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“Oh, really?”
“Mm. And look at these carved bosses. There’s a pope, a bishop, a nobleman, and a king, but can you see the one at the end? It’s a Green Man. Look at the oak leaves around his face.”
“Isn’t that a pagan symbol?”
“Oh, definitely. That’s what I love about England. It’s like a businesswoman dressed in a perfectly respectable suit who’s wearing naughty underwear underneath.”
He chuckles. “Trust you to have an analogy like that.”
“Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from.” I grin and lead him back along the nave. “What do you think?”
“It’s wonderful.”
I smile, glad he likes it, open the church door, and go back into the sunshine. “Come on. I’m getting hungry. Let’s have some lunch at the pub.”
We walk slowly through the village, with me pointing out the sights as we go. There’s an old market cross that’s been restored as a war memorial, the Town Hall, the Mission House, and the Devon House of Mercy for reclaimed fallen women.
“They’re saving me a spot,” I tell him, and he chuckles.
About halfway down, I lead him along a side road and stop outside the primary school.
“This is where you work?” he asks.
I nod. “There’s my classroom.” I point to the one on the right, nearest the office block. In the window is the long picture I did with the class at the end of last term of African animals—elephants, giraffes, lions, and zebras.
“It’s nice to be able to picture the place,” he says.
“Miss Huxley!”
We turn at the sound of a young girl’s voice and see Tara, one of my pupils, running up with her mum a few steps behind.
“What are you doing here?” the girl asks, astonished.
“Miss Huxley doesn’t disappear when the holidays start,” her mum says, amused, and we both laugh.
“I live in Briarton,” I tell Tara. When she looks up at Titus, I add, “This is my friend. He’s come all the way from New Zealand. Do you remember where that is?”
She nods and says to him, “Miss Huxley showed us where she was from on a globe. It’s underneath.”
He grins. “That’s right.”
“Is everyone upside down there?” she asks.
“Yep,” he says, “we all walk on our hands.”
I chuckle. “He’s teasing,” I tell Tara. “It’s exactly the same as here.”
“Except the moon’s upside down,” he says.
“Best not to complicate matters.” I smile at the girl and her mum. “I hope you have a lovely summer holiday.”
“Thank you,” the mum says, and Tara waves as the two of them cross the road.
We continue walking down to the river. “I don’t think you’re brooding,” I tell him.
“Er, thanks?”
“It’s how Elizabeth describes you. Apparently she said you’re like the Dark Knight without the cape.”
