Dark Mirror (32 page)

“I am much less fragile than I look.” Her lips twisted. “Someone once said I was as strong as tempered steel, and I am. I’ve also had some sailing experience, so I can help on the crew.”

“Three people will be enough crew without you,” Nick retorted. “You should stay here with the weather brigade.”

Tory’s gaze met Allarde’s, and she hoped he could hear her thinking that there would be ice-skating in hell before she would let him join Operation Dynamo without her. “Allarde, do you have a foretelling about whether or not I’ll come back safely, like Nick and Polly?”

She could see that he wanted to lie and tell her she’d be risking her life if she joined the crew, but he was too honest. Aloud he said, “No. I have no idea either way.” His eyes said,
“I care too much to be able to foretell for you.”

She didn’t have any foretelling sense, either, nor any sense of destiny. Her feelings were primitive and undeniable: She needed to be with Allarde because she cared for him. Stronger than reason was the mad, superstitious belief that he couldn’t be killed right in front of her, he
couldn’t
!

“You can’t go, Tory!” Jack exclaimed. “There would only be three of us left here, and I suspect you won’t be able to channel as much power from the boat as we’ll need.”

“Mrs. R. can call in sick and help with the weather watches. She has the ability.” Tory narrowed her eyes at Jack. “Don’t waste time arguing with me. I can be just as stubborn as anyone else here—”

“—and that’s pretty darned stubborn!” Nick muttered.

Ignoring him, she continued. “And if I’m going to link people together for the weather work, it will be from
Annie’s Dream
.”

“No,” Allarde said softly, his heart in his eyes. “Please … no.”

It hurt to hurt him, but she held her ground. “Yes.”

Cynthia’s bleak eyes revealed that she’d seen the silent dialogue between Tory and Allarde and realized that he would never be hers. Hiding her regrets with a bored shrug, she said, “If Tory wants to be a dead heroine rather than a live mageling, let her go. Maybe she’ll be useful.”

“Tory holds the winning hand,” Elspeth said, her calm voice cutting through the tumult of emotions. “Nick needs Polly and Allarde on the boat, Jack and Cynthia need power from Nick and Allarde, and Tory is the only one who can supply it. So either she goes to Dunkirk, or no one does and Captain Rainford and his unit must take their chances with the rest of the troops.”

The arguments continued awhile longer, but no matter. Tory had won, and they all knew it.

CHAPTER 33

Once everyone accepted that Tory was going to sail on
Annie’s Dream,
preparations for departure moved quickly. Mrs. Rainford called her school and talked through a scarf to say she’d come down with her children’s cold, she had laryngitis, and she’d be unable to teach today and tomorrow. Yes, surely by Monday she’d be recovered enough to return to her classes.

While her mother was busy spinning lies, Polly took Tory up to her room. “You’re going to have to wear trousers to crew. You’re a bit smaller than I, so I’ll give you the boating outfit I’ve just about outgrown. The trousers were cut down from Nick’s castoffs.” She dug into her wardrobe. “Here’s a shirt, also Nick’s, and I’ll get one of the family guernseys.”

“What’s a guernsey?” Tory asked. “Something from Guernsey Island?”

Polly nodded. “A fisherman’s jumper. The design has been knitted by Guernsey islanders forever. Very comfortable and warm, and the wool is so tight it resists water.” She tossed a dark blue knitted garment to Tory. “Women knit variations in the patterns so they can identify drowned bodies.”

“Delightful.” Tory examined the garment. “I trust no one drowned in this one?”

“Not that I know of. Guernseys last so long they get handed down in families. We have half a dozen different sizes from small child to my father’s. I suppose Allarde will wear that one since it would be the best fit.” She handed the other garments to Tory. “I just outgrew the blue guernsey and have moved into an olive green one.”

“I’ve gone from wearing your clothes to wearing Nick’s. Is this progress?” Tory stripped off her skirt and blouse. “The guernsey smells like a sheep.”

“When it gets wet, you’ll smell like a sheep, too.” Polly knelt and groped under her bed. “I have a pair of old boat shoes that should fit if you wear thick socks. They’re badly scuffed, but the rubber soles have tread cut in so they don’t slip on wet decks.”

