Maggie Tyrell was running down the middle of the factory floor, screaming and waving a piece of paper in her hand. Nellie jumped away from the bench, spilling an entire packet of custard powder down her clean smock. She caught Maggie round the waist so that both women were propelled into a loaded trolley, spilling broken custard packets everywhere. Clouds of sticky yellow dust erupted like a spewing volcano and the entire row of women burst into laughter.
‘Oi, oi, oi!’ Ethel Brown’s voice boomed from the far end of the floor. ‘Behave yerselves! What’s going on?’ She waddled over, her forelady’s green overall stretched across her ample stomach. The war shortages had somehow made little impression on Ethel’s considerable bulk.
‘It’s Maggie,’ Nellie spluttered, her mouth full of sickeningly sweet powder. ‘She’s got the telegram.’ Ethel’s face fell as Nellie held Maggie tight in her arms ready for the inevitable explosion of grief. The laughter died away as all eyes turned sympathetically towards Maggie, who now alarmingly started laughing hysterically. She extricated herself from Nellie’s arms. It was well known that women took the news in all sorts of ways, but Nellie had never seen hilarity.
‘No, you silly cow!’ Maggie finally turned to Nellie. ‘It’s not the telegram! My old man’s got a Blighty. He’s coming home!’
Now the women’s concern turned to cheers and congratulations.
‘Oh, Maggie, I thought you’d gone mad with grief!’ Nellie explained, brushing down her smock.
‘But what’s his Blighty, Mag, is it a bad ’un?’ asked Ethel.
The group of women nearest craned to hear as they went back to the rhythmical filling and packing of the custard powder.
‘Well, bad enough, he’s got a lump of shrapnel in him size of an egg. Got to come home and get it operated on.’
‘How is he taking it?’ asked Nellie
‘Taking it? Well, he’s overjoyed. Listen to this. She read from the letter. “My Dear Mag, you’ll be pleased to hear that I have got my Blighty! I’m the luckiest of fellers, I shall be coming home with a piece of German metal in me groin, but rest assured, the Family Business is still intact!”’
The women in earshot roared with laughter and Ethel said sympathetically, ‘Well, small mercies, love, eh?’
‘Small mercies?’ Maggie pondered. ‘To be honest, love, with six kids, it would’ve been a mercy if that shrapnel had gone a bit lower!’
Nellie was pleased Tom Tyrell had got his Blighty. For Maggie the war had been particularly hard, with so many small children to cope with. Nellie started imagining what sort of Blighty wound she would find acceptable for Sam, how much of him would she want damaged or missing in order to bring him home. It wasn’t a game she enjoyed playing. That evening she decided to visit Lily after work. When she missed Sam badly, she would often go to Lily’s, just so they could talk about ‘the boys’, as they still called Jock and Sam. Christmas of 1915 had come and gone and still there was no sign of the long-promised leave. She’d received a letter from Sam just before Christmas, saying that they’d been posted to another front line and were on the move. She’d made a parcel of knitted socks and thick wool underwear and some hard-to-come-by slabs of chocolate. The children had written individual messages and Nellie had cried as she’d waited in line at the post office, trying to infuse the little parcel with every ounce of love that she felt for Sam. As the year had turned, the lists of casualties reached appallingly high numbers. Perhaps, after all, a missing hand or a useless leg would indeed be worth it, if they came home alive.
When Nellie arrived at Lily’s that night, her friend handed her the grizzling Johnny, instead of putting him to bed as she usually did at that time.
‘Here, take him!’ she said, thrusting the child at her. ‘He’s not stopped all day! I don’t know what’s the matter with him. He’s driving me mad.’
Nellie looked down into Johnny’s red-cheeked, screwed-up face, his little trembling chin wet with drool. Nellie had far more experience with babies than Lily, who was the youngest in her family.
‘Ohh, poor little bleeder, he’s just getting another tooth! You make the tea. I’ll get him off to sleep.’
Nellie gave Johnny a knuckle to chew on and began marching up and down the kitchen with him, rocking him all the while. As soon as she saw his eyes beginning to droop, she laid him carefully in his crib and began rocking it with her foot.
‘Oh, Nellie, you’re so good with him,’ Lily sighed admiringly. ‘You’ll be the same with your own kiddies, when they come.’
