Chapter 6

Friday morning, it was back to summer, almost. The wind was down to force three and veering easterly, which meant that although dry the wind was a little cool. We took off the tiers and hoisted the sails so they would dry and opened ports and vents to air the cabins; we took the opportunity to shower, change and do some laundry. We took the foot-ferry across to Harwich and had lunch in the café on the Halfpenny Pier. When we returned the sails were dry, so we did a harbour stow and put the covers on; generally made sure everything was as good as it could be.

Frank called. He'd known we were anchored on the Ledge, of course. I dare say he'd worried a little. He told us he'd call and could we have supper together?

We ate in the Marina Restaurant. I had no complaints as to the quality of the food and as to the company, how could it be better?

Emily and Hazel left after we'd had dessert, but Frank insisted I stay and have a drink or two with him.

As soon as we were alone, "Dad, what are you going to do about Hazel?"

"I was wondering that, myself. Don't you think I'm too old for her?"

"I think that ought to be her decision rather than yours, don't you? Dad, you obviously adore one another. She's a stunner, a keeper, and you'd be a fool to drive her away."

"What about your inheritance?"

"Stuff that! We'd be waiting years anyway, even if we needed it. Dad, you deserve some happiness, and I think Hazel does too. I may be wrong ... Kitten may be wrong too, but I don't think so. Ask her, Dad, and don't leave it too long."

As we lay in bed together that night, I thought about how right she felt in my arms. I fell asleep wondering how to broach the subject of our future (if any) with her.

Saturday dawned bright. I made a couple of phone calls and found a hotel in Felixstowe with some vacancies, though I had to settle for two twin rooms. We drove to Woodbridge, but instead of stopping in the town we carried on and visited Sutton Hoo.

Sutton Hoo is quite famous. An Archaeological site in the care of the National Trust, it was the burial place of Saxon Kings in the seventh century; excavated in the thirties, a rich and fascinating collection of finds gave an insight into high-status Saxon life. We walked over the site and round the exhibition, had lunch in the cafeteria and soaked up the ambience. Some may think I'm odd, but places like Sutton Hoo have their own, peculiar atmosphere; I always feel as though I'm walking among the spiritual presences of those who went before. It's similar in stone circles; I can't help but be aware that the places have been a spiritual centre for millennia.

As we walked back to the car, Hazel, holding my arm, pulled me close.

"John ... ny ... I sort of feel ... as though there's people around me."

"There are, love."

"No, I mean, apart from the other visitors. There's no-one there, and yet there ... is someone there."

I took her in my arms. "I know, love. I feel it too. But I don't think there's anything to be afraid of."

"Yes! Exactly. It's as if ... not exactly friendly, but ... happy there's people around, visiting the place!"

We carried on walking back to the car and drove to Felixstowe. The production of the Mikado was really excellent; the actors really threw all their energies into their parts and they had some very good voices. As we left to go back to the car, Hazel begged me to sing 'Titwillow'.

There was some confusion at the hotel. There was a double room and a single reserved for us ... did we mind? What do you think?

I wondered as we lay together, whether this was, could be, should be, our last night together. I hoped not.

The drive back to Sheffield was long. Thetford, Kings Lynn, Sleaford, Newark, Ollerton, Sheffield. There's not much point in using fast dual carriageways if you can only drive at forty-five. It took eight hours.

"Do you want to go to your flat?" I asked Hazel.

"Not tonight ... I'd rather come back with you if that's alright?" There was a hint of anxiety in her voice.