Chapter 54
It was the day of Cora’s surprise birthday present to visit Island Farm Camp on its Open Day.
They were waiting for the taxi because the entrance to the camp was on the main road.
Elisavet and Gladdie were in the hall and Gladdie was giving her advice on how to draw a feather convincingly, using wild hand gestures.
Megan was leaning against Cora’s kitchen table, reading the sheets of paper again.
‘Uneven ground, it says here. Dew, and me with my knees.’ She put the instructions down and buttoned her cardigan right up to the neck in preparation.
‘I’m still going, mind, Gwyn. Tell me, is there anything to see? It’s not just buildings, is it?’
Gwyn pushed his sunglasses on his forehead. ‘There’s the tunnel for starters.’
Cora laughed, only half believing him. ‘Never! Is the tunnel still there?’
‘You know what the Germans are like: Vorsprung Durch Technik,’ Gwyn said, straight faced.
Cora laughed. The tunnel, she thought with a shiver of excitement.
Lottie looked at her quickly.
There was something wrong with Lottie today, or at least something different about her. She was preoccupied, that was the best way to put it.
Cora decided she would ask her what was wrong, if she got the chance.
She had never been one for asking questions, and she’d never worked out whether that was a good thing or not. She meant it to be tact, but it could just as easily come across as a lack of interest, which was a troubling thought.
Lottie smiled at her. ‘You never talk to me about those days, do you? About the war, and about you and Frank. You ought to, seeing as I’m his granddaughter.’
Cora was surprised she cared. She didn’t answer straight away – she’d done nothing but talk about them recently. After a pause she admitted, ‘No. I suppose it’s because we live in the present, don’t we, and that’s more than enough to be thinking about. Why? Do you want me to talk about them?’
‘Yes, I would. Elisavet has told me a bit about – you know. What you’ve been telling her. What it was like for you. You should write it down.’
Cora suddenly remembered that about five years ago Gwyn and Lottie had given her the gift of a black, leather-bound, gilt-edged notebook to write her life story in.
She had been a little offended by this gift, truth be told, because a story had to have an ending and she was pretty certain she was nowhere near the end of hers at that point, and time had proved her right.
The doorbell rang and Gwyn went out to talk to the taxi driver, looking handsome and wondering behind his sunglasses if they were ready yet.
Lottie took Cora’s arm, and they wandered out into the garden arm in arm as if there was more to be said. In the shade of the apple tree the magpies were inspecting the lawn, as if they’d lost contact lenses.
‘Love’s weird, isn’t it,’ Lottie said. ‘You have to be brave to love someone. Fiona’s brave now that she knows Dad loves her. They’re happy now.’ She glanced at Cora. ‘I want to know how you worked it out. With Grandpa, I mean.’
Cora didn’t really understand the question. ‘What do you want to know, exactly? Tell me, and I’ll do my best to answer you.’
Lottie turned to face her. ‘How did you recognise love?’
Cora blinked in surprise. ‘What a question!’ she said.
Lottie looked towards the house. ‘We’d better go. Dad’s waiting,’ she said.
‘Yes.’ Cora felt she’d let her down. ‘Tell you what, let me ponder on the matter, will you? And you’re right, I should write it all down, and I will, for you.
I’ll write it in that lovely notebook you gave me, now that I’ve got something to write about.
’ I’ll put it in the tin box with Frank’s notebook, she thought.
‘Will you? Thanks! No rush.’ Suddenly Lottie’s mood brightened. ‘Come on then, get ready for your trip into the past.’ She dotted a kiss on Cora’s cheek, and laughed. ‘Who knows, it might jog your memories, mightn’t it?’