Page 28 of The Island Girls

‘We’ve been very busy this last week, but I do have the weekend off,’ Darrell said, then hesitated, wondering if this was the segue he was looking for or if he was jumping the gun. Mr Symonds simply nodded and returned to his painting.

Darrell cleared his throat and took a step closer.

‘Actually, it’s about the weekend I wanted to talk. Well, not just the weekend, but some of what I’d like to do this weekend…’ He faltered and saw the frown on Peggy’s father’s face. The old man must be wondering what this young idiot was twittering on about.

Darrell summoned the courage he knew he had aplenty when he needed it.

‘I would like very much to take Peggy out with me. More often. To walk out with her, as it were. If you and Mrs Symonds were agreeable, that is,’ he finally said.

Mr Symonds put down the brush, resting it carefully on the top of the paint tin, wiped his hands on his overalls, and stood up.

‘I should think that would be all right, son. We saw you last night, of course,’ he said with a wink and a laugh as Darrell turned a pale shade of grey. ‘Our bedroom is at the front,’ Mr Symonds explained. ‘And the wife don’t sleep until the girls areindoors. She don’t miss much, and had a peep out the window, when you two lovebirds was saying your farewells last night.’ He chuckled.

Darrell winced and covered his face, but then laughed despite himself.

‘I’ll remember that, then. Thanks for the tip,’ he said. ‘No kissing on the doorstep from now on, sir.’

Back in the kitchen, Peggy had been watching him from the back window.

‘What was all that about, then?’ she asked Darrell as he stepped back inside.

‘Just making sure the old man is all right with me taking you out, that’s all. Seems he was expecting the question.’ He laughed and explained to a very embarrassed young woman that their first kiss had been witnessed by her parents.

‘Oh my word, I’ll never be able to look them in the eye again,’ said Peggy.

‘I shouldn’t worry. He seems comfortable enough with the idea.’

‘So, what shall we do today, Darrell? Because I know one thing for sure: I’m not waiting here until Mother gets back in, now I know what they saw us doing last night!’ Peggy said.

‘What about that lovely castle over on the other side of the harbour – I’ve seen it’s in ruins of course, from the air. But one of the lads said it was a nice place for a picnic,’ said Darrell.

‘Ooh, yes, I’ve not been to Corfe Castle in ages. Bit chilly for a picnic though. We could have a meal in the Greyhound and then go for a walk around the castle. It would be lovely and warm in the pub by the fire. There’s a bus that goes around Wareham waywe can catch,’ Peggy said, reaching for her warm, black coat and the little hat she liked to wear on a slant.

Darrell took her arm and let Peggy lead the way to the bus station, where the pair boarded the green bus headed for Swanage via Wareham and Corfe Castle. They sat up the top, in the front seats for the best view, and ate a packet of humbugs that Darrell had pulled from his pocket when they sat down.

As the bus approached Wareham, Peggy noticed Darrell’s interest in the town.

‘We’re coming up to the quayside soon, and if you look to your left, you’ll see where the river meanders away down towards the harbour. There’s a pretty little church you can see the tower of just through there,’ said Peggy, pointing out the bus window. ‘It has a square tower, like our St James’s in Poole does, but this one is much older.’

Darrell nodded but his attention was on the boats moored up at the quay and further down the river. Within moments, they’d passed over the bridge and the river was out of sight again.

‘And this is the River Frome, the one that has its mouth in the harbour, not far from our base in Hamworthy?’ he asked Peggy thoughtfully, and she wondered why he seemed so interested.

‘That’s right. I could bring you up here for a jolly one day, perhaps, in Dad’s dinghy, if you’d like that?’ Peggy asked hopefully.

‘How long would it take to row all this way? That would take hours, wouldn’t it? Something like your BOAC launch would be better for the job, I’d think,’ he asked.

‘Row? Not likely!’ Peggy laughed. ‘I’d row you to Brownsea and back for fun, no trouble, but for a trip up to Wareham, I’d put Dad’s Seagull on the back.’

Now he looked more confused than ever, and she laughed at the stupefied look on his face.

‘Not a real seagull, silly! It’s an outboard motor. They’re made right here in Poole, you know. “The best outboard for the world” they say about them, and I have to say they are pretty reliable. A Seagull on a dinghy and we’d be up here to Wareham quay in no time,’ Peggy said with confidence. ‘Now that’s something to look forward to for when the weather is a bit warmer, hey? A picnic on the river, just like Ratty and Mole inThe Wind in the Willows– messing about in a boat together.’ She beamed.

The rest of the journey from Wareham to Corfe was then taken up with an explanation of Peggy’s favourite childhood book, which she could not believe Darrell had never even heard of, let alone read.

‘Don’t your Australian mothers read to you kids over there, then?’ she teased him. ‘I think we should slip a few good books into the cargo on one of the flying boats headed to Sydney to improve the education of those poor Australian children,’ and she threw her head back to laugh heartily as he tickled her in a mock attack.

In the Greyhound pub, they ate their hot dinner of lamb stew and dumplings, with bread and ‘butter’ pudding to follow, and afterwards, thankful that the weather had stayed fine, walked up the grassy hill to the castle ruins where Peggy was pleased to show Darrell a glimpse of Poole Harbour from a completely different aspect.

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