Thomas looks at Ellie as he drains the last of his ale. He sets down the glass. ‘Why haven’t you told your family about us? I’m tired of sneakin’ around like I’m some sort’a thief.’
Ellie bites her lip. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I haven’t been ready.’
‘Will you ever be ready, Ellie Mae? That’s the question I’ve gots for you.’ He pushes away from the table. ‘Maybe we should say our goodbyes now. Give George my regards.’
Ellie grabs his arm. ‘No, wait. Please.’
‘I can’t takes much more of this dancin’ around the mulberry bush, Ellie Mae.’
‘I know.’
Ellie looks at Thomas, her heart pounding the way it does when she’s run all the way from Jarrolds back to the fire station at lunchtime.
I love him. I love him. I’m sorry Dottie. I’m sorry Poppy. Thomas is the one.
She places her hand over Thomas’s. ‘I will.’
‘You will what?’
‘I’ll marry you. There, I said it. I’ll marry you, Thomas Parsons. We can apply for the marriage licence before you leave Norwich and we can marry in London before they ship you out. All you need to do is send me a telegram and I’ll take the first train down to London.’
‘Are you serious, Ellie Mae?’
Ellie stands up and wraps her arms around Thomas, to the hoots and hollers of the soldiers. ‘The question is, will you marry me, Thomas Parsons?’
‘I will, Ellie Mae Burgess. I will.’
Thomas hugs Ellie so tightly that she can feel the buttons of his uniform pressing into her. Her heart flutters in her chest like a butterfly set free and her body buzzes with joy. She’s marrying the man she loves. That’s all that matters. Everything will be fine.
Poppy and Dottie will understand. Of course they will.
Chapter 31
Tippy’s Tickle – 16 September 2001
Becca runs over to the stern of the white cruiser that is bouncing in the water by the wharf, waving at Sophie, Ellie and Florie as they make their way down to the tickle over the rocky path from Kittiwake. Rupert’s bear-like head pops up beside her and the dog barks out a deep woof.
‘Sam, b’y!’ Florie calls out as they approach. ‘Whoooo, Sammy! We’re all here to see Ellie’s birthday whales, b’y. Holy God, it’s hotter than a sauna today. Never had a September like it.’
Sam joins Becca on the boat, leaning over to pat Rupert’s head. His jean jacket is topped by a windbreaker, and a Boston Bruins baseball cap perches on his head, the brim shading his eyes.
Ellie holds up a basket stuffed with food. ‘Hope you’re hungry. We’ve got provisions.’
‘C’mon, then,’ Sam says, beckoning to the women. ‘We’re ready to go. Thor and Ace saw a pair of humps over in the cape yesterday feeding on capelin. Looks like a female and her calf. With any luck, they’ll still be there.’
Sophie follows Ellie and Florie onto the boat, reaching out to grasp Sam’s hand as she clambers aboard. His fingers close over hers. Warm. Nice.
Sophie pulls her hand away to brush at an invisible strand of hair. She nods at Becca, who is standing at the steering wheel, signing animatedly to Ellie and Florie. ‘How’s Becca?’
‘She’s fine. But she’s had a talking-to about wandering off.’
‘Good. I’m glad she’s okay.’
He reaches out and squeezes her arm. ‘Thanks for staying up last night.’
She shrugs. ‘I only wish I could have done something more. I felt pretty helpless.’
Sam smiles, fine lines fanning out from the corners of his brown eyes. ‘You did great.’
‘Sam,’ Ellie calls over. ‘Becca wants to know if she can have a date square now.’
He heads towards the bridge. ‘Don’t you let her wrap you around her finger, Ellie. Let’s wait till we’re moored in the cape.’ He turns on the engine and rests his hands on top of Becca’s, helping her steer the cruiser out of the tickle into the ocean.
Sophie catches her breath. A buzz zips around her body, settling in a swirl of warmth in her solar plexus. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she takes a deep breath as she watches Sam and his daughter laughing as they motor past the clapboard houses in their candy-box colours toward the ocean.
Bloody hell.
