Bombers Moon

The next morning inevitably begins with panic.They both woke up when the servants heard the noise in the corridor, and spent a few precious seconds looking at each other.Chuck hurried out of bed and looked around for clothes.The doorknob began to turn dangerously, and Chuck pulled on his pants, took the shirt Louie had thrown him, and climbed out the window into the bushes, stinging as the thorny branch scratched the back of his hand.

The bedroom window was still open, and Chuck tumbled in on all fours, slipping and falling on the dewy floor.He had just got up when the footman opened the door and came in, shirtless and trousers barely covering where they should.Chuck glanced at the wide open glass window, then at the servant in the sleeve, realized that the back of his right hand was still bleeding, and nervously rubbed the shirt in his hand, "It's not, I mean, Was going to get some fresh air and exercise, clothes would get in the way, those trees—”

"I hope sir will forgive me for disturbing me."

"No, I should apologize—"

The door slammed shut.Chuck sighed, threw away the crumpled shirt and walked into the bathroom.

Louie arrived at the restaurant earlier than him.The ensign was already eating rolls and ham when Chuck took his usual place.The two said good morning to each other, both of them were suppressing their smiles, and it turned out to be very indifferent, even a little weird.Louis cared about the scratch on the back of his hand in the tone of a prime minister visiting the barracks, and asked him if he felt unwell. After all, "I left without drinking last night, and I was 10 minutes late this morning."

"Never felt better," Chuck replied.

Louie raised his teacup to him.

Chuck had had a hard time getting used to the servants, but today they were especially busy, exuding an anxiety that was hard to ignore, reminiscent of an anthill facing a flood.The picture frames, brass trinkets, chandeliers and ashtrays were all polished, and the vases were replaced with new irises.The Duchess is said to have departed from London and will arrive before lunch.Roger was rarely missing, presumably in the kitchen overseeing the progress of the dessert.Louie herded Chuck to a bedroom at the end of the hallway on the second floor and closed the door.

"Uncle Albert used to live here." Louis sat down on the bed, panting as he dragged his injured leg up the stairs, "You are about the same size, you can borrow his clothes. Don't be intimidated by his tie, Uncle Albert Never one to keep a low profile. Luckily he's already taking the most ostentatious evening dresses to Spain."

This is a spacious and bright room, three times larger than Chuck's bedroom downstairs. Because it is at the end of the corridor, there is a circular glass window on one side, and a deep red circular carpet is laid on the place where the light is best. There are desks and armchairs, all covered with dust sheets.Chuck approached the bookshelf. Apart from the dusty books, there were many exotic gadgets on it, a fishtail-shaped silver candlestick, a box of small wooden beads strung together with silk threads, an ivory-handled dagger, a small A globe, a nautical astrolabe, and a rather ominous-looking bit of bone carving.

"Your uncle may be an alchemist."

"We've all been so skeptical. William and I like to hang out here, and once we found a dead lizard soaked in alcohol."

Chuck opened the closet, frowning at the swirl coats. "What kind of man is he?"

"Uncle Albert?"

"No, your brother, William."

There was a long silence.Chuck pretended to be rummaging through the stranger's clothes intently, wondering if the question was very inappropriate, and just when he decided to apologize, Louie spoke.

"Some twins are very different." He looked at his hands, as if the lines were written on them, "It's not about the appearance, William and I often played each other when we were young, not to mention the mother, even the babysitter was occasionally tricked by us Aware of Chuck's confused expression, he added an explanation, "We rarely see our parents. The nanny took care of William and me. I don't know her last name. She asked us to call her Sophia, a Spaniard. A Catholic, of course, and often frightens us with hell."

"William is my antonym, the heart of the party, passionate as a terrier, loves balls, cricket and girls, like any normal guy. Went to flight school a bit later than me, but graduated with me, it only took a Zhou became the darling of the whole base. If he was still around, he would be the ace faster than me—better than anyone. William deserves to live more than me."

Chuck walked to the bed, half-kneeled on the carpet, looked at Louis: "Don't say that."

"Maybe most people think so, but they just don't say it out of politeness."

"I'm sure no one thinks that." Chuck squeezed Louie's hand hard. "Okay, can I ask you to save me from the horrible task of picking out a tuxedo? You know I don't know anything about your circus rules."

"You don't need a tuxedo, what you need is a simple tuxedo jacket, black, preferably with an inky blue bow tie."

"Look, what would I do without you? I don't even know how 'dark blue' is written."

The corners of Louie's mouth curled up in a weary smile, but he finally looked like he was carrying a sack of bricks.He gently turned his right hand over and held Chuck's: "Thank you."

"Can I go without a bow tie? Feels like a noose."

"A bow tie is a must, Sergeant. Go try on your new coat, we can't spend all day here, can we?"

-

Chuck looked at himself in the mirror.

