‘I only had eyes for you,’ she said quietly, her face flushing with pride. ‘I had loads of offers. The Americans were everywhere. But I turned them down. All I could think of was you.’
‘You’re a very special girl, Rita, and I love you for it,’ he said tenderly. He pulled his cigarette packet out of his breast pocket. ‘Here, light me one, would you?’
Rita liked the smell of smoke, it reminded her of those early evenings on the cliffs when they’d both smoke together after school, and of her father, who always lit up in the car on his way home after work. Now she lit the cigarette for George, took a drag herself, then handed it over. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and placed it to his lips. She attempted to put the packet back in his breast pocket but it was obstructed by a thick piece of paper. She pulled it out. It was her photograph. She was young. Not more than Maddie’s age. It was black and white and faded somewhat due to so much handling.
‘I think this needs replacing,’ she said, slipping it back.
‘Absolutely not. I’ll carry that picture until I die.’
‘There won’t be a picture by then,’ she replied with a chuckle. ‘It’s faded already.’ He couldn’t tell her that he had taken to kissing it after each flight. Such a sentimental ritual seemed trite with hindsight.
They pulled up at Lower Farm and tooted the horn. The children ran out of the house and hung onto the gate, squealing in delight at the prospect of a picnic on the beach. Alice emerged with Faye, carrying baskets and rugs which they loaded into the truck, and Mildred scampered out of a barn followed by Trees whose hair was white and fluffy and dancing on the wind like goose down. George and Rita joined the girls in the back and pulled the children up with them while Faye and Alice climbed into the front with Trees at the wheel. As the truck pulled out into the road they all broke into song while Mildred wagged her tail in time, pleased to be included.
They parked on the cliff next to Humphrey’s Lee Francis and proceeded to walk down the little path to the beach. The sky was choppy like the sea and buoyant with feathery clouds and sea gulls that glided on the fresh westerly wind. George and Trees carried the picnic while Rita took little Johnnie’s hand to guide him down the hill. The salty air was sweetened by the fertile smell of new grass and wild flowers, and Rita turned her eyes to the left where they had walked the evening before and her thoughts were once again drawn away from the present.
Humphrey and Hannah had set down the rugs near the bank where they’d be protected from the wind and while he stood smoking, gazing out across the ocean, she was carefully laying out the containers of food and thermos flasks of tea and hot cocoa. When they saw the approaching group they waved enthusiastically.
‘What a jolly idea, Faye,’ said Hannah happily. ‘Pity about the wind, but at least it’s sunny.’
‘We just thought it would be nice to spend the day all together.’
‘With dear George,’ Hannah added, smiling fondly. ‘Hasn’t he grown into a handsome young man?’
‘I know, I’m very proud,’ replied Faye, turning to make sure that he was out of earshot.
‘To think we may share grandchildren.’ Hannah sighed. Then she added hastily, ‘God willing.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t that be nice. Grandchildren are such a blessing. Johnnie and Jane give us so much pleasure. I’d like to see George settling down with a family. He’s been through so much.’ Her face suddenly darkened with anxiety. ‘Well, I’m sure he’ll talk to Trees. After all, he served in the Great War. He understands.’
‘What a brave young man. Our fighter pilots were the heroes of the war. You must be so proud.’
‘I am,’ she said. She couldn’t begin to explain how grateful she was that he had survived and dared not speak of her fears to anyone, not even Trees. ‘Now, let me help you. I’ve got some leftover rabbit stew, the farm is literally hopping with rabbits. Trees takes Johnnie up to the woods in his truck and they spend long evenings shooting them. Johnnie’s riveted. He worships his grandfather. I can’t cook much,’ she said, remembering the welcome home cake, ‘but I can cook a good rabbit stew thanks to your mother’s recipe. Did you invite Primrose?’
‘Goodness no! We want a little peace, don’t we?’ They both laughed and looked at Trees, who was sitting on the rug talking to Humphrey. Of all of them, he was the one person who truly appreciated Mrs Megalith, for she was just as passionate about walnut trees as he was, and for such a taciturn man he was remarkably verbose when talking to her.