Rita considered it for a moment then grimaced at the unromantic thought. She gazed at her sister longingly.
‘I so want to.’
Maddie suddenly looked guilty. ‘I have a confession to make,’ she began slowly. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you because I thought you’d disapprove.’
‘I’d never disapprove of you, Maddie.’
‘Well, I made love with Hank.’
‘You didn’t!’ Rita placed a trembling hand over her mouth.
‘I did! It was lovely,’ Maddie giggled. She was happy she could now talk about it with someone.
‘But where?’
‘In his jeep, at the Inn near Muddyhole. Goodness, that wasn’t a problem.’
‘Weren’t you worried you’d get caught?’
‘Not at all. Besides, it was worth it.’
Rita’s eyes were wide and shining. ‘But Megagran can see everything.’
‘Obviously not. Look, other girls do it all the time. We just happen to have a very old-fashioned mother. Nothing’s as sexy as wartime.’ Maddie grinned suggestively. She thought better of confessing about the others. Rita would have been appalled.
‘George looked so handsome in his uniform. He’s big and strong and manly. But I’m going to wait until our wedding night. We’re practically engaged, after all. It won’t be long.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Rita, he’ll lose interest in you unless you let him. There are plenty of girls around who won’t think twice about giving themselves to him and you wouldn’t want him running off with one of them, would you?’
‘Of course not!’ Rita was horrified. She swept a hand through her hair and swiftly changed the subject. ‘Are you sad that Hank’s gone back to America?’
‘Goodness no! It was fun and romantic but I’m too young to tie myself to one man. They’re all coming back now from the war, I want to keep my options open.’ Maddie had discovered the forbidden pleasures of the flesh and was keen to enjoy as much of them as she could.
The following morning George drew up in his father’s truck and leapt out in time for breakfast. It was Saturday so Humphrey was reading the papers as usual but wearing slacks and a sleeveless green sweater instead of his grey suit. Hannah was knitting in the rocking chair. She had knitted so much for the war effort that she now found herself unable to stop. She looked forward to knitting little bootees for a grandchild some day. Eddie was still in bed and Maddie was enjoying a long bath. Rita saw George from her bedroom window and hurriedly slipped into an old summer dress and blue cardigan for, although the weather was warm, it was windy by the sea. She wished she had something new to put on for him. She hadn’t had a new dress for years.
‘Good morning, Hannah, Humphrey,’ he said, smiling because he knew he had surprised them.
‘Good gracious, if it isn’t our own hero, George Bolton!’ Hannah exclaimed, putting down her knitting and getting up to embrace him. ‘Dear boy, what a lovely surprise. You look so well.’
‘It’s a pleasure to see you back, George. Come and join us. The tea’s still hot. How about some of Hannah’s homemade bread?’ said Humphrey, patting George firmly on the back.
‘Thank you. The bread smells delicious.’
‘Rita will be down in a minute,’ said Hannah, anticipating George’s next question. She watched him sit at the table, his long legs spreading out in front of him, dwarfing the chair. How handsome he looked with his ruffled hair and light eyes. The war might have made a man out of him yet he still had the same boyish expression on his face, as if he were about to tell one of his stories. He always used to tell wonderful stories and, oh, how they’d laugh.
‘We’re all having a picnic on the beach today. Will you join us?’ he asked, slicing himself a piece of bread. Hannah tore her eyes away and returned to the rocking chair, picking up her knitting needles.
‘What a splendid idea. The girls will be thrilled,’ she said and at that moment Rita’s radiant face appeared at the kitchen door.
Humphrey watched his daughter as she walked buoyantly over to George and bent down to plant a kiss on his cheek. Her eyes sparkled like Megagran’s glass of sherry and she reminded him very much of Hannah at the same age, for they had been young when they had married. George grinned bashfully, the way he always did with half his mouth and, as he looked up at her, his face softened into an expression of tenderness and pride. He patted her appreciatively on her lower back and with a sweeping glance took in her long curly hair and thin summer dress. Humphrey sat back in his chair, unaware that his face had been transformed by such a gentle scene.