I wondered why there didn’t seem to be any women in the village. When I asked, Merle told me that they were out selling fish. “They go to Falmouth by donkey,” she said. “Turbot’s the prize catch, along with halibut and red mullet. There are oysters in the estuary, too.”
“Oysters were my favorite thing when I lived in Dublin,” I said. “But it’s . . .” I bit my tongue. I’d almost told her that they were the food I’d missed most when I went into the convent.
“What?” Merle said.
“It’s . . . just been a while since I’ve had any.” I smiled to cover my awkwardness.
There was a sudden commotion farther up the street: the whoop of children let loose for the Easter holiday. “Oh—they’re out early.” Merle opened her arms to catch Ned, who came hurtling down the street like a missile.
“Slow down!” She caught him and lifted him off his feet. “He’s really too young to go to school,” she said, ruffling his hair as she put him down. “He’s only four and a half.” She glanced past me to the woods above the village, where Penheligan’s monumental walls were hidden in the trees. “It was a bit of influence from you-know-who. He persuaded the headmistress to allow Ned to come here with the others.”
Watching the little boy as he darted down the street with Merle’s children, I couldn’t help thinking about his parents. What must it be like for them, I wondered, not knowing where he was or who was looking after him? And what would it be like for Ned when the war finally ended? How would he feel, being handed back to people who were total strangers?
“We’ll walk you back to the boathouse if you like,” Merle said. As we headed for the rocky spur that separated the village from the cove, she produced a paper bag from her pocket. Inside it were licorice bootlaces. She gave one to each of the children, then handed me one.
I tried to give it back—it didn’t feel right, taking what she’d bought for the children—but she insisted. “Everything with sugar in it is supposed to be rationed,” she said, “but there’s a woman up the street with jars of these hidden in a cupboard in her front room—and she never asks for any coupons.”
I put mine in the pocket of my dungarees to save for later. Merle went to catch up with Louis and the girls, who were kicking the head of a dead fish around the cobblestones. Ned fell into step beside me. He tugged at my hand, and when I looked down, he opened his mouth to show a tongue and gums stained black with licorice.
With a poker face, I retrieved my bootlace and stuck it under my nose to make a drooping mustache, curling my top lip to hold it in place.
This made Ned laugh so much he almost spat his out.
He held my hand as we made our way around the rock pools left behind by the tide. “Can we go fishing?” he asked. “There’s a net in your house—I seen it.”
“There is.” I smiled. “But we’ll have to ask your . . .” I trailed off, wondering what he called Merle.
“Auntie Merle?”
“Yes—we’ll see what she says.”
I almost had a fight on my hands when we got back to the boathouse. When the others heard what Ned planned to do, they all wanted to go fishing. Luckily there were two shrimping nets. I took charge of the boys and Merle the girls. By the time the incoming tide had driven us back, we’d caught half a dozen shrimps, three crabs, and a starfish.
“But I want to stay here,” Ned wailed when Merle said it was time to go back for tea. She went to take his hand, but he wrapped his arms around my leg.
“You can come another time,” I said. His little arms were gripping me like a vise. I bent down, slipping my fingers under his, trying to pry them off as gently as I could. I hoped that Merle hadn’t caught the emotion in my voice, that she wouldn’t see that my eyes were filmy with tears and ask me what was wrong.
I didn’t notice that two other figures had appeared on the beach. It was only when I raised my head that I saw Jack, just feet away, with Brock at his heels. There was the strangest expression on his face. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
Chapter 7
Merle shooed the children up the beach toward the woods. Ned had let go of my leg as soon as he spotted Jack. I wondered if the children were afraid of him.
Once they’d gone, he behaved as if nothing was amiss. He’d brought more kindling for the fire, and he smiled at me as he tipped it into the willow basket, asking how I’d got on in the milking shed with the Land Girls.