kind and gives people the benefit of the doubt, is never cruel and always thinks things will turn out for the best. I want to be more like her. She’s unflappable, reliable, organised and the exact opposite of me!’
‘So you’re flappable, unreliable and disorganised?’ He raised his eyebrows, as they made their way to the Embankment and came to rest at a bench overlooking the river.
‘I think I’m pretty reliable,’ she offered, making no attempt to deny the other two.
‘And David?’
‘He’s in the army like our father was, but as a medic. He’s overseas; we don’t know where. Somewhere hot. And his wife, Clara, a rather sweet and submissive sort of girl much of the time, is with their adorable little daughter, Clementine, down at her parents’ place in Dorset. They visit us in Bloomsbury occasionally, where Clara reverts to a child herself and sits with misty eyes and a handkerchief pressed to her nose, as if she’s really the hardest done by in all the war, while my mother chases Clementine around the garden. Clara is on occasion hardly what one would call a coper.’
Johan laughed. ‘Poor Clara.’
‘Yes, poor Clara. And between you and me: poor David! I get the impression that no matter how this war pans out, he’ll be in deep trouble for abandoning her. Clementine is very quiet – I rather think she’s sensing her mother’s unhappiness.’
‘Indeed. Children need to feel safe, don’t they? Need to know there’s a steady hand on the tiller, otherwise it’s not fair. Poor little mites.’
Molly felt her stomach bunch as Johan expressed such sweet concern. She sat on the bench and he took up the space beside her, their legs touching as they looked out over the murky water and the cluster of vessels cluttering up the Thames. It was unbelievable to her that this was only the second time they had met.
‘Okay. So now tell me about your family.’
‘Well, Geertruida you know, of course. My father, as you also probably know is Dutch, a physician. He came over here to work and fell in love with my mother, a nurse – how clichéd is that? She is also a career woman and carried on working after we were born, fully supported by my father, of course. I think that’s how you thrive as a couple, don’t you? By not squashing the other’s hopes and dreams?’
Molly nodded. His words made her so deliriously happy it was a struggle in that moment to speak.
‘They settled in Hampshire, where I grew up. He’s working in London, staying here, so Mum’s pretty much abandoned too, but she doesn’t seem to mind and he gets home when he can. What else to tell you? I have a dog.’
‘Oh, you do?’ She liked the idea of a dog very much. ‘What kind?’
‘She’s a golden retriever called Dixie and she’s my most loyal friend. I miss her as much as I miss my parents when I’m away – is that wrong?’
‘Not to Dixie.’ She smiled, liking the softness to his nature and his openness too.
‘Probably not. I talk to her, but that is strictly between you and me. I don’t tell people that.’
‘Your secret is safe with me.’
Two RMPs walked past, hands behind their backs and in step. They had guns in white holsters over their shoulders, red bands around their hats and shiny black shoes.
‘Evening, sir, madam,’ one of them nodded in greeting.
‘Evening,’ Johan answered, reaching for his cigarettes. He shook two out into his palm from his cigarette case and offered her one. She raised her hand in decline, watching as he popped it back into the case and lit his with a match, taking a good long draw and blowing the smoke out into the evening air.
‘I feel that time is ticking by and there’s so much I want to say to you,’ Molly said boldly, ‘but mainly I want not to have to say goodbye to you in whatever time we have left. It feels like the most enormous pressure to make every minute count.’
‘I don’t want you to feel under pressure. I want you to enjoy my company.’
‘Very well then. And I do.’
‘I’m glad.’ He took another drag. ‘I don’t want much in life, Marvellous Molly. I don’t want a castle or pots of gold. I want simple things: home-grown apples, a comfortable chair, enough firewood to keep the chill at bay and a glass of beer on a Friday after a good working week – and of course someone to