achievement.
Gabe poked the charcoal. After the fourth attempt it took and she climbed back up to the cabin to gather the rest of the supplies and the essential torch. Already the sky was turning pink. It never ceased to amaze Gabe how quickly the night closed in at this time of year. A few wispy clouds divided the horizon, making it look like sheet music without the notes.
Today was the second day that Gabe hadnât composed in a long time. She stretched her fingers. Tomorrow she would set up the keyboard in the studio. At the moment it was still wrapped in cardboard and propped in the sitting room. She needed to call a piano tuner as well. God knows what had happened to the instrument on its journey. She sighed and grabbed a cushion off a chair for Jaunty. The quay couldnât be too comfortable for Jauntyâs small bottom, although of course she hadnât complained; she never did.
Â
The boat, with what Jaunty assumed were scarlet sails, came into view again. She pictured where it might have been up-river. The sailor was fighting the incoming tide, trying to make it past Merthen Wood, but he wouldnât get far with so little wind. The boat was so similar to Alexâs . . . If she closed her eyes, it was all so clear, her first love and the sea. She could see it, feel it and taste it. For her, salt was the taste of love. She shook her head. Did everyone remember their first love so precisely? She wouldnât know, for she had kept the world so far, so very far, away.
âThe sausages shouldnât take too long.â Gabriella poked them.
âChipolatas never do,â Jaunty said, watching the dark head in the boat. The sailor didnât seem perturbed by his lack of progress, just content to be on the river, Jaunty supposed. How she envied him his freedom . . .
âJaunty, I asked if you wanted more wine?â
âOf course.â She smiled at her granddaughter. Had she had a first love â or any love for that matter? Jaunty had never asked, which was wrong. Without her mother Gabriella must have needed to confide in someone, but Jaunty had never encouraged it. Confidences could lead to questions, and that was a risk that she couldnât take. Gabriellaâs father had been very independent and bright, winning a scholarship to Eton. In fact, Jauntyâs father had attended but she had never told Philip of the connection, depriving him of what so many of his friends had â that sense of belonging.
Had Jaunty been distant with him? No, it had been different. Philip had been affectionate physically, but hadnât required conversation other than the normal whys. He hadnât been one for words, just building things. Gabriella had been different. She loved Gabriella, but had that been enough?
The sailing boat was closer to the mouth of the creek. It welcomed him and Jauntyâs heart reached out, calling to Alex.
âPlease eat . . .â Gabriella spoke softly, but it was a plea nonetheless.
Jaunty looked at the sausages and salad in front of her. Despite the inviting smell, she had no hunger for food. âIâll just be heavier to carry later.â
âI donât think a sausage and a few green leaves will make much difference to your weight.â
âYou are a good girl.â
Gabriella pursed her mouth. She was about to reply she wasnât a girl, Jaunty could tell, but she was. There was something untouched, no, frozen, that made her girl-like. She was not a woman. Gabriella had never given her heart in love, Jaunty could see that clearly now. But why? Even though everything had gone wrong in Jauntyâs life and there had been no fairy-tale ending, let alone a happy one, Jaunty wouldnât change it.
But Gabriella was a lost soul. And it was Jauntyâs fault in some way. Itâs not that she hadnât loved her. She had, but not the way a mother would have or the way her father had. For Philip, Gabriella had been the sun and
Gabe poked the charcoal. After the fourth attempt it took and she climbed back up to the cabin to gather the rest of the supplies and the essential torch. Already the sky was turning pink. It never ceased to amaze Gabe how quickly the night closed in at this time of year. A few wispy clouds divided the horizon, making it look like sheet music without the notes.
Today was the second day that Gabe hadnât composed in a long time. She stretched her fingers. Tomorrow she would set up the keyboard in the studio. At the moment it was still wrapped in cardboard and propped in the sitting room. She needed to call a piano tuner as well. God knows what had happened to the instrument on its journey. She sighed and grabbed a cushion off a chair for Jaunty. The quay couldnât be too comfortable for Jauntyâs small bottom, although of course she hadnât complained; she never did.
Â
The boat, with what Jaunty assumed were scarlet sails, came into view again. She pictured where it might have been up-river. The sailor was fighting the incoming tide, trying to make it past Merthen Wood, but he wouldnât get far with so little wind. The boat was so similar to Alexâs . . . If she closed her eyes, it was all so clear, her first love and the sea. She could see it, feel it and taste it. For her, salt was the taste of love. She shook her head. Did everyone remember their first love so precisely? She wouldnât know, for she had kept the world so far, so very far, away.
âThe sausages shouldnât take too long.â Gabriella poked them.
âChipolatas never do,â Jaunty said, watching the dark head in the boat. The sailor didnât seem perturbed by his lack of progress, just content to be on the river, Jaunty supposed. How she envied him his freedom . . .
âJaunty, I asked if you wanted more wine?â
âOf course.â She smiled at her granddaughter. Had she had a first love â or any love for that matter? Jaunty had never asked, which was wrong. Without her mother Gabriella must have needed to confide in someone, but Jaunty had never encouraged it. Confidences could lead to questions, and that was a risk that she couldnât take. Gabriellaâs father had been very independent and bright, winning a scholarship to Eton. In fact, Jauntyâs father had attended but she had never told Philip of the connection, depriving him of what so many of his friends had â that sense of belonging.
Had Jaunty been distant with him? No, it had been different. Philip had been affectionate physically, but hadnât required conversation other than the normal whys. He hadnât been one for words, just building things. Gabriella had been different. She loved Gabriella, but had that been enough?
The sailing boat was closer to the mouth of the creek. It welcomed him and Jauntyâs heart reached out, calling to Alex.
âPlease eat . . .â Gabriella spoke softly, but it was a plea nonetheless.
Jaunty looked at the sausages and salad in front of her. Despite the inviting smell, she had no hunger for food. âIâll just be heavier to carry later.â
âI donât think a sausage and a few green leaves will make much difference to your weight.â
âYou are a good girl.â
Gabriella pursed her mouth. She was about to reply she wasnât a girl, Jaunty could tell, but she was. There was something untouched, no, frozen, that made her girl-like. She was not a woman. Gabriella had never given her heart in love, Jaunty could see that clearly now. But why? Even though everything had gone wrong in Jauntyâs life and there had been no fairy-tale ending, let alone a happy one, Jaunty wouldnât change it.
But Gabriella was a lost soul. And it was Jauntyâs fault in some way. Itâs not that she hadnât loved her. She had, but not the way a mother would have or the way her father had. For Philip, Gabriella had been the sun and
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