Ellie bites her lip. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I haven’t been ready.’
‘Will you ever be ready, Ellie Mae? That’s the question I’ve gots for you.’ He pushes away from the table. ‘Maybe we should say our goodbyes now. Give George my regards.’
Ellie grabs his arm. ‘No, wait. Please.’
‘I can’t takes much more of this dancin’ around the mulberry bush, Ellie Mae.’
‘I know.’
Ellie looks at Thomas, her heart pounding the way it does when she’s run all the way from Jarrolds back to the fire station at lunchtime.
I love him. I love him. I’m sorry Dottie. I’m sorry Poppy. Thomas is the one.
She places her hand over Thomas’s. ‘I will.’
‘You will what?’
‘I’ll marry you. There, I said it. I’ll marry you, Thomas Parsons. We can apply for the marriage licence before you leave Norwich and we can marry in London before they ship you out. All you need to do is send me a telegram and I’ll take the first train down to London.’
‘Are you serious, Ellie Mae?’
Ellie stands up and wraps her arms around Thomas, to the hoots and hollers of the soldiers. ‘The question is, will you marry me, Thomas Parsons?’
‘I will, Ellie Mae Burgess. I will.’
Thomas hugs Ellie so tightly that she can feel the buttons of his uniform pressing into her. Her heart flutters in her chest like a butterfly set free and her body buzzes with joy. She’s marrying the man she loves. That’s all that matters. Everything will be fine.
Poppy and Dottie will understand. Of course they will.
Chapter 31
Tippy’s Tickle – 16 September 2001
Becca runs over to the stern of the white cruiser that is bouncing in the water by the wharf, waving at Sophie, Ellie and Florie as they make their way down to the tickle over the rocky path from Kittiwake. Rupert’s bear-like head pops up beside her and the dog barks out a deep woof.
‘Sam, b’y!’ Florie calls out as they approach. ‘Whoooo, Sammy! We’re all here to see Ellie’s birthday whales, b’y. Holy God, it’s hotter than a sauna today. Never had a September like it.’
Sam joins Becca on the boat, leaning over to pat Rupert’s head. His jean jacket is topped by a windbreaker, and a Boston Bruins baseball cap perches on his head, the brim shading his eyes.
Ellie holds up a basket stuffed with food. ‘Hope you’re hungry. We’ve got provisions.’
‘C’mon, then,’ Sam says, beckoning to the women. ‘We’re ready to go. Thor and Ace saw a pair of humps over in the cape yesterday feeding on capelin. Looks like a female and her calf. With any luck, they’ll still be there.’
Sophie follows Ellie and Florie onto the boat, reaching out to grasp Sam’s hand as she clambers aboard. His fingers close over hers. Warm. Nice.
Sophie pulls her hand away to brush at an invisible strand of hair. She nods at Becca, who is standing at the steering wheel, signing animatedly to Ellie and Florie. ‘How’s Becca?’
‘She’s fine. But she’s had a talking-to about wandering off.’
‘Good. I’m glad she’s okay.’
He reaches out and squeezes her arm. ‘Thanks for staying up last night.’
She shrugs. ‘I only wish I could have done something more. I felt pretty helpless.’
Sam smiles, fine lines fanning out from the corners of his brown eyes. ‘You did great.’
‘Sam,’ Ellie calls over. ‘Becca wants to know if she can have a date square now.’
He heads towards the bridge. ‘Don’t you let her wrap you around her finger, Ellie. Let’s wait till we’re moored in the cape.’ He turns on the engine and rests his hands on top of Becca’s, helping her steer the cruiser out of the tickle into the ocean.
Sophie catches her breath. A buzz zips around her body, settling in a swirl of warmth in her solar plexus. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she takes a deep breath as she watches Sam and his daughter laughing as they motor past the clapboard houses in their candy-box colours toward the ocean.
Bloody hell.
***
Sam scans the water for signs of whales. Behind him, the women’s laughter floats in the air, prompted by Sophie’s inept attempts at sign language and Florie’s literal translations. He glances into the boat mirror. Becca is doubled over on a seat clutching her stomach in silent laughter at Sophie’s efforts to copy Florie’s signed descriptions of the coastal scenery. Notice the grudges by the leech. Aren’t the turds lovely?
The wind has brought colour to Sophie’s cheeks, he notices, and her fine brown hair flies around her head where it’s escaped her ponytail. She’s nothing like the uptight, short-tempered woman who’d stepped off the plane just four days ago. Who’d have thought she’d get on so well with Becca? Or that Becca would like her? Who is this Sophie Parry?
A memory of Winny laughing on a sailboat off Nantucket wafts into his mind, her skin tanned and her hair bleached almost white from the summer sun. The summer she was pregnant with Becca.
He looks back at Sophie. There’s no point. She’s leaving tomorrow. She’ll get on that plane to New York and that’ll be the end of that. Back to her busy, big-city life. It’s probably for the best. There you go. Bob’s your uncle.
Chapter 32
Norwich, England – 16 September 1942
A shape moves out of the darkness towards her.
‘Ellie Mae?’
‘Thomas.’
His arms fold around her and she leans into his kiss. When she opens her eyes, she traces her fingers along his face, following the outline drawn by the faint moonlight shining through the open top of the medieval tower.
‘Oh, Thomas, I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.’
‘I knows, maid.’ Thomas looks down at the woman in his arms, trying to take in every detail, how her nose turns up slightly at its tip, how her beautiful eyes shine so seriously at him beneath eyebrows the colour of wheat at harvest time, at the set of her determined chin. Oh, Ellie Mae, how have I been so lucky to find you?
‘I can’t stay long, Thomas. Dottie’s baked
