Marcia Armandi

London, England, 1937

Lina’s dreams of a new life came to a halt the day her father was shot at Lydney Railway Station on his way to Blackwater manor, in Coleford. His death had been brutal, but here, lying in his coffin, Sir William Laroche looked at peace, his hands intertwined atop his black suit, his high-collared shirt neatly pressed. Lina unveiled her face and leaned forward. “I miss you.” She gave him a final kiss, the coolness of his skin lingering on her lips—proof that his comforting words and warm embrace were now but a memory. She then heard the heart-wrenching words whispered by someone in attendance, “Orphan children.”

Seven years ago, a heart attack claimed Sofia Laroche’s life, leaving a bereaved family and Lina who, at thirteen years old, became a woman. Lina had promptly taken charge of caring for her baby brother, Mateo, as her mother had done. The task presented many challenges, but the boy, now eight, thrived academically and socially. Satisfied with Mateo’s place in society and inspired by her post at the local library, Lina had applied for and been accepted to Oxford. She loved the idea of a career in mathematics. There was no room for mistakes in math. It was reliable, constant, so unlike the world in general. And, at times, she felt ill-prepared to confront that world—a world where death played an integral part.

Rumors of a world war circulated through the country, whispers and half-spoken thoughts gathering on the periphery like a far-off storm that had not yet overtaken the sunlight. Before her father’s untimely death, she’d feared that when the lightning struck, not only would her father be taken but so would life as every Briton knew it. As a diplomat, William had been aware of the rising menace. Even more so of late, his meetings and telephone calls had multiplied. Lina’s thoughts traveled back to the call that stood apart from the others.

Her father had been restless all morning. When the phone rang in his study, he dashed to answer it, neglecting to close the door. The stress in his voice made his words loud and clear. Lina could see him through the dim light of the hallway. He stood near his desk, his back to her, his shoulders slumped as if carrying an invisible weight.

“Nonsense. I refuse to believe that. The man is many things, but not that,” William refuted into the receiver. And after a brief pause, he assured, “All right, all right. I will go there and settle this at once.”

Lina hadn’t thought much of the conversation. But now she wondered if that call was the first of death’s plotting. Her gaze returned to her father’s rigid body, and her fingers tightened on the edge of the silk-lined coffin. Was this the last time she would ever see him? Lina vaguely remembered the teachings of her youth about life beyond the grave—a topic she had never seriously considered. Moreover, she was convinced that paranormal accounts were fictitious, designed to instigate hope in an afterlife that didn’t exist. But now, bereft of both her parents, she felt despondent and would have dearly loved a confirmation that death was not the end. The rawness of daily living, the regrets and disheartenments, and the tremendous responsibility of caring for her brother all seemed too much to bear. And with the assassin still at large, her despair threatened to consume her, trampling any hope that might have been born.

She took a stabilizing breath, repositioned the black veil over her face, and stepped away from the corpse to face the people awaiting the service. Dressed in respectful attire to pay homage to the solemnity of the event, they spoke in hushed voices while staring at the casket. Though many loved William, at least one person hated him enough to take him forever from his children. Lina scanned the chapel and found her brother huddled on a chair in the side aisle, twisting his hands. Her grief multiplied with each step she took toward him. How could she alleviate her own grief, let alone Mateo’s?

“Lina, when are we going home?”

“Soon, darling, soon.” She knelt in front of him, taking his hands into hers.

“I don’t like it here. These people are scary.”

“Oh, no, they are dressed in black to show their respect for Father, that’s all.”

Mateo shook his head. “No, not them.”

“Who, then?”

“Him.” Mateo pointed to the window at the end of the hallway.

Although the drapes swayed as if someone had brushed past them, Lina couldn’t see anyone.

“I think he is very upset,” Mateo remarked, shrinking in the chair.

“Well, don’t you worry about him,” she soothed, attributing his distress to their circumstances. As if losing their mother hadn’t been enough, the boy was now fatherless at an age when he needed fatherly support and guidance most.

