be doing more playing than picking.’
‘My brother and I would have been,’ Dale said.
‘Me and mine, too.’ After a good-hearted laugh, Norman waved towards the house. ‘Leave yourself time to stop in the house. Charlotte’s been itching for a chance to try out that coffee-making pot she bought. You won’t want to let her down.’
‘Thank you,’ Dale replied, not able to promise coffee could happen. That would depend upon Kathryn.
The vegetables that must have been planted only a short time ago looked like potatoes and, not wanting to damage any, Dale walked along the edge of the field. The hedgerows that grew along all the fields in the area intrigued him and he recognised some familiar plants among the various other bushes and weeds. Or maybe they weren’t considered weeds here. There were plenty of flowers blooming along the edge.
Norman was right, he’d yet to come to the corner when he heard children squealing and laughing. Someone else was laughing, too, and he’d bet the chocolate bar in his pocket who that was.
The opening Norman told him about was hidden. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he’d have walked right past it. Ducking beneath the vines, he entered the bushes, but, seeing the sights on the other side, he paused to watch.
Kathryn was playing with the children and looked almost as young and carefree as the rest of them as they tagged each other and ran, trying not to get tagged back. She had on a red-and-white short-sleeved dress, sheer stockings and those same shoes she rode her bike in. Running in them couldn’t be any easier than bike riding. However, they did make her look, well, elegant, even while chasing the children around. Overall, she looked too refined for the life she was currently living.
The odd sense of being watched had him glancing around. It was hard to say if the elderly woman who must be Charlotte was able to see him or not, but she was walking towards the bushes and squinting.
Dale pushed through the bushes, standing up when completely clear of the vines. Besides the older woman, Kathryn was the first to notice him. At least the first to react. She stopped dead in her tracks, bumping into a little girl as she stared at him.
‘Hello,’ the older woman said. ‘I’m Charlotte and you must be the sweet Sergeant.’ Giggling softly, she explained, ‘That’s what the children call you. They found a few pieces out here today, which led to their game of tag rather than picking berries.’
She’d gestured to the basket in her hand and, noting the small amount, he said, ‘Well, then, I better get to work.’
‘Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.’
He held out a hand. ‘If you don’t mind. I haven’t picked berries in years, but when I did, I was excellent at it.’
‘Were you?’ Her ageing blue eyes took on a shimmer as she handed him the basket. ‘My boys used to eat more than they picked.’
Her grey curls and softly wrinkled skin reminded him of his grandmother, who used to make jam that he and Ralph ate by the spoon. ‘I may have been known to do that a time or so myself,’ he admitted. ‘But today I will fill this basket to the rim before giving it back.’
‘Excuse me?’
The sun was too bright for him to be chilled by Kathryn’s cold tone. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Winslow.’ He gave a slight bow. ‘I’m sorry I missed you yesterday and do hope you weren’t too put out by my absence.’
‘Not at all, as I wouldn’t be right now either.’
He grinned. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t.’ Nodding towards Charlotte, he said, ‘But Mrs Harris might be. I promised her a full basket of berries, so if you will excuse me?’
The shocked look on her face was more than enough to make him smile, as was the welcome he received from the children. A total of nine, all speaking at once, and all thanking him for the candy that had dropped from the sky. Four of the children were almost as tall as Kathryn—two boys and two girls. Then another girl and two other boys were a bit shorter, about up to the older ones’ shoulders, and then two little girls that came up to Kathryn’s waist. Right where a wide white belt encircled her, hugging the white-and-red-striped dress.
Looking up and catching the glare that once again had settled in her eyes, he said, ‘I didn’t drop the candy, the pilots did, and don’t eat it all at once.’
‘I assure you, they won’t,’ she said. ‘It would not only ruin their appetite, it would rot their teeth.’
‘Nonsense,’ Charlotte said. Without waiting for a response, she waved for the children. ‘Bring your baskets. We need to get some berries before Norman comes looking for us.’ Smiling at him, she added, ‘Kathryn, please show Sergeant Johnson which berries to pick and which to leave behind?’
She wanted to say no and did so with her eyes. He’d bet the only reason she didn’t voice exactly what she thought was because of the children.
‘I’ll show him,’ one of the children said.
‘I’ll show him,’ Kathryn said. ‘You go help Charlotte.’
She certainly wasn’t happy, but Dale was. However, he was smart enough to keep his smile hidden inside where it tickled him as much as a feather did a sleeping man’s nose. He’d never claim to be a charming man, but he sure planned on trying to be one today. Her father being the head of the British intelligence might be exactly what he needed to find Ralph. Without anyone knowing, of course.
‘This way,’ she said, spinning about.
He glanced over his shoulder at Charlotte pairing off the children and sending them towards the bushes. Dale took several long strides to catch up with Kathryn. ‘They sure do mind well.’
Kathryn kept her eyes straight ahead and marched forward like a soldier doing drills.
‘The children,’ he said. ‘They mind well.’
She still didn’t respond.
‘Charlotte reminds me of my grandmother. We, my brother and younger sister, used to go berry picking with her. And for the most part, we minded her. Our dad had said she knew how to use a switch and we never wanted to find out if he was telling the truth or not.’
Although she clearly hadn’t wanted him to notice, he’d seen the way she looked at him out of the corners of her eyes.
No longer trying to hide his smile, he continued, ‘And she made the best jam. Ralph and I never waited for bread, we ate it right out of the jar.’ He chuckled while recalling an incident he hadn’t thought of in years. ‘She had a bunch of grapes that grew along the fence around her garden. Sour grapes. But she made the best jelly out of them. One time, she’d boiled down the grapes and seined the juice out, but must have run out of time or something, because there was this big jar of the juice on the counter. Thinking it would taste as good as her jelly, I sneaked a big swallow.’
His entire being shuddered at how bad that juice had tasted. ‘She hadn’t added any sugar yet. My first reaction had been to spit it out, but she’d walked into the kitchen just then so I couldn’t.’ Laughing, he said, ‘I’ll never forget how hard it was to swallow that mouthful of juice.’
That
