Ladies in Lavender #VisualRetelling #AU

CHAPTER NINE

As Jakob grew stronger he gave recitals to as many people as could squeeze into his king sized bedroom. Others had to stand or sit in the garden below the guest room windows. The ladies handed out refreshments to the delighted audience who were through Jakob's music transported to a different emotional plane. He was the celebrity everyone was talking about at the village market.

"Your home made jam, Dorcus is the sweetest in all Cornwall," Jan gushed lifting his cap in greeting on that salty breezy day.

"My jam, is all that? Really," she smiled sceptically balancing her basket of fresh produce, keeping her eye on the pale sea gulls that flew above watching for any opportunity to be fed.

"Jam is a euphemism for what puts a spring in my step these days. I'm no straight talker like you," he replaced his cap self consciously. "But I wanted to tell you to keep your eyes peeled. The fisher men were talking about the forward foreign woman that came to the house, the night I brought the violin."

"Strangers make people nervous these days. They say an Irish priest was strung up for taking photos of the coast line. A priest, I tell you, has the war made people completely lose their marbles," she crossed herself dramatically as if to deter the evil in the world.

"Oh aye, I think they have. And this Olga Daniloff speaks German. Very suspicious that she is here alone with no men folk to watch out for her."

"Janet would think you sexist if you said that to her," scoffed Dorcus.

"I find it odd that a beautiful young woman leaves her home to come and paint the sea. She stays close to the 'Whistling Duke' guest house."

"Where is that?"

"The guest house? It's two miles off in Polwern, I doubt she will be back here soon."

"That's a relief. Janet and Jill thought she might be interested in Jakob. He makes them both very happy, Jill mostly."

"It might not be for too long, Jakob came to my boat this morning to ask about booking passage to the New World. He might be thinking about resuming his journey."

"He needs to make a full recovery before he thinks of making another journey. Anyway, dinner won't make itself Jan, so I best be on my way."

Joy at Jakob's recovery, his becoming an increasing part of village life led to a feeling of normality that receded Olga Daniloff's existence from memory.

Jakob could rise from bed and hobble about on a crutch, attired in the rather quaint garments of Vice Admiral Widdington, who had died ten years before at the age of seventy three.

The deep coloured shirts and slightly larger jackets added to Jakob's creative artist appearance. It earned the approval of young ladies who admired his devastating handsome features and muscular frame. The handsome local celebrity was difficult to resist.

Jill had helped Jakob's English improve week by week. But what matters the tongue when the heart speaks? The heart of Jill spoke; delicately, timidly, tremulously, in the whisper of the evening breeze, in undertones of the sea tide; her heart spoke all the same.

Their first walks on the heather of the cliff covered in snow drops in spring sunshine was exhilarating. As Janet walked and swum with Wilfred Mead, Jill walked and swum with Jakob. Each day their relationships deepened.

Thus the sisters wove their gossamer webs of romance with Jakob Marowski and Wilfred Mead in the secret recess of their souls. Their hopes for the future were as idealistic and vague as their concept of heaven.

Family life consisted of the four of them and Dorcas. Jakob stayed with them, radiating youth, gaiety, painting, playing his divine music, helping with outdoor work and sometimes he was alone and difficult to decipher. As a full recovery was a long, long way off, their life was a perpetual spring. Why should it ever end?