Free The Return of Captain John Emmett by Elizabeth Speller

it helps, John's money must have made a big difference to a decent couple. There's a child too: a little boy.'
    Mary looked thoughtful. Finally she spoke. 'Thank you. It means a lot, even these little bits: John's war in mosaic. He never told us how he got injured. We didn't think much of it; we saw it more as a good way of keeping him from the fighting for a while. We didn't know Captain Bolitho had saved his life, only that he'd been in the same regiment. John simply wrote and told us that he'd been in an accident. He didn't mention the sergeant at all, but being trapped would have been hellish for him: John hated being in small spaces or, really, being constrained in any way. Even rules irked him.'
    Laurence nodded. It had been obvious at Marlborough. He wondered again why on earth John had rushed to volunteer, to become part of such a regulation-bound environment. 'But didn't Eleanor Bolitho tell you some of this in her letter?'
    She frowned. 'They never bothered to write. None of the beneficiaries wrote,' she said, with a trace of bitterness.
    'How odd,' Laurence said.
    It didn't sit with what he'd seen of the Bolithos and contradicted what William had told him.
    'Look, we need to push on to catch the concert, but I did wonder whether I should go and see Mrs Lovell soon. Unlike Bolitho, we really haven't a clue how John knew her but she must know why she was a beneficiary. Although Bolitho was certainly surprised, he wasn't completely at a loss as to why the bequest came to him. One thing I did mean to ask you was where John was when he got in the fight you mentioned? Presumably he was wherever it was for a reason?'
    She shrugged.
    'Never mind. It's probably nothing but then there's Coburg,' he went on. 'It was written on that list John had.' He could see he had lost her. 'It's just that Coburg's in Germany, in Bavaria. And you said John had been engaged to a girl there, in Munich I think you said, which is also in Bavaria.'
    Mary didn't respond.
    'I know it's all a bit far-fetched. I just wondered whether he'd had any correspondence with someone there.'
    Mary still didn't answer. She looked down at her lap, turning the clasp on her handbag and finally raising a solemn face to him. 'He didn't tell me much. Ever.' She seemed keen to change the subject. 'Look, I ought to give you some money. I do have some. From John. It's not fair that you do all this charging about at your own expense.'
    She gazed at him intently. He couldn't help smiling. She was so beautiful and so alive. A long lock of hair had fallen forward and curled towards her lips. She blew it away, then tucked it back behind her ear.
    He almost let slip that he was enjoying all the 'charging about', but it seemed tactless. 'It's good to be busy, funnily enough,' he said. 'I haven't really done anything, not since the war.' He paused. 'Not since Louise—died. Not really. I've only been writing because I had to do something.'
    Suddenly, her hand was on his, and stayed there, calm and warm. She said nothing.
    They had to hurry to the concert hall. The concert began with Elgar's
Salut d'Amour,
and then there was some Debussy, which he liked less, though he thought how Louise would have enjoyed it. Next was a Brahms quintet, which drew enthusiastic applause. Mary was rapt. He was aware, all the way through, of her closeness. From time to time her knee touched his. A couple of times he stole a glance at her in profile. The second time she caught him and returned a small smile.
    As they left the auditorium he left her for a moment while he went to fetch her coat. She was standing behind him as he queued. Reflected in the wall of mirrors above the attendant he saw that a man had stopped to greet her and had even taken her hand in his. Their bodies were very close as they talked, Mary's head bent towards his to catch his words. Then she looked towards Laurence's back and obviously said goodbye. The man was quickly gone. The attendant handed Laurence their belongings and