Unforgettable (Gloria Cook) - By Gloria Cook Page 0,64

illustrations,’ Guy said enthusiastically. He was back from Bude, and he and Fiona were at Sunny Corner with Dorrie and Greg for afternoon tea. Eloise was asleep in her pram, the hood up to keep the sun off her delicate healthy pink skin. Guy looked happy and relaxed, and Dorrie knew it was because he was with Fiona. They almost seemed a couple in spite of the fact that Fiona would have to wait a long while to be divorced. It was a perfect sunny day and they were out in the front garden, under the magnolia tree, in lounging chairs around a circular table covered with crisp white linen. Having started off with iced drinks they were now on the treat taken from Dorrie’s precious cache of Earl Grey. ‘Ever thought of clubbing your talents together and trying to get a book published? I’m sure you could come up with many more wonderful rhyming stories for kids, and your hilarious and ironic adult poetry would be just the thing too. Finn could quite ably illustrate both. The charm and fantasy of it would be just the ticket after the bleakness of the war years. People are ready for something new on all counts. The country is going wild over Princess Elizabeth’s forthcoming wedding. The new films are avidly popular. Why not get in there in another medium?’

‘Oh, I don’t know if I want to do such a thing myself,’ Dorrie said, more than doubtful. Also a little worried. She liked her simple life and did not want anything like personal accomplishment shaking it up, but to help Finn take a step out in life . . . She passed around the cheese straws, squirming inside for Greg had that familiar look of getting fired up about something. He could be a stubborn so-and-so when the bit was between his teeth.

‘That’s a jolly good idea! It’s a wonder I’ve never thought of you publishing your stuff, old girl. Collaborating with Finn could be the very thing for him, start him off on a good career.’

It set Dorrie thinking. If Finn could get a foothold in the market there were all manner of avenues he could approach after that. ‘Well, I suppose it would be fun to get some of my poetry into book form for posterity, but I wonder if Finn would care to work alongside an old dear?’

‘Finn doesn’t think of you like that!’ Fiona jumped in quickly, allowing a little amused laugh. ‘No one does. You’ve got more vitality than the rest of the village put together. He loves your rabbit poem and the other sort of verses you’ve written.’

‘Finn regards you as an aunt and a friend,’ Guy encouraged.

‘Yes, Dor. You’ve said he’s drawn Billy Bunnytop to a T. You could sit round a table and compare ideas but I should think if you simply give Finn some selected poems he’ll dash off the ideal stuff. He’s got a perfect instinct for what is needed. He got all the village buildings off pat. Haven’t heard a single suggestion of his work needing a tweak or two, not even from Mrs Mitchelmore, and that’s saying a lot. People love the portraits he’s done of their family members. He’s a dab hand at animals too. I’m in wonder of the drawing he did of dear old Corky as a gift to us. Pretty lifelike, got all Corky’s mannerisms. From your description of the late Lucinda Newton, she would have made a perfect lost princess for Finn’s paint brushes.’

And so, as always happens in conversations, the subject was changed. Fiona said, ‘I’ve started to become interested in the locals. Jack Newton has come to mind, with Verity now working for him. His young wife was something of a mystery, I understand. Has Verity found out anything about her?’

‘No,’ Dorrie replied with the pride she felt in her niece. ‘In this instance it would be snooping and Verity has kept strictly to the job she’s employed to do.’

‘So there is a mystery?’ Fiona said, pausing in picking up her cup.

‘Not at all,’ Dorrie replied firmly. ‘Jack’s wife was a shy young soul, that’s all.’

‘But she killed herself, Dor,’ Greg reminded his sister in the way Dorrie found maddening. He was a hound on the scent again. ‘Strangely enough, Hector and I were only saying the other day about her—’

‘You and Hector Evans are a couple of determined gossips,’ Dorrie chided. ‘Better-fit you just got on with helping in finishing off the