As Jane steps from the rubble of her West End home she meets Will; he offers fun, laughter and love in abundance. But will his kindness lead to a happily ever after, or draw Jane into secrecy and danger?
With the Blitz of London upon them, Will teaches Jane to live for the moment and throw caution aside. He introduces her to his surrogate family, the joys of the theatre and the open road. In turn, Jane acquaints him with her eclectic mix of girlfriends and life at the Grandchester Hotel.
But wartime London is a dangerous place, and they soon find themselves in the middle of deception, desperation and acts of murder. Amid the loss and discovery, a promise is made to wait for a loved one’s return.
How long would you wait for love?Genre: FICTION / Romance / Historical
So now she knew for sure that when you slide into unconsciousness, or die, the last thing you lose is the power to hear. It is also true that the first things you know are sounds and your first awareness noise. This is why a baby recognises and responds to the sound of its mother's voice before it's even born, and why sounds conjure for us a multitude of memories.
Certainly the first thing Jane became aware of now was not a sight but a sound, then lots of sounds. There were thumps, pops and sirens, people shouting. Then odour met the sounds, first one then more; acrid smoke, metallic gas, burning timber and a strange chemical scent - maybe it was more a taste, the way it seemed to linger on the tongue. The noise and smell were partners these days. Sometimes one was sensed before the other, but not for long; they always joined forces quickly. It took Jane a few moments to drag her thoughts together and make sense of where she was and what had happened, slowly waking her senses as though she'd had a deep sleep. She realised that what her senses thought was slumber had actually been unconsciousness. Although the smells and sounds were unpleasantly familiar, experienced almost daily, this time they seemed distant, smothered somehow, shut away.
It had at first been a wail, a high pitched whistling scream that poured into her ears like sand. The scream changed its tone menacingly as it dropped from the sky. The sound turned from firework to bomb. And then, for the tiniest of moments, there had been silence.
It was a sad thing to recognise how much experience everyone now had, how each person knew the sounds, the smells, what to expect.