Tilly had heard in letters from home – from her mother, Maddy, Jessie and Hetty, who all wrote to her – about the ongoing work at the house in Victoria Avenue. It was hoped that by the spring of 1916 the building work and renovations would be completed and the nursing home ready to open.
William had listened, quietly and thoughtfully at first, then with more enthusiasm, to his wife’s suggested plans. ‘I think it’s a splendid idea,’ he had told her, after a few moments’ contemplation. ‘Yes…the house next door – Mr and Mrs Whittaker’s place – we can easily raise the money to purchase that. Now, why didn’t I think of it? You are a genius, my dear. I should imagine the price will be quite reasonable; it’s become very rundown over the years. We’d best jump in there quickly before it’s requisitioned by the government. I’m surprised, actually, that that hasn’t happened already…’
He had visited the estate agency the very next day, which was none other than the business in which Joseph Fraser – Dominic’s father – was a partner with his brother-in-law. The firm of Fortescue and Fraser was well known in the town for fairness and reliability. The two men had a nodding acquaintance with one another, but no mention was made of the fact that some day the two families might have closer contacts. They were both shrewd businessmen with the inherent Yorkshire ability to drive a hard bargain.
William Moon explained why he wanted to buy the property; how he and his wife wished to open a convalescent home for wounded soldiers recuperating after a spell in hospital.
‘I daresay you could get a government grant for that,’ Joseph Fraser told him.
But William insisted that he and his wife wanted to buy and possess the property in their own right. ‘And then, when this confounded war is over, it will be ours to do as we like with,’ he explained.
‘Amen to that,’ replied Mr Fraser. ‘To the war being over, I mean. It’s a great idea you’ve got there. The way things are going we may well need a lot more of those places. But – please God – we pray that neither your son nor mine end up in one.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed William. He was thinking, though, that to end up in a nursing home might well be a blessing when one considered the grim alternative.
A sum was agreed upon, with Joseph Fraser lowering the price a little as the property would be used for such a worthwhile cause. A government grant was secured for the part of the building work that was necessary for the functioning of the convalescent home, and also for the essential furniture required to equip the place.
By the time Tilly arrived home on Christmas Eve the work was progressing well. The covered passageway linking the two houses had been completed as had the necessary alterations to the kitchen and dining areas, and an extra bathroom and lavatories had been installed. The requests had been given priority treatment as it was of vital importance to the war effort. Work would stop now for the next couple of days; but in January Faith hoped that the functional iron bedsteads and the utilitarian bedroom furniture would be delivered, in time for the opening early in the spring.
‘It has given us all a real sense of purpose,’ Faith told her daughter. ‘Jessie and Maddy and Hetty, they all want to be involved as auxiliary workers; and they’ve promised us some trained nurses and a sister. And we’re hoping that you will be able to join us, Tilly, as a trained nurse. Do you think they will allow you a transfer?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ replied Tilly, but a trifle cagily. She had guessed what might be in her mother’s mind. ‘Perhaps after I’ve been in Bradford for a year. I should have got through my first exams by then… I am very impressed, Mother, by what you’re doing here – what you hope to be doing when you open up, I mean. Believe me, these lads need all the cosseting and comfort they can get after all they’ve been through. They don’t get too much of that in hospital; we’re concerned with making sure they recover from their injuries… if possible.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘But it isn’t always possible.’
‘I’ve said that we shall want to take all ranks,’ said Faith. ‘Not just officers; we want to take privates – the ordinary soldiers – as well. Better to keep to just the army, I think.’
‘They’re usually kept separate if possible, Mother,’ said Tilly, ‘the officers and ordinary soldiers. Although I agree with you, of course.’
‘Well, that’s what I want,’ said Faith decidedly. ‘The bedrooms – or wards, I suppose they’ll call them – could be kept separate; there are two distinct halves, our house and next door. But I shall insist on a communal dining room and sitting room. And the garden area, of course. We shall take down the dividing hedge and that should be a nice big grassy area in the summertime where the men can relax.’
This conversation was taking place on the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Tilly had arrived home at midday and they were expecting Tommy to arrive towards teatime. And Dominic, too, although he, of course, would go straight home before meeting Tilly that evening. She was in a frenzy of excitement at the thought of seeing Dominic again. She knew, however, that he would not be able to spend all his time with her. His parents would expect, quite rightly, that he should be with them for the all-important Christmas dinner, traditionally a family time. Dominic’s family was not a large one, unlike her own. Their party would consist of Dominic and his parents, and the Fortescue family: Cedric, who was Mrs Fraser’s brother and Joseph’s partner in the business, his wife, Maud, and their unmarried daughter, Priscilla, who was several years older than Dominic.