“I don’t want him to look at me anymore.”

“It’s all right.” Lina glanced at the hallway again, but still couldn’t see anyone. “I’m right here with you.” She slipped onto the seat beside the boy and pulled him close.

“I want to go home.” Mateo buried his face in her arm.

“We will soon,” Lina said, aware that what they called home was about to change. Today they faced the funeral; tomorrow another trouble awaited.

At William’s passing, his brother, Bartholomew Laroche, had become the children’s legal guardian and the manager of their estate. Of course, William hadn’t anticipated his own sudden death, or he would have taken measures to remove Bartholomew as executor of the family trust. Their relationship had deteriorated in recent years as Bartholomew’s alcohol addiction had morphed him into a violent, unreasonable man. Stating health issues, Bartholomew hadn’t bothered coming to the funeral. Instead, he’d busied himself with complicating the siblings’ lives by demanding they leave their flat in London and move to Blackwater, the primary residence of the Laroche family for generations.

Preferring London, Lina’s father had granted Bartholomew and his wife, Eleonor, charge over the manor. Lina considered a summer or two plenty of time to enjoy the countryside. And since she had spent several there already, she couldn’t imagine it as a permanent home. It was too far removed from what she was accustomed to. Nonetheless, there would be no freedom until she turned twenty-one and the law permitted her to manage her inheritance and gain custody of her brother.

The more she thought of it, the angrier she became. Her uncle was robbing them of their home, friends, and even trusted house staff, having made it clear that the personnel would not be relocating with them. He’d also stolen her dream to attend Oxford, at least for now. Though Bartholomew hadn’t brought up the subject, there was no way under heaven that Lina would let Mateo face Blackwater alone. They were all that was left of their little family, and she was determined to protect him.

William’s agitated telephone call replayed in her mind. Had he been speaking of Bartholomew? If so, what had her uncle done? Did he have something to do with her father’s death? After all, William had been en-route to visit the man when he met death as he’d stepped off the train. True, Bartholomew was a scoundrel who took to the bottle to solve his problems, but a murderer? It seemed farfetched, yet possible.

Now, more than ever, she felt vulnerable, powerless, and at the mercy of a man she hardly knew. He’d always been like a shadow lurking at the edge of her life, easy to ignore when her parents were alive. Now, the shadow would become the center of their lives.

***

Dark clouds hung low over King’s Cross Railway Station, threatening to unleash a downpour. The siblings hurried into the building, scurrying past the other travelers. Covertly, Lina searched their faces. Perhaps with a miracle, her father would appear among them, but from his last destination, no one returned.

“Whoa!” Mateo exclaimed, staring at the train as they emerged from the train station onto the platform.

Grand and impressive, the Admiral Sutherland locomotive sat on the tracks. No doubt it had traveled far and wide, its passengers enjoying many adventures. Yet Lina wished she and her brother would never set foot on it. An incoming train rolled in just on the other side of the Admiral, clouds of smoke billowing into the sky. Lina’s gaze was lost in the gray fumes, her thoughts returning to her father.

Why had he made this very trip? William had spoken of removing Bartholomew from Blackwater for his bad management, but Lina didn’t think it would ever happen. In fact, she was almost certain it wasn’t the reason her father had traveled there. Why did you have to die? What’s to become of us?

Along with the unanswered questions, the feeling that they should not go to Blackwater plagued her again. Ever since the family solicitor announced Bartholomew’s decision, Lina had wrestled with a sense of foreboding about living under her uncle’s purview. However, legally, she had no options. Running away was tempting, but she would not put Mateo in jeopardy. The small amount of money stashed in her pocket would run out within days, and they would be homeless. She could get a post somewhere, but she had no one to care for the boy. Besides, Bartholomew would soon find them, and their end might be worse than their beginning. At least, for now, she still had a chance to appeal to his sympathy.

Mateo pulled on her sleeve, and her attention returned to the present. “What are you thinking about, Lina?”

