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Back The Night of the Flood
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Contents
  6. 1954
  7. PART 1
  8. 1.
  9. 2.
  10. 3.
  11. 4.
  12. 5.
  13. 6.
  14. 7.
  15. 8.
  16. 9.
  17. PART 2
  18. 1.
  19. 2.
  20. 3.
  21. 4.
  22. 5.
  23. 6.
  24. 7.
  25. 8.
  26. 9.
  27. 10.
  28. PART 3
  29. 1.
  30. 2.
  31. 3.
  32. 4.
  33. 5.
  34. 6.
  35. 7.
  36. PART 4
  37. 1.
  38. 2.
  39. 3.
  40. 4.
  41. 5.
  42. 6.
  43. 7.
  44. 8.
  45. 9.
  46. 10.
  47. 11.
  48. 1954
  49. Acknowledgements
  50. About the author
  51. An Invitation from the Publisher

But in the middle of the dance, his hands slackened, his gaze was roving about the room. Across the floor on the chairs, she saw where it rested. There was Arthur Silver, the son of that harridan of a grocer, and Peter’s sister, Verity. Muriel and Miss La-di-da Frost had been friends of a sort when they were young but that hadn’t lasted beyond the war. Back to their own worlds after that. She saw the way Arthur bent his head towards Verity and she could feel in her body the way that this American was drawn across the ballroom floor to the gawky girl in the pale blue dress. She wondered if Verity had any idea of his interest. Probably not. She was a haughty one, thought herself too good for round here. Well, they can’t both have her. They’ll realise soon enough that neither of them are from the right kind of world for her anyway.

Verity Frost reminded Muriel of one of the horses she rode, and she imagined the other girl dancing like a horse too, thudding up and down like a shire. The boys – they were like dogs chasing after her, wagging their tails. She’ll kick them with her back hooves, Muriel thought gleefully.

But she, Muriel, was from the sea. She was nothing like any of them – she was moveable and fluid like water.

Oh, but it was Midsummer, dark green fritillaries plucked the nectar from the dune flowers, sea bindweed blushed pink in the dunes, black-beaked avocets sucked up bugs from the sand and shrieked over their chicks. And there went sweet, heartsick Arthur, with his puppy’s eyes, out of the ballroom.

It was steaming and clammy among the sweaty bodies. She was hot and she needed some air.

9.

The band was attempting to play rock and roll songs with their fast beats. They sat out on one of the faster ones and watched some of the bolder couples jiving. Arthur didn’t care that he couldn’t do it for the life of him. He had a lemonade, spiked by Peter from his second hoard. He had a cigarette, and next to him he had Verity. They were not touching but she was flushed and happy from the dancing and close enough for him to smell her heady scent and to feel possessed of it.