The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,82

which seemed to end with her breathless in his arms.

Sam and Richard had sloped off to find more beer and I was taking a breather by the French windows – not that it was any cooler outside – when Aunty Lynn slipped out to join me.

‘Enjoying it?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Gladys looks like she’s having the time of her life.’

‘She’s waited a long time for this day. I guess she’s had plenty of time to think about what she wanted to do. Hiring a plane and befriending the RAF is no mean feat.’

‘How do you even go about doing that?’

‘I think she met the RAF guys through doing a couple of charity jumps, and when she said that was how she wanted to arrive on her wedding day, they offered to help.’

‘Only Gladys.’

‘She’s a character. Wish my dad could have been here; he’d have loved it. Probably would have given her away. She was always his favourite and there were fifteen years between them.’ She looked pensively out towards the sea. ‘I still miss him.’ I felt like there was something else coming as she gave me a shrewd study. ‘Sam says you’re going to stay in Ottershaw.’

I tensed.

‘Yes.’

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t press for any more information.

‘I found a very nice pub that looked really good in the pictures.’ I unfolded my arms which I hadn’t realised I’d folded. I had no reason to be defensive. I could go and stay anywhere I wanted.

‘You do know—’

‘Jess darling, there you are.’ My mother appeared by my side and I’d never been so grateful to see her in all my life.

Lynn gave me the sort of glance that said she wasn’t done here but knew she was beaten for the time being. I prayed that Sam hadn’t mentioned where we were staying to Mum, although it might not have any significance to her. I couldn’t be sure. Those long-ago letters with a return address had been sent to me, not her.

‘I’m absolutely exhausted. This heat. It’s like the summer of ’76 all over again, isn’t it, Lynn?’

‘Yes. I can’t remember another summer like it.’

They lapsed into reminiscing about their youth and the drought conditions they remembered and I took the chance to slip away, crossing the lawn over to the cliff path looking down onto the beach. I was still undecided as to what I would do when we got to the village tomorrow. We were only staying for one night. I glanced guiltily back towards the house. Sam had no idea why I’d chosen Ottershaw. I really ought to tell him why.

Chapter Twenty-One

‘This looks great,’ said Sam, bouncing with enthusiasm, his elbow propped on the open window and the breeze ruffling his hair, as the Black Bull came into view. ‘A proper pub with proper beer. We should have asked your uncle Richard to come too.’

‘What, for a romantic night away with him and Aunty Lynn? We could have invited Mum and Shelley too,’ I teased.

‘You know, this is our first night away together, not counting the wedding, which was nice but surrounded by people. It’s quite nice to be here, just you and me. No one knows us.’

I liked the idea of anonymity. Everything in Tring had become a bit too public, and with the recent run-ins with Victoria, I didn’t like the feeling of undeserved notoriety.

‘We’re just tourists. Daytrippers.’ He burst into a loud and tuneless chorus of the Beatles song despite the open window, catching the amused attention of a couple just entering the beer garden.

We really had been tourists today. Following signposts to interesting-sounding places, meandering our way along the coast and stopping for ice-cream twice because we were ‘on holiday’. We’d been enticed by the sunshine and a sense of having all the time in the world to take a snooze on one beach followed by a paddle that had turned into a splashing water fight and the two of us were still drying out, although it was so hot neither of us minded. I was starting to believe that this weather would last for ever and, according the forecast, there was to be no let-up for at least another ten days.

The village of Ottershaw delivered everything the pictures and Tripadvisor had promised: a village green with the pub on one side, the ancient twelfth-century church at the apex and a bow-fronted village shop with the tiniest of doorways. A large wooden sign, with a picture of a windmill, declared that the village was mentioned