It was cold and damp inside the cave. They sat huddled together at the far end, where the sea had not encroached to wash away the love that they had left there. He ran his hand down her face and brushed away her tears with his fingers. He kissed her, tasting the salt on her lips and the unhappiness on her skin and promised that he would be home again soon.
‘One day we’ll sit here while our children are at school and we’ll remember today.’ Rita sunk her face into his chest and cried quietly. ‘I think you had better get Megagran’s dress out of the cupboard and start taking it in. It’ll need a hell of a lot of work. I want it ready by the time I get back.’ Then he thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little black box. ‘I want you to wear this always,’ he said, placing it in her hand. She sat up and wiped her face on her sleeve.
‘What is it?’ she asked, opening it. Set firmly into velvet a small diamond solitaire ring sparkled.
‘I was going to give it to you on my return, but I want you to have something to assure you of our engagement.’ He took the ring out himself and slipped it on the third finger of her left hand. ‘There, it fits like it was made for you.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ she sighed happily. ‘Really beautiful.’
‘Every time you look at it I want you to remember how much I love you,’ he said solemnly. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
‘And I want you to remember, every time you look up at that moon, that I love you too.’
They stayed in the cave as long as they could, then walked back to the truck. Rita was unable to take her eyes off the ring and moved her hand around in the light to watch the diamond sparkle. They held hands all the way back to Lower Farm, where Trees and Faye, Alice and the children awaited them. It was a grim parting. Faye tried to hold back her tears, remembering the wise advice Thadeus had given her and Alice, who was saddened by her brother’s decision to leave again, held Jane in her arms and watched Rita with sympathy. Her husband Geoffrey had been lucky to survive the war like George. She didn’t think she’d cope very well if he announced on his return that he was leaving her again, for the other side of the world. Besides, she suspected what none of them dared to admit – that George wouldn’t be coming back.
George kissed his family, then held Rita in his arms for the last time, breathed in the scent of her skin and felt her tears on his face as he pulled away. He couldn’t express what was in his heart so he just gazed upon her with tenderness before climbing into the truck with his father who was to drive him to the station. He rolled down the window and waved. They all waved back, but his eyes clung to Rita until the very last moment when the truck turned the corner at the farm entrance. Only then did he look away.
Later that day Faye sat at her sculpture and tried to keep her mind distracted from her grief. She reminded herself of Thadeus’ words, that she didn’t own George, she had simply brought him into the world and loving him meant setting him free to make his own mistakes and learn from his experiences. It was a comforting philosophy.
Alice went for a walk with the children, returning later to her cottage to brood. When Geoffrey finally came home from France she was going to hold onto him.
Rita sat in her bedroom watching the drizzle through the window, allowing her misery to engulf her. She played with her ring and relived their most intimate moments. After a while she noticed a robin alight on the windowsill and proceed to peck at the glass with its small beak. It seemed to want to make contact. Slowly Rita stood up and with great care, so as not to frighten it away, opened the window. To her astonishment the robin flew in and, after circling the room for a while, landed on the bookshelf. It hopped from book to book then perched on the edge of a pottery bowl Eddie had made her at school, and danced about the rim before flying out in search of materials with which to fashion its nest.
Chapter 8
George sat on the deck of the Fortuna. The harbour was shrouded in damp, grey mist out of which the cranes of cargo ships rose up like dinosaurs from a bygone age. It was noisy too, voices resounding through the drizzle accompanied by the low rumble of engines and the distant bugle of a parting cruiser. He was numb with sadness and more alone than he had ever felt. A wheeling gull flew above the harbour, its melancholy cry echoing his own inner discord and reminding him of the cave, of Rita, and the youth he had lost up there in the sky. He felt like an old man. Burdened with guilt and resentment, weary of life. He wanted to iron out all his feelings. Remove them one by one and sort them into colour and shade. They were so jumbled up he sensed nothing but turbulence.