When Alice Met Danny (20 page)

The sound of the kettle boiling drew him away, back to the kitchen. Alice took advantage of the interval to digest the news and pull herself together.

‘Here’s your tea. I won’t join you. If I touch caffeine after nine o’clock at night, I don’t sleep a wink.’ They sat down side by side on the sofa. He told her more about Tuscany and about Lorenzo. It was Lorenzo’s property where they lived most of the year. ‘It’s the most magnificent Tuscan villa, complete with dovecot on the roof. It’s been in his family for generations. I just love it there.’

Alice brought the subject back to the First World War, where she felt a little more secure of the facts. As she spoke, she could see his interest grow.

‘You know, Alice, an idea just came to me.’ He sounded positively enthused. ‘Maybe my next book should be set in the trenches. Something romantic, sort of
Brokeback Mountain
meets
Birdsong.
As far as I’m aware, there is very little gay literature set in the trenches.’

Alice shook her head in disbelief. As he spoke, she found herself registering the significance of the medallion and the tight white trousers for the first time. How could she have been so blind? Now that she knew he was gay, the bare, almost severe feel of the place, the impeccable taste of the furnishings and his immaculate wardrobe all fell into place. Sally in London was dead right. It wasn’t just her wedding ring spotting skills that had rusted up through lack of use.
Ah well
, she told herself, as he chattered on about his literary aspirations,
at least I’ve got myself a nice gay friend
.
All girls need one.

Chapter 33

The weather changed overnight and Wednesday was cooler and much, much windier. Ominous clouds scudded across the sky, but it didn’t rain. All the talk on the local radio was of the Windsurfing Weekend and the effect the weather would have on the racers. There were frequent references to the exhibition race and Danny Kemp. The general consensus was that strong winds would favour him. She resolved to ask him when she saw him on Friday evening.

She spent the first part of Wednesday morning going back through the First World War letters, noting down interesting facts that emerged from Danny Green’s writing. Some of the detail was startling. He described the way the soldiers would all pool their cash before an attack. That way, the survivors would have the double bonus of finding themselves richer as well as still alive. She learnt that the ration biscuits burned very well and could be used to heat pots to make tea. A less economical way of boiling water was to fire long bursts on the machine guns. The water used as cooling soon rose to boiling point.

At eleven o’clock she got into her car and drove to the university. Her appointment was for twelve o’clock with the head of department, Dr Helen Morris, but she was directed to someone else’s office. The sign on the door read
Dr D. J. Rogers
. A tall man stood up to welcome her.

‘Hi, Alice. My name is Daniel Rogers. I’m afraid Helen’s not in this morning. It sounds as if her daughter’s got mumps. She asks me to give you her apologies. Please, do take a seat.’

Alice was still coming to terms with the fact that, yet again, she had stumbled upon another Daniel. She sat down awkwardly and looked across at him. He could see from the expression on her face that there was something wrong.

‘You OK, Alice? Can I get you something to drink, maybe.’ She pulled herself together and managed a smile.

‘I’m sorry. I’m fine, thank you. A good friend just died and I’m just about coming to terms with it.’ She whispered a silent prayer that Mrs Tinker wouldn’t mind being used as an excuse. ‘And do, please, give Dr Morris my best wishes for her daughter.’

As the interview progressed, she had time to study him in more detail. He was probably her age, tall and good-looking in an unconscious, unstudied way. His accent was soft American, tempered by years of living on this side of the Atlantic. He was not wearing a wedding ring. Alice found herself smiling as she realised she had remembered Sally’s advice upon meeting strange men for the first time. Unaware of what was going through her head, he smiled back. For her part, she did her best to dismiss him as anything other than a possible tutor. She already had quite enough Dannys in her life.

Once he heard that her area of main interest was the First World War, he became more animated. ‘That’s my field of interest, the twentieth century. We offer an MA course called War and Society. I think that might be right up your street.’

They chatted for some time. She told him about her career in London, and her decision to change her life. When she got as far as the suitcase full of letters, his eyes lit up.

‘Alice, that sounds like an amazing find. You never know, you might just be sitting on the subject of a PhD.’

