know, it’s strange to admit this," she said, her voice dropping lower, "but the war... it’s given me something I never had before."

"What’s that?" he asked, watching her wrinkle her nose before she bit her lip.

"Purpose. Freedom. Choice." She gestured vaguely with the cigarette. "For the first time, I’m valued for my mind, not despite it. And despite the old dinosaurs in Whitehall, I’m viewed not just as a ‘little woman’.”

“You’re all woman, from what I can see,” he said playfully. Leaning forward from where he was propped beside, he dropped his head to kiss her breast. She chuckled, somewhat throatily, he noticed with satisfaction, before nudging him off gently.

“Well, not all of them got to see me like this!”

He raised an eyebrow, “‘Not all of them’?” and she blushed.

“Only one,” she said, dropping her eyes, making a show of checking on the cigarette.

“Palmer?” he asked, gently, and she met his eye again.

“Yes.” She held the dying cigarette to his lips for him to take the last drag, and he took it from her, capturing her fingers in his. After exhaling he kissed them, and again disposed of the butt in the sink. She shifted over to let him back in and he slid between the sheets, lying down and encouraging her to snuggle into him. God it feels good to have her close.

“What happened?”

The question hung between them for a moment, the soft rustle of the sheets the only sound as Charlotte shifted against him. Her body was warm against his side, her dark curls spreading across his chest. He wanted to know everything about her, yet sensed her hesitation.

"Sidney was..." Charlotte began, her voice quiet but steady. "We met at an evening out entertaining guests of the Major I was working for. He was RAF, but Y-Service. Handsome, charming, the usual." Her tone was matter-of-fact, not wistful as he’d feared. "We started seeing each other whenever we could. Everything happened quickly with the war."

Xander nodded, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her shoulder. He tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that sparked at the thought of another man holding her, kissing her. This was her past, not his to judge. Perhaps it was harder because he had known the man a little, although really he had just been another arrogant face at a few training exercises. And someone Xander had actively avoided whenever possible after one particular joint exercise where Sidney had completely disregarded the established protocols, putting several men at risk for what appeared to be nothing more than a chance to show off. When confronted, he’d merely shrugged it off with an infuriating smile.

Yet despite his distaste for the man, Xander couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Dead was dead, and knowing he himself had been reassigned from the mission that killed Palmer and dozens of others, just days before the raid began… the weight of surviving when others didn’t… Well, it was a burden.

“Oh, I think you said you knew him…? When we went for our walk?”

He started out his recollections. “Oh, um… vaguely, yes.”

"Well then you know what he was like. Confident. Sometimes too confident." She gave a small laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. "He had a temper, could be impulsive. But he was also... passionate about things. About life."

She wasn’t describing him with the dreamy-eyed reverence of someone still in love, Xander thought, again, with relief. There was a distance in her voice, as if remembering facts about someone she’d once known well but had since moved on from.

"It was… hard, when the telegram to the department came," she said quietly. "But it wasn’t just losing him. It was..." She paused, seeming to search for the right words. "Well, it was my first real brush with… what can happen. Suddenly. I guess it made me rethink… everything."

The vulnerability in her voice made it feel as if his heart were being squeezed. He wanted to promise her he would never leave her, that she could build a life with him without fear. The strength of the feeling hit him like a blow to the chest, and he had to breath slowly to calm his breathing.

"After he died, I was reassigned back to Bletchley, which was a relief, to be honest. London had… too many memories. And I threw myself into my work." Her voice strengthened. "I realised I never wanted to be in that position again. Waiting on a man, dependent on his choices for my happiness."

Xander stroked her shoulder, understanding dawning. This wasn’t just about Sidney’s death. It was about freedom, independence – the very things she’d been fighting for since leaving her family’s farm. It made sense of something that had been on the periphery of his mind, something that didn’t quite add up in how Charlotte was with him. She was bold, almost fearless, determined that they should take the risk of being together. But there was also a distance in her, an unwillingness to dwell on feelings. She had clearly been irritated that Samuel had been at the club – they were still to have that conversation, but he was sure it was coming – and now he sensed why she had resented his interference. It made her dependent on him or another man.

She was searching his face in the moonlight, looking for signs of what he was thinking or feeling. He smiled at her gently. “I understand,” he said, and drew her in for a featherlight kiss. She exhaled, slowly, and settled back down, her head on his chest. He drew an arm around her, protectively, drawing her closer, and they lay in silence for a while, his thoughts whirring even while his hand gently rubbed her shoulder again and again. He fought to keep his feelings under control, and ignore the voice in his head that wanted to remind him that people always left him. He was surprised to realise that here, with Charlotte in his arms, it was easier to do than usual.

After a few minutes, he said reluctantly. “I guess we should go…”

“Yes,” she said, her voice low, “I don’t want to, but we should.”

After the flurry of his feelings, her words were like a balm. Yes, this was complicated, but at least for now, she wanted to stay with him. It would have to be enough.