“The countryside,” she answered, concealing her low spirits. “Getting out of London’s gloom will be nice.”

“Why do we have to go?”

“Because Uncle Bartholomew is our only family.” She adjusted his hat on his black hair, and his brown eyes found her blue ones. His resemblance to their mother was a painful reminder of Sofia and how much Lina missed her. And now her own fair complexion would conjure memories of her father every time she looked in the mirror.

“I don’t want to leave my friends,” Mateo complained.

“I know. I know.” Lina understood him well. She would miss her friends, Irene and Sherley, and their discussions at the library about their latest reads during coffee breaks.

“Will I ever see them again?”

“Of course, you will. We’ll be back before you know it.” Although she feared they would be forced to stay at Blackwater a whole year, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him.

“But I don’t like the manor. It’s scary.”

“Scary? Nonsense.”

“Yes, it is. It’s gigantic, and there are lots of strange noises.” Mateo had a remarkable memory. Even though it had been a while since their last visit, he still remembered. The manor’s towering walls and obscure passages did make it quite menacing.

“Listen, there is nothing to fret.” Lina’s gaze found his. “I’ll be with you every second of the day.”

“That might be a bit too much,” he said.

Lina laughed at the sincerity in his remark.

His attention jumped to a group of soldiers who’d stepped onto the platform, a common sight nowadays. Their loud voices and heavy boots drew notice. Mateo pointed “Look, Lina, look! Soldiers!”

“I see, I see.” With a graceful move, she guided his hand back down to his side, wondering what kept the train attendant from inviting them aboard.

“Good morning, miss,” a short, chubby soldier greeted her.

She nodded in acknowledgment. Mateo waved, enthusiasm present in the motion.

“Good morning, indeed!” another soldier emphasized, winking at her.

Lina produced a faint smile, not wanting to encourage them, for it was apparent they’d be traveling on the same train. Nonetheless, she felt a surge of pity. Some of them looked younger than her twenty years. And if the rumors of war became reality, the country’s fate would rest on the shoulders of young lads like these. She looked down at her little brother. Thankfully he was years from military age, for she shuddered to think of him marching off to war.

The siblings were among the first to turn in their tickets when the train attendant finally summoned the passengers aboard. Lina purposely chose one of the first compartments. Since people tended to move farther down the aisle, she hoped no one would intrude on their space. The events of the past few days had left her starving for solitude and too weary for polite conversation.

“Give me your gloves,” Lina instructed Mateo, taking off her own. “And your hat. We don’t want to lose them.” He did as he was told, and she placed the items inside their small suitcase. At least Bartholomew had sent for most of their belongings ahead of time. She secured the case on the overhead shelf and settled in beside her brother. “There, now we can relax.”

Relaxing didn’t seem to appeal to Mateo, who slid his body back and forth between his sister and the window. “What are we going to do at Blackwater? Will I go to school?”

“That, or a teacher will come to the house.” Mateo’s questions intensified her awareness of their precarious circumstances and what might await them at Blackwater.

The rhythmic chugging of the wheels grew louder as the train inched forward.

Lina’s stomach churned with uncertainty, the distance between her and the world she had known increasing with each passing second.

“And what else?” Mateo wondered. His inquisitive mind seemingly sought answers to appease his anxiety.

“I think we shall ride horses, and if you are on your best behavior, you might get to have your own,” Lina responded, knowing of his love for animals.

“My own horse?” Excitement filled him, but then a new thought occurred. “What if Uncle Bartholomew doesn’t let me have a horse?”

Lina frowned. He must’ve heard more than he should have about their uncle from the house staff. Unhappy with Bartholomew’s determination to relocate the siblings, they had openly expressed their opinions on the matter. “In that case, we’ll find one in the stables we can call yours—it will be our secret.”

