The Pearl Locket by Kathleen McGurl Page A

the promenade just as he said he would be. His eyes lit up when Joan arrived, and her own tummy-fairies began a little dance of joy. She reached up and kissed his cheek, then stepped back blushing. It had just felt such a natural thing to do. He was blushing too, and she giggled.
    ‘It’s so good to see you again, Joan,’ he said. ‘But why have you brought a bag of oranges?’
    She explained her cover story, and he grinned. ‘I hope you don’t get into trouble again. I’d hate that. I couldn’t bear it the other day, when your father dragged you away, knowing I was the cause of it.’ He gazed at her with worried eyes. ‘He didn’t hurt you, did he?’
    ‘No, not at all. He shouted a bit, but it was soon over. Don’t worry. I know how to handle him and I won’t let him stop me from seeing you, Jack. Nothing will stop me.’
    Jack smiled, sadly she thought. ‘Come on, let’s walk,’ he said. ‘I thought we could walk the length of the promenade and loop round and come back along the riverside.’
    ‘Sounds perfect,’ she replied, linking her arm through his and relishing his warmth. ‘We can’t go over the open ground at the end of the prom though. Isn’t it still closed to the public?’
    ‘Yes, they’ve mined it, sadly. But we can go to the end of the promenade and then cut inland. It’s a shame. The top of the hill was always one of my favourite places. I love the way you have a view in every direction from up there. It’s like you’re on top of the world.’
    Joan laughed. ‘I love it too. My sisters and I used to ride our bikes there in the summer. But did you ever notice how it was always windy on the top? There might be no wind at all at the foot of the hill or on the beach, but it would be blowing a gale on the top. We thought it had its own magic.’
    ‘I think it does. It’s a very ancient place. In the Iron Age it was home to a fort.’
    ‘So much history, all around us.’
    ‘Yes, and history being written over in France as we speak. Makes you feel small and insignificant, doesn’t it?’
    She looked up at him. Jack, a small and insignificant person? No. His was the biggest heart she had ever come across. And in her life, he was fast becoming the most significant person. But it seemed too presumptuous to try to put these thoughts into words. This was, after all, only the third time they had met.
    They walked arm in arm eastwards along the prom to the end, with Jack insisting on carrying the bulky oranges, then climbed the small flight of steps up to street level. From here they cut inland across fields towards the river, where they found a bench and rested for a while. A pair of swans were gracefully paddling around near the riverbank, occasionally poking in the weeds in search of food.
    ‘I wish we had something we could feed them,’ Joan said. ‘We often used to bring stale bread here for the birds.’
    Jack laughed. ‘I bet there’s no such thing as stale bread in your house any more. There certainly isn’t in my aunt’s house, what with the rationing.’
    ‘No, nothing gets left over now. But I do shake the tablecloth outside so the birds can have any crumbs.’
    ‘That’s sweet of you.’
    Joan turned to look at Jack. He was biting his lip, as though there was something more he wanted to say. As she watched him, he shook his head as if to clear it of unwelcome thoughts, then took her hand in both of his.
    ‘Joan, I do wish I’d met you earlier. Or later, when we’ve won the war and we’re in peacetime again. It’s too bad we had to meet right now.’
    ‘What do you mean? I’m glad I’ve met you. I love being with you, Jack.’ Why was he unhappy to know her? She’d thought he liked her as much as she liked him. She hoped she hadn’t got it all wrong.
    ‘Oh, Joan, I love being with you, too. More than you can know. But the thing is, it can’t last.’
    He had met someone else. It must be that. Joan felt her heart plummet. She withdrew her hand from his.