She reeled out after an hour-long interview with his assurance that there was a place for her on the course that September if she chose to take it up. His parting words were ‘I hope very much to see you here in a couple of months’ time. I’m sure you will get a lot out of an Exeter MA. And I have no doubt you will be able to offer us a lot in return.’

Driving home with a happy smile on her face, she had no doubt that she would take him up on the offer.

After lunch, she took the letters next door to Derek Tinker. She tapped on the kitchen window and he appeared at the door in jeans and a T-shirt. Having had two good nights’ sleep, he looked a good deal more relaxed than the first time she had seen him.

‘Hi Alice. How’re you doing? Come in, there’s a friend of yours here.’ He made way for her and she found Megan sitting at the kitchen table. The vicar was in working gear, complete with dog collar. Nevertheless, she gave Alice a grin.

‘Hello there, Alice. Recovered from your date last night?’

Alice blushed and avoided replying. ‘I’m not butting in on your discussions, am I? I only wanted to pass on the First World War letters for you to read, Derek.’

‘No disturbance at all, Alice, and thanks very much for giving me a chance to take a look at this stuff.’ He took the suitcase and laid it on the worktop. ‘We just finished making the funeral arrangements. It’ll be next Tuesday. Now, I owe you a good cup of coffee. No arguments, take a seat alongside Megan there.’

Alice slid onto a seat. As she did so, the back door was nosed open and Danny the dog appeared.

‘Hey, there, buddy.’ Derek dropped to his knees and made a fuss of the dog. Then he stood up and looked across at Alice. ‘That reminds me of one of the things I’ve got to ask you, Alice. What about Danny here? You’ve been looking after him for weeks now. How are you getting on with him? Do you feel like putting up with him full time?’

Alice looked down at the big black shape. Seeing her eyes on him, he wandered over and put his head in her lap. ‘Derek, I would really, really love to have him. I promise I will look after him just as well as I can.’

‘That’s great, Alice. I can’t imagine anybody who would look after him better; and I know he can’t. My mother would have been so pleased. You and he both had a special place in her heart. Here, this is for you then.’ He reached up for a stack of papers on the shelf above the range. He pulled out a stiff sheet of paper and handed it to her. It was Danny’s pedigree certificate. ‘I bet you don’t have one of these. I sure as hell don’t’

Alice folded the sheet carefully, reached down and ruffled the dog’s ears. Although she had assumed she would be allowed to keep him, there had always been the fear of losing him. One more glance into those brown eyes reminded her just how much his loss would have affected her.

Derek poured the coffees and passed them round. He then pulled out a bag of doughnuts from the cupboard. He caught Alice’s eye.

‘Yeah, I know. But I’m miles away from home and awful homesick.’ He didn’t look even slightly homesick. ‘What’s a doughnut or two after all?’ The label on the bag was clearly marked
12 Fresh Doughnuts
. There were three left. Neither woman made any comment, nor did they refuse the offer. They tasted good.

Alice looked across at Derek and brought up an idea she had been nurturing for a few days. ‘Derek, what plans do you have for this place and next door? Do you intend to keep them, or sell them, or what?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. There was a time I thought I might keep this place as somewhere for my retirement. But that’s never going to happen. My life’s in Canada now, my wife’s Canadian, the kids are Canadian. Hell, I’m Canadian. That’s home now. I guess I’ll sell up. Why, are you interested?’

‘To be honest, yes. Very interested. My problem is that I’ve got a house in Beauchamp that won’t be going on the market for another month or two, and a flat in London that’s rented out for another three months. Once I’ve sold them, I should have the money to buy both cottages, but I may not have it until the end of the year. Could you wait that long?’

‘From what the solicitor was telling me this morning, it could take till then to get probate. We wouldn’t be able to sell before that comes through anyway. So if you want them, that’s fantastic. Get a valuation and we’ll agree a figure, and then I’ll keep them for you until you’ve sold your properties.’

Alice jumped up, threw her arms around his massive shoulders and kissed him. ‘No problem.’ Then she turned round and kissed Megan and the dog as well.

