Moral Fibre

Back in the kitchen, the kettle whistled faintly as Georgina stirred honey into concentrated lemon juice. “You’re looking very well, Georgina, if a father is allowed to make such remarks.” Edwin sank again into his chair and removed his glasses. “I feared… well, you know, that the anniversary might put you in a gloomy mood.”

“I can understand your trepidation, Daddy,” she conceded, “but as I was telling Mummy before you came, I’ve decided I have to move beyond the pain. I’m sorry I was such a child last year.”

“It’s not your fault you were so young or that you loved so deeply,” her father told her gently, his affection for her welling up.

Amanda took the screeching kettle off the stove and came to pour it into the mixer her husband had brought. As her parents concentrated on making the toddies, Georgina leaned her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. “Daddy?”

“Hm?”

“You get these visions sometimes…”

Edwin spun about sharply. How had she known? He looked at Amanda with an unspoken question. She just shook her head bemused.

Georgina was continuing, “But they’ve always involved strangers, haven’t they? Or, well, people you only know distantly. You’ve never had them about someone close, have you?”

“What do you mean?” He handed her a mug of steaming alcohol.

“Well, Gerald, for example. Or Don?”

“Gerald is fine,” her father answered firmly, causing even Amanda to raise her eyebrows.

“And Don? I mean since he passed away is there any way that you —”

“Georgina, your father’s tired. You shouldn’t—”

“It’s all right, Amanda,” Edwin told his wife before looking intently at his daughter. “I’m not a medium, Georgina. I can’t contact the dead, and they do not speak to me. It’s true that I sometimes have these visions — fortunately not too often. And sometimes I sense things that aren’t entirely tangible. That’s all. I have never had contact with those who have already gone on before us.”

Georgina nodded solemnly. “I understand, Daddy. It’s just…”

“What’s bothering you, child?” He encouraged her.

“Well, Kit and I visited Don’s grave on the anniversary of the crash—”

“You’ve seen Kit again?” Edwin was so pleased he couldn’t help interrupting.

“I — I rang him. He was planning to visit the grave on the anniversary anyway, and he offered to drive me there.”

“So that’s why you didn’t ask me to take you. I’d kept the day free and even had the car serviced. When you didn’t ring, I assumed Miss Townsend hadn’t given you the day off.”

“Thank you for thinking of me, Daddy,” she reached out and squeezed his hand once, but then continued with her thoughts. “When I was there, I had this powerful feeling that Don wanted me to move on. Do you think that’s possible? I mean, is it possible that it was something real, not just me making excuses for what I want to do?”

“Georgina, if there’s one thing I believe, it is that Don wanted you to be happy. You can’t be happy by dwelling on the death of a wonderful young man. You can’t be happy by denying yourself a future. Seeing how you grieved must have hurt Don terribly.”

Georgina caught her breath. She had never thought of Don seeing her grieve. What a frightening thought! After being so selfless and brave himself, Don must have been disgusted with her lack of fortitude and courage. “Do you think…”

“Go on,” her father urged her.

Georgina took a deep breath. “Do you think he’d be upset to know that Kit and I have fallen in love with one another?”

“That’s splendid news, my dear!” Edwin proclaimed breaking into a broad smile. “I’m very fond of that young man and so is your mother.” He glanced towards his wife, realising that this was the secret she and Georgina had already shared before his arrival.

“But what would Don think?” Georgina asked her father seriously, evidently still unsure.

“My dear, I can’t imagine anyone Don would approve of more. Together you will never forget him, and that is the most the dead have a right to ask of the living.”