Carol seemed to swell in front of them, her face flushed with outrage. “Sergeant Lawson has clearly been brought up well—”
“So has Tom,” Sophie flashed. “You’ve only gone against him because I met him last night.”
“Any decent boy wouldn’t—”
“He’s not a boy, he’s a man,” Sophie cut across her mother, her voice hard. “A perfectly nice, grown-up man, and I’m a woman. I earn a respectable wage, and I do my duty for this wretched war. I can live as I like.” Each sentence felt like a grenade being hurled into the room, a line being drawn in the sand. There would be no going back to the way things had been—two girls laying the table, cups of tea by the wireless, everything predictable and stodgy and safe. A family together. Their whole way of life was at risk, everything she longed to keep hold of, and Lily couldn’t stand it. Everything else could be ruined—every house on Holmside Road, every letter of condolence in the wooden tray at work—but not this. Not this.
“If you really mean that,” Carol said coldly, “then—”
“Don’t,” Lily cried. “Don’t. It was just an evening out. You went to the pub, didn’t you, Sophie?”
Sophie managed to look both contemptuous and relieved by Lily’s intervention. “Of course I did. I had a shandy and learned all about Tom’s family back in Minnesota. They’re dairy farmers, but he’d rather do something with apples. Not that you care.” This flung at Carol, who compressed her lips and said nothing.
“Let’s not fall out,” Lily begged. “None of it matters. We’re all safe and sound, not even a window broken.” She glanced at her father for confirmation, who nodded emphatically.
“Not so much as a crack this time. Not a single one.”
“Please,” Lily said more quietly.
A silence stretched on tautly while Sophie and Carol glared at each other. Then Carol nodded once, a jerk of her head more than anything else.
“There’s still some tea left in the pot,” she said, and turned to the stove to fetch her oldest daughter some oatmeal.
Chapter Ten
ABBY
Abby held onto Matthew Lawson’s medal for a whole day before she decided to tell Simon about it. She’d wanted to ask her dad about it first, but he’d been so quiet and she hadn’t wanted to admit she’d gone digging in the attic, which she feared he’d see as some sort of betrayal. She doubted he’d tell her anything about it, anyway.
She’d thought about putting it back, tucking it in its handkerchief in the bottom of the trunk and forgetting all about it, but somehow that didn’t feel right, either. Who was Matthew Lawson—and what had he had to do with her grandfather?
Yet what if telling Simon opened up a Pandora’s box of emotions and memories that made things even worse between her and her father? Could they even be worse?
Abby called Simon. “I’ve found something,” she said after he’d answered his cell phone in his usual cheery way. “It might be nothing…”
“And it might not. What is it?”
“A medal. Another one, not a Purple Heart, though. But this one doesn’t belong to my grandfather.”
Simon was silent for a moment, as he absorbed this news. “Who does it belong to?” he finally asked.
“Someone called Matthew Lawson—Master Sergeant.”
“You haven’t heard of him before?”
“No, never. Have you?”
“Not a thing.” Simon paused. “I don’t suppose you’ve asked your dad?” There was no censure in his voice, just a wry acknowledgment of the complexity of that relationship.
“No, I haven’t.” Abby managed a shaky laugh. “And, to be honest, I don’t think I will. I know it seems weird, but that’s just how it is.”
“It’s no weirder than what goes in any other family.” Simon was silent for a moment. “Look,” he said finally, “why don’t you bring it over?”
“Over…” she repeated slowly. “Where?”
“My little cabin at the lake. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m sitting right here looking at all this loveliness by myself. Bring it over and we can have a think about it all, maybe over a picnic? I’ve got plenty of food that needs to be eaten, and if you felt like bringing some lemonade, well, I wouldn’t say no.”
“Oh…” A smile spread over Abby’s face as she realized how much she liked that idea.