Chapter 34

Alice spent Thursday morning with her business hat on. She spoke to Neil, the decorator, who agreed to start decoration of number 23 two weeks later. She promised to make a decision on colours and tell him at Mrs Tinker’s funeral the following Tuesday. She telephoned three house agents and arranged viewings of Drake and Duck Cottages, so as to arrive at a market price. She made appointments for all three the following day. Time was of the essence, as Derek was intending to leave for Canada the day after the funeral. One of the agents was Mr Melhuish, who had handled the original sale of number 23. Not surprisingly, he remembered her well. No doubt he had often dined out on the story of the crazy woman from the big city who had bought the house full of poo.

‘So, does this mean you are getting on well with your renovations, Ms Grant?’ He sounded surprised.

‘I’ve been amazingly lucky. I found a super building firm who were able to start almost immediately. Anyway, all the major stuff has been done now, and the decorator starts in a couple of weeks.’ She did a quick calculation. ‘The plumber and electrician need to do their second fix, the kitchen has to go in, then carpets, but I would hope it would all be finished by the end of July.’

‘Remarkable, Ms Grant. Well done. I was going to give you a ring one of these days. I may well have a buyer for you, if you decide to sell.’ Alice’s ears pricked up.

‘Well, yes, I
have
decided to sell. I’ve fallen in love with Woodcombe and want to stay there.’

‘A very good choice. More and more people are looking for a slice of village life. Anyway, there’s a young lady on our books who would be very interested. I have mentioned it to her as a possibility and she is very enthusiastic. And,’ he drew in his breath and spoke with gravitas, ‘She’s a cash buyer.’

Alice beamed at the news. ‘I’ll tell you when it’s approaching completion and you can come and have a look round. Maybe bring the young lady with you if you like.’

She sent text messages to the plumber and electrician, advising them that they should be able to come back in around the end of the month. When she had finished, she turned her attention to her sandals, which were still drying out. She had been doing her best to follow Megan’s advice and massage the leather as much as possible, but she harboured grave doubts as to whether they would return to their original condition.

At lunchtime, Derek came round with the old suitcase of letters.

‘Thanks a lot, Alice. It has been a privilege to read these letters. My research so far has been on the Canadian regiments. There weren’t many Canadians involved at the start of the battle of the Somme, apart from some artillery. Their big day came nine months later when they took Vimy Ridge. But the conditions must have been the same for all of them. Truly horrific. Your Danny was a lucky, lucky man.’

‘He certainly was. I’m taking them back to his daughter. She’s in her nineties and she lives not far from here. But she’s as bright as a button. When I was with her, she recited some poetry to me. It was amazing. Have you heard of Wilfred Owen?’

‘Who hasn’t? Pretty much the greatest war poet of them all. Did you know he was killed only a week before the end of the war?’

Alice blinked. Her education had included economics and maths, but very little English poetry. Derek went on.

‘I can’t quote any of his poetry to you, but I remember one of his most famous lines.
My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
I find that amazingly powerful. I count my blessings every day that I was too young to have been involved in that madness.’

After he left, Alice laid the address label carefully with the letters in the suitcase. Then she went out to the car and set off to deliver them to Danny Green’s daughter. She took Danny the dog with her, her intention being to give him a good walk along the river bank at Conibere. She had forgotten his attraction to water. In the few hundred yards she walked down from the bridge, he spent most of it in the river. In consequence he was soaking by the time they got to number 3, Shute End Cottages.

She knocked on the door and received the same vociferous welcome from Ethel, the terrier. This was redoubled when the Jack Russell realised that there was another dog outside. Mrs Cooper arrived with a broom in her hands and shooed Ethel back inside.

‘Hello, my dear. Do come in. I was just having a bit of a clean up.’

Alice explained that she had a soggy Labrador with her, so they talked over the half door. ‘I’ve finished reading your father’s letters. Here they are.’ She handed the suitcase over. ‘I am so very pleased I had the chance to read them. I really think they should be in a museum. If you like, once you and your family have had a chance to read them, I could contact the Imperial War Museum, or the Devonshire Regiment museum to see if they’re interested. I’ve put my address and phone number in the case if you want me to do anything about them.’