Tory donned the worn white shirt that must date to when Nick was a child. The cotton was wonderfully soft. Next came faded tan trousers, equally worn. As she belted up the loose waist, she said, “If my mother could see me now!”

“I suspect the countess would not approve.” Polly pulled on her own trousers. “My grandmother certainly doesn’t like seeing me dressed like a ‘scruffy little boy,’ which is how she describes my sailing clothes. But they’re so comfortable!”

Tory agreed. Comfort mattered if she was going to be wearing the same garments for a day or more. The dark blue guernsey hung halfway to her knees and should do a good job of protecting her from cold channel winds.

“You’ll need a hat to warm your head and hide your hair.” Polly briefly disappeared into the folds of the green guernsey as she pulled it over her head. Emerging, she said, “It’s probably best if we don’t look much like girls.”

“The gentlemen were horrified at the idea of us crewing on the boat,” Tory said as she sat on the floor to put on heavy socks and the boat shoes. “Not so much Nick, but Jack and Allarde.”

Polly pulled on her own shoes. “Nick would be just as protective if he didn’t need me to act as engineer and you to channel power back to the weather brigade. Have you ever crewed on a boat?”

Tory grinned. “Well—I’ve been a passenger on several sailing yachts.”

Polly’s mouth quirked up. “That’s what I suspected. But an extra pair of hands will be useful, and you’ll be busy with magic half the time.”

Tory braided her hair quickly and began securing the braids to her head with Polly’s clever modern hairpins. “Are you anxious about us going to Dunkirk?”

“Terrified,” Polly said bluntly. “But I’d never forgive myself if I did nothing and my father doesn’t … doesn’t make it home.”

“I know Nick is determined to find him, but … it may be harder to find a particular person than he thinks, even for a determined and talented finder,” Tory said hesitantly, torn between realism and not wanting to crush hope.

“I know it’s a very long shot,” Polly said soberly. “But I feel … I guess it’s superstition. I want to believe that if I help rescue other fathers and sons and brothers, there will be someone to rescue mine.”

“If everyone feels that way and pitches in to help, a lot more of those fathers and sons and brothers will be saved.” Tory stabbed in the last hairpin, hoping her braids would stay out of the way for as long as necessary. “Ready, honorary sister?”

“Ready.” Polly flashed a smile that made her look very like Nick. As they headed to the stairs, she asked, “Are you frightened?”

“I will be when this starts to feel real,” Tory said wryly. “Now it feels more like a really strange dream.”

Downstairs Tory paused in the door of the sitting room, where Cynthia and Elspeth were working the weather. “We’re off now. Wish us luck.”

Cynthia scowled at her. “Make sure you bring Allarde back in one piece.”

Tory hoped Cynthia wasn’t sensing disaster. “We should all be back safely in a day or so with no damage done and stories to tell. I hope no more really dreadful weather systems come through to tire you and Jack out.”

Elspeth rose from the sofa and came to give her a hug. “Be careful, Tory. There will be danger all around you.”

“As long as it’s around and not on top of us!” Tory hugged her friend back, adding under her breath, “I’m sure I can channel energy over distance, but I’m not so sure I can do it in a war zone. I’ll do my best.”

“I know.” Elspeth stepped back, not quite controlling her expression. “I think you need to be on that boat, though I’m not sure why. We’ll all do what we have to.”

Waiting in the kitchen were all the other sailors plus Mrs. Rainford and Jack, who would go down to the boat and help prepare it. As Polly had predicted, Nick and Allarde wore the same kind of rough, practical clothing as the girls.

Nick’s guernsey was brown, while Allarde’s gray version brought out of the color of his storm gray eyes, not to mention setting off his fine broad shoulders. He looked more like a pirate than an eligible young lord. An appallingly handsome pirate.

Polly tossed a jaunty red knitted hat to Tory. “Here’s a beret for you.” She pulled on a similar one knitted in green. “Time to go?”

