The Kingdom of Night (Book 3)

Twenty-Eight - Peace At Last

Emma

The telephone rang right as we were sitting down to tea. Uncle Petey's and Auntie Grace's butler Burton rushed off to answer it even before we were halfway out of our chairs. We'd been waiting for news from London, from the Order, from someone. Anyone. But seconds later I heard it drop from his hand with a hollow thunk. Auntie Grace was on her feet in an instant, hurrying out to relieve him. Something must have told her what was about to come next.

     'Hello?' I heard her say.

     A second of silence, and then there was another clatter–Auntie Grace dropping the telephone onto the floor. That got me up and hurrying out towards the front hall. A scraping of chairs behind me told me my mother and Uncle Petey were close on my heels. Auntie Grace was pale and leaning against the bannister, next to Burton's prone figure. He was out cold.

     While Mum went to tend to the both of them, I went to the telephone, lying on the floor, and picked it up.

     'Hello?' I kept the dread down. I half expected the War Office, or some other ominous organisation. That seemed consistent with the events of the most recent months.

     'Hello?' said a male voice on the other end. 'Is anyone there?'

     My knees turned to jelly, and I had to grab the table edge to keep from going down.

     'George...?' I whispered. He was alive–nothing short of a miracle in this war.

     'Emmy, thank God. I was afraid I was losing the call.' He sounded truly relieved, like he had been trying to get a hold of us for a while. 'All that clattering.'

     'That was Burton. And your mum.' I could barely hold onto the telephone, my palms were sweating so much. I gripped it tightly and willed my strength to keep me up. When I spoke next, my voice came out a hoarse croak. 'But you're alive.'

     ''Course I am, Emmy. Unless there's another bloke who can impersonate my voice.' I heard the grin as he said it. Oh, George. Always the joker.

     'George...I...we...we thought you were dead...' I thought of listening to Auntie Grace crying in the water closet or into Uncle Petey's shoulder, and of Hannah, miserable and wretched-looking. I could have sworn the poor girl was reliving her worst nightmare. 'Where are you, anyhow?'

     'Glasgow. There's a military hospital here.'

     Immediately I straightened. 'You're hurt?'

     'No, no...I'm all right. It's Al and Uncle Henry.'

     The shocks just kept coming. I leaned against the wall, my hand shaking so badly I could barely hold the receiver. 'Papa's alive? And Al too?'

     I heard Mum gasp, and Uncle Petey left my side to pull her into his arms.

     'Yeah...but barely. Al's in a bad way too, Emmy. She was shot, and had some ribs broken.'

     'What?' I said sharply. I had half a mind to go up there right now and see them. Wittenberg had done that to them.

     'It's a long story, Emmy, if you're willing to hear it,' he said through a weary-sounding exhale. I heard a creak of wood; he must have sat down heavily.

     I clenched my fist to keep it from shaking, and then released it. 'Yes. I am. If you're willing to tell it.'

     Turned out he was. He told me how he had intercepted Wittenberg's men and managed to suss out his location–a cave on the Burren–which resulted in two days of searching. He came across Al and a big Scottish bloke by the name of Colin McAvoy–a captain in the RAMC–and together they'd found the cave Wittenberg had been hiding out in all this time, and where he'd been reassembling the Essence Machine. A fight broke out, just as he was trying to get Papa out of the cave. Papa woke up and ran back into the thick of it, and that resulted in both he and Al getting shot. And when he'd ran out of the cave, trying to signal for help, he heard three gunshots, all in a row. By the time he returned, Wittenberg was dead and Al had collapsed, covered with blood.