It feels like half a century since the last time he took a hard look at his appearance, hiding in the bathroom with Billy the Frogman, trying to use hairspray to replicate the hairstyle on a cigarette ad poster.If Billy could see him now, he could probably think of twenty different ways to laugh at Chuck.The wound at the corner of his eye healed well, but still left a noticeable scar.Chuck smoothed the lapels of his coat and tugged at the tie. The borrowed shirt was too narrow in the shoulders and too loose in the waist.Chuck could probably figure out Albert Linden's size.

"Take it easy," Louie said, folding a white polka-dot pocket square, putting it in Chuck's breast pocket, and tidying up the exposed sharp corners. "It's just dinner, not to intercept Me."

109. "

"I'd rather go and intercept fighter jets."

After two or three days of foreshadowing, the Duchess had evolved in Chuck's imagination from faceless to elderly lady to terrifying sea monster with three fire-breathing heads and maybe a spiked tail fin.In fact, when he entered the side hall with trepidation, sitting in the armchair was a small lady in a long white dress with dark gray stripes, like a bright-eyed crested tern, with slender ornaments. A bun with a ribbon is even more like that.The similarities between her and Louis are obvious: the same gray-blue eyes, the outline of the bridge of the nose, and the bird-like curiosity and vigilance when observing others.As soon as she saw Louis she stood up, touched his cheek, and exclaimed "poor little thing".Louie leaned over to kiss her on the cheek and introduced her to "excellent Sergeant Charles Sinclair".Chuck instinctively wanted to shake the Duchess's hand, but at the last moment remembered that was wrong and kissed the back of her hand instead.The other party must have noticed it, showed a tolerant smile, and asked him if he was used to the British weather.

"It's okay, it's like the winter in Oklahoma has been extended by ten months."

"I'm sure there's no place where the weather is worse than our little island."

"Then you should look at our tornado season."

The valet brought the sherry, and they each took a glass as Chuck described how a tornado in 1937 had engulfed a barn in a neighboring town, dragged it twenty-seven kilometers, and smashed it into a tobacco field.The Duchess and her eldest son are good listeners, at least Chuck can't tell if they're genuinely interested or just being polite.After the pre-dinner drinks, they left the side hall and sat down at the long dining table.The starter arrived quickly, some kind of marinated fish.Just as Chuck relaxes a bit, the conversation turns a corner and sails into torpedo-infested waters.

"I hope the question doesn't seem too intrusive. Why did you come here, Sergeant Sinclair?" asked the Duchess, sitting at the head of the table with the unlit fireplace behind her, dark and hollow, It was as if the walls had opened a toothless mouth.

"Of course it's because of the war, I'm responsible for driving—"

"Not England. I mean, why come to my house."

"Mom," Louie protested, "Sergeant Sinclair is my guest."

"In my house and your father's."

"The sergeant came to help me with business. You probably didn't notice I got a bullet in the leg."

"Tell me, dear." Crested Tern picked up the glass, her voice never raised, her voice was gentle and gentle, "Since you refused to serve in the headquarters not long ago, what official duties can you have now?"

Chuck looked up at Louie, and Louie looked at his mother.Chuck was tempted to ask what "refusal to serve in command" meant, but it was like a dogfight in the air, and if you saw two fighter jets fighting, you wouldn't be stupid enough to fly right into range.Louis took a sip of his wine and never looked at Chuck.

"I don't think this is a good time to talk about it, Mom."

"There's no need to talk, you sent the telegram long ago." The Duchess turned to Chuck, smiling, as if they were just arguing about gardening skills, "Are you sure you don't want to try another piece of lamb, Xin Sergeant Clay?"

Chuck declined, desperate to get out of this place, and being trapped in a burning cabin would probably be better than it is now.Louis didn't make a sound, didn't touch the food in front of him, and frequently signaled the servant to add wine to the empty glass.Dessert was a cake decorated with wine-marinated pear slices. No one was interested, so it was withdrawn as it was.The Duchess left first, and Louis and Chuck both stood up and watched her go.

"Louis," Chuck said.

The lieutenant looked at him silently.

"Is that what you were trying to tell me? You were going to leave Beacon Hill?"

"You heard it just now, and I decided not to leave, so I don't think it's necessary to bring it up again."

"Because of me?"

"Of course not." Louis replied quickly, looking away, as if he had been prepared for this question, "Good night, Sergeant, see you tomorrow morning."

he's gone.Chuck sat alone in the brightly lit restaurant for a while, drank the rest of the wine, and then walked towards the bedroom.The corridor was empty, he knocked on Louis' door, waited for a while, and then knocked lightly a second time.There was no movement inside.Chuck stared at the wood carvings on the door for a long time, then gave up and went back to his bedroom.

He broke free from his tie, shirt and dinner jacket and poured a glass of whiskey.The moonlight shone brightly through the thick night mist that soaked the garden.He drank the wine in one gulp, poured another glass, dragged the armchair to the window, sat down, and imagined the bomber fleet flying over the long coastline.