hair. Joyce, however, had rather frivolously tossed the wrapping paper in the air, from where it had landed over their mother’s face. Molly and her siblings had held their breath. Christmas for one beat was sucked out of the room and replaced with nervous apprehension as to how their mother might react. She had sat very still on an old embroidered nursing chair that lived in the corner of the room and pushed the paper to the top of her head before pulling a funny face that sent David into gales of laughter. Taking his cue, she and Joyce had joined in and, just like that, the festive spirit was back. It had been the very best day she could wish for. She smiled now at the memory.
Her brother’s glorious descriptions of their father were immensely precious to her and so detailed that time had helped fuse his stories with her dearest wishes and Molly had almost convinced herself that she had been present for all of them.
‘Yes. It helps me to picture him before he was so broken – it makes me feel less alone.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’ She took her time, this not being something she ordinarily shared. ‘My mother is distant. My brother and sister have their own lives, of course, and I seem to be . . . waiting.’
‘What are you waiting for?’ His tone was direct yet soft.
You. She swallowed the desire to say this and shrugged instead. ‘Waiting for my life to start, I suppose. I thought my career would be a bit more advanced. I want to join the Diplomatic Corps or the Foreign Office and travel the world.’
‘A career girl, eh?’
‘Yes, very much so.’ She held his eyeline, happy that he did not balk at her modern ideas. ‘I don’t always quite fit, Johan, with what is expected of me.’
‘And what is expected of you and by whom?’ he asked sincerely.
She pictured her sister. ‘I guess there’s an expectation within my family and society . . .’ She let this trail. ‘It seems to be that my goal should be to get up the aisle pretty sharpish and start reproducing, whereas what I want to do is—’
‘Use those languages Geer told me about?’ he interrupted.
‘Yes.’ She smiled, happy that he had remembered. ‘Not that I don’t want all that other stuff, but—’
‘You want both.’ Again he finished her sentence.
‘Maybe I do. Do you think I’m mad or selfish or foolish?’
He shook his head. ‘None of the above. I think you are unique and a woman to be taken seriously. You don’t yearn simply for domestic bliss—’
‘I just want bliss!’ It was her turn to interject. ‘Domestic or otherwise!’
‘Amen to that.’ He ran his fingers through his long, fair fringe, which had broken free from its oiled bounds and hung momentarily over his face. She captured his expression in her mind’s eye like a photograph.
‘The war has rather put a halt to things, changed the course for many people; not just me, I know, but it doesn’t mean that I resent it any the less. I guess I’m just not living the life I thought I would,’ she admitted.
‘Are any of us?’
‘I suppose not.’ She caught the flicker of sadness in his eyes. ‘Some days I want to scream at the world, furious at the mess we’re all in and because my father thought he was fighting to make a difference.’
‘I am furious for your papa.’ He nodded sincerely, suggesting that he too was a man who had experienced the darker side of battle. ‘And your distant mother – tell me about her?’
‘Her name is Elizabeth – Betsy – and she’s . . .’ Molly struggled with how best to describe her mother’s outlook on life. ‘She’s angry at the world and I know she misses Papa, but it’s as though she’s stuck somehow. Stuck in grief and disapproval and I suppose, if I’m being honest, not always the best company.’
‘That’s bad luck for her.’ She liked his humanity, the lack of scorn. ‘And bad luck for you, I’m sure.’
‘It is.’ Molly felt more than a little guilty for not saying something kinder.
‘And David and Joyce?’
She smiled, ridiculously happy that he had remembered their names. ‘Joyce is married to Albert, who’s a very steady sort of man.’ She decided not to offer anything more negative. ‘He works in the energy sector. They live in a nice house in Tonbridge, and Joyce fusses, but is a darling and she loves me, that much I do know. She’s