Her mother took each in turn and looked at them. Her eyes gradually filled with tears as she read.
‘This poem is beautiful. And she looks such a sweet girl.’
‘I know. How can I honour my promise to Sam? I have no idea where to begin.’
His mother handed them both back to him. He caught a glimpse of Rose’s wide soulful eyes, before he slipped the photo between the folds of the poem and back into his pocket.
‘I don’t know,’ said his mother. ‘But you will find a way . . . and sometimes the answer is closer than you think.’
* * *
The soldier was late. Rose glanced at the clock again. She didn’t even know his name, but she had begun to look forward to his regular visits. She might never see him again. Surprised at the depth of her disappointment, she began tidying up in preparation for closing. The sound of the doorbell startled her. Hoping it was him, she abandoned what she was doing, glanced in the mirror and rushed over to take his order. She arrived before he had sat down.
‘Hello again. Would you like some tea and a slice of cake?’ she asked, as he placed his hat on the chair next to him.
He smiled up at her, his eyebrow raised in surprise at her sudden appearance. ‘That would be nice.’
His warm, teasing tone melted something deep inside her. She furiously scribbled his order in her notebook to focus her mind, before rushing back to the kitchen to efficiently prepare his tray. A pot of tea, a cup and saucer and one slice of cake. She stared at the cake. Dare she? He hadn’t asked for two. She thought of her mother’s caustic comments, her father’s indifference and the clutter waiting to greet her at home. Nothing exciting ever happened to her — until now. Rose picked up the knife, slid it through the cake and carefully added a slice to a second plate. She hurried over to him before she changed her mind.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said shyly as she unloaded the tray. ‘I thought I might join you this time.’
The soldier hastily removed his hat from the chair and positioned it so she could sit down. ‘No, not at all. I was hoping you might.’
Rose sat down and poured him a cup of tea. Their eyes met briefly through the rising steam, before her courage left her and she looked away. She placed the teapot on the table and they both sat in silence for a few moments, looking everywhere but at each other. Simultaneously, they remembered the cake. They both smiled, embarrassed, as they began to eat. Or at least the soldier did . . . Rose found herself watching for his reaction instead.
He noticed and pointed to his slice with his fork. ‘This is very good. Is this another recipe?’
‘Yes. I don’t make it very often.’ Only for special occasions, she thought to herself as she looked down at her plate.
An awkward silence descended again.
‘I’m on leave.’
Rose glanced up, nodded and continued to chase a piece of cake around the plate with her fork.
‘I re-enlisted. I’ve been stationed in Germany since March.’
Germany? He was living with the people who’d killed Sam and Arthur. Rose looked up again. A pair of dark brown eyes looked back at her. Rose put down her fork, before she dropped it.
‘What are they like? The German people, I mean.’
‘Just like us. They were glad the war ended too. They were tired of it. I’ve heard that the ordinary soldiers had lost respect for their leaders in the end. There are grumblings, of course. Germany has to pay for the war and the ordinary people find that a bitter pill to swallow.’
‘I hear soldiers who re-enlist are paid well.’ Rose felt her cheeks burn. It was rude to talk about a man’s wage. Thankfully he did not appear to take offence.
‘It is a good incentive, but that’s not why I did it.’ The soldier had finished his cake and she became aware that she had barely touched hers.
‘Then why? I’m sure your family would love to have you home more permanently.’ She took a big bite, in the hope of appearing more at ease than she felt. It was far too large so she used a napkin to hide her mouth as she chewed. His eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched her.
‘They do, but they also understand my reasons for delaying it.’
Rose didn’t feel she could press him further. Instead she took another bite and instantly regretted it. How greedy she must look.
‘My name is Nicholas,’ he said, smiling. He reached out his hand. Rose hurriedly swallowed and brushed the crumbs from her fingers before taking his. His hand was warm and firm, but not calloused. She wondered what trade he would have had if there had not been a war. ‘Miss . . . ?’
‘Gribble.’ They shook awkwardly over the table and she found herself smiling too. She couldn’t remember the last timeshe had smiled so broadly. Yes she did. It was with Sam down by the river when he had slipped in the mud. She returned her focus to her cake and took another bite, but her appetite had disappeared and she found it hard to swallow. She left the rest of it and began to tidy away the crockery.
‘You’re not going already?’ asked Nicholas as she stood up.
