“There was no other way, child. This was all I had left, to do justice for your mother.”
“How did you get past all the checkpoints?” Oliver asked.
“I was wearing a British uniform filled with medals. Medals I earned, by the way, serving a country that abandoned me and her in the hour of our need.” He turned back to Molly. “I took the uniform off before I got here. I will put it back on after I sedate your mother, because she can’t stand the sight of a man in uniform, and can anyone blame her? That and forged papers go a long way,” added Wakefield.
“And now?” Molly exclaimed. “Where are you taking her?”
“I’ve made arrangements. A boat is waiting to take us someplace... safe. Where we can live in peace for the time we have left.”
“Mother is not well.”
“I know she’s dying. And my life is also over, but I refuse to swing at the end of a rope for killing men who should have been in prison, or worse.”
“And you?”
“I failed your mother before... I can’t leave her to die alone.” He glanced sharply at Oliver, and, seeming to think he represented all of the British government, shouted, “Oh, to hell with you!”
Wakefield put his hand on the car door. “Now, we need to go. I... I’m sorry about all of this, Molly. Truly, I am.”
Oliver stepped forward. “I’m afraid we can’t let you do this, Mr. Wakefield.”
Wakefield produced a small pistol from a pocket and pointed it at Oliver, who quickly stepped back. “I think you have no say in the matter.”
Oliver took another step back but Molly moved forward. “This will not set things right, Father. And please, don’t leave me alone. I... I need you. Please.” The tears spilled down her cheeks.
Herbert Wakefield slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Molly.” He added in a kindly tone, “You have your life to live, and I wish it everything you want it to be. You have always been quite exceptional. But my life... your mother’s life... is nearly done.”
At that moment they heard sirens blaring and powerful engines racing their way.
“Damn!” cried out Wakefield. He slid into the car and started the engine.
“Father, no!” screamed Molly. “Don’t go! Please!”
The sound of her daughter’s voice finally seemed to reach Eloise Wakefield. Right as her husband put the car in gear, she looked over at Molly, then saw her husband. She opened the door and toppled out of the car. Wakefield put the car in reverse and made a grab for her but missed.
“Eloise!” he screamed.
Charlie and Oliver raced over to Eloise Wakefield and pulled her safely away from the automobile.
Wakefield looked like he was going to get out of the car and attempt to pull her back in. Instead, he sped off. A moment later he had to steer the sedan to the right to avoid the police cars roaring into the drive, sirens blaring. The police cars turned around to follow him, and the three sedans disappeared into the darkness, the jarring sound of the sirens further fracturing all of their nerves.
Molly and the others jumped when they heard the gunshots. Then there came the sound of a horrific crash and, a few seconds after, an explosion. A column of flames leapt into the air, lighting the night.
A sobbing Molly wrapped her arms protectively around her dazed mother.
“You’re okay, Mum. You’re safe.”
Goodbye, for Now
Late December 1944 was cold and blustery in London, which meant it was quite normal weather for that time of year.
Eloise Wakefield had died three nights after the encounter with her husband. They had learned that the police had tracked Herbert Wakefield to the Beneficial Institute, and he had been killed in the ensuing chase.
Molly had been holding her mother’s hand as she passed peacefully.
Seeing her father at the end, and learning that he had killed those men, had shocked Molly. At one level she could understand why he had done what he had. At another level, she could never forgive him. With the deaths of both her parents so close together, she had been left bereft. If it hadn’t been for Oliver and Charlie’s love and support, Molly knew she could not have survived the twin losses. Still, she had cried so much that when she was done, Molly doubted she had any tears left to shed. Ever.
The Tinsdales, after a call from Molly, had arranged for her parents’ bodies to be brought back to London, where they were buried, with Molly, Charlie, and Oliver in attendance after returning from Cornwall.
Later, Molly had traveled north to see the Tinsdales for Christmas. After she returned, she told Oliver and Charlie that the Tinsdales would support her university education.
“They’re actually very nice and were quite welcoming to me. I mean, really, I’m a perfect stranger, but they made me feel quite at home. And they’re really all the family I have left now.”
“You’re fortunate to have found them, as they are to have found you,” commented Oliver.
There was never any question of Molly’s actually going to live with the Tinsdales. She had made it clear that she intended to live with Oliver and Charlie and continue her work as a nurse auxiliary for the remainder of the war.
Charlie was still a telegram messenger, and he was very busy because it seemed that the long and torturous war would be ending soon, and folks were anxious for life to return to normal. Sending season’s greetings and well wishes and inflated hopes via telegram seemed to be the ticket. Charlie certainly preferred those to delivering death notices.
The bombings had tailed off considerably, and the newspapers and the BBC broadcasts were filled with the news of one Allied victory after another. The mood in London was much better, although Germany had unleashed more V-2 rocket attacks against select targets in England and Europe, but not with the widespread devastation wrought by the traditional carpet bombing raids.
For a while Oliver had gone to the study every day in hopes of finishing Imogen’s book, but now, having been to the spot where she had ended her life, it seemed that his creative spirit was even more blighted than before. Finally, he simply stopped going.
On New Year’s Eve, they gathered with their fellow Londoners to welcome in the year 1945 with the hopes of peace soon to be ahead.
Walking back to The Book Keep after the festivities, Oliver had said, “Molly, while you now have the Tinsdales, I guess we are each other’s families, too.”
Molly said, “You both are my first family; the Tinsdales are quite a distant second. But please don’t tell them I said so.” She smiled embarrassedly. “I do so want to go to university.”
Oliver said, “And you, Charlie, what dreams have you when this madness is over?”
“I liked seein’ that water in the Channel. I mean, I seen water before, in the Thames. But that don’t really go nowhere. The Channel now, what comes after that, well, it makes you think about thin’s.”
“You could become a world traveler,” said Molly. “And write about it.”
Charlie broke into a smile, a rare thing for him. “Even if I’m the only one that reads it.” He glanced at both of them. “It was the worst thin’ ever to lose my family. But it woulda been a lot worse if I hadn’t met the both of you. I don’t think I woulda made it but for that.”
“I don’t think any of us would have,” added Molly.
Oliver said, “Sometimes it simply comes down to the serendipity of whom one meets and when.”
“Is that Imogen or Ignatius speaking?” asked Molly.
“It’s a bit of both actually,” he replied with a generous smile. “And isn’t that a wonderful thing?”
The days continued to turn cold and bitter. During the evenings they would sit in The Book Keep, Molly reading, Charlie scribbling furiously in a third journal, having filled the first two, and Oliver going over the shop accounts and doing the London Times crossword.