Page 61 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
He laughed. “It’s every boy’s dream, isn’t it? To fly, faster than the speed of sound. I must have watchedTop Guna hundred times — I wore out the DVD, not to mention Mom’s patience. And theBattle of Britain,The Dambusters,Flight of the Intruder. . . When I was a kid I dragged the family to the Spitfire Museum at Biggin Hill at least half a dozen times. They actually restore Spitfires there, and they fly them most days. You can even fly in them. Unfortunately I was too young for that.”
She smiled at his boyish enthusiasm. “Did you have to train for a long time to fly your plane?”
He nodded. “You do a basic officer training course at the Royal Military College, then go on to the Flight Training School in Manitoba. You have to do academic studies too. Once you’vegot your Wings you move on to Moose Jaw, then Cold Lake to complete your Fighter Lead-in Training.”
Her eyes widened. “What a weird place name — Moose Jaw. Is it really called that?”
“Oh, Canada’s full of names like that. A lot of them are even weirder. There’s a place called Sober Island, and Punkeydoodles, and Head-Smashed-In.”
She laughed. “You’re joking!”
“Not at all. I bet you have some weird place names in England too.”
“Well, yes, we do.” She thought for a moment. “There’s a river in Dorset called the Piddle. One of the hotel guests told me about it. They said it’s very good for salmon fishing.”
They were both laughing as the waitress brought their starter. She smiled as she set down their plates. “There. Hope you enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you. It looks delicious.”
“She seems very nice,” Shelley murmured as the waitress left. “I was afraid they’d be snooty.”
“If they were, we’d leave.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
A warm glow spread through her. She had been afraid he would dismiss her anxieties as foolish, but he had taken her seriously. She took a forkful of her salmon and mango — the mingle of flavours melted on her tongue.
“Mmm!”
“Good?”
“Very good.”
Why had she been so anxious? She was really enjoying the evening. The food was simple but delicious, and Alex was such easy company that she forgot to worry about keeping up the conversation. It just seemed to flow.
He was smiling at her across the table. The warm amber glow from the garden sculpted his features in shadow and darkened his eyes. She would dream of this tonight — she would dream of it for a very long time.
* * *
Alex watched Shelley as she ate. She seemed to have relaxed in his company at last, and was chatting happily, telling him funny stories about some of the hotel guests and the odd things they left behind.
“False teeth! Wouldn’t you think they’d notice they’d forgotten their false teeth?”
He laughed. “I suppose you get all sorts.”
“Oh, yes. Most of them are really nice, especially the elderly ones. They like to chat. They tell me about their grandchildren, show me photographs.”
“What about the golfers? Are they nice too?”
“Most of them are okay. They really just want to get out on the course. Some of them bring their wives. Well, some of the wives play too, of course. The ones that don’t, they can get a bit bored, and they don’t all want to spend their time on the beach. Sometimes they go into Exeter, shopping. It would be nice if the hotel could lay on excursions for them. Down to the Eden Project or something.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea.” Something to think about if his plans for the hotel worked out.
They finished their meal and the waitress came to take their plates. “Would you like a dessert?”
Alex glanced across the table at Shelley, one eyebrow arched in question.
