Kissed a Sad Goodbye

tutor, were killed in an accident very shortly after Lewis’s parents died.” She ground out her half smoked cigarette in the ashtray. “Edwina’s death... it was just too much grief—for all of us, but particularly for Lewis, who had lost both his brothers early in the war, as well as his parents. He left after Edwina’s funeral. There was nothing I could do to persuade him to stay.”
    “It must have been hard for you.”
    “I went back to my family in Kilburn, bombs and all, but we made it through the last of the war without incident.”
    “And William Hammond?”
    “William went home to Greenwich. I had the occasional letter, then they dwindled to Christmas cards.”
    “And you never heard from Lewis?”
    Irene’s smile was self-mocking. “I had fantasies for years that he would find me again someday. Then in the sixties his name began appearing in the papers, and I did some research. He must have lied about his age, because he did a brief stint in the army at the end of the war. Then when he was demobbed at the end of 1945, he joined a rebuilding crew and worked his way up in the construction business. There were great opportunities after the war for those with the brains and the talent to take advantage, and Lewis Finch had both.”
    “But you never contacted him?”
    “No. I toyed with the idea, of course, but I’d learned he was married. I’ve never been much of a masochist,” she added with a smile.
    Kincaid thought for a moment. “William Hammond’s older daughter told us that he had warned her and Annabelle against Lewis Finch. Have you any idea why?”
    “I can’t imagine,” said Irene, but Kincaid thought he detected a note of doubt in her voice. She rose, and going to her desk, she idly straightened the papers on its surface. “Although I suppose there was some tension between them that summer.”
    “Was William jealous of you and Lewis?”
    Irene frowned. “I’m not sure William even noticed what was happening between Lewis and me. He had concerns of his own.” Kincaid waited for her to continue. Softly, she said, “I promised myself I’d never become one of those old biddies who drone on about their youth. But we led an idyllic life in the year and a half we had together, William and Lewis and I, in spite of the hardships of the war. Then Freddie Haliburton came, and everything changed.” Turning, she met Kincaid’s eyes again. “Fie had a talent for digging out weaknesses and making lives miserable that I’ve seldom seen since.”
    “You said he died?” Kincaid asked.
    “Yes. It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed when his fighter crashed in the war, if he flew with the same disregard for the laws of nature he demonstrated when he got behind the wheel of a car. He went up to London every few weeks to drink himself senseless in the officers’ club, and I suspect to do other things that I didn’t understand at the time.” She shook her head. “I can’t say I’ve met many truly wicked people in my life, but Freddie... Freddie was the serpent in the garden of Eden.”
     
    LEWIS STARED OUT THE SCHOOLROOM WINDOW at the rain-washed July morning and tried not to think of other July mornings.... The July he and William had learned to spot planes... summer hikes with Mr. Cuddy on the Downs, imagining themselves to be Roman soldiers... teaching Irene to ride Edwina’s hunter. There were so many closed roads in his mind now... places he could no longer bear to go and always the one that teased at the edge of thought. Home. His mum, and his dad...
    He turned back to the five pages of Latin translation Freddie had assigned him before their regular class time began, as punishment for some transgression, but really because he knew how much Lewis hated it. And hated him.
    The door opened and Lewis tensed. He never knew now ivhen the ruler might smack down across his knuckles, or the cruel fingers pinch his earlobe until the blood came.
    “What a good boy you are,” said Freddie behind him, and Lewis heard the rasping of his breath. The same fire that had destroyed half of Freddie Haliburton’s face had seared the delicate tissues of his lungs, and Lewis found himself wishing more and more often that the burning plane had left nothing behind but scraps of charred flesh. The thought made him shudder.
    Freddie said, “Cold?” and moved a step closer. Then Lewis felt Freddie’s hand settle on his shoulder, and he steeled himself for the pain.
    But the pain didn’t come,