“It’s not too late for you to change your minds,” Allarde said, speaking to both girls but with his grave gaze on Tory. “Nick says he and I can handle the
Dream
without any more help.”

“Nice try, Allarde,” Polly said cheerfully, “but it’s not going to work. You may know something about sailboats, but I know how to run the
Dream
’s engine, and I can pilot her as well as Nick. I’m more useful than you are.”

When Allarde arched his brows, Nick said, “You’re stronger, Allarde, but Polly’s right about knowing how to operate the
Dream.
She’s a good pilot and the best engineer in the family after my father.”

“You don’t know any more about mechanized boats than I do, Tory,” Allarde pointed out. “If you stay here, there’s that much more room for rescuing soldiers.”

“I don’t take up much space,” she retorted. “Accept that I’m going, Allarde. I promise that I’ll be useful.”

“If you’ve finished arguing, it’s time to go,” Mrs. Rainford said. “I’ve packed cheese and crackers and biscuits in this bag. Enough to keep you going for a few days.”

“Thank you, Mrs. R.” Allarde took the bulging canvas bag from her. “You’ve taken very good care of us.”

“If that were really true, I’d sink
Annie’s Dream
so you couldn’t join Operation Dynamo
,
” she said tartly as she headed out the door.

The battered Morris was crowded with six passengers. Mrs. Rainford got behind the wheel while Polly slid across the front seat and was sandwiched cozily between her mother and Nick. Tory guessed that the Rainfords wanted to be as close to one another as they could, which in a motorcar seat was rather close.

Allarde climbed into the back. Tory said, “Short people sit in the middle, I think.” She slid across the seat until they were touching shoulder to thigh. Jack sat on her other side, just as close.

Nick said, “That bag of food could go in the back, Allarde.”

“It’s a short ride so I’ll carry it,” Allarde said. “In case I get hungry.”

Jack laughed, but Tory found why Allarde wanted to ride with the bag spilling over his lap. Underneath it, his hand locked on hers as if he would never let her go. His warm, strong grip made her want to turn into his arms and seek shelter. But that wasn’t possible now.

She raised her gaze and again had the sense they were speaking without words. His “
I want you safe,”
met her “
I care for you, and I will not be left behind,”
and merged into mutual acceptance and tenderness. She turned her gaze forward again, but he was still a living presence within her.

All too soon they reached the harbor. Mrs. Rainford parked the Morris and they all piled out. The mournful cries of the gulls made Tory think of doomed spirits.

A white-haired man with a cane sat on a bench outside a weathered shed. His eyes sharpened when he saw them arrive. “Good day now, Mrs. Rainford, Nick. Planning on taking that nice little boat on a cruise to France?”

Nick grinned. “Hello, Mr. Dodge. How did you guess?”

“Who wouldn’t want to go? Look how empty the harbor is.” He waved his cane at the other piers, where only a handful of rowboats were moored. His face worked for a moment. “I have a grandson in your father’s company. I’d be off myself if I was able.”

“We’ll bring back some BEF troops just for you, and maybe Danny will be one of them.” Nick nodded to his companions. “Some friends are going to crew for me, but first we have to take off everything that isn’t necessary and get more fuel.”

Mr. Dodge fished a key from his pocket. “You can stash your bits and pieces in my shed here. There are cans of fuel you can take, too.”

“Thank you! That will save us some time.”

“Least I can do,” the old man said gruffly. His gnarled hands folded on the head of his cane. “There’s a rope ladder in there you might want to take. Could help men climb onto the boat.”

The Irregulars all piled on board. Though small, it was designed as a working boat with an engine room and small cabin belowdecks and a tiny wheelhouse to protect the pilot from the weather. Tory estimated that if they packed every available space above and below and in the skiff that could be pulled behind, they might be able to carry twenty-five to thirty men.

As the boys started removing everything that wasn’t needed, Polly and Tory cleaned out the galley, which was barely large enough for two small females. They kept tea, mugs, honey, and a kettle to heat water, which Tory could do without lighting a fire. Nick and Mrs. Rainford checked over everything on the boat that could be checked.