***
Sam scans the water for signs of whales. Behind him, the women’s laughter floats in the air, prompted by Sophie’s inept attempts at sign language and Florie’s literal translations. He glances into the boat mirror. Becca is doubled over on a seat clutching her stomach in silent laughter at Sophie’s efforts to copy Florie’s signed descriptions of the coastal scenery. Notice the grudges by the leech. Aren’t the turds lovely?
The wind has brought colour to Sophie’s cheeks, he notices, and her fine brown hair flies around her head where it’s escaped her ponytail. She’s nothing like the uptight, short-tempered woman who’d stepped off the plane just four days ago. Who’d have thought she’d get on so well with Becca? Or that Becca would like her? Who is this Sophie Parry?
A memory of Winny laughing on a sailboat off Nantucket wafts into his mind, her skin tanned and her hair bleached almost white from the summer sun. The summer she was pregnant with Becca.
He looks back at Sophie. There’s no point. She’s leaving tomorrow. She’ll get on that plane to New York and that’ll be the end of that. Back to her busy, big-city life. It’s probably for the best. There you go. Bob’s your uncle.
Chapter 32
Norwich, England – 16 September 1942
A shape moves out of the darkness towards her.
‘Ellie Mae?’
‘Thomas.’
His arms fold around her and she leans into his kiss. When she opens her eyes, she traces her fingers along his face, following the outline drawn by the faint moonlight shining through the open top of the medieval tower.
‘Oh, Thomas, I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.’
‘I knows, maid.’ Thomas looks down at the woman in his arms, trying to take in every detail, how her nose turns up slightly at its tip, how her beautiful eyes shine so seriously at him beneath eyebrows the colour of wheat at harvest time, at the set of her determined chin. Oh, Ellie Mae, how have I been so lucky to find you?
‘I can’t stay long, Thomas. Dottie’s baked a birthday cake for me.’
‘Oh, Jaysus, I totally forgot it’s your birthday. I’m a terrible one for dates.’
Ellie shakes her head. ‘Don’t worry. It’s the last thing I’m thinking about. Dottie … she’s invited George over.’
‘She did, did she? She’s a little tinker.’
‘He’s just a friend.’
‘You may thinks that, maid, but has he got the message?’
‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ve barely seen him since that time at the Samson on St Patrick’s Day.’
‘Thomas reaches into the pocket of his khaki uniform. ‘It might not be a birthday present, Ellie Mae, but I has a little somethin’ for you. For you to remember me by.’
‘Oh, Thomas. You don’t have to worry about that.’
Stepping out of their embrace, he drops to one knee. He opens the small navy velvet box and takes out a ring and holds it out to her. The silver moonlight catches the large square-cut stone, setting it glinting in the shadowy darkness of the tower. ‘Didn’t I say I’d find you the most beautiful ring in England, maid? I always keeps my promises.’
Ellie’s face breaks into a wide smile. ‘You did say that. I remember.’
‘Ellie Mae Burgess, will you do me the honour of being my wife and making me the happiest man who walks this earth?’
‘Oh, Thomas. Yes. Yes.’
He takes hold of her left and hand slides the ring over her ring finger. ‘Perfect fit. It’s like the ring was made for you, Ellie Mae.’ He looks up at Ellie’s face, lit a soft silver in the moonlight. He presses his fingers to his eyes and blinks.
‘Thomas Parsons, is that a tear in your eye?’
Thomas smiles. ‘I’m not a
shamed to say it is.’ He turns her hand over and kisses her palm. ‘How did I get so lucky? You looks like an angel, maid. My angel.’
Chapter 33
Tippy’s Tickle – 16 September 2001
Sam steers the cruiser past the grey cliffs that press their jagged forms against the blue sky in a jigsaw of abutting and diverging diagonal slabs. Around the boat, tickle-aces, turrs and noddies keen and swoop, skimming the ocean’s surface for their next meal.
The lighthouse comes into view on the edge of a cliff about ten kilometres away, the white house crowding against it, as if seeking reassurance on their precarious perch above the ocean. Leaving Ellie and Florie playing cribbage, Sophie joins Sam and Becca on the bridge.
Sam glances over at her as he steers the boat through the waves. ‘Is that flight information phone number I gave you any good? Any word about your flight?’