‘When they come? Don’t you think I’ve got enough to do, with my lot at home?’
‘But they’re not kids any more, are they?’
It was true. Bobby was the only one still at school, and not for much longer. Sometimes she missed the boys’ raucous presence. Most evenings they were out with their friends, or working with Freddie’s ‘business’, and Matty, too, was absent all day at Woolwich and two evenings at the Star.
‘You’re right, the house is getting too bloody quiet! Gives me too much time to think…’
The young women fell silent. Only the rhythmic rocking of the crib and the soft breathing of the baby intruded on their thoughts. They sat sipping their tea, until Lily went to a small kitchen cupboard. She drew out a tin and brought it with her to the chair by the fire.
‘I had a letter from Jock,’ she said. They were in the habit of reading their letters to each other, leaving out what Lily called ‘all the lovey-dovey stuff’. Nellie grew excited; the boys were in the same battery, riding the same six-horse team that transported the heavy guns wherever they were needed. A letter from one generally meant that a letter from the other would not be far behind.
‘Does he say anything about leave?’ she asked eagerly.
Lily shook her head. Looking glum, she unfolded the letter and read, ‘“My darling wife Lily…”’ Lily pulled a face at Nellie. ‘You don’t want to hear all his sweet nothings, do you, love? “I know you’ll be as happy as I am, when I tell you that I will be home and in your arms, this time next week!”’
Nellie jumped up, wagging an accusing finger at her friend. ‘You little mare, you!’
Lily laughed. ‘Surprised?’
‘I can’t believe you kept me in the dark all this time I’ve been sitting here!’
‘Well, I wanted you to get the baby asleep first, didn’t I?’ she joked.
‘Oh, Lily, you always get the letters first. Do you think that means Sam’s got leave too?’
‘’Course it does. They drive the same team. Stands to reason they’ll all get a rest together, don’t it?’
Nellie could hardly wait to get home to see if she too had a letter, even though she knew it was now far too late for a delivery. She was impatient all the next day, and when no letter came, she began to despair. Perhaps Lily had been wrong and the boys wouldn’t be on leave together after all. If Jock’s letter had taken two days to get from France, Lily could expect him as early as the end of that week. But the week dragged on and still there was no letter from Sam. Nellie’s misery was obvious to the whole family.
On Friday night, Alice was going out to the Time and Talents Club with her friends. ‘Why don’t you come too, Nell?’ she asked gently, during tea. ‘It’s no good sitting in worrying, is it?’
‘No, love, you go and enjoy yourself with your friends. Don’t worry about me.’
Soon after Alice had left, Matty came home from the Arsenal and began her usual Friday night routine, dashing to get ready for the evening performance at the Star, curling her hair, dressing, eating and practising her song all at the same time. She was like a fiery whirlwind and Nellie knew not to get in her way on ‘turn’ nights. She dashed through the kitchen, kissing Nellie briefly on the cheek,
‘I’ll be late tonight, Nell. Don’t wait up,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Bernie says we’ve got an American scout in, looking for singers!’ Matty’s eyes shone, and she turned at the door. ‘Might end up in vaudeville, you never know!’
Nellie smiled. If only Sam could see this confident, radiant young woman now, he wouldn’t recognize his little Matty.
‘Well, I will wait up, and don’t make it too late!’ Nellie called, but the front door had already slammed closed. Nellie stayed in the chair, letting the quiet emptiness of the house settle around her. She thought of Matty, all unquenchable youth and hope, and all she could say to her was, ‘Don’t make it too late!’ She sounded like an old mother hen, which, she had to admit, she was. But all the same, at twenty-one, wasn’t she still entitled to dream of a life full of promise, as Matty did?
The clock ticked away and the spring sunshine finally gave up the day, casting a warm orange glow through the front kitchen window and across Nellie’s folded hands. Into the silence, a scraping sound intruded. It was coming from the scullery, behind her. Nellie started up. Was someone in the house after all? She darted through into the scullery, to find the back-yard door swinging wide open. The golden evening light filled the doorway and spread across the scullery’s tiled floor. The sound was coming from outside. Going gingerly to the door, she saw a figure scraping his boots on the step. He must have heard her intake of breath: looking up from his task, he said, ‘Hello, Nellie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!’
