Beyond the Shadow of War Read Online Free PDF Page A

leaving.
    “Congratulations to you both. Enjoy your honeymoon.” With a wink, she left them.

4
     
    It was almost five in the afternoon by the time they arrived in their room at a lovely hotel in the West End. Danny placed Anya’s bag on the folding luggage rack and dropped his small duffel bag on the floor beside it.
    She sat on the end of the bed then immediately jumped up, as if she’d just perched on a bed of red hot coals instead of a floral coverlet. She was glad his back was turned so he didn’t see her reaction. She’d felt her heart hammer a little harder with each passing mile on the taxi ride from the train station. She felt so foolish, letting her nerves rattle her like this. Heaven knows, she wasn’t the first bride to be nervous about her wedding night.
    “Wait,” she said as Danny started taking off his uniform jacket. He paused, half in, half out of it. “I just realized I’m hungry. Quite hungry. Are you?”
    He smiled as he slid back into his jacket. “Sure. You know me. I can always eat.”
    “Good. Then shall we?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Moments later, they were seated in the hotel’s restaurant downstairs.
    A tall waiter appeared, dressed in black slacks and vest over a starched white shirt, his posture stiff. “Good afternoon. Might I ask what kind of tea you would like?”
    “What would you suggest?” Danny asked.
    “That would depend on your taste, of course, though I dare say most of our guests prefer our own house blend.”
    Danny looked her way. “How does that sound to you?”
    “Yes. Fine. Thank you.”
    “Excellent,” the waiter said. “And will we both be having the afternoon tea?”
    Danny’s brows drew together. “Yes. I just told you. The house blend.”
    The waiter’s smile tightened. “I’m referring to the meal, sir. The afternoon tea.”
    “Sure. Yes. Why not? As they say, when in London …”
    Anya waited. “When in London?”
    “Yes, who says what, sir?” added the waiter.
    Danny shrugged. “It’s just a saying. You’ve heard it, right? When in Rome you do as the Romans do?”
    “But do what, Danny? What do the Romans do?”
    “Never mind. Must be an American thing.”
    “Quite,” the waiter answered. “Then am I to assume you’ll both be having afternoon tea?”
    “Yes,” Anya answered. “Thank you.”
    “Very well. I shall return shortly with your tea.” He bowed ever so slightly then left.
    Danny raked his fingers through his hair. “You’d think the fact that both Brits and Americans speak the same language, we’d be able to understand each other.”
    “Sophie told me she often laughs at the strange way you Yanks talk.”
    “Like we say bathroom and they call it the lav or the privy?”
    Anya smiled. “Yes, something like that.”
    “Or what we call a cigarette, they call a fag?”
    “I’ve not heard that one before.”
    “Or the way they say, ‘she’s in hospital’ instead of ‘she’s in the hospital’. Or ‘ at university’ instead of at the university.”
    “I have no idea, but at least you can pronounce their language,” she teased.
    “Point well taken. I trust you’ve noticed that I’ve avoided all attempts to speak Dutch since we arrived?”
    “Yes, and I thank you for that, Lieutenant McClain.”
    “You’re most welcome.”
    The waiter returned with a sterling silver pot of tea, and cups and saucers of china painted with violets and ivy.
    “Let me ask you a question, my good man,” Danny began. “Is afternoon tea just a fussy snack in the middle of the afternoon? Or is it the evening meal? Because I’ll be honest, I could eat a horse about now.”
    Two lines deepened between the waiter’s brows as he stiffened his back again. “I beg your pardon? I’ll have you know we do not, and for the record, never have served horse meat.”
    Danny laughed as he raised his palms. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to suggest any such thing! It’s just an expression. It means I’m really very hungry as opposed