They all sat around the farmhouse table having lunch. And it reminded
Maddie of another New Year’s Eve, many years ago now, back at the billet
in Sunnyfield.
They’d laughed and sung and danced the conga and got in trouble over
the blackout. And the miracle of the steak and kidney pie. And Betty’s
fabulous pickled onions. Who could ever forget that? Such small things had
made them excited – and grateful.
‘Dig in,’ said Maddie. ‘It’s a help-yourself sort of lunch.’
The atmosphere was cheerful and convivial, friends breaking bread
together, sharing jokes, happy to be alive. Rudi was the most relaxed she
had seen him: the dark moods seemed to have fallen away. Now, apart from
the scar on his face, he looked like the man she remembered from all those
years ago in Gunwalloe. He smiled just as easily. And when Maddie told
the others about his unsuccessful attempts to catch a fish for them in Church
Cove all those years ago, Rudi laughed along with everyone else.
‘My fishing skills are much improved,’ he said.
‘We would have starved,’ said Maddie. ‘If it hadn’t been for some meat
paste sandwiches.’
‘And those wonderful pasties. You still have those here?’
‘They, like your fishing, are much improved – they’ve got meat in them
now. We’re having pasties at the party tonight,’ she said.
‘I look forward to eating one,’ said Rudi. ‘And that wonderful beer. You
have that too?’
‘Spingo,’ explained Maddie to the rest of the table. ‘No, I’m afraid we
don’t have any. Lots of cider, but no beer. I could always pop over to
Helston and get some.’
‘Really? That would be wonderful,’ said Rudi. ‘We could go together,
maybe. It would be strange to see the place again. But if it’s okay, I should
like that.’
‘Why not? Give me an hour and we’ll go.’
‘I go to the barn then,’ said Rudi. ‘Make the decorations for tonight.’
‘Bales,’ said Maddie.
‘Bales?’ he asked.
‘Most of them go to the far end for the bandstand. And a few around the
floor for folk to sit on.’
‘The bandstand?’ he said, confused.
‘Alf Bingham – he plays his accordion, and Ted Trevelyan calls the
dances. It’s a barn dance.’
Later, Gertie helped clear the plates away.
‘Need to talk to you, Madds. How would you like to be a bridesmaid at
last? Although there ain’t more than one, so I guess that makes you a maid
of honour. And me a poor miserable cow with only one friend!’ Gertie
laughed.
‘He’s asked you to marry him? The romantic baker? But that’s great.’
‘Maybe it’ll be catching,’ said Gertie, and smiled.
Maddie drove Rudi to Helston. And they walked arm in arm through
Coinagehall Street. Like an old married couple. The thought was a happy
one. She could easily be content with this man beside her. They understood
each other, had things in common. And they both had flaws. No one was
perfect. She remembered someone telling her that years ago, but she
couldn’t remember who. And if people could recognise each other’s
imperfections, could make allowances, and live with them, give each other
equal respect… Well, it might make a partnership work.
That kind of tolerance might even allow countries to get along better.
Cut down on idiotic wars.
‘I can hear your brain knocking,’ said Rudi.
‘Is it that loud?’
‘Not so much. But there’s a quirky little thing that you do with your
eyes when you’re concentrating. It’s kind of sweet.’
‘Sweet!’
‘You don’t want to be sweet?’ asked Rudi.
‘Sounds sappy,’ said Maddie. ‘And sickly,’ she added.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘So, no sappiness allowed. How about attractive? Can I
say that – that you look attractive? And intelligent – obviously. When
you’re thinking.’
‘That’ll do. Intelligent is always good.’
Rudi blew out some air. Slowed down their pace a little. ‘Helston seems
to be made of hills.’
‘What? You don’t have hills in Bavaria?’
‘Proper ones,’ he said. ‘And we call them mountains.’
‘Show off! Right, shall we get this beer, then? The Blue Anchor’s right
over there.’
‘Why don’t I buy it, and meet you at the hotel you told me about? We
could have some tea,’ said Rudi.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘You’ll need to go out back to the pub yard – that’s
where they brew the Spingo.’
It took Rudi a while to find the kind of shop he wanted and the piece that
was perfect for her. But when he’d found it, he knew: it had Maddie
Brady’s name written all over it. He hoped she would understand and that
this wonderful woman would be pleased.
Buying the beer was easier. Four crates. He hoped he hadn’t overdone
it.
The Angel Hotel was easy to spot. He’d been outside it once before. It
was the place the two policemen had jumped him years before, and beaten
him up. The moment he’d lost his freedom. He hadn’t been certain how he
would feel, seeing it again. But he needed to do this – ghosts from the past
couldn’t be allowed to haunt the future.
‘Don’t let the past ruin the future.’ That’s what Maddie had told him.
And she was right. ‘You have to face up to your fears, spit in their eye,’
she’d said.
And that’s exactly what she had done. Refusing to give him up to the
police or the camp guards. Putting her job and her freedom on the line for
him. Choosing him over her country. Now he truly understood that
sacrifice, knew how much she loved her country. And the courage it had
taken to have their baby. All alone, facing the stigma of being unmarried,
refusing to have the child adopted. She was single-minded. A brave and
feisty woman. It was part of who she was, why he loved her.
Maddie was waiting at a table in the restaurant. When she saw him coming,
she ordered tea for them both and a toasted teacake.
‘Just the one teacake?’ asked their waitress.
‘Just the one,’ said Maddie, then looked at Rudi as he sat down. ‘Ghosts
all gone?’ she asked him. She’d guessed going there might have stirred up
memories for him.
‘Vanquished,’ said Rudi.
‘Conquered?’
‘Beaten off with a stick.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘And the beer?’
‘A very pleasant Cornishman promises to deliver it.’
The tea arrived and Maddie poured. Tea in delicate bone china cups.
Bluebells decorating them and splashes of gold on the handles. So very
different from the tin mugs of her ATS kit, but the tea had always tasted like
heaven back then. Even though the taste had been watered down, tea leaves
used over and over again.
She watched him struggle to get his large fingers through the tiny
handle, saw him shrug and wrap both hands around the cup.
‘Made for delicate Victorian ladies,’ said Maddie, looking at her own
cup. ‘I prefer mugs.’
‘Me, too,’ said Rudi.
The waitress came back with the teacake. Put it in front of Maddie and
gave them both a fancy pastry fork, along with a lace serviette.
And so they sat drinking tea and sharing a huge, toasted teacake the size
of a dinner plate. It felt intimate, both eating from the same plate. An
unspoken declaration of love. And trust, thought Maddie. Trust was the
most important thing to share with the man you loved.
‘Home?’ she asked, when they’d finished.
‘Home,’ Rudi agreed.
They held hands all the way back to the car. And when she started it,
and released the sticky clutch, he laughed.
‘I might be able to fix that for you,’ he said. ‘Dodgy clutches, dodgy
boot latches. My speciality.’ He tried not to smile. ‘I could be a useful chap
to have around.’
‘Never doubted it,’ said Maddie. And she did smile.
Driving back to Pendurran, it was hard for Maddie to keep her eyes on the
road. To stop herself looking at him, checking he was still there. That this
miracle was real.
When they returned to the farmhouse, Rudi uncorked a bottle of wine
for them. They walked together up the stairs, two minds sharing one
thought.
‘Your room or mine?’ asked Rudi.
‘It makes no difference,’ she said. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this.’
‘I hope you won’t be disappointed,’ he said.
She wasn’t.
