As we ambled back across the wide promenade, Kate ran ahead to look at the sea. Frances found a plaque marking the spot where Julius Caesar first came ashore fifty odd years before the birth of Christ.
“At least he landed in a better part of Deal than we did.” I sounded sour, unconcerned with historical significance. We had been promised a coastguard’s cottage, and a coastguard might have lived in our cottage at one time, but there were no nautical knickknacks or seafaring foolery at our end of town.
“Oh, please, cheer up.” Frances was delighted to find the plaque. Caesar and Rome had supplanted Merlin and Camelot in her literary interests, a case of might over magic.
“Only kidding. Only kidding.” I shrugged and looked up at the sky.
Frances shot me a glance with the hint of a smile. “And don’t make it rain!”
“Who, me?” I smiled back. “Wouldn’t dream of it!”
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