The Northstar set sail. Before Toby left, there’d only been time for one more meeting, beneath the willow at Wild Pigeon Park. A letter had arrived at the flat, from Toby, directing her when to meet him. He’d slipped it into the mailbox himself because the regular post would have taken too long. As they sat on the bench, holding hands, they replayed Toby’s visit to The Cottage, how murderously difficult it had been to hide their feelings and play-act the roles of strangers.
Wren had worried about her niece’s brooding moods of late. Unable to staunch her curiosity, she had steamed the letter open—an envelope with no stamp drew attention to itself—and read the cryptic missive: Park. Sunday. Love NS. No doubt related to that first rose, Wren thought. The one not meant for her.
As for Gem, despite her work as a codebreaker, it had taken her a skip of time to realize that Toby used NS as his alias, for North Star.
While Gem fiddled with the woven bracelet on Toby’s wrist, he remarked on how wonderful it had been to see Hedwig. And how pleased he was that his cat had been adopted by a lady mathematical genius.
“Now I just have to find homes for the kittens,” Gem said.
“I’ll pray you do.” He shifted a little on the bench. Enough to put his arm around her. “Sadly, no boat ride today, Gem. Today is the worst. I have to say goodbye—for now.”
Gaunt mauve clouds scudded overhead, like wispy herring bones. They reminded Gem of how thin Toby had been when first they’d met at the barbed wire fence.
Gem’s tears began.
“I don’t know if I’ll make it across the Atlantic,” Toby said, “especially through the Black Pit, and if I do, I can’t say how long it will be before I can get another message to you. If I make it, once I’ve delivered the documents, I’ll go underground for a while, in search of my mother. But they may have another assignment for me, too. I must go where I’m sent, until this war ends. You might not hear from me for a long time,” Toby said. “But I’ll find a way, somehow, to get a message to you.”
“I worry you’ll forget me, Toby.”
He looked into her eyes. “No. I won’t. You’re my North Star, Gem. My Polaris, my guiding light. One never forgets one’s guiding light.”
Somehow, this made it worse. She sobbed. Was this how Aunt Wren felt when her sweetheart enlisted? And never returned. Gem began to fathom how deep Birdie’s wound, how unending her grief.
“I almost forgot,” Toby said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Here’s the book, your aunt’s volume of poetry. I’ve memorized many of Millay’s poems.” He slipped the book into Gem’s straw satchel. “Remember, there will be a message from me, one way or another,” Toby murmured.
“I’ll look for any signal that you’re alive and haven’t forgotten me,” Gem whispered. “We don’t even have a photograph of each other.”
Toby cursed his wristwatch, then kissed her gently. He backed away from her slowly, taking her in one last time before his departure.
“Thank you for rescuing Hedwig—and her family,” Toby said.
“I’m attached to Hedwig, too, you know. After all, she brought us together. I’d keep her myself except pets aren’t allowed in our flat.”
Toby walked her to the park’s edge. They stood there, embracing, for several minutes. Then he kissed her goodbye.
The next day, he’d be gone.