Chapter 4

There was a long, wide flight of steps leading up to the front door, which at that moment was flung open and a young woman came running out and down the steps at such a lick that Tilly was afraid she would fall. By the time the cart had drawn up at the foot of the steps, the woman was almost at the bottom. Tilly got a quick glimpse of her face before she flung herself at Johnny. At close quarters, she wasn't actually as young as she had at first thought and Tilly realised she was probably Johnny's mother. She was wearing a light cotton frock rather than bombazine and she didn't look terribly stiff either.

Ted had got down from the cart and was offering his hand to help her down. She dragged her eyes away from her putative mother-in-law and climbed down gingerly.

"Thank you, Ted," she said, once she was safely on solid ground.

"And you must be the lovely Tilly," a voice said behind her. She swung round, and for a moment thought it was Johnny. She did a double-take. No, there was Johnny on the other side of the cart, still entangled in his mother's embrace. "There was no petrol for the car," she was saying, "and no room on the cart."

The man who was not Johnny said, "You must forgive my wife. She's been so worried about him, only chick and all that."

He was smiling, exactly as Johnny did, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. The resemblance was uncanny. It wasn't just physical appearance; it was his stance and mannerisms.

"Mr Thompson?" she said, uncertainly.

"James," he said. Then, instead of shaking her hand as she expected, he took her by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. "I am so pleased to meet you, my dear," he said. "You are exactly as I imagined."

She looked at him incredulously.

"I thought you might have been hoping for a debutante," she said. And James threw back his head and laughed, exactly the way Johnny did.

"No, my dear," he said, wiping his eyes. "We were hoping not to get a debutante"

Before Tilly could question this extraordinary statement, Johnny's mother came rushing over, saying breathlessly, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Tilly. What will you think of me? I'm not usually so rude."

Behind her, Johnny lifted his eyebrows in a clown face, plainly conveying the message that this was typical behaviour.

"Now," she said, taking Tilly firmly by the arm and leading her towards the steps, "I did a cold lunch because I wasn't sure what time the train would get in. They've been so unreliable lately. Do you like roast ham? We do our own and I must say, it's rather good."

Tilly glanced over her shoulder at the others. Johnny and his father were standing side by side, almost like mirror images. The father with a few wrinkles and a sprinkling of grey in his hair; both wearing an identical amused expression.

"Don't worry about your bag." Johnny's father waved her on. "We'll fetch it."

****

Later, replete with roast ham and salad and wonderful home-baked bread, Tilly slouched in her chair and listened to them talking, catching up. She felt completely at home. It could not have been further from her imaginings. Through the French windows she could see an immaculate lawn fringed with rose bushes and beyond that an ornamental pond with a couple of ducks on it. Above this idyllic scene, the sky was a perfect pale blue - duck egg blue, in fact.

She gave a contented sigh and then said, apropos of nothing in particular, "Why does everyone laugh when I say 'debutante?'"

All three simultaneously snorted with laughter.

"Well, this won't do," said Dorothy, standing up abruptly and brushing crumbs from her skirt. "I've got work to do."

"Can I help?" Tilly stood up with enormous effort, realising that all she actually wanted to do was sit in a semi-stupor watching the swans on the pond.

"Certainly not," said Dorothy, "You are here to have a little break. Why don't you three go for a walk? And then, when you get back, I'll show Tilly round the house and she can meet my boys."

Johnny groaned. "Actually, I just wanted to sit here and watch the swans."

Tilly shot him a grateful look, but his father heaved himself out of his chair. "Your mother's word is law," he said. "We'll just go as far as the top barn. That'll shake off the cobwebs and give us an appetite for dinner."

Dinner?

Tilly was immediately transfixed by the thought of more food. When had she become so greedy? She couldn't remember being so obsessed with food before. If this went on she would look like the side of a house in no time.

"Come on, Old Thing," Johnny said, taking her by the elbow, and the three walked companionably up the hill beyond the garden.

As they went, Johnny kept exclaiming about changes. "What happened to the rose garden? What happened to the tennis courts?"

His father just shook his head. "Dig for victory," he said. "It's all under the plough now."

Johnny looked aghast, but said nothing.

The path led to a wooded area which extended to the top of the hill, and within a few moments they were walking in the shade of oak and elm and elderberry.

"They didn't make you plough this up, then?"

"Nobody made us do anything. I just thought we ought to show willing, and I baulked at ploughing up ancient woodland. Not so easy to replace as rose gardens and tennis courts."

"Hmm," said Johnny, but he looked a little happier, and by the time they reached the top of the hill he was smiling.

The wood petered out at the top of the hill and suddenly the view opened up into a vast panorama of rolling fields with hedgerows and small wooded areas. Immediately in front of them was a tumbledown cottage, and beyond that a small village with a church spire. Tilly gave a little gasp of pleasure.