‘Not yet, Sam. There’s only a few more planes to leave, including mine. I tried to get on another flight to New York, but they’re not allowing it. I have to go on the plane I came in on.’ She shakes her head. ‘I’ve got to get to this interview Tuesday morning, or … or, I don’t know what. Back to London with my tail between my legs, I suppose.’
‘Back to the big city where you belong.’
‘What do you mean by that? I don’t have to live in a city. I spent a lot of time in the countryside in Norfolk growing up.’ She juts out her chin. ‘I could live here if I wanted to. I’d have to change my entire life, but anything’s possible.’
Sophie looks out to the ocean. How was he to know that she’d sat on the rock under the old spruce beside Kittiwake sketching the view while she imagined herself with a cottage by the tickle, making a life here as an artist? Picking blueberries and partridgeberries with Florie and Becca from secret places she’d find? Maybe designing a few holiday homes to pay her way? Never having to wear a designer suit again. It was a fantasy, of course. She knew that, even as she let the daydreams drift through her mind. Lovely dreams. But dreams weren’t reality.
Sam grins. ‘You might look like one of us in Ellie’s clothes, Princess Grace, but underneath beats the heart of a career woman. I’ve seen you checking your phone at breakfast.’
‘A lot of people check their phone messages in the morning. I need to see if I have to call anyone back.’
‘And at dinner.’
She shrugs. ‘I have a lot of responsibilities back in London.’
‘I’m sure you do. Just be careful you don’t miss the important things while you’re being so busy.’
‘What’s more important than work?’
‘Life, Princess Grace.’
Sophie presses her lips together. ‘Spoken by a man who seems to have given up on it.’
Sam whistles. ‘That’s harsh.’
Ellie joins them, tucking her arm around Sam’s waist. ‘This is a lovely birthday treat, Sam. It’s so nice of your client to let us go out in the boat today.’
Sam laughs and hugs Ellie against him. ‘Do you think I told him, Ellie?’
‘Sam! You mean he doesn’t know?’
‘Oh, he knows we have to take the boat out to check it’s running right. That’s all he needs to know.’
Picking up a pair of binoculars, Sophie scans the water for a waterspout. ‘Emmett didn’t want to come?’
‘No,’ Ellie says as she roots around the icebox. She pulls out two bottles of Coke. ‘He’s still upset about yesterday. He just needs some time. He’ll come around.’
Sophie sets down the binoculars. ‘I’m afraid I owe him an apology.’
‘Why’s that, Sophie?’ Ellie asks.
‘I … I asked Florie if he was trustworthy. I’m so sorry, Aunt Ellie. You hear stories …’
‘Sophie! Emmy would never! He’s my son. How could you think that?’
Sophie feels the blood rise in her cheeks. ‘Of course, of course. I know. I’m so sorry. I was out of line.’
Becca taps Sophie on the arm, signing excitedly. In front of the boat, at the foot of the lighthouse, the glistening grey back of a whale curves amongst the waves and slides into the blue-grey depths.
‘Oh my God. That was a whale.’
Sam nods. ‘It sure was. A humpback.’ He steers the cruiser into the cove below the lighthouse. A spray of water shoots up through the waves, dissipating into a cloud of fine mist.
Becca jumps up and down in front of the window. Folding her right arm across her body, she raises the thumb and pinkie of her left hand, waving it up and down behind her right arm.
‘What are you saying, Becca?’ Sophie asks as she signs.
‘She’s saying whales,’ Ellie says, offering Sophie a Coke. ‘I’m sorry I was sharp.’
Sophie accepts the offering. ‘It’s okay. I’m sorry I upset you.’ She sets the Coke on a ledge and signs to Becca. ‘Teach me.’
Sophie copies the movements of Becca’s arms and fingers. ‘How was that?’
Becca places the fingers of her right hand against her mouth, then rests her right hand in the palm of her left.
‘Good,’ Sam says, cutting the engine and releasing the anchor. He smiles at Sophie. ‘Really good.’
Becca signs something at Sam.
‘Yes, honey. Me too.’
Sophie looks at Sam. ‘What did she say?’
He takes off his cap and rubs his forehead. ‘She said she wishes her mother were here, too.’ He peers through the window, scanning the top of the rippling water. ‘This is as good a place as any to stop. We’re far enough away not to bother them. We should be able to see plenty from here.’
