John tickles his nose with a piece of straw, and Bill sneezes, shouting with laughter.
Across the harbour comes the sound of hammers, of wood cracking beneath the blow of axes. It is the sound of workmen breaking up a wreck in Polmear Creek. She is no more than a hulk now, a few battered timbers.
Jennifer raises her eyes to the great beam that stands outside the room facing the harbour.
This is Bill’s nursery.
Placed against the beam is the figurehead of a ship. She leans beyond them all, a little white figure with her hands at her breast, her chin in the air, her eyes gazing towards the sea.
High above the clustered houses and the grey harbour waters of Plyn, the loving spirit smiles and is free.
Bodinnick-by-Fowey
October 1929-January 1930
The Loving Spirit Page 40
