Until We Meet Again (13 page)

Tilly and Dominic made their escape as soon as it was polite to do so, saying that they would take a walk along the clifftop path but would be back in time for supper. The members of the family all understood their desire to be on their own; it was only Tommy, however, who grinned knowingly at his pal, giving a thumbs-up sign.

The night was cold but clear and windless with a sprinkling of stars. There had been no snow but the hoar frost lay upon the bare branches of the trees making a pattern of silver filigree against the midnight blue sky. There were a few people out and about on the promenade, mainly young couples like themselves – the men in uniform as Dominic was – strolling arm in arm or with their arms around one another, oblivious to anything or anyone but themselves.

They found a seat in a sheltered alcove just below the main promenade, looking out to sea across the expanse of bushes and trees that grew on the cliffsides. They kissed and embraced more ardently than ever, and then at last drew apart, both realising that they must not allow
themselves to lose control of their feelings.

‘Tilly, my darling…have you any idea how much I love you?’ he asked as he smiled and gazed wonderingly into her eyes. She nodded, though feeling a little uncomfortable at his intensity.

‘I think so,’ she replied. ‘But no more than I love you…’ Her voice petered out as he kissed her again, this time with a deep tenderness in which their bodies and minds, their souls almost, seemed to fuse together.

‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…’ he quoted, and she recognised a favourite poem of hers by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. It did not surprise her that Dominic knew and liked it too. Since she had come to know him so much better she had discovered a romantic spirit, camouflaged at times by the antics of a clown.

‘I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need, by sun and candlelight…’ she quoted back to him. ‘Could there ever be a lovelier line written than that one? I’ve always loved that poem ever since we first read it, in the fourth form, I think I was then. But I didn’t understand it properly then as I do now. It encompasses…well…all that lovers want to say to one another, doesn’t it?’ she said, just a little uneasily. She had never been quite so aware of the depth of emotion between them.

Dominic nodded, then he said in a whisper, ‘I
love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life…’

Tilly smiled back at him wordlessly, but a tremor of apprehension ran through her as her mind ran on, unbidden, to the very last lines of the poem. ‘…And if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.’ But this line remained unspoken.

Then suddenly, it seemed, the highly emotive moment had passed. Dominic reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and brought out a little black leather box. ‘I hope you will like it,’ he said, almost shyly, as he opened the lid, revealing a ring, quite small but exquisite in design; a deep blue sapphire between two smaller diamonds. ‘I can’t afford very much at the moment,’ he explained, ‘but I wanted you to have real gemstones, not just semi-precious ones. I want everyone to know that we are really, truly engaged to be married…and I hope we may not have to wait too long, darling,’ he added pensively.

‘Oh, Dominic, it’s beautiful!’ she cried. ‘Just what I would have chosen myself. It really is.’

‘The blue matches your eyes,’ he said. ‘And I know it’s a colour you wear quite often.’

‘When I’m not in uniform,’ she replied. ‘Let me try it on…’

He slipped the ring onto the third finger of her
left hand and to her joy it fitted perfectly. ‘It fits!’ she cried, then laughed delightedly. ‘I sound like Cinderella, don’t I? Oh, thank you, thank you, Dominic! I love it.’ She was like a small girl in her excitement. She kissed his cheek. ‘I would have hated to part with it, to make it smaller or whatever.’ She held her hand up in front of her, admiring the sparkle of the gems in the moonlight. ‘Shall I keep it on now or…what do you think?’

‘I suppose I ought to ask your father if I can marry you first of all, shouldn’t I? Your stepfather, I mean; your Uncle Will. And I haven’t told my parents either, although I don’t think any of them will be really surprised.’

‘You are coming for tea tomorrow, aren’t you?’ said Tilly. ‘I heard my mother inviting you. Perhaps you could come a little earlier and have a word with Uncle Will? And mother, too, of course. As you say, they won’t be surprised; and I’m sure they wouldn’t be so heartless as to say no. By the way, does Tommy know…about this?’ She couldn’t resist fluttering the fingers of her left hand and looking admiringly at her ring again.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Dominic. ‘I managed to slip away from him for a while, saying I had some private Christmas shopping to do. We’re not joined at the hip, you know.’

‘Still good mates though?’ she asked.

