Not even Hampstead Heath remained untouched by the war. The green was pockmarked with disturbed soil where bombs had struck. Army cadets ran in tight formation through the paths and in between vegetable patches.
We mounted our bikes again. I pedalled in front of Nora, showing off. As I watched her over my shoulder, she flicked a curl away from her face and smiled wide at me. That smile would ruin me and I wouldn’t even mind.
Nora’s eyes suddenly widened. “Jack, watch out!”
I whipped my head just in time to see my bike heading directly for a woman and a gaggle of small children and I swerved to avoid them. My bike screeched with the sudden movement and I hurdled into what was directly to the right of the woman and gaggle of children—a pond.
The cool water sank deep into my clothes and made them heavy as I kicked and flailed my arms. As my head broke the surface, I spit out a mouthful of pond water.
“Bollocks,” I shouted.
The woman I’d swerved to avoid glared and shooed the children away from me and my filthy words. Nora parked her bike and pulled my bicycle out of the water along the pond’s edge. I didn’t know how I was flung so far from my bike. I swam to the pond’s edge and took Nora’s hand so she could drag me out.
Dripping wet, I scowled at my watery nemesis. Hearing a quiet snort from next to me, I looked at Nora, her lips clamped tight. I sighed at her as her mouth contorted, fighting back giggles.
“You think this is funny?”
That did it. She erupted with laughter, one hand on her stomach and half bent over.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” she sputtered, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
I grabbed her arm. “That’s it. You’re going in, too.”
She squealed and yanked her arm away and I chased her around the side of the pond, her high-pitched shrieks and cackles alarming the nearby park patrons. She dashed into a cluster of trees and I went in after her.
“Bloody thing,” I heard her say from behind a tree.
A rather impolite oak had reached out a gnarly branch and grabbed ahold of Nora’s yellow plaid skirt, leaving a small rip in the fabric.
Winded, she cursed and let out a chuckle. “Stupid tree.”
“I know someone who can fix that for you,” I said.
“Oh? What’s she like?” Her smile turned coy, her eyes darkening.
I stepped closer and she rested her back against the oak’s trunk. The pounding of my heart sped up as I considered my reply.
“Extraordinary,” I said, taking another step towards her.