Sal was living in a room of a house owned by a woman who took in lodgers, Patience Creighton, known as Pat. At one stage Kit had suggested she live with him and Roger, but she had declined. She was not convinced they really wanted her. She had long ago guessed that they were a married couple in every sense but the official, and she felt sure they needed privacy. And then they had moved to Badford.
Pat was a pleasant person and a decent landlord, but Sal was unhappy and she missed Jarge. She was not working: she had made money in the Netherlands, mainly by selling the soldiers things the army did not provide, and it would be several months before she needed to go back to a mill. But she felt that life was purposeless. There were times when she wondered whether there was any point in getting up in the morning. Pat believed this was not unusual in bereavement; she had felt the same, she said, after Mr Creighton died. Sal believed her, but it did not help.
She was astonished to be visited by Joe Hornbeam, elegant in a new uniform. ‘Hello, Mrs Box,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you since Waterloo.’
She was not sure whether she could trust him. He had been a good officer, but the foul blood of Alderman Hornbeam ran in his veins. She decided to keep an open mind. ‘What can I do for you, Major?’ she said neutrally.
‘You know that your husband saved my life.’
Sal nodded. ‘Several people who were nearby described the event to me.’
‘More than that, hediedsaving my life.’
‘He was a man with a big heart.’
‘And yet you and he were my grandfather’s great enemies.’
‘This is true.’
‘Grandfather Hornbeam finds it difficult to deal with this paradox.’
‘I hope you’re not going to ask for my sympathy.’
Joe smiled ruefully and shook his head. ‘It’s more complicated than that.’
Sal was intrigued. ‘You’d better sit down.’ She pointed to the one chair in the room, and she sat on the edge of the bed.
‘Thanks. Look, my grandfather will probably never change.’
‘People generally don’t, especially when they’re old.’
‘All the same, he wants to make some acknowledgement of your husband’s heroic sacrifice. He would like to do something by way of thanks and, since he can’t give anything to Jarge, he would like to give something to you.’
Sal was not sure she would welcome a gift from Hornbeam. She did not want a reminder of him in her life. She said guardedly: ‘What does he have in mind?’
‘He doesn’t know, so he asked me to talk to you. Is there anything you need or want that he could provide?’
I just want my Jarge back, Sal thought; but there was no point in saying that. ‘Anything at all?’ she said.
‘He didn’t set any limits. I’m here to find out what you would like. He didn’t give me a hint of price. But whatever you ask for, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you get it.’
‘This is like a fairy tale, where someone rubs a magic lamp, and a genie appears.’
‘In the uniform of the 107th Foot.’
She laughed. Joe really wasn’t a bad kid.
But should she accept a gift? And if so, what should she ask for?
She thought for several minutes, while Joe waited patiently. Thetruth was that she had thought of something, and had been contemplating the idea for some months now, imagining how it would be, trying to figure out ways of making it happen.
Finally she said it. ‘I want a shop.’
‘You want to open a shop? Or take one over?’
‘To open one.’
‘In the High Street?’
