The Last Letter from Juliet. Melanie Hudson

lay the manuscript down on the sofa and stoked the fire before selecting the search engine on my phone.

      Several sites popped up on the search feed associating themselves with coddiwompling, including a webpage dedicated to the written ramblings of free-spirited bloggers who shared their adventurers on the internet.

      One particular blogger – The Last Coddiwompler – caught my eye. He was a man who occasionally travelled with no real agenda other than to seek out one thing and one thing only – fun. He aimed always, he said, to simply ‘stumble’ across adventure, rather than to seek it out, genuinely believing that if he kept his eye out, even in the most mundane on places, adventure was only ever a heartbeat away. It seemed that in the process of hitting the road aimlessly, this blogger regularly found himself spending time in the most amazing places and meeting the most fascinating people – and not necessarily in exotic locations from glossy magazines, he stressed, but absolutely anywhere – Spain, Mexico, Hull … As I read this tale of modern-day adventure and stared in admiration at his photographs, I couldn’t help but be drawn in, and all the while a clearer picture of Juliet’s mystery man began to take shape, because if Edward Nancarrow was anything like the man staring out of the screen in front of me, he would have been a fun, free, sexy, enticing kind of a man. And yet wasn’t this exactly the sort of person Juliet was, too? An adventurer, a dare devil, a coddiwompler? Edward clearly thought so, and he knew it from the moment she landed her Tiger Moth on the field in front of him.

      But it was only when I scrolled to the bottom of the webpage that I noticed and recognised the name of the blogger–Sam Lanyon.

      My head tipped to the angle of a questioning puppy.

      Sam Lanyon? The Sam Lanyon, Juliet’s grandson? It couldn’t be, could it?

      With my interest in this family suddenly piqued to even greater heights, despite the early hour of the morning and itchy eyes, I huddled closer to the fire, wrapped the shawl tightly around my shoulders and read on.

       Chapter 8

      Juliet

       19 December 1938

       Flying with Edward

      The morning after the pre-wedding party I woke with a desperate desire to jump into my Tiger Moth, fire up the engine and fly right away.

      I had behaved foolishly. I’d begun to flirt, to toy, and what good ever came of that kind of shenanigans?

      What happened?

      I was unmasked, shown to have behaved like a fool, and I deserved it.

      Having been standing in the hallway with Charles, welcoming guests to the Lanyon Christmas party, I was utterly gobsmacked when, of all people, Edward walked in. I had no idea that he was at all acquainted with the Lanyons. He hadn’t said he was attending the party that afternoon. Perhaps, thinking me single, he had wanted it to be a surprise.

      He arrived at eight. I saw him before he saw me, walking through the door, smiling, naturally at ease, a happy and contented man. I wondered momentarily, as I stood there, my heart in my shoes, waiting to greet him, if Edward had known I was Charles’ fiancée all along and if the attraction between us had been on my part only. That I had misunderstood his interest in me.

      But when Charles introduced me to Edward as the future Mrs Lanyon, my heart broke to see that he had not known. Edward tried to hide his confusion, before quickly walking away and disappearing into the gathered crowd. He spent some of the evening with Lottie before retiring back to the village early, with the excuse of a headache and an early start the next day. We did not speak that evening, which was both a relief and an overpowering disappointment.

      The following morning, having arranged with cook to breakfast before the house had risen and having previously arranged with Jessops for fuel to be delivered to the barn, I dashed to my aircraft, desperate to fly.

      I was not surprised to find Edward there, waiting. He was sitting on his adopted hay bale, a blue and white striped scarf wrapped tightly around his face, no dog with him, no Beano and he’d clearly been on no more than nodding terms with sleep.

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me about Charles?’

       Because I’ve fallen in love with you …

      ‘I’m not sure. Does it matter?’

      Edward didn’t answer.

      I busied myself around the aircraft, avoiding eye contact. We fell silent, unsure how to behave, how to speak. A few jerrycans of fuel were hidden at the back of the barn, exactly where Jessops, now amiable thanks to the cider, had left them.

      ‘You’re going flying?’ Edward jumped down from his lofty position on the bale.

      ‘Yes … I needed to clear my head and I knew …’ I stopped pouring fuel into the tank for a moment.

      ‘You knew I’d be here.’

      ‘I thought you might be.’ I put down the can and smiled up at him. ‘I promised you a trip and I’d like to honour that promise, if I may.’ I glanced out of the barn. ‘And it may be cold, but it is a beautiful day, after all.’

      He smiled too. ‘It is indeed a beautiful day and I’d love to go flying with you.’

      We spent another ten minutes preparing the aircraft before pushing my beautiful yellow Tiger Moth out of the barn.

      ‘Put these on,’ I said, handing him goggles and helmet before showing him where to place his feet on the wing. ‘It will be very cold up there and the clouds are bubbling out to the west, so it might be a bit bumpy.’

      I leant across him to tighten his straps and secure him in the seat. He took me by surprise by taking my bare hand in his gloved one.

      ‘Listen, I think you’re amazing and beautiful and fascinating. But I know you’re spoken for. We can be friends, can’t we. Just for a little while? I’m not a reckless fool, Juliet. Not really.’

      I finally looked him in the eye which was, as I suspected, lethal. A naughty Cornish pixie must have jumped my shoulder just then, because I suddenly realised that there really was only one way to go …

      ‘Not a reckless fool?’ I said (with a very definite flick of the hair and twinkle in the eye) ‘how very disappointing. I have a sudden fancy to run through my stunt routine today, which is why I’m making sure your straps are nice and tight, and only a reckless fool – or maybe a true coddiwompler – would even begin to consider jumping on board for that kind of a ride …’

      His face came alive. His whole body sparked with energy, with life.

      ‘I lied,’ he said, putting on his helmet. ‘Show me what you’ve got, Miss Caron! If we’re going to go down, let’s do it in style!’ He snapped on his goggles with a flourish. ‘I’m ready!’

      For the next twenty minutes Edward was taken on the ride of his life. The chill from the wind was fierce, but as we flew low and slow over Angels Cove, children ran out to wave at us, racing the little aircraft as we flew parallel with the road. I flew half a mile out to sea and performed only part of my stunt routine – a tick-tock stall and a few loops – but not too much, it wouldn’t do to turn Edward’s stomach and embarrass him.

      On landing back at the field, I taxied the aircraft to just outside the barn and cut the engine. I jumped out once the propeller had stopped and leant across Edward to unstrap him. The cheeks on his face burned red but his eyes were as bright as shiny new pins.

      Edward jumped out, ripped off his goggles and helmet and just stood there, looking at me and smiling – half madman – before picking me up, spinning me around and finally placing me, very gently, on the ground again.

      ‘That was incredible, Juliet. Thank you. Thank you so very