Free Summer in February by Jonathan Smith Page A

Knights’ front path for a harmless social hour, but Joey was sitting in his front room and waved excitedly
     to Gilbert, motioning him to come in. The door was thrown open. The brother and sister stood side by side, arms open wide
     in welcome: Florence and Joey, smiling at him.
    ‘How good of you to visit us!’ Joey said.
    ‘I hope I’m not intruding?’
    ‘No, couldn’t be better, we’ve just this minute come in from the rocks, haven’t we, Blote?’
    ‘Captain Evans,’ Florence said, her eyes steadily on Gilbert.
    ‘Gilbert,’ Joey corrected.
    ‘We’ve been collecting anemones,’ Florence added, shaking Gilbert’s hand, ‘and Joey is very excited with his findings.’
    ‘In a minute you can help us classify them,’ Joey said, taking Gilbert’s arm and leading him into the small sitting-room,
     ‘you’re just the man we need.’ There was, as usual, a sharp, salty smell permeating the house. Joey had one tank set up down
     near the shore line, and an aquarium round at the back of the cottage to which he carried his specimens. On most days he could
     be seen staggering back up the hill, with buckets yoked over his shoulders.
    ‘So you’re interested in marine biology too?’ Florence asked.
    ‘Your brother’s the expert,’ Gilbert said, ‘I just double-check on the details. He’s opened up another world for me.’
    ‘Has he?’
    Dressed in silver-grey, she looked younger, less composed, more vulnerable, more lovely, more everything.
    ‘Did you enjoy last night?’ Joey wanted to know of Gilbert, with a conspiratorial grin.
    ‘Oh, very much.’
    ‘Is that … typical?’ Florence asked. ‘What went on, I mean? Later.’
    ‘Sit down, sit down,’ Joey moved some of his things, ‘pretty wild, wasn’t it?’
    ‘Yes, I suppose it was.’
    ‘And the poem,’ Florence said, widening her eyes with meaning, ‘what was your opinion of
that
?’
    ‘Extraordinary, wasn’t it?’ Joey said. ‘Quite extraordinary.’
    ‘I asked Captain Evans, Joey. I know what you think about everything.’
    ‘Gilbert,’ Gilbert corrected, ‘please.’
    ‘Gilbert, then.’
    She looked at him, waiting. He felt himself being assessed. He moved his feet. What did he think of the poem? Well, it certainly
     went on a long time.
    ‘I simply don’t know how anyone could learn all that. I know I couldn’t.’
    ‘Quite so,’ Joey said, ‘extraordinary, but then he is, isn’t he!’
    ‘Mind you, your entry was even more dramatic,’ Gilbert said to Florence.
    ‘Was it?’
    ‘And did you
see
A.J.’s face!’ Joey laughed. ‘If looks could kill.’
    ‘What about his face?’ Florence asked her brother.
    ‘Well, spoiling his moment like that, I mean one doesn’t lightly interrupt A.J., does one, Gilbert? No, one does
not
!’
    ‘Really?’ Florence said. ‘Is he so very important?’
    ‘More than one’s life is worth to interrupt A.J.,’ Joey went on. ‘Still, come on, can’t wait to show you what I’ve just got
     out the back.
And
the little devil stung me for my pains.’
    ‘Stung you?’
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘Badly?’ Gilbert asked.
    ‘Very,’ Florence said. ‘Is all this worth it?’
    Joey looked at his hand.
    ‘Bit of a jolt, just as I pulled it off the rock, but it’s a beauty, the best snakelocks I’ve seen, lovely purples and greens,
     she’s going to draw it for me later, aren’t you? Do you want to see my little poisoner?’
    ‘Oh, do let Captain Evans sit for a moment, he’s only just arrived.’
    Once again Gilbert felt her eyes on his face. He looked steadily at Joey and asked:
    ‘What does the sting feel like now?’
    ‘Oh, prickly torture, nothing more,’ Joey said. ‘Lots of little explosions, that’s all, lots of invisible barbs. Mind you,
     I’ve just been reading in Gosse about the Dr Waller experiment, you won’t see me doing
that
, Gilbert, not in a month of Sundays.’
    ‘Doing what?’ Florence asked.
    ‘Well, it seems this Dr Waller deliberately allowed the