All Clear

“Yes, which is why I should be flying a bomber in France instead of being stuck here—not that I’m complaining. After all, it affords me a chance to be with you again,” he said and smiled that heartbreakingly crooked smile. “Where were you before?”

She looked at him, startled. “Before?”

“Before Dulwich. I’m attempting to determine where it is we first met.”

“Oh. Oxford.”

“Oxford,” he said, and frowned as if he was truly trying to remember.

Oh, no. She’d assumed he was only flirting. “Haven’t we met?” had been almost as common a pickup line during the war as “I’m shipping out tomorrow.” But there was a possibility she had met him. This was, after all, time travel. She might have known him on an upcoming assignment. And if she had, it could be a major problem, especially since she’d have been there under a different name. And if he’d seen her somewhere which didn’t match the story she’d told the FANYs and the Major, and he told Talbot … I need to get him off this topic before he remembers where he met me, she thought. “What do you fly?” she asked. “Hurricanes?”

“Spitfires,” he said, and for the rest of the way to London regaled her with tales of his flying exploits. But as they were coming into the city, he asked, “Where were you before Oxford?”

“I was in training. Were you in the Battle of Britain?”

“Yes, till I was shot down. You weren’t ever posted near Biggin Hill, were you?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m quite sure we’ve never met. I’m certain I’d remember someone as cheeky as you.”

“You’re quite right,” he said. “And I could never have forgotten meeting someone as beautiful as you.” He stretched his arm across the back of the seat, shifted so he was facing her, and edged closer. “Perhaps it’s déjà vu.”

“Or perhaps you’ve flirted with so many girls you’ve got them mixed. That’s what you get for having a girl in every port.”

“Port?” he said. “I’m in the RAF, not the Navy.”

“A girl in every hangar, then. Tell me, does that ‘destined to be together forever’ line of chat work on other girls?”

He grinned at her. “As a matter of fact, it does.” Then he gave her a puzzled look. “Why didn’t it work on you?”

Because I’m a hundred years older than you, she thought. You died before I was ever born, and then regretted it. He was a pilot. He might very well die before the end of the war.

Or before they reached Whitehall. London had had eleven V-1 attacks between two and six. “Where in Whitehall is your meeting?” she asked.

“The Ministry of Health,” he said wryly. “In St. Charles Street. Take the Tottenham Court Road. It’s quickest.”

And it had had a V-1 hit at 1:52. “Turn left here,” he ordered, and as she turned right, “No, left.”

“Sorry,” she said, continuing to drive away from Tottenham Court Road. “It was fate.”

“That’s unkind,” he said. “Isolde would never have said something like that to Tristan.”

“Sorry,” she said, turning down Charing Cross Road.

“Why is it you’re completely immune to my charms?” he asked. “Oh, no, don’t tell me you’re engaged?”

She wished she could. It would be the simplest way to put a stop to his nonsense, but it might create complications if Talbot drove him again. She shook her head.

“Promised to someone?” he persisted. “Betrothed at birth?”

“No,” she said, laughing, which was the worst possible thing to do. He wouldn’t take her protests seriously now. But his determination and irrepressible spirits were utterly disarming. It was a good thing they’d arrived. “Here we are,” she said, and pulled up in front of the Ministry of Health.

“Bang on time,” he said, looking at his watch. “You’re wonderful, Isolde.” He got out of the Daimler and then leaned back in. “I’ve no idea how long this will take, an hour, perhaps two, but as soon as it’s done, I’ll take you to tea, and then we’ll go to the nearest church and post the banns.”

“I can’t,” she said. “Those stretchers, remember?”

“Stretchers be damned. This is destiny.” He gave her his crooked smile and loped off toward the building, and as he did, she had a sudden sense of déjà vu, too, a feeling that she had met him before.

Which ruled out its having happened in the future. She couldn’t remember something which hadn’t happened yet. It had to have been here, on this assignment.

Could they have met when she was on her way to Dulwich—in the railway station as she attempted to buy a ticket? Or in Portsmouth? No, she wouldn’t have forgotten those rakish good looks or that crooked smile. And it wasn’t so much that he looked familiar as that he reminded her of someone.

forgotten those rakish good looks or that crooked smile. And it wasn’t so much that he looked familiar as that he reminded her of someone.

Who? Someone in Oxford? Or on a previous assignment? She squinted, trying to remember, but she couldn’t place him. Perhaps she’d only had the sensation of déjà vu because of Stephen’s having suggested they’d met before.