‘That is an impossible question to answer. You know that,’ he said, whisking the eggs in the pan. When she didn’t reply, he looked at her. ‘Don’t worry about the future. We have tomorrow to get through first.’
‘I want to marry and have children. I can’t see that happening now.’
He smiled sadly. ‘I can see it. You will have many children. So many you will not have enough beds for them.’
She could almost believe him. Warming to his story, she came to him. ‘What will I have?’
‘Two boys and three girls.’
She laughed. ‘And what will these children look like?’
He pointed to each chair at the table as if her brood sat around it. ‘The boys will have dark hair and eyes like their father. The girls will be like you.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘So many.’ She tapped her finger on her chin as if in deep thought. ‘I think the boys will grow wild and the girls will gang up on me.’
Sam’s laughter reminded her of a burst of sunshine that could light up a room. It quickly faded. ‘No. Your children will adore you — as will your husband.’
He stopped preparing the eggs and allowed a bold silence to sit between them. Their eyes met.
‘And what will he look like?’ she asked quietly. ‘Will my husband be handsome and brave?’
Her throat grew dry in anticipation and she hoped he could not read her thoughts.
Sam tilted his forehead and looked at her through his brows, the picture of an old schoolteacher imparting his wisdom. ‘He has one eye, one leg and one large mole on the tip of his nose.’
She laughed again. ‘Then he must be very brave to have five children and very handsome for me to still love him so much with only one eye, one leg and such a large mole. I will be very lucky to be his wife.’
‘And he will be very lucky to be your husband.’
The silence descended again, but this time it felt different, as if a magnetic force was present behind her, waiting and willing to push her towards him if she allowed it.
‘Would you like children one day?’ she asked.
He stirred the eggs far too furiously. ‘We are lucky to have so many eggs.’ He edged a broken brick on the floor with his boot as if to remind her of the rubble, dust and torn curtains around them. ‘And such a palace to rest in.’
He no longer wanted to play the game and she suddenly felt alone. Her eyes began to smart. Fearing he would see, she stiffly turned away. ‘We should get some sleep.’ Yet she remained unwilling to move. Instead, she followed the swirls of the wooden carving on the sideboard with a single finger as she chose her words carefully. ‘Aren’t you afraid, Sam?’
‘I’m afraid of many things.’
‘Aren’t you afraid you will never have all those things?’
He did not answer.
‘Aren’t you afraid of never falling in love?’
‘I thought I was in love once. But now I know that it wasn’t real love.’
She turned to look at him. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I thought I loved Moira. It wasn’t love, and whatever it was did not last.’ He pushed the saucepan aside.
‘I think I would like to fall in love even though it may not last. I have never been in love. It must be wonderful to fall in love.’
‘It’s not always wonderful. It can be painful too.’
She faced him again. She wanted to ask him more about his experience but she felt a barrier being erected if she continued to pry. ‘I want life to be normal again.’ She frowned, suddenly, unsure of herself. She had thought her life was normal until the war started, and even then she had still trusted what she’d been told. Now she didn’t know what normal was. Instead, she said, ‘I don’t think I will ever have children.’
‘You can’t know that.’