‘Poor Priscilla; she’s an old maid in the making if ever there was one,’ Dominic had told Tilly, when explaining about his lack of relatives. Priscilla worked only on a part-time basis, helping her father and uncle in the office. She stayed at home with her mother the rest of the time, assisting with the household sewing and mending, but for most of the time pursuing ladylike pastimes such as fancy needlework and painting. ‘I can see her several years from now spending all her time looking after her ageing parents. Uncle Cedric and Aunt Maud, they don’t seem to recognise that she’s a person in her own right and that she should have a life of her own.’
‘And doesn’t she mind?’ Tilly had asked.
‘She doesn’t appear to. I’ve never known her to stick up for herself. There’s not much to choose between her parents and mine for being strait-laced and rigid in their views. It amazes me that my mother and father have accepted you so well, my darling,’ he told her. Then, realising that that might sound rather uncomplimentary, he had gone on to say, ‘But how could they help but take to you, Tilly? You are such a lovely girl. They could never wish for a nicer daughter-in-law, and that’s what you will be, won’t you…before very long, we hope.’
This conversation had taken place just before Dominic had left for his training. Tilly wondered how his parents – and hers as well, of course – would take to the news that they were engaged to be married. Dominic had written to her that he had bought a ring, one that he hoped she would like as much as he did.
‘I know that, ideally, we should choose it together,’ he had written, ‘but the shops in Scarborough will be closed over the Christmas period, and I do want us to know that we truly belong to one another, darling, before I go overseas.’
Dominic and Tommy had both completed their officer training and were now second lieutenants. After a short period of leave they would be going with their battalions to join the conflict in Europe. Tilly was trying not to think too much about it at the moment. They had both known that it was inevitable, but they had a few precious days – well, hours, really, considering the claims of their respective families – before they had to say goodbye.
Dominic arrived at her home in the early evening and the other members of the household, including Mrs Baker, refrained from answering the knock at the door, knowing that Tilly would want a few moments alone with him. He looked more handsome than ever in his new uniform; the officers’ uniforms were of a finer material than the khaki worn by the privates and non-commissioned ranks. Likewise, her brother, Tommy, had looked every inch the professional soldier when he had arrived a few hours earlier.
Tilly and Dominic clung together, silently, in a fierce embrace, as if they could not bear to let one another go. Then, ‘I have missed you so much, my darling,’ he told her in a voice husky with emotion, before they kissed as passionately as they could allow themselves to at that moment, with Tilly’s family only a few yards away.
‘I love you too, so much,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t believe you’re really here.’
‘Yes, it’s me all right,’ he grinned, drawing apart from her and looking at her lovingly. ‘But I know what you mean; it’s what I’ve been dreaming about for months, seeing you again. And now you’re here, more lovely than ever…’
They regarded one another with an ardent, but at the same time, tender gaze. Then Tilly took hold of his hand. ‘Come along,’ she said. ‘You’d better come and say hello to the family.’
Her mother and Uncle Will were in the sitting room, with Tommy, Maddy and little Amy, and Hetty and her daughter, Angela. It was bedtime really for the two little girls – a special bedtime on Christmas Eve because they must prepare for the visit of Father Christmas – but they had been allowed to stay up a little longer to greet the homecoming soldiers. Unfortunately the daddies of both Amy and Angela – Freddie Nicholls and Bertram Lucas – had already gone overseas and would not be home for Christmas.
Tommy and Dominic exchanged a few cracks about believing that they had seen the back of one another for a few days. ‘And here he is again, turning up like a bad penny,’ Tommy quipped, giving his mate a friendly shove. ‘But I’m not kidding myself that it’s me you’ve come to see!’
‘I should think not!’ retorted Dominic. ‘I’ve seen quite enough of your ugly mug lately to last me a lifetime.’
Everyone knew, though, that the two young men remained the best of friends and would be there to support one another through thick and thin. They were all pleased to see Dominic again. After about half an hour’s chat and exchange of news William drove Hetty and Angela back to their home on the opposite bay. And Maddy, who was still living at her parents’ home, took Amy upstairs to bed.
‘Now make sure you go straight to sleep, then Father Christmas will be sure to come,’ Tommy said, kissing his little niece on the cheek. She was his step-niece, to be accurate, but more than ever, now, they were one big happy family.
‘Let’s hope her daddy is home for next Christmas,’ said Faith, with feeling. ‘And Bertram too…and Samuel, of course.’ Her elder son – whom she tended to forget from time to time was the true father of Angela – was now at the Front as well. ‘Maddy puts on a very brave face, and so does Hetty, but I know they both feel it very much, their husbands being away.’