Nellie, fearing that she had indeed seen a ghost, flung herself forward into Sam’s arms and squeezed him tightly to her. He certainly felt like solid flesh! His body against hers was warm! His chest rose and fell with the breath that spoke of life and she felt it, there it was, his breath soft on her cheek. She was certain this was no phantom.
‘Sam, you’re really here! You’re home!’
Nellie wouldn’t let go and Sam didn’t seem to want her to relinquish her hold on him. He tightened his arms round her and for a long time they simply rocked back and forth, reassuring each other that they were indeed both real. By the time Nellie’s tears had soaked through Sam’s tunic, the sun had set. Finally, he lifted her face from his chest and dipped his head to meet her lips with his own. It was their first lover’s kiss and if Sam had not been holding her so tightly, she was certain her legs could not have supported her. A mutual passion, fuelled by absence and peril and long denial, came on with the night and shone brighter for Nellie than the rising moon and all the sky full of stars. How long they kissed, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she loved and felt most completely and satisfyingly loved in return.
When Sam went to move away, she clasped him more tightly still. ‘Not yet, Sam. Don’t go away yet,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve made us wait so long… Since you’ve been gone, all I could think of was how much time we could’ve had together. I was such a fool.’
Sam chuckled gently. ‘I’m going nowhere, Nellie, not now I’ve got you in my arms! And you mustn’t blame yourself, this is perfect. Oh, Nellie, love, if you only knew how the thought of this has kept me going out there…’
He buried his face in her abundant chestnut locks. ‘Ahhh, your hair…’ he said. ‘I’ve dreamed about your hair...’
A breeze began to swirl around the little back yard and she shivered. Sam eased her away gradually and looked into her eyes.
‘We’ll have to move some time, my sweet girl, and you’re getting cold.’
Reluctantly, she let go and allowed him to pick up his pack. Once they were inside, she made him sit down in her father’s old chair, while she made him tea and toast. While he ate and drank, she sat on the floor next to him and plied him with questions.
‘Why didn’t you let me know you’d got leave? I could have had everything ready for you!’ she chided.
She looked up as she spoke, not wanting to take her eyes off him. She thought she must look very foolish, but she didn’t care, nothing seemed more important to her at this moment than Sam’s next word or look. All the world was reduced to the little circle that encompassed Nellie and Sam, and from the way his eyes followed hers, she was certain he inhabited that same bubble. He put down the tea on the tiled hearth and leaned forward, seeming to want to feel her lips as much as she wanted to feel his.
‘Ah, Nellie…’
And then she remembered he hadn’t answered her question. ‘Jock sent Lily a letter.’
‘Didn’t you get my letter, then?’ he asked, as though he’d only just registered her question.
Nellie thought it was very strange, the way they each seemed to be reacting at a dreamlike pace. She gave up trying talk sensibly about anything and allowed herself to surrender to his kisses. Words could wait.
She knew that their first few magical hours were over when Alice’s key turned in the front door. They looked at each other, reluctantly letting go of each other’s hands and moving apart. Sam rose to greet Nellie’s sister. Alice’s shock was almost as great as Nellie’s own and shortly afterwards, when the boys all tumbled through the back door, poor Sam had to repeat everything over again. He’d come down from the line a fortnight ago: men and horses were in bad need of a rest, he said. Nellie read in his expression untold reasons why they needed that rest and resolved to ask him more later. He and Jock had sailed together from Boulogne the previous evening and caught the military train to Victoria. They’d been lucky enough to cadge a lift on an army truck travelling through to London Bridge and the two friends had walked from there. It was only after they’d exhausted him with their questions that he asked: ‘Where’s our little canary?’
Sam insisted on waiting up for her and when the others went off to bed, Nellie stayed with him. It was after midnight when Matty came home, calling from the passage, ‘Oh, Nellie, I told you not to wait up!’ She walked into the kitchen and her hands flew to cover her mouth.
‘Sam!’ She let out a cry. She was across the room before he had a chance to get up. Draping her arms round his neck, she sat herself on his lap just as she had as a little girl.
Sam laughed. ‘Little canary’s not so little any more! Look at you, in your finery!’ He lifted her off his lap, and letting go of his hands she stood before him. She was wearing a new gown, which she’d paid for in weekly instalments. The pale green chiffon draped fashionably across her shoulders and at her throat she wore a gold and green choker.
