‘As long as you need.’
‘When do you want to leave?’
‘I don’t know. Soon. I hadn’t thought.’
Rita sighed, then looked at him with eyes that glittered with tears. ‘Do you love me, George?’
‘Of course I do.’ He tried to kiss her but she resisted him.
‘Or do you just love the idea of me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s go back, I’m cold.’
They walked up the beach in silence. Rita looked about her at the sea she loved, at the gulls that wheeled and spiralled above them, their plaintive cries echoing the helplessness she felt inside, and wondered whether she had the courage to leave. They held hands and yet they both felt miles apart. Estranged and sad and, for the first time in their lives, uncertain about one another.
George kissed her goodbye then climbed into the truck he had parked in the driveway and reversed out into the road. She watched him go, then broke down and sobbed. Before anyone spotted her she made her way through the village to the cliffs, where she sat until dark, watching the sun turn the sea to molten copper as her heart splintered into pieces.
She would have the courage to leave Frognal Point if she could be sure of George. She loved him enough to follow him to the ends of the earth, enough to embark on a new adventure in a strange country. She could do it in spite of her fear of the unknown. But she couldn’t do it without his full commitment.
When she returned home it was dark. She could see her mother and Eddie through the kitchen window, Eddie at the table painting while Hannah, in her blue apron, kneaded dough. She desperately needed to talk, but her mother was obviously busy. Without further thought, she grabbed her bicycle and pedalled as fast as she could to Elvestree. The little light on her bicycle wouldn’t have been sufficient, but the moon was bright enough to show her the line of the road. Choked with despair and chilled in her thin cardigan and dress, she arrived dishevelled and shivering.
She burst into the house to find Max on the sofa, reading poetry. When he saw her he blanched. ‘Are you all right?’ he said, jumping up and striding towards her.
‘Is Grandma around?’ she asked, wiping her eyes with trembling fingers.
‘She’s out. But she will be back very soon.’
‘Oh,’ she groaned. Her whole body seemed to sag with disappointment.
‘Why don’t I make you a cup of tea, or Ovaltine? You look like you will freeze to death.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she stammered, following him into the kitchen. ‘Where has she gone?’
‘She took Ruth to tea at your Aunt Antoinette’s house. I didn’t want to go. I don’t much like your aunt.’ He opened the ice chest to reveal a large container of milk. Taking a ladle he filled a saucepan, which he placed on the Aga. ‘A hot drink with a dash of brandy will do you good.’
‘Rather luxurious making Ovaltine with brandy?’
‘Primrose won’t have it any other way.’
Rita pushed a cat off the armchair and sat beside the Aga, her shoulders hunched and shivering.
‘Is George all right?’ He couldn’t help but ask. Rita’s eyes welled with tears again.
‘He wants to go to Argentina,’ she said. Max’s hands began to shake and he sunk his eyes into the hot milk.
‘Will you go with him?’ he asked, trying to sound casual.
‘He wants me to.’
‘But you don’t want to leave Frognal Point?’ She nodded. She felt foolish. Max had been driven out of Austria to start a new life with strangers in a foreign country. How could she speak of such a fear to him?
He handed her the mug of hot Ovaltine, rich with a thick froth on the top. It looked and smelt comforting. After taking a sip she felt a little better. It was warm there beside the Aga.
‘Do you feel part of the place, Max?’
He sat on a stool and smiled down at her. She noticed how much he had grown up in the last year. He was now tall and strongly built with earnest blue eyes that revealed a surprising depth and compassion for a boy of his age. She had never really taken much notice of him before because he had seemed such a child compared to her. A rather shy, solitary child. But to her surprise she felt better for his company.
‘Yes, I do feel part of the place,’ he replied. ‘Thanks to Primrose. I feel I belong here with her.’
Rita frowned. ‘How can you live with her? She’s so strange.’
‘A witch?’ He chuckled and shook his head.
‘In the nicest possible way.’
‘She’s a generous and kind woman. I know she is outspoken and offends people easily. But she has a heart of gold.’