Oh look, it's almost a normal length chapter. Off we go then...

17

The bedlinen and towels had been washed and hung out, the blankets and pillows had been aired, and every window in the cottage had been left wide open to expel the smell of must and bacon. Bruce was on his fourth cup of tea by the time the last load of laundry went out on the line, and he ate the rest of the jam with a spoon because Ken had tossed the bread to the birds.

When it was done, they walked back to the Glen together, at least that's what Ken and Bruce were doing. Una kept lagging behind until they got to her street, when she scuttled in front of the other two and almost ran through the Manse's high gate.

Bruce was delighted when his mother came looking for him to say there was to be a party at Ingleside that night. A guest who was staying there was turning twenty-one today, although no one knew about it until he let it slip during luncheon.

Teddy had not let it slip; the fact was he had forgotten all about it. What with coming home (was there even such a place?) and coming here (the Island was really small) the date of his birth just went out of his head. It was the Doctor who made the connection, when he was writing up his notes later that morning and read over the new patient form that lance corporal Willoughby had filled in.

Sure, a cake would be nice, said Teddy, but they needn't make any fuss. Oh no, there would be no fuss, said the Blythes, they were not the fussy sort.

You could tell by the house they lived in. Such a rambling, sunny, unfussy place. Geraniums and seashells on the windowsills. Sheet music, newspapers and velvet cushions strewn on all the chairs. Quiet corners for snoozing in, cut flowers waiting for a vase, thick Persian rugs, old oil paintings, and tree shadows dancing on the walls. Stacks of albums piled by the gramophone along with stray ties, earrings and hatpins. Half-finished books with spines all broken; half drunk cups of tea and half-finished samplers. A buttery-sweet fragrance coming from the kitchen, the smell of beeswax and clove-studded oranges everywhere else. And always some vital and candid conversation rumbling through the brightly papered walls. Jem and Di debating the introduction of the eight-hour work day in the Netherlands. Gilbert and Nan marvelling over the Atlantic dirigible crossing. Anne reciting poems aloud from one of the many journals she was subscribed to, and setting off Rilla into peals.

It wasn't always so loosey-goosey, Rilla told Teddy, but Susan was away. She was having a honeymoon from them, and they were having a honeymoon from her – though they all missed her terribly Rilla assured him.

How she blushed at all her honeymoon talk, Teddy noticed, how secret and smug the smile on her lips. Cap had probably popped the question. Perhaps he would announce their engagement at the party tonight.

Teddy hoped there would be some beer at this do, just to take the edge off the fake smiles he would have to make. But on the whole, it was a good thing, no bugger that, it was terrific. He was happy for them both, he truly was. And while doe-eyed Nan was clearly taken, Di seemed like a good sort. If he needed a dance partner tonight, he was sure she'd be up for it.

At first there was no dancing whatsoever, just a lot of milling around. The air was so humid and close that evening, everyone agreed to Anne's suggestion that they host the party in the garden.

Teddy had never been to a party with paper lanterns and apple punch since he wore short pants. The only music came from the crickets and the faint bleating of the neighbour's sheep. The smell of roses and carnations was cloying, as was the sunset staining everyone a bright coral pink.

Jerry's brother, Carl, called it a Mackerel sky: "Never long wet," he said. "Never long dry."

He also explained, because his one remaining eye was sharpish and he noticed Teddy looking a little bored, that while Merediths didn't dance that never stopped them having a good time.

A good time seemed to involve a whole lot of nattering. Nan was chewing Jerry's ear over something, and Jerry was looking like he very much liked his ear being chewed. Di was arguing with Jem again, this time about some English soldiers burning down Luton Hall. Anne and the Reverend's wife, Rosemary, were laughing with the Reverend and the Doctor. Ken had been cornered by some relatives of his who lived in Over Harbour, and Rilla was deep in conversation with a mousy black-haired girl. She didn't dance either by the look of her. And even on a sticky night like this there was not one drop of beer.

Fortunately, the party was saved by the rain which forced everyone inside. The cool change changed the mood completely, as the guests all shook their wet hair and mopped their faces and laughed. They settled into the front parlour which never had enough chairs, and soon people were sitting on chair arms or side tables or someone's lap.

Rilla had her eye on Ken's knee just as Una made herself comfortable at the grand piano. She was testing a few keys and humming to herself when he got up from the sofa and strode towards her.