‘When your nursing home opens they will have very little time to brood, believe me!’ Tilly remarked.
‘Yes, I can imagine that is very true,’ replied Faith. ‘We are all looking forward to getting started now, to feel that we are doing something worthwhile towards the war effort. We all feel so helpless sometimes when all we can do is knit socks and write comforting letters.’
‘Letters mean a hell of a lot,’ said Tommy. ‘Don’t they, Dominic? Even more so, I should imagine, when you’re in the thick of it all.’
‘Yes, as we will be very soon,’ remarked Dominic.
‘When are you going…and where?’ asked Tilly, a trifle apprehensively, although not sounding nearly so fearful as she was feeling deep inside herself. ‘Have you been told yet?’
‘The short answer is no, to all the questions.’ It was Tommy who replied. ‘It’s all very “hush hush”, though why it should be we can’t imagine. All we know is that we will be going early in the new year, and it will most likely be to the Western Front.’
‘Freddie and Bertram appear to be keeping out of trouble at the moment,’ said Faith. ‘They both say how much the letters from home mean to them… Samuel as well, although he doesn’t write very often. Maddy and Hetty pass the news on to us and they say that both of them are keeping cheerful and optimistic; at least that’s the impression they give in their letters, but I daresay they only write about the parts that are not too bad.’
‘Freddie and Bertram don’t write to us personally,’ said William. ‘We wouldn’t expect them to, but Faith drops them a cheery note now and then. We were very touched to get a Christmas card from each of them though. And one from Samuel too, which was,’ he nodded meaningfully, ‘a very kind thought.’
Tilly had already noticed the three embroidered cards that had pride of place on the mantelshelf. The design and wording on each of them differed slightly, but they all featured the vertical striped flags of France and Belgium – red, white and blue; black, yellow and red respectively – with Christmas roses or holly and a brief message, ‘Happy Christmas’ or ‘Season’s Greetings’ written in English. No doubt similar cards, the work of enterprising firms in France and Belgium, were now displayed in the homes of thousands of families across Britain, sent home to wives and sweethearts, parents and special friends.
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.
‘And look, Aunty Tilly; there’s even a little lavatory and a bath!’ Amy exclaimed. ‘And look at the kitchen! All those tiny pans and plates and a kettle. I think they need a cook, don’t you? That’s what posh people have, and I think they’re a posh family. I’ve called them Mr and Mrs Jones, and the boy’s called Johnnie, and the girl’s called Jane.’
‘You’re a lucky girl, Amy,’ said Tilly, with one eye on the door.
In a few moments Dominic and her parents returned. Tilly could tell by their faces that they were all pleased with the outcome of their talk. Her mother came over to her.
‘William and I are very happy for you, dear,’ she said. ‘We like Dominic very much and we know how fond you are of one another.’ She kissed her daughter’s cheek. ‘Of course you are both very young, and in normal times we would have advised you to wait a while. But we both realise there would be no point in that…’ Faith’s eyes started to brim with tears, and she hastily brushed them away. ‘William will tell everyone later, if that is what you want?’ Tilly nodded and so did Dominic who had joined them.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We want to share our good news with everyone.’ He turned to Tilly. ‘And then you can start wearing your ring, can’t you, darling?’
‘For a few days anyway,’ replied Tilly. ‘When I go back to the hospital I expect I shall have to wear it on a chain around my neck. Jewellery is not allowed except for wedding rings. But I shall keep it near to me all the time.’
Nobody was really hungry at teatime but they managed to eat a few turkey sandwiches – prepared by the younger women – and a morsel of Christmas cake, just as fruity and succulent as the pudding. Then William said he had some news to share with everyone. Some may have wondered why the sherry glasses had been brought out again, although some would no doubt have guessed.
‘Listen, everyone,’ began William. ‘Tilly and Dominic are now engaged to be married!’ There was a chorus of ‘Oh, what a surprise!’ and ‘How lovely!’, and William’s eyes as well as Faith’s were bright with unshed tears of joy.
‘Well, we will be as soon as Tilly starts to wear her ring,’ said Dominic. Once again he slipped the ring onto her finger, then kissed her on the lips, but rather more chastely than usual.
Everyone clapped and cheered and raised their glasses as William declared, ‘To Tilly and Dominic… May they always be as happy as they are today.’
It would be pointless to say any more. But the same thoughts, no doubt, were in several minds. For how long? What would the future hold for them? And the same heartfelt prayer; Please God, let it be over very soon.