Knots.
Henrietta wandered slowly around the gazebo, listening with amusement as her nephews were tutored on the apparently ancient art of knot-tying inside. Overhand knots, square knots, granny knots, bowline knots, oyster knots, reef knots, thief knots, figure-eight knots... So many that she’d quickly forgotten the names of the rest. She’d declined the offer of instruction herself, preferring to enjoy the winter sunshine than play with bits of string—a choice of words that had earned her a stern look and lecture from Sebastian.
She laughed softly to herself at the memory of his outraged expression, though he’d been unable to maintain it for more than a few seconds. He seemed almost incapable of not smiling for long, as if his sense of humour were irrepressible. Somehow, it suited his general air of dishevelment, the way he never tightened his cravat or fastened his coat, as if he were too busy being cheerful to notice or care about such details.
Now they’d reached a clear understanding about his reasons for staying in Bath to help her, it was surprising how much she enjoyed his company. She’d known he’d felt guilty about leaving Anna to run Belles alone, but she hadn’t realised quite how much, and his honesty endeared him to her more than she would have expected. As did his behaviour generally. They’d come to the park together with the boys for a couple of hours every afternoon that week, after which she took over the running of the shop and gave Nancy the rest of the day off, and his good nature had never once wavered.
After a week, there was still no sign or word of David, but Sebastian seemed determined to stop her from worrying, distracting both her and the boys with his so-called nautical training. Overall, it was surprisingly pleasant to have him as a friend. She felt as relaxed with him now as she had on the first night they’d met, so much that she was even wearing her blue dress today, having eventua
lly decided that Nancy was right and it wasn’t her fault or responsibility how anyone chose to interpret her clothes or behaviour. So why shouldn’t she wear her favourite dress if she wanted? As for Mr Fortini specifically, she felt safe with him. She trusted him. Which meant that she could wear her best bonnet, too, for good measure!
She propped her shoulder against one of the gazebo columns and peered in through the archway. The boys were all sitting cross-legged on the floor while Sebastian crouched beside them, making corrections and smiling encouragement—of course smiling! He wasn’t classically handsome by any means. His features were far too rough hewn and irregular for that, yet his lopsided smile made his face a thousand times more attractive than that of any other man she’d ever met. Which was exactly the sort of thing she ought not to think about a friend!
‘Look, Aunt Henrietta!’ Michael scrambled to his feet when he saw her, holding aloft a piece of string with a triumphant expression. ‘It’s called a cat’s paw.’
‘What a lovely name.’ She bent over to admire it. ‘That looks tricky.’
‘This is the most important knot!’ Peter held up his own piece of string. ‘A bowline.’
‘They’re both very good.’
‘And wait until you see this...’ Sebastian gave Oliver a nudge. ‘It’s an overhand knot. One of the best I’ve ever seen.’
‘Goodness me.’ She made a show of examining each in turn. ‘I hope you aren’t planning to tie my feet together.’
‘Umm...’ Michael and Peter exchanged looks as if that was exactly what they’d been planning.
‘Oh, dear.’ She shook her head, looking around the gazebo at each of them in turn before her gaze settled on Sebastian and she smiled. It was a smile that seemed to come from deep within, as if her very heartstrings were tugging at the corners of her mouth. Maybe it was contagious, she thought, all this smiling. Despite her worries about David, at that moment she couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried. She was aware, too, of a strangely dizzy feeling, as if the gazebo itself were spinning around. She actually had the bizarre impression that all her thoughts and feelings were up in the air, rearranging themselves somehow, and that when she stopped spinning and they settled down again, as they eventually had to, then nothing would ever be the same again.
It was outlandish and unexpected and alarming. And yet here she was, still smiling. And so was Sebastian. They were both smiling at each other. For almost a whole minute before Michael asked what they were doing.
* * *
‘I enjoyed that.’ Sebastian chuckled to himself as they walked home an hour later, the boys scampering ahead, still comparing and competing over who’d tied the strongest knots. ‘It was just like old times.’
‘They enjoyed it, too.’ Henrietta turned her head to smile at him, that genuine smile that made him feel as if his lungs couldn’t draw in enough air. She was looking exceptionally pulchritudinous today, he thought, like a rare and precious orchid escaped from a hothouse. She was dressed far less sombrely than on any of their previous excursions, too, in a blue-green gown the exact same shade as her eyes, not that he’d said so. Or allowed anything even remotely resembling a compliment to pass his lips, though it was getting harder and harder to stop himself. He must have thought at least a hundred complimentary things since he’d collected her a couple of hours before. Frankly, he was starting to wonder if he had masochistic tendencies, agreeing to simply be her friend.
‘I’m afraid you’re making life at sea sound far too appealing,’ she went on, still smiling. ‘No offence to the navy, but I’d rather keep the boys closer to home.’
‘I recall my mother once saying something similar.’
‘I’m not surprised. It must have been very hard for her when you left.’ She winced. ‘Sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel any guiltier.’
‘I know. I suppose I just hoped she’d get used to the idea eventually. They say sailors’ wives do.’ He blinked at his own words. What on earth had made him say that? They’d been talking about mothers, not wives.
‘Really?’ She gave him a sideways look, so quickly that he couldn’t catch her eye.
‘They say it gets easier anyway.’
‘I suppose it’s just a different way of life.’
‘Yes.’
‘But it must still be lonely.’ She seemed determined to look straight ahead now.
‘I suppose so. Of course the men miss their wives, too.’
‘Of course.’