‘I answered your question honestly,’ she said, ‘and saw no reason to have to explain myself further to a stranger.’
‘I wish you had. I feel awful now, blundering on the way I have. What a bumptious oaf you must consider me.’
As his gaze moved from her face to her left hand, she raised it to show the rings Jack had given her. ‘I was wearing gloves the other day,’ she said, as if that explained everything.
He groaned. ‘Oh Lord, I should have noticed while we were talking with such painful dreariness about the weather just now. In my defence, I was too bound up with the thought of how I was ever going to make you like me.’ He sighed. ‘I think we can safely say that I’ve thoroughly cooked my goose in that respect. Should I leave now before I make things any worse?’
At the sight of his obvious discomfort, and relieved that he now knew where he stood, she offered a small conciliatory smile. ‘There’s no need for that. You deserve a cup of tea at the very least. I’ll go and see where Hope has got to with it.’
Just as she was at the door, it opened and Hope came in with a tray. Their guest was immediately across the room offering to take it from her. It was when he was looking for a place to put it down that he said, ‘Oh my goodness, are you Romily Temple, the author?’ His gaze had been caught by a US copy of her latest book, which her American publisher had sent her that morning.
‘I am,’ she said, making space for the tray on the table between the two sofas.
‘Have you read any of her novels?’ asked Hope.
‘I certainly have,’ he said, picking up the book to take a closer look at the jacket, which was a little too lurid for Romily’s taste. ‘And now I feel even more of a fool.’
‘Don’t give it another thought,’ Romily said, pouring the tea. ‘Milk? Sugar?’
‘Neither, thank you, I take it black.’
‘We’ll all be doing that before too long if milk is rationed the same as sugar,’ said Hope. ‘So where had you been in order to be passing us?’ she asked.
If Romily didn’t know better, she’d swear Hope had asked the question out of sheer devilment, which was much more Allegra’s style. ‘Hope, I really don’t think we should be so inquisitive,’ she said.
‘That’s all right,’ Tony said, ‘I’d been to the Athenaeum Club in Bury St Edmunds. Do you know it?’
Hope nodded and Romily said, ‘I know of it, it’s near the Angel Hotel, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right. I went to have a look at the abbey and cathedral and afterwards called in for some lunch. They provide a jolly good feed there for servicemen and women.’
‘Where’s home for you, then?’ asked Romily, passing him his cup.
‘I’m from nowhere really. My parents moved to Singapore when I was a baby, and then when I was twelve they sent me to school in England, along with my sister. Our holidays were spent mostly with our two aunts in a village just outside Oxford. I joined the RAF to fulfil a boyhood dream to learn to fly; I’ve been very much on the move ever since. I have a small flat in London as a base, but since just before war was declared I’ve been renting it to a couple of refugees from Austria. So for now RAF Larkshall is my home.’
‘Are your parents still in Singapore?’ asked Hope.
‘No. My father died some years ago and my mother remarried and lives in Canada now. My sister and I haven’t seen her in quite a while …’ He paused. ‘She was a lot younger than our father and now that she has a new life and a new family, we’ve drifted apart, you could say.’
‘Families are good at doing that,’ said Hope. Then: ‘My brother’s in Canada at the moment. He was too impatient to settle for being a reservist in the RAF, and so took matters into his own hands and is learning to fly in Winnipeg. From all that we hear, he’s having a ball.’
Romily was just about to offer some cake when the door flew open with a crash and Stanley, Annelise and Bobby came barrelling in with Allegra following behind. They were all in their stockinged feet, their faces flushed from being outside in the cold.
‘Sorry,’ Allegra apologised, ‘I didn’t know you had company, Romily. Oh, it’s you again!’ she said brightly when their guest got to his feet. She smirked at Romily, and Romily flashed her a warning look in return.
‘Hello,’ Tony said politely. ‘How nice to see you again. And who do we have here?’ he asked, bending down to stroke Bobby’s head.
‘He’s mine, mister,’ piped up Stanley, ‘and his name’s Bobby.’
‘And who might you be?’
‘I’m Stanley, and this is Annelise.’
‘Well, I’m very happy to meet you all. My name’s Tony.’
‘Are you a pilot, mister?’ asked Stanley, taking in the uniform. ‘Do you fly them Wellington bombers.’
‘Indeed I do.’
