passion.
‘What about Gran’s parents?’ Pippa asked, pointing to a picture of a middle-aged couple dressed in the clothes of the thirties. ‘Should I have put them a bit further forward?’
‘Yes, I think so. It would please her.’ He reached for another picture, showing a beautiful young woman with a ripe, curvy figure. ‘And this one, of her sister Sylvia.’
‘Ah, Great Aunt Sylvia,’ Pippa said. ‘I often wish I’d known her, she sounds so interesting. Wasn’t she the one who-?’
‘Yes, she was. It was an earth-shattering scandal at the time, but these days nobody would think anything of it. Times have changed. Put her where she can be seen. Mum was very fond of her.’ He looked around for a moment before adding, ‘There’s one missing. Polly should be there, too.’
‘Should she? I did wonder, and I’ve got some pictures of her, just in case. But she was only a year old when she died. She barely existed.’
‘Don’t let them hear you say that,’ Terry said in alarm. ‘Dad absolutely adored my baby sister. It’s nearly fifty years since she died, but she’s still part of the family, and if you leave her out he’ll be upset.’
‘Yes, of course. Here she is,’ Pippa agreed.
She produced two photographs, one a portrait of a baby girl, beaming at the camera, the other showing the same child in her father’s arms. Their eyes were locked, each totally entranced by the other.
‘He was a terrific dad,’ Terry said, studying the picture. ‘But I don’t think he ever looked at any of the rest of us quite like that. It was just something Polly had, maybe because she was the image of Mum…I don’t know…’
‘You think it had something to do with the way he felt about Gran?’
‘I’m not sure, but when Polly died, I think he’d have gone crazy if it hadn’t been for her.’
‘When he walks into a room he always looks to see if she’s there,’ Pippa reflected. ‘If she isn’t, he keeps looking at the door, waiting for her to arrive. And when she does arrive, he seems to settle down.’
The bell rang and she went to let in the reporter from the local TV station, a young woman called Stacey, and the photographer, who prowled around looking for angles.
‘I just can’t get over anyone being married sixty years,’ Stacey said, awed.
‘It was different in their day,’ Pippa said. ‘People married for life. And I think Grandpa was courting her for a long time so he wasn’t going to let her go easily.’
‘Long courtship,’ Stacey muttered, making notes. ‘Good, that gives me something to go on.’
At last everyone was there: Mark and Dee’s children and grandchildren, cousins, in-laws, a representative from the local hospital where Dee had once worked.
The photographer got into position at the bottom of the stairs, ready to capture the stars of the evening as they appeared above: Mr and Mrs Sellon, Mark and Deirdre, known to everyone as Dee. They were in their eighties, white-haired, thin and frail-looking, but holding themselves erect, with smiling eyes.
They descended the stairs arm in arm, seeming to support each other equally, until the moment Dee stumbled and clung to her husband for safety.
‘Careful, my love,’ he said, guiding her to a chair. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing; I tripped on the carpet.’
‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’d better have a cup of tea.’
‘Tea?’ she said in mock outrage. ‘Today? I want a good strong sherry.’
He hurried to get her a glass and Lilian regarded them with delight.
‘Look how he dances attendance on her,’ she sighed. ‘After all these years. So many husbands become indifferent.’
‘I’ve never known Grandpa indifferent,’ Pippa said. ‘In fact, he sometimes smothers Gran with his concern. He’s so scared that she’ll go first.’
‘You know the saying. There’s always one who loves and one who lets themselves be loved,’ Lilian reminded her. ‘No prizes for guessing which is which with those two.’
Even as she spoke, Dee’s voice rose, full of affectionate laughter. ‘Darling, I’m all right. Will you stop fussing?’
Everyone heard that, but only she heard his murmured response. ‘No, I won’t, and you know that I won’t. You’ve been telling me for years to stop fussing over you and I’ve never listened yet, so why don’t you just give up?’
‘I never give up where you’re concerned,’ she whispered back. ‘You should know that by now.’
‘I do know it. I rely on it.’
He touched her face gently. It had never been a beautiful face, but it had always been rich in warmth and generosity, qualities that the years had left untouched. Watching them, the family knew that what he’d first seen in her years ago, he saw there still.
The elderly couple were shown into the main party room and went around the collection of family photographs, pausing occasionally to murmur to each other, words that nobody else could hear. When it came to baby Polly, Gran lifted the picture and they looked at it together before they met each other’s gaze and nodded.
‘I swear there were tears in Grandpa’s eyes,’ Pippa murmured afterwards.
At last they were seated together on the sofa while family members approached them, hugging and murmuring words of congratulation. Champagne was poured and glasses were raised in toasts. Speeches were made. Everyone wanted to have their say.
Then Stacey got to work, talking to the camera.
‘…one of the last of a dying breed…heroes of World War Two, who gave their all for their country…night after night, climbing into their Spitfires, taking off into the darkness, not knowing if they would return to their loved ones…how proud we are that one of them is still among us…’
‘Is she going to witter on like that for ever?’ Mark growled under his breath.
‘Hush,’ Dee murmured. ‘Let your family take pride in you.’
‘My family know nothing about it,’ he insisted.
‘How can they? They weren’t born then. Don’t blame them for that.’
Out of sight, they squeezed each other’s hands.
Now Stacey turned her attention on them. To her questions about the war Mark gave polite but uninformative replies, claiming to have forgotten the details. Finally she said, ‘But I understand that yours is also a great romance. Mr Sellon, is it true that you courted your wife for years before you persuaded her to marry you?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Mark said. ‘She wasn’t won easily. I really had to work hard to impress her.’
Everyone smiled at this. Only the most perceptive noticed the look of surprise on Dee’s face.
‘But how romantic!’ Stacey exclaimed. ‘The lover who yearns hopelessly from afar. Mrs Sellon, why did you make him wait so long?’
‘I’m not sure now. We weren’t the same people back then.’
‘Would you do it any differently now?’
Dee’s lips twitched. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I’d make him wait
The newspaper journalist followed, with similar questions, but he had his eye on the photograph of Flight Lieutenant Sellon that the family had studied earlier.
‘This is a fantastic picture,’ he said. ‘I’d like to use it in the paper. I’ll need to borrow it-’
‘No,’ Dee said at once. ‘I’m sorry; you can’t take it away.’
‘Just for a few hours. I’ll take care-’
‘I’m sure you will, but I can’t take the risk. I’m sorry.’ Her manner was polite but very firm as she removed the picture from his hand. ‘This is mine.’
The young man looked round for help, but none of the family would yield. They knew Gran when she spoke like that.
The evening moved gently on to its conclusion, everyone feeling that it had been a triumphant success. In the spotlight, Mark and Dee seemed to be enjoying themselves but, as he slipped his arm about her waist, he murmured, ‘When will they go?’
‘Soon,’ she promised.
They smiled at one another and the camera clicked. The picture appeared in the local paper the next day. Neither of them noticed it being taken.
