The Victory Garden(29)

“Piece of cake,” Robbie said, grinning at her.

They moved out into the estuary at a sedate pace. “I’m tempted to see how fast she’ll go, but I suppose I’d better not,” Robbie said.

“Don’t you dare. My hat will blow away,” Emily called back, putting her hand up to hold on to her wide-brimmed straw hat.

They started out heading towards the sea, cruising past the battlements of the old town. Then, just when Emily was feeling a little nervous that they might actually be heading for the Channel, in spite of the doctor’s warnings, Robbie turned the boat at the breakwater and lighthouse. They crossed the estuary, admiring the view back to the town of Plymouth, perched on its headlands, and the Royal Navy ship sailing from the harbour. Then they made their way slowly up the river. There were houses on the banks, but soon they were replaced with fields and copses. Only the occasional cottage was nestled in a hollow, or here and there a magnificent home with manicured grounds coming down to the water and a sleek yacht moored at a jetty.

Emily stood beside Robbie, enjoying the gentle breeze in her face.

“I could take to this,” he said. “I wonder if we could put in a lake at home.”

“Not with six inches of rain, you couldn’t,” she replied, laughing.

“A pond then. We have stock ponds—billabongs, we call them. And it would have to be a very small boat.”

They both laughed at this, then Robbie grew sombre again. “You take all this for granted, don’t you?” he said quietly. “These houses and green fields and gardens.”

“I suppose I do,” she said. “They are all I’ve ever known.”

She waited for him to say something else, but he was silent, staring ahead as he steered the boat. Then he said, “I want you to know that I’ll cherish these last two days together, Emmy. I’ll never forget one minute.”

“Last two days for now, Robbie,” she corrected. “We’ll see each other again as soon as you come back from France.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, “but then I’ll be heading back to Australia.”

She wanted to say, “But I’ll come with you if you ask me,” but that sounded too forward. Perhaps he didn’t want to marry her.

He cleared his throat. “That bloke you liked. The one who was killed?”

“Sebastian?”

He nodded. “Did you love him?”

She gave a sad little laugh. “Robbie, I was eighteen. He was a handsome young man, probably six years older than me.”

“So he didn’t ask you to wait for him?”

“I had a schoolgirl crush on him. He did kiss me once, but I don’t think he saw me as anything more than Freddie’s young sister. But I was devastated when we heard he had been killed.”

“It’s a bloody stupid war,” he said. “I watched all my mates getting mown down at Gallipoli. I was only spared because a great big bloke fell on top of me. I was drenched in his blood.”

She touched his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. Well, I’m sorry for that poor bloke. But I’m still alive.”

He was silent again, and Emily felt a shiver of uneasiness. Robbie wanted to know if Sebastian had asked her to wait for him. Maybe he had also asked a girl back in Australia to wait for him. Maybe Emily was just a girl to cheer him up when he was so far from home. But as she sneaked a glance at him, she was sure that he did care about her. Maybe that was why he looked so troubled now. Either he was unsure which girl he really loved and wanted or he was trying to find a way to say that, after today, it would all be over between them.

As they progressed upstream, the river narrowed. They passed under an impressive railway bridge.

“The Royal Albert Bridge,” Emily said, trying to switch to less threatening topics. “We learned about it at school. Built by Brunel.”

“Impressive.” He nodded.

At last, they came to the pub the doctor had told them about. Thick woodland sloped steeply down to the river, and the only building in sight was nestled at the water’s edge with a jetty beside it. The sign swinging outside said “The Three Bells.” It was white-painted, with trestle tables set on the small lawn, on which a child was playing with a dog. A motor car was navigating the steep road down to it, and people were seated at one of the tables, enjoying drinks on a fine day. Robbie cut the motor and they managed to navigate to the jetty. He clambered out and they tied up.

He has taken to it easily, Emily thought as he held out his hand and helped her out. She admired the grace of his movement. His wounds were indeed healed and he was ready to go back to his aeroplane. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She would not think about it today. Today, they were having a lovely time, and it was as if the war were far, far away.

They took their seats at a bench along the wall.

“What’s that we have to order?” Robbie asked.

“Cornish pasties. They’re very good, and we are in Cornwall now.”

Robbie shook his head. “It’s amazing how quickly you go from one county to the next in England. In Australia, we’d be travelling all day. Okay, so pasties it is, and a beer to go with it?”

Emily hesitated about drinking beer. “I’ve never tried it,” she said. “At least, no more than a sip of my father’s. I didn’t like the taste.”