‘Yes, just as much as ever,’ he replied.

She nodded. ‘That’s good. Now, much as I hate to do this…’ Reluctantly she slipped the ring off her finger and handed it back to Dominic, ‘especially as I’ve only just got it. But we’d better wait till tomorrow, hadn’t we, and then make it official? Your parents will have to be told as well, won’t they?’

‘Yes…’ Dominic was deep in thought for a moment. ‘I’ll tell my mother and father in the morning, just the two of them. And after we’ve had tea at your house perhaps we could go round to my place, a little later in the evening, and spend some time with my relatives. My aunt and uncle will still be there, and Priscilla.’ He chuckled. ‘But there won’t be any jolly party games as I should imagine there will be at your home.’

‘Yes, you’re right – so there will! Amy and Gregory are old enough now to join in with some of the games. They are nearly four, and Angela – Hetty’s little girl – she’s about two years older. They’ll all be there tomorrow.’ She laughed. ‘It’ll be quite a riot, I can tell you!’

Dominic smiled ruefully. ‘How fortunate you are to belong to such a big, happy family. I’ve said so before, haven’t I? There’s never been a great deal of merriment in our family gatherings. Just Priscilla and me, and our parents, and a nice quiet
game of Beggar my Neighbour or Happy Families. I’m not suggesting that we’re not a happy family,’ he went on. ‘Mother and Father, and Uncle Cedric and Aunt Maud, I daresay they’re as contented as most couples are – and I’ve told you about Priscilla – but they’re not the sort to let their hair down or behave other than decorously.’

‘Never mind, you’ll be part of my family one day, won’t you?’ said Tilly brightly.

‘Yes…and please God, may we not have to wait too long,’ he whispered fervently. Then he reached out his hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Come along, Tilly, my love. We’d better be heading back.’ They embraced once again – a tight, wordless hug – before making their way back up the cliff path to the promenade.

Christmas Day at the Moon household, as Tilly had foretold, was a time of riotous fun and conviviality, tinged with a little sadness, however, as two members of the family who would normally have been there for the Christmas dinner were absent. Three if you counted Samuel, although it was doubtful that he would have honoured them with his presence.

Eleven people sat down to enjoy the midday meal. It had been partially prepared in advance by Mrs Baker – who had gone to spend the day with her brother and his family on the North Bay – and
then left in the capable hands of Faith and the younger women of the family to add the finishing touches and to serve. The gathering consisted of Faith and William; Maddy and Amy; Hetty and Angela; Jessie, Arthur and Gregory; and Tilly and Tommy. Patrick and Katy were dining with Katy’s parents at midday, something that Faith had learnt with a tinge of relief. Had they been present there would have been thirteen at the dining table. Faith was not overly superstitious, but at the moment when the calamities of war were near the surface of everyone’s mind it was as well not to tempt Fate.

Patrick and Katy would be coming for tea, but as Dominic had also been invited the dreaded number would still be avoided; his attendance would make a total of fourteen.

Judicious planning, well in advance of the day, had ensured that the Christmas meal did not lack any of the niceties they had taken for granted in previous years. They had gone without a few luxuries beforehand – items such as dried fruits and nuts, marzipan, icing sugar and, indeed, ordinary white sugar – to make sure that the larder shelves were still well filled. There had been a good deal of hoarding and panic buying of food in the early months of the war, which had led to big price rises; the price of sugar, in fact, had
doubled. (They were all now trying to do without it in their tea and coffee.) Faith, and Mrs Baker, too, had resisted the urge to buy more of anything than they actually needed or considered to be their fair allocation. There was no food rationing as yet, but it was expected that this measure might be brought into force before very long.

The two women, however, had not been averse to getting on the right side of their butcher, and he had made sure that they were allocated a medium-sized turkey and a pound of his best pork sausages to make it go further. There was no shortage of vegetables, or the onions for Mrs Baker’s special stuffing. Chestnut stuffing would have been more correct with turkey, but the good lady’s home-made sage and onion was a must for the Moon family. And the plum pudding, laced with a touch of brandy, was as dark with fruit and as succulent as ever before.

They drank a toast of sherry at the end of the meal, although William did not linger too long on the mention of ‘absent loved ones’. It went without saying that Freddie and Bertram, and Samuel too, were keenly missed.

