her eyes. ‘Magical, simply magical,’ she breathed enthusiastically. ‘Nature never ceases to delight one.’
Rita followed her into the kitchen and was given a tumbler of elderflower cordial and a biscuit. At that moment the ginger cat sprang out of her arms. A couple of black ones dashed out from under the kitchen table and three or four jumped off the windowsills and disappeared outside in pursuit of something beyond the senses of human beings.
‘Cats never cease to delight one either,’ said Mrs Megalith, watching the last, very fat cat amble lazily through the door. ‘I seem to attract them. Every time I count I have more than the time before. God only knows where they all come from.’
‘Cats are most unaffectionate creatures,’ said Rita, thinking of Mildred and how much she loved to be petted.
‘There you’re quite mistaken, my dear. They obviously sense that you don’t like them.’
Mrs Megalith was wrong for Rita loved all animals, even antisocial cats but she knew better than to contradict her grandmother. Biting her tongue, she followed her outside again and took a seat at the table on the terrace. The garden looked splendid, full of colour and the scent of spring.
‘You know a damned fox had a go at my Aylesburies last night. The wind blew the lamp out. What a wind there was last night! I found feathers all over the place. Fortunately my ducks escaped with little more than a fright. One’s missing but I suspect she’s sitting on her eggs. So Rita,’ she said, fixing her granddaughter with an intense stare. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m happy, Grandma,’ she replied, averting her eyes, sure that her grandmother could see her innermost thoughts.
‘You look well, if slightly apprehensive. What’s on your mind?’
‘Nothing. I’m just happy to have George back.’
‘And how is he?’ she asked. Rita wondered where her questions were leading.
‘Happy too. He wanted to come and see you with me,’ she lied, cringing as the colour in her cheeks exposed her.
‘Good gracious, there’s plenty of time for that. I wanted to see you on your own. I feel turmoil and uncertainty.’
Rita shook her head. Mrs Megalith’s eyes darkened. They often changed colour, which unnerved those who didn’t know her.
‘Not at all. I’m very certain about George.’
‘No dear. Not you. In George.’
Rita frowned and lowered her eyes. She wished she hadn’t come. ‘George and I are going to be married. We love each other.’
‘I know. You always have. But George will need you to love him more than ever.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rita was very confused and a little frightened. She looked up to see a large black cat, almost the size of Mildred, staring at her from the roof.
‘He will need you to listen to him, Rita. He’s lived through a terrible war. He will need to talk about it. He’s suffered, my dear. He’s seen his friends killed and faced death himself. It will all seem like a horrible dream that he can’t communicate to anyone because they won’t understand. You have to try to understand him. I know, because my Denzil was never quite the same after the Great War, all that mustard gas and mud, a terrible business. The greatest casualty of war, my dear, is marriage and young people like you who are ripped apart by it. Give him time, but then talk to him. Don’t forget that the only relationship he has been able to rely on in the last five years is the one between him and his Spitfire. He has to learn to trust human beings all over again. Don’t let him become estranged to you.’
Rita listened carefully to her grandmother. She might be an old witch but what she was saying made sense.
‘I want to understand him, Grandma, and I want to make him happy.’
‘And you will.’ Mrs Megalith smiled and her moonstone eyes softened to a gentle grey. ‘Now where did I put my cards?’
While her grandmother limped into the drawing room Rita noticed a swallow dancing on the warm evening
Rita followed her into the kitchen and was given a tumbler of elderflower cordial and a biscuit. At that moment the ginger cat sprang out of her arms. A couple of black ones dashed out from under the kitchen table and three or four jumped off the windowsills and disappeared outside in pursuit of something beyond the senses of human beings.
‘Cats never cease to delight one either,’ said Mrs Megalith, watching the last, very fat cat amble lazily through the door. ‘I seem to attract them. Every time I count I have more than the time before. God only knows where they all come from.’
‘Cats are most unaffectionate creatures,’ said Rita, thinking of Mildred and how much she loved to be petted.
‘There you’re quite mistaken, my dear. They obviously sense that you don’t like them.’
Mrs Megalith was wrong for Rita loved all animals, even antisocial cats but she knew better than to contradict her grandmother. Biting her tongue, she followed her outside again and took a seat at the table on the terrace. The garden looked splendid, full of colour and the scent of spring.
‘You know a damned fox had a go at my Aylesburies last night. The wind blew the lamp out. What a wind there was last night! I found feathers all over the place. Fortunately my ducks escaped with little more than a fright. One’s missing but I suspect she’s sitting on her eggs. So Rita,’ she said, fixing her granddaughter with an intense stare. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m happy, Grandma,’ she replied, averting her eyes, sure that her grandmother could see her innermost thoughts.
‘You look well, if slightly apprehensive. What’s on your mind?’
‘Nothing. I’m just happy to have George back.’
‘And how is he?’ she asked. Rita wondered where her questions were leading.
‘Happy too. He wanted to come and see you with me,’ she lied, cringing as the colour in her cheeks exposed her.
‘Good gracious, there’s plenty of time for that. I wanted to see you on your own. I feel turmoil and uncertainty.’
Rita shook her head. Mrs Megalith’s eyes darkened. They often changed colour, which unnerved those who didn’t know her.
‘Not at all. I’m very certain about George.’
‘No dear. Not you. In George.’
Rita frowned and lowered her eyes. She wished she hadn’t come. ‘George and I are going to be married. We love each other.’
‘I know. You always have. But George will need you to love him more than ever.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rita was very confused and a little frightened. She looked up to see a large black cat, almost the size of Mildred, staring at her from the roof.
‘He will need you to listen to him, Rita. He’s lived through a terrible war. He will need to talk about it. He’s suffered, my dear. He’s seen his friends killed and faced death himself. It will all seem like a horrible dream that he can’t communicate to anyone because they won’t understand. You have to try to understand him. I know, because my Denzil was never quite the same after the Great War, all that mustard gas and mud, a terrible business. The greatest casualty of war, my dear, is marriage and young people like you who are ripped apart by it. Give him time, but then talk to him. Don’t forget that the only relationship he has been able to rely on in the last five years is the one between him and his Spitfire. He has to learn to trust human beings all over again. Don’t let him become estranged to you.’
Rita listened carefully to her grandmother. She might be an old witch but what she was saying made sense.
‘I want to understand him, Grandma, and I want to make him happy.’
‘And you will.’ Mrs Megalith smiled and her moonstone eyes softened to a gentle grey. ‘Now where did I put my cards?’
While her grandmother limped into the drawing room Rita noticed a swallow dancing on the warm evening
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