When finally they slept, the White Queen stepped into the room. She stood for a long time by the bed, looking down at their entwined bodies, her face white and cold and utterly expressionless.
Eventually she moved to where Jack had draped his clothes over the wooden chair. She leaned down, stretched out a hand, hesitated, then picked up his jacket, rifling through his pockets until she found his wallet. This she carefully opened and withdrew the receipt that the woman had given him. She returned the wallet to its pocket, then dropped the jacket back on the chair.
The White Queen stared at the receipt, then lifted her eyes back to the couple. Slowly, with almost crab-like movements, she moved about the bed to where Grace lay.
She lifted the hand holding the receipt, then, very carefully, inch by inch, dragged it over Grace’s ankles. Grace still wore her silk stockings, now tangled about her calves and ankles, and the receipt caught in them once or twice, dragging the delicate fabric against Grace’s skin.
The White Queen froze as Grace murmured in her sleep, and shifted in Jack’s arms.
They both stirred, and the White Queen drew back sharply, her eyes all black alarm.
But the couple relaxed into sleep, and finally the White Queen, too, relaxed. She leaned back down, drew the receipt over Grace’s ankles one last time, then vanished.
TEN
Southwark, London
Thursday, 20th March 1941
Jack woke slowly. He was aware that it was daylight, and that it was cool, but he did not open his eyes. He thought very briefly about slipping under the covers, but couldn’t be bothered.
He was aware of Grace in his arms, her body laid against his, her back to his abdomen, warm and relaxed.
He didn’t want to awake to any further awareness than this. The daylight, the bed, and Grace in his arms. It was, he realised, the first time in all his lives that he had woken up in bed with a woman and not had his thoughts immediately filled with thoughts of another woman, or of power, or ambition, or loss.
He was content with all that he had in his arms, and he smiled, and kissed Grace softly between the shoulder blades.
She stirred. His smile broadened a little, and he ran one of his hands over her abdomen up to one of her breasts, silently thanking Malcolm for all the good food he had fed Grace. She’d been so desperately thin, and now she—
Grace lurched upright with a cry of sheer terror.
Jack’s eyes flew open. “Grace?”
She was staring down at her ankles, which she had somehow managed to slide under the bedspread at some point during the night, grabbing at them with both her hands.
‘Grace!’
She cried out again, a formless cry of fear, then struck out with both her feet. Now the bedspread, as well as her stockings, was tangled about her feet, and Grace once more tried to grapple with whatever was wrong with her lower legs.
Jack leaned down, desperate to see what was amiss.
“She’s tied me!” Grace cried, and Jack felt sick at the fear in her voice.
He pushed away her hands, managed to grab the bedspread and toss it to one side, then seized her stockinged ankles in both his hands.
Gods! It felt as if Grace’s ankles were manacled under the rumpled silk stockings!
He turned back to her, and laid one hand gently along her cheek. “Shush,” he whispered, and kissed her very softly. “Be still. I will see.”
Grace was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and frantic, but she gave him a terse nod.
Jack kissed her again, then turned back to her ankles. Very slowly he smoothed away her stockings from whatever bound her ankles and then…
Sat back, astounded.
About Grace’s ankles were the remaining two golden kingship bands of Troy.
Jack stared, hardly able to believe what he was seeing, then met Grace’s shocked eyes.
“I thought…” she said. She looked back to her ankles. “I…”
Jack was as incapable of coherent speech as Grace. He ran a hand down her right thigh, over her stockinged calf, and brought it to rest on the kingship band around her ankle.
“She’s been in here,” he said, hoarsely. “The White Queen. As we slept.”
“And bearing gifts,” Grace said, her voice much firmer. She pushed Jack’s hand aside and slid the bands off her ankles. “When I woke, I thought I’d been bound. I thought…oh, gods…I had not thought this.”
Grace sat back against the head of the bed, hefting the two heavy bands in her hands.
Then she raised her eyes to Jack, still sitting towards the foot of the bed.
Suddenly the diamond bands about her wrists and forearms blazed into life.
Jack swivelled about on the bed, slowly, so that his feet faced Grace.
His eyes did not once leave her face.
Grace moved forward on the bed. As she did so, she slid the ankle bands over her hands so that they rested on her wrists.
For an instant the diamonds and gold intertwined, blazing forth in shimmering fire, then the glow died down, and there was only the gold over the diamonds.
Grace was on her hands and knees now, her eyes locked into Jack’s, moving cat-like over the bed towards him. She put both her hands on his ankles, then leaned forward, seizing his mouth against hers.
Suddenly she was all movement, her hands sliding up Jack’s legs, then up his body to clasp about his face, pulling him forward into her embrace. She clambered forward, wrapping her legs about his hips, pulling his face down to her breasts.
He pushed her back to the bed, kissed her once, hard, then sat back, examining the two bands which now encircled his legs just below his knees.
“What?” Grace said. “You prefer the bands to me?”
He glanced at her, grinning. “You’re easier to catch than these bands.”
She laughed, lounging back against the pillows as he ran his hands over the bands. “So how does it feel, Kingman, to finally have all six of your kingship bands returned to you?”
“Would you like to know how it feels?”
“Absolutely.”
Now his attention was all on her, and he slid forward on the bed towards Grace, his eyes dark with emotion.
“Not half as good as it felt to be with you last night,” he said. He cradled her head in his hand, his face only inches away from hers.
“I’m sure that damned woman downstairs will be along eventually to hurry us out,” he said, and kissed her, very slowly. “But not for an hour or two yet, I hope.”
ELEVEN
The Crypt of St Thomas
Thursday, 20th March 1941
By ten a.m. they were on the street, walking back to where Jack had parked the Austin. While the Luftwaffe had long gone, the feel and sense and power of the air raid continued to hang heavy in the air. Fires raged in the docklands and the East End, as well as in eastern Southwark and to the south. Dust clouds drifted over much of the city. Those survivors not yet in the care of the Red Cross or volunteer organisations wandered aimlessly through the streets, coated with blast dust, ash and caked lines of blood. The sense of fear and desperation of what had been the heaviest raid on London to date had yet to dissipate.
Jack and Grace were in a sombre mood. The earlier closeness and warmth had vanished, suffocated under the ash-laden air and the terrible silence of the air raid aftermath. They walked silently, nodding to the occasional person they met on the street, pausing now and again to stare eastwards or northwards at the towering columns of smoke rising from the docklands. Eventually they arrived at the Austin. Both stopped, looking at the car.
Neither moved to get in.
“Jack…”
He sighed, and lifted his head towards the river. Jack felt an appalling sense of impending doom every time he thought about St Thomas’ crypt and what might wait for them there.
“We need to go down sooner or later,” Grace said very softly.
Jack continued to look towards the river. She was right, they did need to go down. What they had started the night before could not be stopped now. He felt his stomach turn over, partly in fear that they might not survive this, and partly in dread at meeting his long-dead daughter. The White Queen was all the guilt he had accumulated from the mistakes of his previous lives incarnate.
“Let’s get it over and done with then,” he said, and held out his hand to Grace.
The rowboat was still where they had left it. Grace sat down in the prow, then Jack climbed in and pushed off. As he settled down to row, Grace leaned forward and put a hand on one of his arms.