Hendrik extended a quavering hand and seized the bottle’s neck. It burned, but it was very good. Life-restoring. He was beginning to reconsider Sheila’s book and her visit to Holland. For the first time in his life he realized that it was really possible to have too much of a good thing. Sheila leaned over and patted his arm warmly. He tried not to twitch when she did it. Too much, really too much.
It was like the Fourth of July, or VE day or a Cup Final with the crowds cheering and jumping around, the flares from the Very pistols going off over their heads, and the roar of sound as the giant 747 tore along parallel with the beach. The words AIR WESTERN very large on its side. A very fine sight indeed.
Hank pointed to the Stars and Stripes painted on the plane’s tail, and pulled Frances close and kissed her despite the damage his whiskery embrace did to her skin.
“Look, darling,” he said. “It’s going to be all right now.”
“The cavalry is coming!”