She smiled again and the corners of her mouth darted upward into the sudden, sunny grin that so intrigued him, and her dimples deepened into fascinating little hollows.
Lucy Bainbridge was a real doll. She was, come to think of it, exactly the mother he would choose for the children that up until two minutes ago he hadn’t realized he wanted.
Lucinda took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair. The night was warm and balmy and the sheltering trees screened out any sights of war, and where the path ended abruptly at the meeting of loch and river there was neither ship nor submarine nor coil of rusting barbed wire within their vision. A still bright sun rested on deep purple hilltops, and below them, seabirds, clean, brilliantly white seabirds, dipped and drifted and called.
‘Isn’t it peaceful?’ Lucinda murmured. ‘It’s as if the war hasn’t found this little corner yet.’
‘Probably once the whole of Craigiebur was like this; maybe it was a swell little place and that’s why Granny remembers it. I’m glad she can’t see it now. It’s a pity that war kind of cheapens things, if you get my meaning.’
‘I do. Not cheapens, exactly, but demeans. I saw it at Lady Mead. When we left it, the old house had a pained expression. I know it sounds silly, but it looked so lost, as if it was never meant to be a billet and barrack room, and was hurting inside.’
‘You said the RAF had taken it. You’ve seen it since?’
‘Only once. But we are allowed access if we ask them first and give them plenty of notice. They left us a few rooms to store things in so we’re entitled, occasionally, to take a look at them. It’s all in a terrible jumble because Pa had to get everything out of the attics as well – war regulations, you know. No one must have things in attics now, because of the risk of fire bombs. But all in all, the Air Force has been pretty good. The lawns get cut – after a fashion – though Nanny says that the roses and clematis on the south wall have got out of hand and Pa would have a fit if he saw the rose beds. We were able to keep the kitchen garden because it’s a good way from the house and we’ve a gardener there, still, though he’s very old and can’t do a lot.’
‘And how come your nanny is still there, too? Did she sit tight and refuse to budge?’
‘Oh, no! One simply couldn’t do that, Mike. When Authority wants a house, Authority takes it, and no arguing. But they realized our predicament. After all, the family has been there since 1605 and they’ve accumulated an awful lot of rubbish – it all had to be put somewhere. So, as I said, they let us keep three rooms and the Dower House, too. That’s where Nanny is now. The more valuable things are there, and the paintings. Nanny has two bedrooms and the big kitchen and the rest of the Dower is all storage. Pa’s agent goes there twice a year to check it over, and for the rest, Nanny sits guardian over it as if it was her own. I wish I could spend one of my leaves there, just to see the old place and let it know it isn’t forgotten. And to see Nanny too,’ she added.
‘You love that old Lady Mead, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Mike. Too much, I think. But Lady Mead seemed always to be there, unchanging. All the time I was away at school I’d long for it; and when we went to London for the season I couldn’t wait to get back to it.
‘Christmases there were unbelievable. The great hall goes up through two storeys and we’d have an enormous tree. And there were log fires everywhere so no one noticed the cold and damp – well, not at Christmas, anyway. Christmas was the only time it was really warm. And – oh, Mike, I’m sorry for going on and on. Terrible bore, aren’t I? It’s just that I do miss it so.’
‘You’re not boring me, honey.’ He liked to listen to her talking with that crazy English accent. ‘But how come you could ever give it up? Well, an Englishman’s home is his castle, they say. Why didn’t your old man tell them to push off when they said they wanted the house?’
‘But he couldn’t have! There is a war on. It would’ve been unpatriotic even to think of refusing. And they’d have taken it, anyway. So Pa co-operated fully and got a few concessions out of it. At least Nanny is still around there.’
‘Gee, you Brits.’ Mike shook his head in bewilderment. They sure took some understanding. They could take over half the globe without as much as a by-your-leave, yet surrender their homes without a whimper. ‘Seems you’d endure anything for King and Country.’
‘Don’t be so sure about that! Mama played merry old hell, even though she’d rather be in London, and Pa kept on and on about the game rights and managed to get a couple of weeks’ shooting out of them. Mind, he’s always careful to invite the RAF commanding officer when a shoot is on, the cunning old devil. But don’t get us wrong, Mike. We Bainbridges don’t give up without a bit of a scrap.’
‘Reckon you don’t,’ Mike acknowledged, ‘else how have you managed to hang on there all that time – four and a half centuries, almost?’
Had those four hundred-odd years made Lucy what she was, frank and uncomplicated and so very polite? Mike liked her politeness and the way she smiled a lot. That smile made a guy feel good, just being with her.
‘How indeed? But what about you, Mike? Tell me about Vermont, New England, and about your family. And what do you do, in civvy street?’
‘I’m an engineer. And you know about my granny who’s eighty-six and about my aunt who has a parrot. The rest will keep.’
Keep? For when? Lucinda demanded silently. Certainly not until next time because there wouldn’t be one, there really wouldn’t.
‘Look. It seems we aren’t going to see the boom nets working and it isn’t any use waiting because there isn’t a ship in sight. Hadn’t we better be making our way to the dance? And Mike, tonight I must catch the last transport back.’
‘Okay, honey. But just one thing. I don’t suppose you’ve got a photo on you? Or maybe you could send me one?’
‘Now why would you want a picture of me?’ she asked him, surprised and pleased.
‘To remind me of the classy English girl I met in Craigiebur, I guess.’ His face was solemn now, and his eyes no longer teased her. They still walked arm in arm and so close that she had only to move her face a little to her right and her lips would be very easy to kiss. But not yet, he decided. Later, maybe, when they said goodnight. ‘Do I have to have a reason, Lucy?’
‘No. Not really. And as it happens I do have a snap with me.’ One with Charlie on it. One she had placed inside her paybook to remind her, dutifully, of the man she was to marry and of Lady Mead and of Nanny, who had taken it; a photograph that would give her the opportunity to say, ‘Who’s the man? Oh, that’s my fiancé. He’s in the Army and we’ll probably be married on his next leave.’ That would put the record straight, wouldn’t it? Mike would have to know about Charlie, and giving him the snapshot would be the best way to do it. ‘At least, I think I have.’ She thrust her hand into the right-hand inside pocket of her jacket; a pocket specifically sized and situated for the safekeeping of paybooks. ‘Yes, here it is.’
It was a good likeness of them both. Charlie’s shirt was open almost to his waist, his sleeves rolled up beyond his elbows. His hair was slightly untidy and his smile made his teeth look nicer than they really were.
‘Say, Lucy, your hair was long, then.’
‘Yes. Afraid I had to have it all chopped off when I joined the Wrens. Regulations. Hair mustn’t touch the collar.’
‘Hmm. Think I’d rather have it the way it is now. And what’s