As if on cue, the great grey-black body of a humpback soars out of the water. Its white belly and flippers glisten in the sunlight as it thrusts its bulk backwards onto the surface, throwing up a storm of foaming waves as it crashes back into the ocean.
Florie staggers across the juddering boat and joins them on the bridge. ‘My God, b’y. This is as bad as the Port aux Basques ferry in January.’
A second whale, even larger than the first, breaches and slams back into the cove, sending a spray of water splashing across the cruiser’s window.
‘How’s that for a birthday present, Ellie, my girl,’ Florie says as she squints into the binoculars. ‘Ordered specially for the day.’
One of the whales arches through the water and slides back into the waves until only its black and white flukes hover above the surface, before they, too, disappear into the sea.
A bright smile breaks across Ellie’s face. ‘You know, Sam, this is the first time I’ve been this close to the whales.’
Sophie reaches for the Coke and flips off the cap on the edge of the ledge. ‘Really, Aunt Ellie? Uncle Thomas never brought you out to see them?’
Ellie laughs. ‘Oh, no. You didn’t do that kind of thing back then. But Thomas loved the whales. He had lots of stories about seeing them when he was out fishing. He said they were a good omen.’
Florie pulls the basket of food out of the store cupboard. ‘Right, so. Anybody as gut-foundered as me? We’ve gots egg salad and ham and mustard, not forgetting Becca’s date squares, of course. Don’t eat too much, though. We’ve got baked cod, brewis and scrunchions and my special recipe birthday cake for supper, and I expects everyone to have a piece of that.’
Chapter 34
Norwich, England – 4 October 1942
Dottie is reaching the crescendo of ‘Ode to Joy’ when she hears someone knocking loudly on the door.
‘Hello? Hello? Anybody home?’
Huffing, she slides off the piano bench and stomps across the sitting room carpet and out into the hallway. She opens the door. A telegraph boy in a navy-blue uniform and pillbox hat edged in red piping fidgets on the stoop. He thrusts out his hand.
‘Telegram.’
‘Telegram?’
‘For, uh, Ellie Burgess. Any reply?’
‘I’ll take that.’ Dottie tears open the envelope before the boy has a chance to object.
3.45 LONDON
Dottie gasps. She glances at the telegram boy and shakes her head. ‘No reply.’
Clutching the telegram, Dottie steps back into the hallway and shuts the door. She wanders into the kitchen and spies Ellie through the open window, bent over a flower bed, humming as she pulls weeds from between the parsnips.
Dottie sits on a chair by the table. She fingers the telegram and a thought grows in her mind. Ellie opens the kitchen door and Dottie slides the telegram into the pocket of her skirt.
‘Can you believe this weather, Dottie? It’s like summer out there today.’ She turns on the tap at the sink and washes the dirt off her hands. ‘Was there someone at the door? I thought I heard a bicycle bell. We really must get the doorbell fixed.’
‘You must have heard me on the piano. I’m practising Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’.’
Ellie picks up the kettle. ‘Would you like some tea? I’m about to put the kettle on.’
‘Yes, please, but I’ll have to run out to the Co-op for some milk. Poppy had the last of it this morning.’
‘All right. Be sure to shut the gate. You haven’t found the key, have you? Poppy’s misplaced it somewhere.’
Dottie shakes her head as she rushes out of the kitchen.
‘And pick up some Robertson’s! Poppy’s eaten it all. Marmalade if they have it.’
***
Dottie slams the front gate shut and turns right down the road. Her mind is a whirl. Should she run across the quad and meet up with Poppy when lessons were finished and show him the telegram? Or should she just … tear it up? Poppy would be so upset if he read it. Ellie would get into so much trouble. That would be good to see. Saint Ellie could do no wrong in Poppy’s eyes.
The thought that had planted itself in her mind like a seed grows, as strong as a weed. If Ellie thinks Thomas has gone off and forgotten about her, maybe she’ll start thinking about George again. She’ll forget all about Thomas and stay here in Norwich with her and Poppy and George. They’ll be a family together, the way it’s supposed to be.
The English Wife Page 16