"Do you mind?" he said, softly, "I haven't had a chance to play for some time."

"Of course," said Una. Because of course she minded. There was a piano at Four Winds cottage, she had seen it herself.

She was sweeping up some cake crumbs by Dr Blythe's elbow when Mrs Blythe gently touched her arm. Una was so startled she nearly knocked over a cup. That had never happened before.

"You don't have to do that, dearest. Why don't you sit with us and enjoy yourself for once."

Una stretched her small mouth into a passable smile. "I've got to finish the job once I start it, Mrs Blythe, else I couldn't sit still."

She was off to the kitchen with the first of several hauls when Ken started in. He began with some familiar ditties to get them all in the swing, then he broke into some army songs. Soon Teddy, Jem, Jerry, Carl and three of Ken's second cousins were crowded around the piano belting out Pack up your troubles, It's a long way to Tipperary and Oh it's a lovely war!

"Up to your waist in water, up to your eyes in slush, using the kind of language that makes the sergeant blush!"

Ken could really play, his fingers flew across the keys, but Teddy – what an extraordinary voice! Who would have guessed such a cheeky lad could make a sound so clear and true. Soon the other boys were realising they would rather listen to Teddy than try to remember the words themselves and they leaned against the piano or squeezed next to Ken while Teddy's angelic tenor soared through the parlour and out through the tall sash windows.

He had just finished Keep the home fires burning, and causing more than a few damp eyes, when Anne approached the piano and said to him gently, "What was it you were singing when… I mean the song that drew Walter to you, I would very much like to hear that, Teddy."

She might just have well poured cold water all over his head. Teddy, so tall and proud and happy, instantly wilted. The sheen of perspiration that glowed on his face began to course down his forehead, the bandage on his eyebrow soaking up drips of sweat.

"I dunno, I don't… I can't remember, I'm sorry - it's gone…"

Anne could have kicked herself for ever bringing it up, but only said lightly, "Ah that's just as well. He was a whizz with words, my son, but I don't recall him having a very good ear."

She then retreated, looking around to see if there were any cups or saucers that she could stack up on some pretence to leave the room. But Una Meredith had beaten her to it.

"I remember a song that he loved," said Rilla, taking her mother's hand and leading her back to the piano.

She whispered in Ken's ear. "Will you play By the light of the silvery moon?"

Ken nodded. Darling Rilla, she really was a sweetheart, the way she could just manage the situation like that. He couldn't think what he had done to catch such a girl or why she put up with him. But he didn't show any of this, he just grinned at her, his dark grey eyes crinkling so appealingly that even Nan looked at him twice.

He shuffled over, so that Jerry had to get off the bench.

"Turn the pages for me, Rill?"

She made a small laugh. "There aren't any pages, you ninny," she said, but she sat by him anyway. And all the mothers and fathers in the room gave each other sidelong glances and beamed.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, it took Teddy a while to find his voice again. Ken had to play the intro twice before he was ready to begin, and even then, he faltered. But Rilla, ever the angel, was all too ready to come to his rescue and began to sing herself. She was a pretty fair alto, nothing exceptional, not like Teddy. She never learned the knack of learning how to breathe and project, but it was warm and expressive and best of all, welcomed him in.

"By the light of the silvery moon," she sang, "I want to spoon, to my honey I'll croon love's tune…"

"Honey moon," he sang back, "keep a-shining all June, your silv'ry beams will bring love's dreams, we'll be cuddling soon, by the silvery moon."

And then because they both seemed to realise at the same time what they were singing to each other, they began to bob about because it was all just a laugh, wasn't it? Teddy came out from the corner of the piano where he was standing and offered his hand with a dandyish swagger, and Rilla swooning in the manner of Mary Pickford took it. They started a little waltz in the middle of the parlour, so they didn't have to sing anymore, but oh, they would have to dance. Ken kept playing the tune over and over, would he ever stop, until Rilla, red-faced and rather sweaty herself, bowed out and fell in a mock collapse against an armchair. And everyone laughed a little too loudly and clapped a little too long and shouted Happy Birthday, Teddy! Many happy returns!

"Come on," said Jem, a little after that, "let's take this party out to the barn."

...

Next chapter to follow. Love, k