Jack is silent for a while, then looks up slowly at Meg. ‘Just goodbye? She didn’t leave a letter or anything?’
Meg dances gaily ahead of him then, turning, says, ‘Why heavens, no! Jessie doesn’t much care for writing.’ She walks back to Jack and, reaching up, places her hands on his shoulders. Standing on tip-toe, she kisses him on the cheek. Then she takes Jack’s hand. ‘Come, a walk will do your appetite the world of good. I’ve baked all the things you like.’
Jack stops, pulling Meg to a halt. He releases her hand. ‘Meg, about the other night .. .’
‘Oh, Jack, it was so lovely, us being alone.’ Jack looks down at his riding boots. ‘It’s just, well, I don’t know what come over me.’
Meg stands in front of him and puts her hands on her hips in a show of pretended exasperation, then she sighs prettily. ‘Jack, if you’re trying to say you’re sorry, please don’t. It was my way of saying goodbye.’ She pauses, a frown on her pretty face, her lips now formed into a pout. ‘You’re not angry with me, are you, Jack?’ Jack looks up in alarm. ‘Angry? Of course not.’ ‘And I made you happy, didn’t I?’
Jack nods, knowing he is being cleverly led away from what he wants to say. ‘It was lovely, Meg, it’s just -’
‘That you feel you shouldn’t have taken advantage,’ Meg interrupts. ‘Well you should have, Jack, I wanted you to.’ She grabs Jack’s big hand in both her own and brings it to her lips. ‘Jack Thomas, you’re the first man I’ve ever loved and I’ll never love another. What happened to us was beautiful.’
Jack feels trapped and can think of nothing to say.
‘Meg, you’re pretty and all, but the war ... I’m off to the war. Anything could happen.’ Jack scratches his head. ‘I, er ... wouldn’t want you to think .. .’
‘Think what? That you’re obliged to me?’
‘Well, yes,’ Jack says gratefully, ‘it wouldn’t be right to make plans, not knowing what the future will hold.’ He puts his head to one side. ‘It’s uncertain times ahead, Meg.’
‘Of course I’m not making plans. What plans? I’m not your wife, Jack.’ Meg laughs lightly. ‘Not your missus with a brat hanging onto her skirt, seeing her old man going off to war.’
Jack gives a wry grin at Meg’s description. ‘Too right!’
He’s grasped at Meg’s pronouncement like a man drowning. ‘It would be wrong to make any commitment. I don’t want you to think what happened is, well, like ... a betrothal.’
Meg gives Jack an indulgent smile. ‘These are modern times, Jack. Queen Victoria is long dead.’ She tosses her head back. ‘But, there you go, you’re not married to me and I have no children clutching at my skirt.’ Meg loosens the ribbon on her hat sufficiently so that it falls from her head and rests on the back of her shoulders. She squints slightly, adjusting to the bright sunlight. ‘What happened between us was so lovely.’ Her eyes glisten with sudden tears. ‘Oh, Jack, it was the first time for me and I shall cherish it all the days of my life.’ She pauses and draws right up to him, staring into Jack’s blue eyes, her lips pursed invitingly.
Jack tries hard to conceal his relief that she doesn’t expect him to marry her. ‘Meg, you’re a grand girl, a true sport.’
Meg smiles and draws back. The tears of a moment before seem to have disappeared as quickly as they’d first appeared. Plucking at the sides of her skirt, she does a pretty little curtsy in front of Jack. ‘Why thank you, kind sir.’ Then straightening, she says, ‘Now shall we feed the gallant soldier?’ ‘But aren’t we going for a walk?’
‘Never mind that now. We have an array of fine dishes fit for a general in command waiting for you.’ Meg laughs again. ‘I confess, Mother and I have been cooking for two days.’
Jack grins, hugely relieved at the outcome. ‘Goodo! ‘ I’m starving hungry, lemme at it.’ He turns towards the homestead steps but Meg pulls him back.
‘You have to pay for your dinner, Jack.’ Meg puts her hands behind her back and, closing her eyes, tilts her head towards him, her lips slightly parted as she offers them to him.
Jack bends down and kisses her lightly on the cheek. Meg’s eyes open wide in alarm. ‘No, Jack, I want a kiss from a soldier going to war! A kiss to remember!’ Her arms now come out to embrace him and Jack is obliged to receive her into his own. Then he bends and kisses Meg on the mouth. He can feel her warmth against him, she smells of some light perfume and her lips pressed into his seem soft as rose petals. But all he can think of is Jessica. Of kissing and holding sweet, lithe Jessica in his arms.
At dinner Hester and Meg make most of the chatter as Jack tucks into his food. He’s never been known for his conversation at the table and it’s usually only Jessica who can get him to talk much beyond the usual courtesies. But today he seems unusually bereft of words. The talk outside with Meg seems to have quietened him down completely and Hester realises how much Jessica adds to his presence when they’re at the table. Meg thinks it’s as if Jack has come to get something off his mind and having done so, has more or less exhausted his daily allotment of words. His responses to the bright words she and Hester banter about are only barely polite, though, thankfully, his lack of words is not matched by a poor appetite and he digs into his food as though he hasn’t eaten for a fortnight.
‘Best food I’ve ever had, Mrs Bergman,’ he ventures at last. ‘I’m full to bursting, like a cow in the lucerne paddock.’
Hester smiles. ‘Don’t thank me, Jack. Thank Meg, she cooked most of it. A young woman should know how to cook well, don’t you think?’
‘I’ll say!’ Jack now turns to Meg. ‘Great tucker, Meg. Thank you.’
‘And how to take care of a large house,’ Hester continues. ‘Though with only the four of us and this place only a cottage, she doesn’t get much of a chance to show off her homemaking or culinary skills. Joe and Jessie are plain eaters both.’
‘Well, I don’t suppose I’ll eat like that again in a while.’ Jack grins and thinks for a moment. ‘The two girls couldn’t cook for toffee, my mother neither. Come to think of it, Mrs Briggs, our cook, isn’t too good either — meat and potatoes and steamed puddin’ left for us cold of a Sunday.’ Jack grins at the memory. ‘Bloody steamed pud, never want to taste another mouthful.’
At the unexpected mention of Ada Thomas and Jack’s two sisters, Hester and Meg grow silent. But before they can speak, Jack continues, unaware of the shock he’s caused in the two of them. ‘I miss the fighting. They were always fighting, shouting at each other.
All three of them. There was always someone crying.’ Jack looks over at Hester. ‘You wouldn’t think you’d miss that, would you?’