The Last Letter from Juliet. Melanie Hudson
and most often, if you are in doubt about something and are looking for an answer, then whatever it is that you are considering doing – don’t. Pause, wait, consider. There is much more time around than anyone supposes.”’
‘Have you ever asked it a question?’
I shook my head. ‘Never.’
Edward closed the compass and handed it back.
‘It’s wonderful,’ he said. ‘He must have loved you very much.’
I felt tears sting my eyes. Dear, darling Pa.
‘He did.’
‘You never thought of giving it up, after the accident – flying, I mean?’
I thought about my answer.
‘Have you ever thought of giving up breathing?’
He shook his head with a smile.
‘There you go then. It’s who I am. When I’m in the sky,’ I looked up with a sigh, ‘up there, I’m in heaven. I don’t blame aeroplanes for my parent’s death and have no intention of stopping flying because of it. It was a moment’s misjudgement on Pa’s behalf, and as devastating as it has been, I know he would want me to keep going, whatever the consequences.’
We sat in silence for a while, our shoulders touching, before turning our thoughts to Germany and the heart-breaking possibility of war. I talked of my grand plan – a plan I had not revealed to anyone, least of all to Charles – that being my determination to fly for the RAF, perhaps even join as a fighter pilot, the first woman ever. I just needed to work out a way to persuade them to have me. Edward did not mock. He accepted my dream as an equal, saying that if I dreamt hard enough, anything could happen. And I liked that. I liked that very much indeed.
‘Anyway, your turn,’ I said, returning the compass to a pocket. ‘You’re obviously not local, so why rent a cottage here? Why has E. Nancarrow come to Angels Cove?’ I took a quick slurp of whiskey. It was Edward’s turn to pause before answering. I filled the gap by answering my own question. ‘No, wait! I bet you’re an artist. It’ll be the light. Are you in with the Newlyn set?’
Edward shook his head.
‘I’m not in with any set. I just thought I’d come and stay for a while, take in the sea air. Enjoy the view.’
‘How very leisurely of you. But what do you do for a living – other than walking your dog on the cliffs and getting in the way of women trying to land their planes – what are you?’
A wry smile drifted across his face.
He rubbed his chin in thought. ‘I told you. I’m a coddiwompler.’
I laughed. ‘That again.’
‘Yes, that again.’ He took a sip of my whiskey. ‘Does that answer your question?’
I kicked my legs against the harbour wall.
‘Bearing in mind I have no idea what a coddiwompler is, I would say that you have in no way answered my question. So …?’
‘So?’
‘So, go on then, what is one?’
Edward sniffed and shook his head.
‘Oh, well, this is quite awkward, because I’m not really allowed to say.’
He looked away, pretending to be interested in a couple of men who were sitting on a boat, supposedly mending their nets but really just chatting at the far end or the harbour wall.
‘Not allowed to say? But you were going to tell me earlier …’
‘We coddiwomplers are members of a top secret club – I was going to tell you before because I thought you must be one, too’ – he turned to me – ‘because it hit me last night that you seem to be exactly the sort of person who would love to live her life as we do … but now, I’m not so sure. You might be a bit …’
‘A bit?’
‘Sensible.’
‘Nonsense. You’ve seen my aircraft – Daredevil is quite literally my middle name. Tell me!’
He shook his head. ‘No. We’ll just have to play I spy, instead. I’ll start.’ He glanced around the harbour. ‘I spy something beginning with B.’
‘Boat?’
His eyes lit up.
‘Yes! Say, you’re real good at this! I’ll give it another shot … I spy something beginning with S …’
‘The sea.’
‘No, that would be T S. Try again …’
The time passed far too quickly and without even noticing it, the sun began to set beyond the islands. I jumped off the harbour wall in a wild panic. Edward had a definite look of satisfaction on his face when I chided him for keeping me talking for so long.
‘Before you go, let me just …’ Edward surprised me by taking a folded handkerchief from his coat pocket. He wrapped a corner of the cloth around his finger and lifted his hand towards my face. ‘You have a smear of oil across your face, that will never do at a house like Lanyon. Far too proper.’ I didn’t move away, but allowed him to wipe my cheek.
‘How long has that been there?’
‘All day. I let you run with it.’ He stepped back to admire his handy-work. ‘There, all gone. Although, I actually preferred you as you were, with the warrior stripe – it really suited you,’ he added, softly.
A cloud passed over our fragmented bits of conversation. We had had our moment, both of us knowing I should have dashed back to Lanyon much earlier, but we had already taken on the selfish attitude of lovers and from the ambivalent view of the naïve observer – the men working on the fishing boats, for example – we would have appeared to have had nothing more than a pleasant afternoon enjoying the polite interaction of two friends. But Edward and I knew differently, and we knew it from the first, ‘Hello’. Because that was the thing with love at first sight, it was like the birth of time – the big bang of the universe itself. It was the ignition of a silent understanding exchanged in body language – in the blink of an eye, the angle of the head and the positioning of the body. It was that first spark of a silent understanding that set in motion an unstoppable series of events. A motion that creates a kind of energy that forever links two people in an impenetrable and invisible connectedness. A connectedness that almost always brings a heady emotional mix of absolute joy and unbearable pain.
Mother would not be happy.
As I waved goodbye and dashed up the hill, I felt like Cinderella running away from her Prince Charming. And just like Cinderella, I knew that the road would not lead us apart for very long, but would curve all the way around our respective destinations in the shape of an interconnected heart, and that we would stand in front of each other again, smiling, not wanting to walk away. And yet, at that very moment, I still didn’t know what he did, where he was from, why he was here – and most importantly, I realised dashing up the road, smiling – I still had absolutely no idea what a coddiwompler was!
No one at Lanyon knew what a coddiwompler was either. Pa Lanyon thought it sounded like ‘old English’ and after a rebuke from Lottie for being gone all day and a strange side-eyed glance from Charles, Pa pointed me in the direction of his library where I would find a miscellany on old-English quirky words. Sure enough, between cockamamie (ridiculous; incredible) and codswallop (something utterly senseless) I found coddiwompler: someone who travels in a purposeful manner towards a vague destination.
How very vague, and elusive, and exciting, and mysterious … and, he was an American, too … just dreadful!
Katherine