Tilly noticed that Jessie’s husband, Arthur, looked sad and ill at ease. They all knew how frustrated he had been at being rejected for army service, and how inadequate he felt now when
there were less and less younger men to be seen in the streets in civilian clothes.

Toys and novelties were still available in the shops, though in shorter supply, and the three children had had a goodly share of presents. Their stockings, which had hung on the end of their beds, had been opened as soon as they awoke early in the morning. They each contained the usual variety of surprises: chocolate coins wrapped in gold paper, sugar mice, a bar of Fry’s ‘Five Boys’ chocolate, snap cards, and puzzles with tiny silver balls to be manoeuvred into holes.

The distribution of the larger presents took place mid-morning at the Moons’ home. William had fetched Hetty and Angela over from their home on the North Bay, and Jessie, Arthur and Gregory had arrived in their own Ford motor-car.

Before long the carpet was strewn with the debris of wrapping paper, tinsel and string, although the children were encouraged to open their presents carefully, one at a time. The three children had also been encouraged to buy little gifts for their parents from the pocket money they were given each week. It was Faith who had been a party to the ‘secret’, taking each child in turn to choose a suitable gift. Consequently Hetty, Maddy and Jessie had each been delighted to receive a box of scented bath cubes; rose, lavender and lily of
the valley respectively. The absent fathers overseas had not been forgotten; Faith had suggested they would enjoy a bar of plain chocolate as much as anything, and Arthur, too, had received a similar gift.

Gregory’s big present this year was a Noah’s ark; a large brightly painted wooden structure with Mr and Mrs Noah and family, and scores of wooden animals to be marched up the gangway two by two. Variations of this toy had been popular since Victorian times, the idea of those God fearing folk being that, as it was based on a Bible story, Noah’s ark could be played with on a Sunday. No such consideration had concerned Jessie and Arthur; rather, they hoped it would help Gregory to count and, more than that, they wanted to steer their little boy away from any interest in forts and toy soldiers, which were as popular as ever. The war was all too real and war games were not to be encouraged.

Amy’s present was a dolls’ house with a family of dolls and furniture for several rooms, to be added to at future birthdays and Christmases. Angela, who already had a dolls’ house, received some more furniture and a large china-headed doll with her own wardrobe of clothes. The two younger children each had a wind-up mechanical toy – a monkey climbing a pole, and a bear
beating a drum – whilst Angela had two more Beatrix Potter books –
The Tale of Tom Kitten
and
The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck
– to add to her collection, which she could now read on her own with only a little help.

A game of tiddley-winks amused the children whilst dinner was being prepared, and later in the day, when the rest of the family had arrived, William organised games in which young and older ones alike could join: Hunt the Thimble, Pinning the Tail on the Donkey, and Hide and Seek.

During a lull between the games Dominic gave Tilly’s hand a squeeze. ‘I’m going to have a word with your Uncle William now,’ he said. ‘Don’t look so worried, darling. As you said last night, he wouldn’t be so heartless as to say no. And even if he did…well, we know that this is for ever, don’t we?’

‘Of course.’ She tried to nod reassuringly. Had she been looking worried? she wondered. If so, then it was not because she feared her parents would refuse to give their consent, but because the thought came over her now and again, in the midst of her happiness, that she and Dominic must soon say goodbye again, and who could tell for how long. ‘This is for ever,’ he had just said. But how long would ‘for ever’ be in these uncertain days? She banished the unwelcome, but
recurring thought, once again. ‘Go on, Dominic – now. Mother’s with him and they seem to be in a jolly mood. I’ll go and chat to Amy. I know she wants to show me her dolls’ house…’

She watched as he crossed the room then sat down on the settee, nodding his head in a serious manner as he spoke to her parents. She saw William pat him encouragingly on the shoulder, then beckon him to step outside the room. The three of them went out into the hallway.

Tilly occupied herself with Amy’s dolls’ house, oohing and aahing with delight at the little wooden figures – Mother, Father, a boy and a girl – dressed accurately in the styles of the day. It was obvious that Father, in his black suit, was a businessman, and one of some means, too, to own such a splendid residence. And Mother, in her blue silken dress, looked like a lady of leisure. She would need a servant, Tilly mused, to look after all those rooms. Maybe one would be acquired later.