Satisfied with her answer and probably musing about horses, Mateo leaned on her and finally sat still. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulder and brushed against his face. With a giggle, he tugged on a strand. Lina smiled and tucked him under her arm, feeling the tension in his body dissipate. It wasn’t long until he was fast asleep, and when the train rolled into the next station, he snored softly. Some passengers disembarked, and new ones boarded, Mateo oblivious to it all. Lina leaned her head back against the seat as the locomotive pushed on, its steel wheels shrieking on the tracks.

“Come on, chap, come on! We haven’t got all day!” The attendant’s shouting startled Lina, and she peered through the window for an explanation.

With one hand, the attendant held onto the sidebar while motioning with the other for a late passenger to make haste. Lina’s gaze drew to the color of the man’s military uniform—blue instead of the usual brown—as he ran along the platform. Hmm, a higher rank. Yet irresponsible not being on time. It was a sentiment she’d gotten from her father, who was punctual to a fault, always on schedule. Her free-spirited mother was more relaxed about her relationship with the clock, which Lina had never picked up despite sharing many of her other traits.

As the train accelerated, Lina came to terms with the fact that sleep had escaped her. With a sigh, she dug into her handbag for the novel she had stashed before leaving their flat, and once she had it in hand, the title mocked her. I Will Remember You Until the Day I Die.

“Oh, how cheerful,” she muttered. “I should have paid more attention.” That morning had been nothing but stress-filled as she made sure Mateo had all he needed. Consequently, she found a new appreciation for her parents and regretted some of the things she had so easily censured them for.

“Excuse me, miss. Is this seat taken?” The soldier in the blue uniform pointed to the bench opposite her.

“No, it’s not.” And I would like to keep it that way. And to Mateo, who had briefly awoken, she said, “Go back to sleep,” patting his arm.

The boy leaned against the window, brought his legs up on the seat, and was soon comfortably back to dreaming. The soldier installed himself straight across from Lina, dropping his military bag beside him. She anticipated the conversation that surely would ensue. By sad experience, she had learned that some men were tediously dull when in the presence of women, as if their brains quit working. That morning’s brief interaction with the soldiers had reaffirmed her feelings on the matter.

She detested flattering words and shallow conversations. Why could they not hold sincere, well-constructed discussions? At times, she dreamed of finding someone more interested in her as a human being than in her looks and of having a romance as special as her parents shared. But after some disappointment, she doubted she would. Besides, she could no longer afford to dream of it. For now, she had Mateo to look after.

Her first move was to avoid eye contact, hoping that time would be merciful, and they’d soon reach Lydney. From there, Bartholomew’s chauffeur would take them to Coleford. She lowered her chin, pretending to be engrossed in the print in front of her. When the soldier drew a deep breath and stretched his long legs into her space, she responded by tucking hers closer to her seat.

The train continued its trajectory with a mind-numbing slowness. Now and then, from the corner of her eye, Lina caught glimpses of rolling hills and small villages. Momentarily, her thoughts wandered back to her plight, her mind working diligently to find a solution that didn’t involve staying at Blackwater.

When her focus returned to the book, she found it difficult to concentrate. Though her fellow traveler hadn’t said a word, she felt his presence. Perhaps speaking to him would have been easier to manage. With a few superficial exchanges, she could’ve started and promptly ended a conversation, thus mitigating the awkwardness in the compartment. Yes, she should’ve done just that, and when the soldier coughed, softly, as if calling for her attention, she seized the opportunity.

She lowered the book to her lap but was stunned to find his head tilted, his eyes closed, his features showing no signs of awareness—he slept. Whatever interest she had anticipated from him was nothing more than a product of her imagination. She was chagrined at first, but then smiled inwardly at her foolishness.

She let her gaze linger on him. Probably in his mid-twenties, he had fair skin with softly defined facial features and slightly wavy brown hair. The fit of his uniform indicated a well-shaped figure. Whether a sign of self-discipline or a strenuous life, Lina couldn’t say. Yet, despite his pleasant appearance, what captivated her most was the serenity he emanated, a serenity that seemed to come from deep within. He slept as if nothing in the world mattered, as if he were an angel instead of a soldier, devoid of grief and concern. A wave of nostalgia swept over Lina for days that were planned and orderly—balanced. When parenthood didn’t weigh upon her shoulders—when she had been the child who needed care.

