Mrs Boots. Deborah Carr

certain I will.’

      As the train took Florence and Mr Boot from West Park to First Tower she gazed out towards the sea, silvery from the brightness of the sun, relieved she had not suggested they get tickets to travel by charabanc. Florence had noticed Mr Boot wince as he took his seat and at least the motion of the train was gentle and level, compared to the bumps in the road that the charabanc would no doubt find as the wheels hit them.

      He cleared his throat. ‘I haven’t been to the west of the island yet. I’m told by Jane that it is more rugged than the east, with a long beach and Napoleonic forts dotted along the coastline.’

      ‘She remembers our outing in a charabanc,’ Florence laughed, recalling the fun day out they had with her friends. ‘There were about twenty of us altogether. We travelled in two charabancs and we enjoyed a picnic on the sand dunes.’

      Florence was glad that Jane had enjoyed her day enough to tell her brother all about it. They both obviously had fond memories of the day that had started out with the threat of rain. It had been so bad that there was a moment they weren’t certain they would be able to go. But the clouds had parted, and everything had turned out perfectly.

      ‘Is that the harbour where my boat docked?’ Mr Boot asked, peering towards the granite pier walls to the left of the bay past Elizabeth Castle.

      ‘Yes, that’s correct,’ she said, fanning herself with the pretty fan her sister Adelaide had bought her for her last birthday. She wondered if maybe she should suggest an outing to the castle on another day, unsure whether it would be easy enough for him to manage when the tide was low and the causeway there was exposed. Deciding not to say anything for now, she added. ‘The sea seems so still today, doesn’t it?’

      ‘It does.’ Removing his hat, he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

      They fell into a companionable silence. Florence stole several glances at Mr Boot as he gazed out of the window at the seascape to the left of them. Fine lines ran from the sides of his eyes to the top of his cheeks. He seemed more relaxed even from the previous day and she was certain his visit to the island was having the desired effect on him.

      He must have sensed her looking at him and turned, smiling as he caught her eye.

      Shocked slightly to be caught out, her cheeks reddened.

      ‘Sorry, did you ask me something?’ he asked.

      She shook her head, relieved he had thought she had speaking to him. ‘Err, no. That is, yes. I was wondering if you find the island to your liking so far, Mr Boot?’

      ‘I do,’ he said, sitting back in his seat to face her better. ‘Very much. I don’t know if it’s the sea air or spending more time than I usually would outside in the sunshine, but I am certainly benefitting from being here.’

      ‘I’m glad.’ Not wishing to seem forward, she added, ‘I wouldn’t want a visitor to the island going home without feeling that he, or she, had taken with them a true sense of well-being.’

      ‘You can be satisfied then to know that I am feeling better than I have done for many, many months.’

      She was glad to hear it. More than she expected to be. She smiled at him and they both gazed out of the window at the shimmering blue and silver view that the sea offered to them.

      They passed The Tin Hut at West Park, along to the stop at First Tower where several passengers alighted, and others replaced them. Then they slowed to pass another rail car at Millbrook Station.

      ‘It’s a little warm today, don’t you think?’

      She nodded, wishing she wasn’t wearing layers of fabric with her petticoats and cotton summer dress. ‘Maybe there’ll be more of a breeze when we reach La Corbière?’

      He raised his eyebrows. ‘Would it be so different? I didn’t think it was too far away from here?’

      Florence realised that most people would find it strange that on an island five miles by nine in size that there would be different temperatures. ‘It’s not much of a distance. The lighthouse is on a small peninsula adjoining two bays. The one to its right is a tiny bay, but that leads on to a larger expanse of beach. St Ouen’s Bay faces west and there usually is more of a sea breeze in that part of the island. Odd, I know. My parents have friends who run a farm out that way and they never like coming into town on hot days, preferring to remain out there instead.’

      ‘I’m looking forward to going there,’ he said, a smile on his slightly pink face. ‘The lighthouse is only a few years old, isn’t it?’

      She nodded. ‘Yes, and it’s the first concrete lighthouse in the British Isles. We’re very proud of it here in Jersey. Apparently, on a clear night, the light can be visible up to eighteen miles away.’

      The reached St Aubin, and Florence told him a little about the area, with its small harbour and busy waterfront.

      ‘This is a new terminus building,’ she said. ‘It only opened at the beginning of this month.’

      He gazed over to where the old shabby building stood.

      The train took a sharp bend to the west and entered the tunnel.

      ‘Not too long now,’ she said, looking forward to reaching the next sea view. Florence didn’t like tunnels, and this bit always made her slightly uncomfortable. Then, once again, they were back in the daylight and she relaxed.

      They passed farmland and Florence pointed out a large herd of Jersey cows. ‘They have to be the prettiest cows, don’t you think?’

      ‘I imagine you are right. Their faces are very pretty.’

      ‘We’re almost there,’ she said, excited to reach their destination. ‘I hope the journey wasn’t a disappointment.’

      ‘Not at all,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I’ve enjoyed myself immensely so far. Thank you, Florence. It is very kind of you to accompany me here today.’

      The train slowed, stopping at the station. Mr Boot lifted the hamper and disembarked, turning and proffering his hand, waiting for her to take it as she stepped down.

      They walked away from the station and crossed over to the beach side of the road stopping at the top of the rocks and looking across the causeway to the splendid lighthouse standing proudly on the rocks at the end of the peninsular.

      ‘What do you think of our lighthouse, Mr Boot?’

      ‘Impressive, and well worth a visit.’

      ‘Would you like to take a walk now?’

      ‘Or we could find somewhere to sit and eat,’ he said, ‘and then take a stroll later when we’ve finished.’

      ‘And then the hamper won’t be as heavy.’ She laughed.

      ‘Then it’s agreed. We’ll eat first.’

      Having scanned the area for a few moments, Florence pointed to a space at the top of the rocks where no one was yet sitting.

      ‘We could sit over there,’ she said, hoping they’d reach the area before any other visitors to the area would. She walked slowly so as not to rush Mr Boot, aware that he would be embarrassed if she made her slowness obvious.

      They arrived at the spot she had chosen. He placed the hamper down next to two low boulders. ‘These would make good seats, don’t you think?’

      She agreed, thinking that maybe he would find it easier to stand once more if he wasn’t seated on the grass, but on something a little higher. ‘It looks perfect.’

      She lay the hamper on its side. Florence then unbuckled the soft leather straps holding the hamper closed, hoping to find the food in the same state it had been in when she had packed it. Raising the lid, she lifted the red and white picnic cloth and smiled.

      ‘It looks as if everything has survived the journey here.’