Sam couldn’t hide his pride and astonishment. ‘Matty, you’re beautiful!’ he gasped.
She twirled round for him. ‘You won’t say that when you see me in my Arsenal cap and trousers. I look like a chap!’
Sam’s face darkened. He was about to say something when Nellie gave the merest shake of her head. He stopped short and said instead, ‘Well, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do in the morning. Where am I kipping down, Nellie?’
She was grateful he’d taken the hint. She didn’t want this precious homecoming spoiled by a tussle with Matty. Sam might not realize it but his little sister had changed, and not only physically: her naturally strong will had grown with her. Nellie doubted that Sam would any longer have the power to tame it.
‘Charlie’s going on the floor, he says you deserve a bed to yourself.’
She knew how bone-tired he was when he didn’t argue. He groaned, pushed up from the armchair and shouldered his pack.
‘I’ll stow this upstairs. Come on, then, my two beautiful girls, escort me up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire!’
They all three linked arms and squeezed up the narrow staircase, giggling and stumbling in the flickering amber gaslight. At the top Matty slipped into their bedroom, leaving Sam and Nellie just enough time for one precious goodnight kiss.
The next morning Nellie was up early: she wanted Sam to have a decent breakfast. He didn’t have to tell her how badly he’d been fed, for his once-full boyish face had been chiselled away by too many hungry days, and as she’d held him tight the night before, she’d distinctly felt each rib. How they could expect men to fight when they were half-starved was beyond her. If she could do nothing else, she was determined to send him back with some flesh on him.
Before the house was awake she dashed round to Spa Bakery, keen to get there before the bread queue formed; by mid-morning it was usually snaking down Spa Road. The pre-war mounds of golden-crusted bloomers, which had always filled the bakery shelves, were in short supply now. Most of the bread was bulked out with potato flour and called ‘war loaves’, but she knew there were still a few of the genuine variety to be had. She’d known Big Mo, the local baker, since childhood, and when he came out of the back bakery with a tray of rolls, he smiled at her.
‘Nellie, you’re early, love!’ He slid the tray of rolls into a basket, wiping his floury hands. She stood, holding her purse, looking up at him and hesitating, before asking for the favour.
‘What can I do you for?’ he asked.
‘I’ve got Sam home on leave, Mo. I wanted to give him a proper bit of bread with his breakfast,’ she said hopefully.
Mo nodded, tapped his nose and ducked back into the bakery behind the shop. Soon he came out with a wrapped loaf and a bag of rolls. ‘Here’s a special for the boy.’ He winked, shaking his head as she dipped into her purse. ‘Go on, love, tell him it’s on me, will you?’
Nellie nodded and thanked poor Mo, who had lost his only son last year. As she made her way back down Vauban Street, she noticed something flapping at the upstairs window of her house. It looked like a broom handle, stuck out like a crazy flagpole with a full set of army underwear, tunic, trousers and puttees attached, all blowing about in the breeze.
What the bloody hell’s he done that for? she wondered, easing open the front door. She was surprised to see Matty already up and poking at the range.
‘I thought I’d make Sam a good breakfast!’ She smiled brightly.
‘Beat you to it, love.’ Nellie put the bread on to the kitchen table and Matty gave her an affectionate squeeze.
‘You love my brother, don’t you?’ she said mischievously, and Nellie, too shocked to reply, playfully shoved her off.
‘Leave off, Matty! Just help me get some bacon on, smell of that’ll get him out the bed quick enough!’
But Matty wouldn’t be put off. ‘I could tell last night, you two couldn’t take your eyes off each other! No sense denying it, Nellie, it’s all over you!’
‘You be quiet, or I’ll get your brother to sort you out!’ Nellie ducked her head as she sliced the lovely new bread, but she could feel the blush spreading up her neck.
‘Well, before he gets up, I wanted to say thanks, Nell, for last night.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You stopped him jawing at me about the munitions work.’
‘I didn’t want no trouble his first night home, but you know he’s going to have it out with you, sooner or later.’
Matty flipped the sizzling bacon in the pan. ‘I don’t like him being cross with me. If you could have a word…’
Nellie pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘I can’t help you there, Matty. I don’t want you working at the Arsenal either.’
Matty looked up at the clock – it was almost six.