The soldier made a slight movement, and Lina glanced away, feeling guilty for her perusal. She had condemned the very conduct she now displayed. Nevertheless, her gaze found its way back to him.

“What are you staring at?” Mateo’s voice cut through the stillness of the compartment.

“Shh. Hush,” Lina whispered, fearing that her uninvited assessment would be exposed. “We mustn’t disturb him.”

“But why were you staring at him?” Mateo sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Lina wasn’t sure, but even though the soldier remained still, she thought she glimpsed an expression of amusement. “I wasn’t,” she lied, while the heat in her face confirmed that she was blushing.

“Is he a good or bad soldier?” On the topic of the atrocities committed by soldiers in other countries, the house staff also hadn’t withheld their opinion. And Mateo hadn’t missed a chance to listen, but at his age, it could be challenging to arrange things properly.

“Good. He is good.” Her gaze returned to the man, and this time she saw his lips curl softly, as if suppressing a smile. She was now positive he was awake.

“Are you sure?” Mateo’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Of course, I’m sure.”

“Why isn’t he wearing a brown uniform?”

“Sometimes they wear blue.” She placed her finger on her lips, signaling for him to be silent.

“I’m bored.” Mateo had had enough of quiet. “How much longer do we have to sit for? It’s stuffy in here.”

Lina didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Once Mateo got into a questioning mood, no power under heaven could make him stop. “We are almost there. I believe Lydney is the next stop.”

“But I’m bored, Lina.”

“Where is your car? The one you were looking for before we left the flat.”

“Oh, I forgot about it.” He fumbled in his pocket. “Got it.” He waved the red metal car in the air as if it were an airplane.

“Oh, thank heaven,” Lina muttered.

The toy entertained Mateo while his sister did her best not to look at the soldier again. He sat ever so still. Not long after, the final whistle shrieked like a banshee, and the locomotive slowed in preparation for its arrival. While Lina stowed the book in her handbag, she realized that even though she had wanted solitude, she was disappointed to have found herself ignored by the soldier.

The train came to a stop, and, letting out a tired yawn, the soldier adjusted himself on the seat. Lina grabbed her bag and sprang to her feet faster than intended, pulling Mateo up by his hand.

“Ouch, Lina!” Mateo wriggled his hand to loosen her grip. “You almost made me drop the car.”

She seized the doorknob, the soldier stood, and the compartment suddenly became too crowded. He was more attractive than she had allowed herself to admit, which made her uncomfortable for a reason she didn’t fully understand.

“Don’t forget this.” Reaching over Lina’s head, the soldier brought her suitcase down from the rack.

“Thank you.” Lina let go of Mateo to retrieve the suitcase while her other hand lingered on the doorknob.

Before she knew it, the soldier had wrapped his fingers around hers and finished sliding the door open. As she stepped into the aisle, he spoke again. “Have a wonderful rest of your day.”

Lina turned, and his hazel eyes burned into hers, giving her the impression that they held an unsaid message. “The same to you, sir.”

In response, he smiled and nodded.

Ugh. I’m as daft as a brush. I should have said something more intelligent.

Hand in hand, the siblings descended the train. And while they traversed the platform, the sorrow of the place overshadowed Lina with the unbidden image of her father collapsed on the station floor, his life slipping away. Her anguish was as tangible as the coward’s bullet that had taken their father from them. Anxious for the day they would return to London, she turned to glance at the Admiral Southerland locomotive one last time.

“I don’t think he got off here,” observed Mateo, hurrying to keep up with her long strides.

“Who?”

“The soldier.”

Lina said nothing. It didn’t matter what the soldier’s destination was. She would probably never see him again. And the long ride had given her time to solidify the purpose of her immediate future: to protect her brother and discover the truth about her father’s death.