Chapter 8 Lilias #2
“Thank you, Edith,” Lilias said with a smile, anxious to look at her letter.
“Well, I’d best be on my way. Nice to meet you, sir.”
“You too.”
When the garden gate had closed after her again, Lilias could sense Harry looking at her.
“You all right?”
Lilias tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it. “Yes. But I’ll just read this, if you don’t mind? I don’t hear from my French relatives very often, and I know my aunt is desperately worried about the possibility of a German invasion.”
“’Course she is,” Harry said. “By all means; you go and read your letter.”
She did so, turning away slightly and ripping it open, her eyes quickly scanning her aunt’s familiar handwriting.
There was nothing new, just a repetition of previously expressed complaints and concerns.
So, when David came running up to them, sounding panicked, she felt able to put the letter aside.
“Auntie Lilias! Compass has run down onto the marshes! Come quick!”
For the past few weeks there hadn’t been any access down to the marshes—it had been closed for the duration of the war so that the military could use it. Lilias missed the marshes with a passion and hoped the dog hadn’t managed to find a way through the barricades.
“Don’t worry, David,” she said. “I expect the guards will stop him.”
Harry looked worried. “Guards?”
Lilias sighed, watching David running ahead of them down the lane. “Yes. I’m afraid Compass’s usual walking haunts are closed off to us for the duration. Come on, we’d better go after them both.”
They walked together down the track as far as they were able and found Compass being restrained by a soldier who was holding him by the scruff of the neck while David looked on anxiously.
Lilias stepped forward with the dog’s leash to claim him.
“He yours, Miss?”
“Yes,” she said, clipping the leash on. “I’m sorry, Private. I’ll do my best to keep him away from here in future.”
“Could be wise, Miss,” the soldier agreed.
“Indeed. Come along, David.” When she turned, she saw that Harry had stood stock still to take in the view. “Blimey,” he said.
Lilias watched him, remembering his wife’s reaction. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, but he shook his head.
“I doubt it, because I’m not even sure what I’m thinking myself. It’s like nothing I’ve seen in my whole life.”
Lilias stood quietly beside him, remembering how she’d felt when she’d been reunited with the marshes again after the war.
“This place has been in my bones since my childhood,” she said.
“I can’t tell you how much I miss being able to walk freely down here.
You have to look a bit harder and closer to see the beauty of it; it doesn’t just strike you in the face. ”
Harry was looking at her intently, his dark eyes serious as he absorbed what she said, and it struck her that it had been a long, long time since a man had listened to her with such attention; not since her father had died, in fact.
She felt suddenly, unaccountably, nervous. “That is, unless you come here in midsummer, when the sea lavender’s in bloom. Then it’s less subtle; a purple haze just as far as one can see.”
His face broke into a lopsided smile. “Purple haze, eh? I’ll have to come back again specially to see it. After the war’s over.”
She smiled back. “Do.”
They turned their backs on the marshes and began to return along the lane towards the house. “How come you’ve got relatives in France?” Harry asked. “If you don’t mind me asking?”
“No, not at all. My mother was French. She met my father when he was doing some research for a book in Paris. They fell in love, and she moved here to marry him. My sister and I are bilingual.”
“Well,” Harry said, giving her the same cheeky grin David sometimes gave her. “Fancy that.”
As they turned into the garden gate, Harry reached down to ruffle David’s hair, and Lilias let Compass off his leash again. “Did you know Lilias is half French, son?” he said. “I shall expect you to be fully up with the lingo by the time you get back to London.”
Lilias laughed at David’s anxious expression. “Oh, don’t tease him. Although I’m sure he’ll pick up the odd word or two.”
“’Course he will. Learns quickly, David does.”
She smiled, certain that Harry was also the type to learn quickly. There was brightness in every line of his face. “Les chiens ne font pas des chats,” she said, and Harry frowned at her.
“You’re going to have to translate that one for me.”
She laughed, feeling embarrassed. “It means that David probably gets his ability to learn quickly from you. Dogs are not cats. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Never mind. Anyway, David, even Compass knows a little French.”
David looked astonished. “Does he?”
Lilias, who had heard a rustle in the hedge that signified Compass’s imminent return, nodded. “Of course. Watch.” And she called to the dog. “Compass! Ici!”
Instantly, the little dog shot through the hedge and right up to her side.
Hiding her amusement at David and Harry’s impressed expressions, Lilias surreptitiously pulled a piece of biscuit from her apron pocket and lifted her hand in the air.
“Compass, assis,” she commanded, and instantly the little dog sat down, his eyes on her hand.
“Well, look at that,” Harry said.
“Can you tell me how to teach him in French?” David wanted to know, and Harry laughed.
“There,” he said. “What did I say? You’ll soon be speaking French like a Frenchman.”