Chapter 28

Roger was already in the kitchen, carrying dishes from the stove to the table under Mrs Dixon's instructions when Rowan had finished washing her hands and came in from the scullery. It seemed that Mrs Dixon and Roger were jointly engaged in making sure they had their own way about the important issue of meals. Since they both want the same thing, matters were going very smoothly and by the time they all settled down to eating the shepherd's pie and cabbage, it had been settled that Roger was to come to the Dixon's for his midday dinner every day unless arranged otherwise. Mrs Dixon was stoutly resisting Roger's attempt to pay something towards his keep, since it was to be a regular arrangement until Mr Dixon intervened.

"The lad's worked hard enough for his money – let him spend it how he likes. And if he likes not to be beholden for his dinner, well and good."

Mr Dixon had resumed his habitual silence for the most of the rest of the meal, speaking only twice more; once to ask Roger how he thought things would go in Korea "now and down t'road a bit" and once to suggest that Roger would be quite welcome to keep his motor-bicycle in the barn nearest the road. "Handy-like."

"I have some spellings to learn." Jane announced at the school gate. "Julia doesn't have any homework because she's too young."

"I bet I could learn Jane's spellings." Julia said.

"I bet you could too." Roger said.

"Are we going to the post office?" Julia asked hopefully as they walked along.

"Only we don't have any sweet ration left." Jane said. "Or any money. So unless Uncle Roger wants to post a letter, maybe we're not."

"I do want to post a letter." Roger said. "Several of them in fact. And I want to buy a rod licence."

"Are you staying a long time? Mummy says it's the wrong time of the year for fishing and it's against the law to do it now, because the fish are busy having their babies so there will be enough of them."

"I was hoping to stay for quite a time." Roger said. "But I could still fish now if I fished for trout."

"Daddy does sometimes, but I don't think he's ever caught any. Are you better at fishing than Daddy?"

"I like to think so." Roger said.

"Do you have any sweet ration left?"

"Julia – that sort of hinting is rude! I'm sorry Uncle Roger. She is only four though, so sometimes she doesn't understand. You aren't offended are you?"

"I'm not offended, but I do have other plans for my sweet ration than giving you two tooth decay."

"We clean our teeth very carefully." Julia assured him, still hopeful. "Otherwise they might go black and fall out and then we could only eat porridge and soup."

"Julia!" Jane hadn't quite got the voice of awful warning right yet. Probably no-one did it quite so well as Susan, but it was, Roger admitted to himself, a sufficiently credible attempt to make keeping a straight face challenging.

It was probably too early in the year. He would go and ask anyway.

The middle-aged woman behind the hotel reception desk smiled benignly at the young Walkers cheerful greeting. "Yes, Wing-Commander Walker, we do have a regular dinner dance on Saturdays. Would you like to reserve a table?"

Julia and Jane were playing some complicated game involving stepping on the black and white tiles in a certain sequence. Their shoes were clean enough and they weren't getting in anyone's way.

"Yes, for two, please."

It wasn't London, but it was the nearest he was likely to find. Billington was a reliable friend and would have forwarded his evening gear by then. Even by the Lake, Roger could hardly turn up to dance in a pair of old flannel bags and John's old jumper.

Dick said nothing, but looked at the maltreated book rather expressively.

"It wasn't Edward." Titty explained. "He was with me the entire time in the bathroom, being calamine-lotioned, although I don't think it makes any difference really."

"I thought Rosie was too young to be able to use scissors. I remember how long it took Edward to learn."

"I didn't think she'd be able to use that wooden spoon she loves to reach over the side of the playpen and knock them both down so she could reach them through the bars."
Titty said. "Although I think she knocked it to the floor outside the playpen and then pulled it in. It's lucky they were Edward's scissors, not the big ones, because she was sucking the handles too. Not that I'd have left the big ones out where Edward could reach."

Dick nodded. He found a pencil stub in his pocket. The edges of the book were so snipped that writing on it wouldn't make any difference now. He wrote the date neatly in a margin and added: Rosie cut this book with scissors aged 2 years and 2 months.

"Pretty good going really." He said. "It's just going to be difficult to teach her the difference between paper you can cut and paper you shouldn't."

"I told her she must ask me first and she asked all afternoon. That's why there's a shredded newspaper in the wastepaper basket."

"It isn't as if we were planning to have fish-and-chips."

"Not on Monday." Titty agreed. Her tone changed slightly. "How would you feel about my going to the cottage for a few days? Taking the children, of course. They're both perfectly well in themselves now. It's just a question of keeping them away from the students."

"You could see Roger," Dick agreed, "but what about them giving Roger chickenpox? I thought you said that he hadn't had it. Are you just going to fly the quarantine flag and shout to him from Scarab?"

"Well we might. The children would like to see him. At least Edward would and Rosie won't be left out," said Titty, "but Nancy telephoned while you were down at supper to say that Robert has started Chickenpox on pretty much the last day he could have done – although I've rather lost track of that. So Roger spent Sunday night in the cottage but decided to move to the houseboat. Anyway, Nancy would look after our two with Robert at Beckfoot while I visit Roger, and we can sail around the houseboat in Swallow and wave at him altogether too, of course."

"Has Captain Flint still got that cannon?"

"I don't know, so don't mention it to Edward, will you? He'll be so upset if it isn't there anymore."

"So will Roger. Why has he moved to the houseboat?" Dick asked.

"Her name is Rowan Marlow. She's the girl who is working for the Dixons."

"Blonde curly hair? I saw her from a distance when I went across to see Mr Dixon. I didn't introduce myself – she had her hand part way inside a sheep, it looked like. The one who was meant to come to Beckfoot for the day but couldn't and Nancy took her sailing instead?" Dick said thoughtfully.

"Yes, and Mrs Dixon and Mrs Blackett were convinced she was quietly nursing a broken heart about something. Only she wouldn't say."

"And Roger is rather taken with her? Let's hope the broken heart isn't unrequited pining for some other chap then. What happened to the girl he took to see your parents before they sailed for the Caribbean?"

That was one of the good things about Dick. Just because he didn't necessarily comment at the time, didn't mean that he wasn't listening, although it might do, of course. And once he had listened, he remembered.

"This is her." Titty said

"Didn't she run the family farm in Dorset? What she's doing working for the Dixons?"

"Nancy says that there seems to have been a row, only Roger doesn't know about what and she left – or was told to leave. Pretty much disowned."

"Poor kid. And totally unreasonable if it was about Roger. Even if they think he's a bit old for her, that isn't the way to handle it."

"He isn't thirty until September." Titty said. "And if she was actually running a farm I should think she would have to be twenty-one at least."