“‘All right. A beer, please, landlord.’ Jonty stared at the rows of bottles behind the landlord’s head. ‘You don’t sound enthusiastic’ Francis watched his cousin’s beer froth into the glass. ‘Actually I am quite glad to get back.’ Jonty accepted the proffered tankard. ‘Thanks.’ ‘What went wrong?’ Francis quizzed. ‘Nothing.’ Jonty brooded. ‘Come on, you were so keen to get home.’ Jonty let out an exasperated sigh. ‘It’s all changed, nothing is the same. Let’s sit down.’ They carried their drinks ...to a table and sat. Francis said, ‘Tell me.’ Jonty gulped beer, sighed, said, ‘Father’s wrapped up in village minutiae, ARP, war committees for this and that, Home Guard, Dig for Victory. He’s taken the war into his soul and your father’s no better; he’s planning to dig up the croquet lawn and grow potatoes.’ ‘No!’ ‘He would do the same for the tennis court, if it were not macadam. I tell you, they are really enjoying themselves.’ Francis said, ‘But they were like that before we left.’ ‘More so now, and Mother—’ ‘Oh, how is she?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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