Free A Greater World by Clare Flynn

did. You women are much quicker at seeing that sort of thing. And anyway I wanted to get out of the mine and the dale and she'd never have gone along with that.'
    'And Australia?'
    'Not sure it's about Australia so much as about just getting away. I'd as easily 'ave gone to America. There's so much more in the world than I'd ever get to see in our little village. I don't know what I'm looking for. Just reckon there has to be more. How about you?'
    'The last thing I wanted was to leave Northport. My life was calm - every day the same and I liked that. But now everything's changed. I feel a bit lost. I don't know. Perhaps I'm like your fiancée – wanting to keep things the way they've always been.'
    'Aye but they're not the way they've always been. They can never be like that again. Not since the war.'
    'I know. But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it.'
    They were silent for a few moments as he lit another cigarette.
    'How did your friend Greville die? If you weren't in the fighting?'
    'He took a stray bullet. From a sniper. It were quiet. No gunfire. He just fell down in front of me. One minute walking along and the next lying there dead. Got it straight through the heart. It were a bit of a fluke.'
    'How dreadful.' But as she spoke, she saw he was already withdrawing from her. His face was pale and pained and he scrambled to his feet, throwing his cigarette into the ocean.
    'Have to go now. Good morning Miss.' And he disappeared behind the bulkhead.
    She tried to carry on reading but her heart wasn't in it. When she pictured Mr Heathcliff, his features were those of Michael Winterbourne: the dark, heavy hair, the intense brown eyes, the ill-concealed unhappiness. Pull yourself together, Elizabeth she told herself, but there was something about the man that aroused her curiosity and drew her in. His manner was sometimes abrupt and distant and yet she felt a kind of intimacy between them that went beyond the words they exchanged.
    The next day, he appeared again, standing in front of her as she leaned back against the ventilation fan on the boat deck.
    'I told you, Mr Winterbourne, you'll give me away if you stand there like that and I shall be banished below by the captain. Or thrown to the fishes! Come and sit down out of sight!'
    He took his place next to her, his long legs in their brown corduroy trousers, stretched out in front of him. He fished in his pocket for his tobacco tin and she watched fascinated as he rolled a cigarette. He said 'You want one? I'm afraid they're just hand rolled.'
    She didn't know any women who smoked but on a whim she said, 'Yes please! I've never tried before. I've always secretly wanted to.'
    'I'm not sure that would be such a good idea if you've not tried before. This is strong baccie. You'd be better off with a ready rolled one – and mebbe one of those long fancy cigarette holders.'
    'Not at all!'
    'First time I tried smoking I were sick as a dog. Nine years old. Our Joe dared me I couldn't smoke two in a row. I coughed and spluttered and then I were sick. Me Mam gave me a right good hiding when she found out.' He grinned at her and she fancied she could see the mischievous nine year old in his eyes.
    'It's a wonder you ever took it up then.'
    'Hard not to. Everyone smokes in the mines. First thing you do when you come up from below is light up. Then in the trenches all the men smoked. Passed the time. Calmed the jitters.'
    At that moment calming the jitters seemed an appealing prospect to Elizabeth. Why did his proximity make her nervous? But in a good way, like opening a present when she was a child.
    'Go on. Let me try,' she said.
    He moved closer and handed her the unlit cigarette he had just rolled and she placed it between her lips. She could feel his leg against hers as he leaned towards her, cupping his hands over the match. She bent to take the light, steadying his hand with hers as she guided it to the end of the cigarette. His skin was warm and she wanted to keep her hand