‘I’ve got to rush, the early tram’s always packed for the Arsenal.’ She grabbed her bag and, as she kissed Nellie, decided to give her a second. ‘That one you can give my brother for me when he’s up.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously, then the little canary flitted out, singing softly to herself, ‘The boy I love is UP in the gallery!’
‘Cheeky little cow she’s getting,’ Nellie muttered, but smiled all the same. She would definitely be passing that kiss on to Sam later!
She was disappointed when he didn’t come down alone. All the boys had been tempted by the smell of bacon and came crowding round the little kitchen table. Alice followed soon after, to help her lay the table. Nellie heaped Sam’s plate the highest, with bacon, a fresh fried egg, and slices of bread with their meagre supply of butter spread thickly. The boys were content with their own smaller portions – bacon was always a treat.
‘Mmmm, Nellie, this is grand!’ Sam tucked in and soon the only sounds were the boys contentedly devouring their breakfast. Sam was wearing his civvies.
‘I saw you’ve put the flags out. What’s that in aid of?’ she asked.
‘He’s lousy,’ Charlie offered, with his mouth full of bacon sandwich. ‘Had to sleep starkers.’
‘Sorry, Nell.’ Sam looked embarrassed. ‘I’m running alive. I didn’t want to leave any visitors in Charlie’s bed, thought the best place for the little buggers was hangin’ out the window. Maybe they’ve all dropped off in the night!’
‘A bar of carbolic soap might do a better job. I’ll get the tin tub out when I get home.’
Sam scratched at his arms and ribs. ‘Thanks, Nell, and I ought to get in the tub with ’em, I reckon!’
It was Saturday and they all had a morning’s work to do. Nellie had the added task of her Co-op round in the afternoon, so it was late in the afternoon before she saw Sam again. Alice had already boiled up the copper and washed his kit. She came home to find the kitchen steaming, with wet khaki draped in front of the fire and hanging from a line strung across the ceiling. As she pulled aside a pair of long johns, she was confronted by Sam’s soapy upper torso. He was leaning back in the tin bath, dark hair plastered down over his neat round head, eyes closed, full mouth set in a slight smile. He was beautiful! In his stillness and contentment, she felt she was seeing him for the first time totally unguarded, totally at ease. Unwilling to disturb his peace, she was about to duck back behind the long johns when she saw a jagged red scar snaking from shoulder to chest. She gasped and his eyes snapped open.
‘Nellie!’ He pulled up his knees and grabbed for the flannel, draping it strategically over himself.
‘Cover your blushes, Sam, I’m coming through!’ She sailed right up to him and planted a kiss on his wet head.
‘That’s from Matty and this one’s from me.’ Leaning down, she gave him a loving, lingering kiss that left him gasping. She ran her finger along the shiny scar, following its jagged route across his chest.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she whispered, and before he could say more, she headed for the scullery.
‘I’ll get you some more hot!’ she called through the open door.
‘No, no, I’m all right, I’m out!’
She heard water splashing about and was astonished at her own boldness. Where had it come from? She hadn’t thought twice about his nakedness, or propriety. There was the wound, evidence of all he’d been going through, and she had simply been propelled forward by love. Still, she smiled secretly to herself, she strongly suspected it hadn’t been an unpleasant experience for him!
That evening they’d arranged to visit Lily and Jock. Sitting on the top deck at the back of the tram, Sam slipped his arm round her waist. She looked up into his eyes and remembered the unguarded, contented figure she’d witnessed in the tub. Sam now had on what she thought of as his ‘cheery face’ and she knew it masked a worry. Matty’s hours at the Arsenal were longer than most and she hadn’t been home by the time they’d left.
‘What are you going to do about Matty?’ she asked, guessing the source of his anxiety.
‘She’s got to give it up. Do you know how dangerous that TNT is, Nell? And God forbid a Zeppelin ever gets a direct hit on the Arsenal!’
‘You’ll have a hard time convincing her. You know she thinks every shell she makes is keeping you alive?’
He sighed. ‘I won’t say we can’t do with the shells. There’s been times when we just had to call it a day ’cause we had nothing left to shoot Jerry with. And that meant leaving our boys in the lurch in no man’s land with half the barbed wire still there. But that’s not the job for her, is it? Not Matty.’
‘She’s a lot tougher than you think. She’s even stood up to Eliza and won, so she won’t take any notice of you.’
