Cruel Summer

Chapter 27

A/N: What if I arrived with a brutally mean and historically inaccurate chapter about Sandra and the fall of France to the Allies just to leave you all on edge and nervous because I have to keep doing finals? That being said, reader discretion is HEAVILY advised for this chapter as it is...well, it's pretty dang violent and there are depictions of assault, torture, and more. So be wary. But please, please, please! I want to hear from you all with this chapter! Thoughts?

Chapter Text

Late November, 1944

Marjorie Spencer finally touched down in London, Meg was more than thrilled to see her. See, back over the summer, she had gone to New York for a conference and brought Flo with her. They had met up with Marge and Marge had simply fallen in love with the little girl who was so shockingly and clearly John Egan's child.

As for Meg and Marge? They had become fast friends and their letters to each other soon weren't enough. Meg had never really had girls as friends when she was younger. There was Buck Landry—who she had graduated with, but that had been as platonic as they came. So to suddenly find herself in one of the most kind friendships she had ever interacted with was somewhat of a surprise to Meg.

Marge bounded down the steps of the boat, eyes brightening at the sight of Meg and baby Flo waiting for her. "Oh my goodness! Look at her! She's gotten so big!" Marge exclaimed, immediately pressing a kiss to little Flo's cheek.

Flo gave a tug on her curls as the two women embraced. "I'm so glad that you're here," Meg breathed out. "And you're still fine to stay for Christmas?"

"Now Meg," Marge started, hands flying to her hips. "You said you needed the help. I'm willing to stay as long as you need me. Us gals have to stick together, after all."

"Marjorie Spencer, have I mentioned how lucky Buck is to have you?"

"Not today, no," Marge said, linking arms with Meg as they began to walk. "You said you switched apartments?"

"Sandra's lending us her flat while she's gone. I've practically moved in and the spare bedroom is ready to be used," Meg reassured her. "Was the trip alright?"

Marge's eyes had landed on the rest of London, a soft spoken gasp leaving her lips. "Oh it's beautiful here. I can't wait to see the place." She turned her attention back onto Meg, a smile spreading across her soft features. "And yes, the boat ride was alright. I don't care much for boats, you know."

"Neither do I. It's better than the skies though," Meg gave a slight laugh. "Thank you, again—for coming—"

"Now Meg, if you're going to be thanking me for something silly then it's going to be a very long day. You're my friend. And I miss Buck less when I'm with you. It was lonely back home—and I'm sure you've been lonely too. We'll miss them both together."

Meg couldn't argue with that. They spent the rest of their day in blissful chatterings, showing pictures and sharing stories with one another. Meg found that being with Marge was easy . She had thought of Marge Spencer as someone otherworldly when she had first written to her. Finding the humble and kind Marge to be as angelic as they came had been a welcome surprise.

It was late afternoon when a call came and that's when everything that had been going well seemed to go to hell. Meg answered the phone, quickly answering her security question to talk with a member of the SOE. And when they relayed through code that Sandra's cover had been blown in France and that the extraction team wasn't going to get her, Meg knew what she had to do.

It was shit timing though, what with Marge just barely arriving .

But Meg could no more leave Sandra to suffer at the hands of whoever was holding her than she could cut off her own arm. Sandra was her friend. And she knew better than anyone what it was like to be abandoned by handlers and people who were supposed to ensure safety.