Eye of the Needle by Ken Follett

surprise!”
    “But I wrote to you.”
    The letter was with the mail on the boat; Mother had forgotten that the post only came once a fortnight on Storm Island.
    “Is this my grandson? Isn’t he a big boy?”
    Little Jo, almost three years old, turned bashful and hid behind Lucy’s skirt. He was dark-haired, pretty, and tall for his age.
    Mother said: “Isn’t he like his father!”
    “Yes,” Lucy said. “You must be freezing—come up to the house. Where did you get that skirt?”
    They picked up the groceries and began to walk up the ramp to the cliff top. Mother chattered as they went. “It’s the fashion, dear. It saves on material. But it isn’t as cold as this on the mainland. Such a wind! I suppose it’s all right to leave my case on the jetty—nobody to steal it! Jane is engaged to an American soldier—a white one, thank God. He comes from a place called Milwaukee, and he doesn’t chew gum. Isn’t that nice? I’ve only got four more daughters to marry off now. Your father is a Captain in the Home Guard, did I tell you? He’s up half the night patrolling the common waiting for German parachutists. Uncle Stephen’s warehouse was bombed—I don’t know what he’ll do, it’s an Act of War or something—”
    “Don’t rush, Mother, you’ve got fourteen days to tell me the news.” Lucy laughed.
    They reached the cottage. Mother said, “Isn’t this lovely ?” They went in. “I think this is just lovely.”
    Lucy parked Mother at the kitchen table and made tea. “Tom will get your case up. He’ll be here for his lunch shortly.”
    “The shepherd?”
    “Yes.”
    “Does he find things for David to do, then?”
    Lucy laughed. “It’s the other way around. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it himself. You haven’t told me why you’re here.”
    “My dear, it’s about time I saw you. I know you’re not supposed to make unnecessary journeys, but once in four years isn’t extravagant, is it?”
    They heard the jeep outside, and a moment later David wheeled himself in. He kissed his mother-in-law and introduced Tom.
    Lucy said, “Tom, you can earn your lunch today by bringing Mother’s case up, as she carried your groceries.”
    David was warming his hands at the stove. “It’s raw today.”
    “You’re really taking sheep-farming seriously, then?” Mother said.
    “The flock is double what it was three years ago,” David told her. “My father never farmed this island seriously. I’ve fenced six miles of the cliff top, improved the grazing, and introduced modern breeding methods. Not only do we have more sheep, but each animal gives us more meat and wool.”
    Mother said tentatively, “I suppose Tom does the physical work and you give the orders.”
    David laughed. “Equal partners, Mother.”
    They had hearts for lunch, and both men ate mountains of potatoes. Mother commented favorably on Jo’s table manners. Afterwards David lit a cigarette and Tom stuffed his pipe.
    Mother said, “What I really want to know is when you’re going to give us more grandchildren.” She smiled brightly.
    There was a long silence.
     
     
     
    “WELL, I think it’s wonderful, the way David copes,” said Mother.
    Lucy said, “Yes.”
    They were walking along the cliff top. The wind had dropped on the third day of Mother’s visit and it was mild enough to go out. They took Jo, dressed in a fisherman’s sweater and a fur coat. They had stopped at the top of a rise to watch David, Tom and the dog herding sheep. Lucy could see in Mother’s face an internal struggle between concern and discretion. She decided to save her mother the effort of asking.
    “He doesn’t love me,” she said.
    Mother looked quickly to make sure Jo was out of earshot. “I’m sure it’s not that bad, dear. Different men show their love in diff—”
    “Mother, we haven’t been man and wife—properly—since we were married.”
    “But?…” She indicated Jo with a nod.
    “That was a week before the