‘You might be reading too much into that,’ said Sam, as Leah outlined her curiosity. ‘It might just be the case that he lost the others, or they were destroyed by accident, or he never got them,’ she pointed out. ‘Who knows?’
‘True.’ Leah frowned. ‘I don’t know, though. He was so careful with these ones. He sealed them so meticulously, and kept them on him even when he was fighting. It makes me doubt that he’d have accidentally lost or damaged a lot of others.’
‘Where did you come across all this, anyway?’ Sam asked.
Leah swirled her coffee dregs in the bottom of the cup, and neatly evaded the question. ‘So you think there’s a story in it?’ she asked instead.
‘God, yes! If you can find out what crime was committed, and even by who; and who this fella was and who the woman was … for sure there’s a story there. How did you find it, Leah?’
‘I went out to Belgium last week – that’s where I was. Someone at the Commonwealth War Graves Commission put me on to it – they’re holding his body for a while to see if I can get an ID before he’s reburied,’ she said, as casually as she could.
‘The War Graves Commission? Not Ryan? Leah – you’ve not been over to see Ryan, have you?’ Sam said, seriously. She fixed Leah with a stern stare and would not let her go.
‘Not to see him! Not specifically! He did contact me about the story, and they do want to find out who the soldier was.’ Leah tried to defend herself; but Sam’s arms were folded, her lips pressed together.
‘Tell me you didn’t sleep with him. At least tell me that,’ she said; and when Leah didn’t answer, and could not look at her, her face fell into lines of utter dismay. ‘Oh, Leah! What were you thinking?’
‘I wasn’t,’ Leah said, twisting her paper napkin till it tore. ‘I wasn’t thinking at all. I can’t seem to think, where he’s concerned. I just get … scrambled up. I’m like a mobile phone too close to a bloody microwave!’ she said, with quiet despair.
‘Which is why I thought we’d established you weren’t going to see him again. For at least a year or two. Leah – every time you see him any little bit of healing gets undone! Look at you, you look knackered.’
‘Thanks. You’re really not telling me anything I don’t know.’
‘Then why do I have to keep saying it? Leah, seriously. Ryan’s a no-go area. He cocked up big time. I mean … big time.’ Sam held her hands wide apart.
‘It’s not that easy. You make it sound so childish,’ Leah muttered.
‘I don’t mean to. I know how difficult it is – you know I do. And I was around to help you pick up the pieces, wasn’t I? I just … don’t want to have to do it again.’
‘I’m fine. Really, I am. I’ve got this story to work on now—’
‘Are you going to be working with Ryan on this? Are you going to be in touch?’ Sam interrupted.
‘No. No, not at all. I left without even saying goodbye. I’ve emailed him to say I’ll try to find out what I can, but that’s it. No progress reports, even. Either I’ll be able to find something out in the next few weeks, or I won’t. And whatever I find out can go in an email. I don’t need to see him again.’
‘Well, I hope you’re convincing yourself, because you sure as hell aren’t convincing me.’
‘Sam, come on. It’s the story I came to tell you about – really it was. It’s already more important to me than … what happened in Belgium. You don’t need to punish me for seeing him. For sleeping with him. Doing it was punishment enough, OK? OK?’
‘OK! Not another word. So you’re going to … where was it? Cold Arse?’
‘Cold Ash Holt.’
‘Sounds positively bucolic.’
‘Yes. It’s somewhere in Berkshire. Not quite the back of beyond, but it’ll get me out of London. A change of scene, you know. New project,’ said Leah.
‘How was he? How’s he doing?’ Sam asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
‘Unchanged. On fine form. Positively blooming.’ Leah shrugged, unhappily.
‘Where are you going to start? With the story, I mean.’
‘At The Rectory, I guess. There’s no date on the letters, but she wrote the second one once she’d found out he had gone off to fight in the war, so that’s sometime between 1914 and 1918; and the first one about three or four years before that, from what she says. So I just need to find out who was living there then, and if there were any young men of fighting age, and … whatever else I can.’ She shrugged. ‘The CWGC have already established that there were no soldiers registered as living there, but somebody might know something.’