The trees about the Tarn were in blossom, and Ottilie and Frederick sat side by side on a bench, watching the old ladies throwing bread to the ducks.
‘How’s your arm?’ asked Ottilie. ‘Still a bit achey?’
‘Very achey, but I shall be brave.’ His wrist was still in plaster, but he had abandoned the sling unless the pain became too much to bear, which usually happened in the evenings. ‘This is a lovely spot, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Ottilie. ‘There’s a local legend that it has no bottom.’
‘Ah, like Cunegonde.’
‘Cunegonde?’
‘You know, the woman in Candide who has her buttocks eaten when her companions get hungry. Or was it just one of them?’
Ottilie laughed. ‘I’ve never read Voltaire. I know I should. You’re a very silly man. Your humour is most indelicate, quite unsuitable for a simpering little thing like me. Did you know that it was here at the Tarn that Rosie decided to marry Daniel? He went into the water to rescue a drowning dog, and that was what made her mind up.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting them. Are they really coming back?’
‘That’s what Rosie says in her letter. Daddy’s furious. It’s obvious that Daniel doesn’t want to, and she’s bullied him into it.’
‘What fearsome sisters you are.’
Ottilie smacked him gently on the back of his hand. ‘Watch out, you! But isn’t it funny how things turn out? I mean, Christabel used to be a typical English rose, but since she’s been Gaskell’s companion she’s turned into a sort of tropical orchid. A bromeliad or something.’
‘A frangipani blossom? Bougainvillea perhaps?’
‘Oh, do be quiet, silly man. And Sophie, well, Sophie’s just Sophie, isn’t she? Her tremendous depth lies in her apparent silliness.’
‘I adore Sophie,’ said Frederick. ‘When you’re with Sophie you can’t help having a smile on your face.’
‘Everyone loves her. She doesn’t have a single enemy. She was a driver on the Western Front, you know. Changing tyres under fire and that sort of thing? I think she knows as much about engines as Daniel does. Who would have believed it? She seems so terribly feminine, doesn’t she?’
‘And Rosie?’
‘Poor Rosie’s too complicated for her own good. She doesn’t even understand herself. She’s got a heart of gold, and she’d do anything for anyone, but you know, I think she’s still got shell shock.’
‘Shell shock? Was she at the front?’
‘Well, as I told you, her childhood sweetheart was killed in 1915. They were engaged to be married. And then she worked herself to the bone at Netley just to try and forget, but every wounded soldier must have reminded her of Ash, and every death must have reminded her that Ash was dead. And then she married Daniel on a sort of gamble that it might be the right thing to do and she might really learn to love him.’
‘Oh dear. It doesn’t sound very encouraging.’
‘I’m expecting fireworks when they come back. I’m really rather dreading it.’
Frederick put his hand on top of hers. She was not quite sure how to react, so she left her hand where it was, and just looked down at it.
He said, ‘I’ve never been in love. Until now.’
He turned and looked at her, and their eyes met. Suddenly her face crumpled, and she burst into tears. Frederick was confounded, and could think of nothing to do but put his arm around her shoulder, and say, ‘Ottilie, my dear, my dear…’
She fumbled in her handbag and brought out a small handkerchief, dabbing her eyes.
‘Is there any hope?’ asked Frederick. ‘Is there any hope?’
Ottilie said nothing, but nodded vigorously. Suddenly she looked up and said, ‘I thought I’d be an old maid. I am an old maid.’
‘What terrible nonsense, and even if you were, I’d feel the same.’
‘Would you?’
‘I would. Cross my heart and hope to die. What about you?’
‘Me? What about me?’
‘I wouldn’t want to be a gamble.’
‘You wouldn’t be.’
‘You know I’m asking you to marry me, don’t you?’
‘Are you?’
‘Well, don’t be so surprised. There’s no woman sweeter in the whole world.’
‘There are millions sweeter than me.’
‘I don’t know any of them.’
‘You haven’t done enough research.’
‘I’ve done exactly the right amount. Will you marry me and come to India?’
‘There’ve been riots in Lahore. Sikhs and Muslims at each other’s throats. Fourteen dead. It doesn’t sound very peaceful.’
‘Lahore is nowhere near Madras. The tea pickers are Tamils and they’re Hindu if they’re not Roman Catholic, and the educated Indians in town are a delight. I’ve got photographs. You’ll see how beautiful it all is. I know you’ll just love it. I’ve got a nice little residence in the suburbs, and a beautiful big bungalow on a hillside.’
‘You don’t have to bribe me.’
‘I fear I may not be enough on my own. I’m nothing special after all.’
‘You fought at the Battle of Jutland.’
‘So did thousands of others. I’m not special, there are lots of old seadogs like me, and lots of people with nice bungalows. All I’ve got is my certainty. About you.’
Ottilie began to cry again. She had recently had her hair trimmed in fashionable shingles, and the spring sun was sparkling in the tips.
‘Have you loved before?’ asked Frederick. ‘I probably shouldn’t ask, but I need to know who to be jealous of.’
‘Of whom I should be jealous,’ said Ottilie.
‘Of whom I should be jealous,’ repeated Frederick.
‘I loved someone for years and years and years,’ said Ottilie, ‘ever since I was tiny. But it was completely hopeless. He only ever had eyes for Rosie, and now he’s on the North-West Frontier, still trying to get over her. I decided to give up quite recently, and just settle for being an old maid. So I did give up. And after a while I began to feel like a liberated city. Like Ypres, perhaps. Somewhat ruined, but calm, and hopeful. In case you’re wondering, it was Archie, Daniel’s brother. There, now you know. And you don’t have to be jealous. The poor man is a tormented soul, and he’s foolishly brave, and he’s pretty much a dipsomaniac, and you’ll probably never meet him, and he’s in the Frontier Scouts. I’ll always be fond of him, but I really have given up. And you’re here now. Is there a clinic on your estate? I’d quite like to get back to nursing. There must be an awful lot one can do for the natives.’
Frederick laughed resignedly. ‘Well, yes, there is a clinic, but you’d mostly be tending to whites, except that we’re all terribly brown from playing tennis in the sun, and you’d hardly tell us apart from the natives were it not for the clothes and the tennis rackets.’
‘I’m absolutely not going if there’s nothing to do. I really can’t abide idleness. Perhaps I could teach the natives reading and writing. Sophie’s little dame school is doing terribly well.’
‘Do I take it that you’ve agreed to marry me?’
‘I’m not racy enough to live in sin.’
‘So, is it yes?’
‘You haven’t asked me properly.’
‘You want me to kneel in a park? In front of all these ducks?’
‘Yes.’