"You've gotta sweet garden going on out here," he called through the door. They had a rather pristine front lawn, with a carpet of pruned red roses that her mother took a major amount of pride in, especially after the media coverage of the Garden Armies. They had a vegetable garden in the back and a chook shed, too, all dedicated to her mother's hobby. At the time of Hoosier's calling, actually, she was helping dig up portions of the local public park to be used for vegetable gardens. Luckily, her father was working, so there was a low chance that either of them would see this man on their doorstep, but either way, Ginny could feel her heart in her mouth.
"Hey! Don't you touch those," she snapped at him, instinctively ripping open the door and praying he wasn't fondling the petals or snapping the stems of her mother's prized rose garden. He wasn't, thank heavens. She admitted. "They've my mother's pride and joy. She'll just about die if you trample them. Why are you here? How did you get my address?"
"Jackie told me you had a dog," he responded simply, just as Otto rushed out past Ginny's ankles to greet the man, barking and running in circles and jumping up to try to lick his face.
Ginny rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. "I don't wanna talk about Jackie," she claimed, before crouching down and whistling to bring the shetland sheepdog back into her care. "Otto!" she called. "Bed!" and the energetic little sheltie rushed past her and towards the pile of cushions they had for him to sleep on in the corner of her kitchen.
"Good, cos neither do I," he agreed, and then added, I love dogs," thinking of the pup he'd cradled in his arms one night after the Japs set the whole world on fire.
"His name is Otto. He's an ex-police dog. We've had him for about three years now, I'd say," Ginny claimed, remembering the time they'd been told Otto's days as a police dog were numbered and her father couldn't help but bring him home at the end of it all. She said. "Anyways — have you been let off the leash? I thought you Yanks got busted for going AWOL."
"Oh, yeah," he huffed a sort of half-laugh at the expense of exhaling his dense plume of smoke. "It wasn't that deep. A talking to, slap on the wrist, it's all the same. They've put us on extra training now. All that bayonet swinging shit. It ain't so bad, though, as long as we've still got weekend passes."
She looked at him quizzically for a moment. There was something different: he didn't look as tired as usual, and his tow hair seemed to be parted more neatly, in pretty light brown waves. Everything seemed so much more clean — there was no longer dirt beneath his fingernails when he lifted his hand to his mouth to smoke. He was wearing his dress greens too, but not a garrison cap. She sighed in defeat, stepping back to open her front door fully and allowing him to pass, "Come on in," she said, giving in eventually and gesturing inside with her hand. "But don't even think about it until you stump that cigarette out."
Though somewhat of an addict herself due to her social smoking habit, her parents prohibited such vices to be satisfied under their roof, and they would just about die if they found their golden child's stash of smokes in her jewellery box. The smell, apparently, gave her mother a headache and her father couldn't help but agree. They ought not to have been surprised though, if they did find out, as Ginny could be ever the rebellious young girl when she wanted.
When A Girl Marries was still buzzing in the background when she reentered the house behind him, immediately turning the wireless off and pushed the antennae down. Hoosier sat himself down in her father's plush armchair beside the window and pushed his head back, closing his eyes. He looked like Samuel Gloyne did when he fell asleep listening to the radio.
"Don't hesitate to make yourself comfortable," she snapped from where she was stood beside the sink, an open plan area that merged the kitchen and the living room into one big space. Taking off the garish yellow washing up gloves, she asked, "So, you want a coffee, or something?"
Chapter Six: WILLIAM ON THE DOTTED LINE
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