‘Get down, Red,’ said Bea with a scowl of reproof. ‘How is Mummy supposed to look if you’re blocking the ladder.’
As Red scurried back to the ground, Juliet considered the boat from below. Alan was just behind her shoulder, his voice soft in her ear, reminding her that cosseting them would only lead to troubles down the line: ‘You’ll turn them into awful frightened people if you’re too protective, and then what will we do? We’ll be stuck with them! Dithering and worrying and spoiling our fun for the rest of our lives.’
‘Well,’ said Juliet, at length, ‘I suppose if we can untie it, and if it’s seaworthy, there’s no reason that the two of you shouldn’t carry it down to the river.’
Great elation ensued, Red leaping against Bea’s fine frame, foisting a hug on her, as Juliet took his place on the ladder. The boat, she discovered, was suspended via a system of ropes and pulleys which, though a bit rusted, still did the job. She released the rope from the hook on the rafter where it was fastened, let its end slip free and drop, and then followed it to the ground, where she began winching the boat down.
Juliet had been quietly confident, having glimpsed the boat twelve years before, that it would prove too derelict for use; but, although it was filled with spider webs and a thick cloak of dust, a careful inspection of the base yielded nothing of concern. The boat was bone-dry, no sign of wood-rot; it appeared that someone, at some point, had done some careful repair work.
Juliet was sweeping her fingertips along a join where the wooden edge met the base when something caught her eye. It glinted in the beam of sunlight.
‘Well, Mummy?’ Red was tugging at her shirt. ‘Can we take it down to the river? Can we, please?’
It was stuck down deep within the groove between pieces of timber, but Juliet managed to wedge it clear.
‘What is it?’ said Bea, standing on tiptoes to peer over Juliet’s shoulder.
‘A coin. An old coin. A tuppence, I think.’
‘Valuable?’
‘I shouldn’t think so.’ She rubbed the surface with her thumb. ‘But pretty, isn’t it?’
‘Who cares?’ Red was leaping from foot to foot. ‘Can we launch her, Mummy? Can we?’
Suppressing all residual maternal worries and ‘what-if’s, Juliet awarded the little vessel a clean bill of health and helped them carry it as far as the field’s edge before standing back to watch as they teetered, one on either side of the awkward load, into the distance.
Tip was still in the front garden when Juliet returned. Sunshine filtered through gaps between the leaves of the maple tree, finding flecks of silver and gold in his soft, straight hair. He had the wooden soldiers out again and was playing an elaborate game, a mighty collection of sticks, stones, feathers and assorted items of interest arranged into a circular pattern.
He was chattering away, she noticed, and as she drew closer he laughed. The bell tinkle made the day, the sun – the future – brighter, until the moment he tilted his head and it became clear that he was listening to something Juliet couldn’t hear. From light to shadow in an instant.
‘Something funny, Tippy Toes?’ she said, coming to sit beside him.
He nodded and picked up one of his feathers, twisting it back and forth between his fingertips.
Juliet swept a piece of dried leaf from his knee. ‘Tell me – I love jokes.’
‘It wasn’t a joke.’
‘No?’
‘It was just Birdie.’
Juliet had been expecting this; nonetheless her stomach tightened.
He continued, ‘She makes me laugh.’
Juliet kept her sigh to herself and said, ‘Well now, that’s good, Tippy. If you’re going to spend time with people, it’s important to choose people who can make you laugh.’
‘Does Daddy make you laugh, Mummy?’
‘More than anyone. Except perhaps you three.’
‘Birdie says—’ He stopped short.
‘What is it, Tippy? What does she say?’
He shook his head, focusing his attention on the stone he was turning over in his lap.
Juliet tried another tack. ‘Is Birdie with us now, Tip?’
A nod.
‘Right here? Sitting on the ground?’
Another nod.
‘What does she look like?’
‘She has long hair.’
‘Does she?’
He lifted his gaze slightly to look straight ahead of him. ‘It’s red. Her dress is long, too.’
Juliet followed his glance and sat up straighter, forcing a broad smile onto her face. ‘Hello there, Birdie,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely to meet you at last. I’m Juliet, Tip’s mummy, and I’ve been meaning to thank you. Tippy told me that you said he should help me, and I just wanted to let you know what a good boy he’s been. Helping with the washing-up at night, folding clothes with me when the other two are behaving like wild things. I really couldn’t be prouder.’
Tip’s little hand crept into hers and Juliet gave it a squeeze.
‘Being a parent’s a breeze,’ came Alan’s cheerful voice on the wind, ‘no more difficult than flying a plane with a blindfold on and holes in your wings.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
At six o’clock on Friday evening, the four of them set off together, down the lane towards the village. For children wearing the hand-me-downs of strangers, they had scrubbed up pretty well and, by six-thirty, having stopped to admire a number of long-lashed cows in a field along the way, and to allow Tip to collect a couple of stones that had caught his attention, they crossed the triangular green to arrive at The Swan.
Mrs Hammett had said to come in through the main entrance, but to turn right instead of left, into the dining room rather than the pub.
She was already there, drinking cocktails with a tall woman of around fifty years old who was wearing the most wonderful tortoise-shell-framed glasses that Juliet had ever seen. They both turned when Juliet and the children burst through the door, and Mrs Hammett said, ‘Welcome, all! Come on in, I’m so glad you could make it.’
‘Sorry we’re late.’ Juliet nodded fondly in Tip’s direction. ‘There were important stones to be gathered along the way.’
The woman with the glasses said, ‘A boy after my own heart,’ her accent betraying a hint of America.
The children stood relatively still to deliver the introductions Juliet had schooled them in along the walk, and then she ushered them back out to the entrance hall, where a pair of leather armchairs seemed to offer the perfect repository while they waited for dinner to be served.
‘Mrs Wright,’ said Mrs Hammett, when Juliet returned, ‘this is Dr Lovegrove. Dr Lovegrove is staying with us in the accommodations upstairs – another return visitor to the village. 1940 must be the year for it!’
Dr Lovegrove held out a hand. ‘A pleasure to meet you,’ she said, ‘and please, call me Ada.’
‘Thank you, Ada. And I’m Juliet.’
‘Mrs Hammett has just been telling me that you and your children have moved into Birchwood Manor?’
‘We arrived on Sunday evening.’
‘I went to school in that house, many years ago.’
‘I had heard it was a school, once upon a time.’
‘Once upon a time indeed. It closed decades ago, soon after I left. It was one of the last bastions of the old ideas about girls and their education. Plenty of sewing, singing, and, as I remember it, quite a lot of balancing books on our heads when we should have been reading them.’
‘Now, now,’ said Mrs Hammett. ‘Lucy did her best. And it doesn’t seem to have done you any harm, Doctor.’
Ada laughed. ‘That’s true. And you’re right about Lucy. I had so hoped to see her again.’