Sam shot her a look of concern. ‘What’s Eliza been poking her nose in for again?’
‘Don’t worry! We’re all on the same side this time. She’s been coming down every now ’n again, to see Matty.’
His silence was disapproving.
‘Listen, Sam, it’s been a good thing in the end, she only had to spend one day with Matty to know she could never replace your mum. I think she just wants to make up for the past. Anyway, she even brought her little boy down to see Matty. He’s a real character.’
‘William?’ Sam smiled. ‘I’d like to see how he’s growing up.’
Nellie hoped this was the first sign of a thaw between Sam and his elder sister. Nellie had ceased to think of Eliza as Madam Mecklenburgh. Through their brief meetings over the past months, a respect for her strength as a lone mother had replaced the old hero worship.
‘She’s kept to her word so far, Sam,’ she said tentatively, ‘and I think she could do with her family now. She’s bringing little William up on her own.’
‘Ernest didn’t want the boy after all?’
‘He tried to make trouble when he first got back from Australia, but, from what Eliza told me, it’s more like he wanted her back and thought he could use William to get to her.’
Some old protective family feeling cut through the years of resentment and Sam’s face flushed with anger. ‘Well, he’ll have me to deal with if he tries taking that boy off her!’
When they arrived at the chandler’s in Rotherhithe Street, Lily’s door was open. They went in, to find Jock sitting alone, with the baby on his knee.
‘She’s gone to the pub for a jug of beer!’ Jock said, a broad smile on his face. ‘What do you think of young Johnny, then?’ he asked Sam proudly, holding his son up for inspection and standing up to greet Nellie with a kiss.
‘Looks like you, poor little blighter!’ Sam joked.
Nellie shoved his shoulder. ‘Don’t let Lily hear you say that, he’s her darling!’
At that moment, Lily pushed through the door, carrying the foaming beer. ‘Haven’t you got the glasses ready, Jock?’
Jock pulled a face. ‘See, started nagging the minute I walked in the door, she did!’ He handed the baby to Sam, who immediately began to make Johnny laugh and hiccup.
When the glasses were full, they raised a toast to the boys’ safe return and a quick end to the war. That was the only reference they made to the fighting: both men seemed to have forgotten the war the minute they crossed the Channel. They were determined to enjoy every minute of their freedom and had soon drained the ale jug dry.
‘I’ll nip out and get another!’ said Jock.
‘I’ll come too, I might need a breath of air!’ said Sam.
When she heard a clatter, followed by the stifled laughs of the two friends, she realized they had both tumbled down the slippery stairs to the yard. She went to jump up when Lily stopped her.
‘Leave ’em, Nell, they’ve been dodging German shells all this time. I reckon they can manage the stairs on their own!’
She drew her chair closer to Nellie. ‘Has he kissed you yet?’
Nellie blushed and nodded.
‘I knew it!’ Lily was triumphant. ‘He looks like the cat that got the cream.’
Nellie sighed contentedly. ‘Oh, Lil, I don’t mind being the cream, I can tell you!’
After a night of laughter and reminiscences, Nellie and Sam left their friends with promises to meet up again before the boys’ leave was over. The April night was bright with stars and when Sam suggested a slow walk home, Nellie was pleased. Rotherhithe Street, the longest in London, meandered round the river’s loop and they walked arm in arm along its length, as slowly as they could. Any time alone with Sam was precious now to her, even surrounded by the gaslit, late-night bustle of Rotherhithe. Groups of rowdy Tommies, on leave, were turning out of pubs and many shops, still glowing with light, were serving customers. In spite of the noisy crowd, Nellie felt she and Sam continued to be enclosed in a charmed bubble.
‘Let’s have a look at the river,’ Sam suggested.
He led her away from the busy street, down an alley leading to the foreshore, where they made their way out on to a jetty. The Thames spread out before them, inky black, slick and striped with moonlight. Golden globes of light bobbed up and down, on moored vessels, strung out across the river. The stars spread out thickly above them like a silver quilt, as Sam put his arms round her. He kissed her gently at first and then more deeply. When eventually they stopped for breath, he said, ‘I love you, Nellie. Will you marry me?’
Nellie looked up into his face, aware that above them in the sky myriad stars were moving slowly into their appointed places in the heavens. Without pause or hesitation, she replied, ‘Yes, Sam, of course I’ll marry you.’