A KISS FOR THE BAY OF PLENTY

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 5, Issue 98, 31 August 1942, Page 2

A KISS FOR THE BAY OF PLENTY

A STORY FROM CANADA

(By Mate Armstrong)

Sent in by N.B. This story which appeared <n the M,°y issue of the Canadian Home Journal has a warm local flavour which will commend itself to our readers. Written obviously about a young airman from the Bay of Plenty, who trained in Canada, the story is simple in its plot and conveys a message which Should' be appreciated by all who remain at home. —Ed. Quite possibly, bad she not conn upon him so suddenly, bad a passing car not raised 'such a cloud o dust she was unable to so? far aheac along the road, she would not havi stopped to give him a ride. Sh< would have thought it much too bolt a thing to do —imagine, pi-king ui a strange man. Hut. another ca passed her. It did raise a cl'oud o dust. And suddenly there be \va iust ahead walking, head bent awa; from the dust, along the side of tin road. She saw the Air Force uni form and her first impulse was t< stop. So she stopped. She caught a quick glimpse o Hashing teeth as he clambered int« the seat beside her. "Thank you Miss. I am going into the town. 1 She liked his voice. It bad musii in it. His accent, she thought, wa English, j T et not quite English; i was softer, not so sharp. It made her feel awkward, sit ftng so close beside this stranger She was not. accustomed to Strang ers. So lor a mile or more she kep her eyes straight ahead on the road wondering what Mother would thin! of her giving a lift to a complet stranger. . . Oi course, he was ai Air Force boy. That made it differ ent. 'It's a bit rough," she heard bin say. She squeiched her embarrassmen in a flow of words. "Yes, isnt it iliough, she said, but keeping he: eyes forward. "It's impossible t( miss all the btimps and all, the hollows. They keep talking and talking about re-surfacing this road now that the Air S.-hool is in operation, but that's as far as they get. The County oavus ihe road, but the bounty Treasury is in such ill healtl Ihe Council don't caie to assume the expense. Thev want the R.C.A.F. to do it. Or the Provincial Government . r ' "I see . . . Well, it could do with a bit of repairing." She glanced sidewise and saw ths letters on his shoulder: R.N.Z.A.F. A New Zealander, she thought. She had heard about the class ol New Zcalanders at the airport, heard that they -were such a nice lot. of lads, but she had never met 011 c. She felt a tiny thrill. "Are you from New Zealand?'' she asked. "Oh yes." "Auckland?" "No, Miss." "Wellington?" She wanted to know that Canadians knew something of far away places. "No. I'm from a much smaller place. A place called Bay of Plenty." "Bay of Plenty," she echoed. "What a nice name.'" "It's a nice place, too," he said softly. She felt the pride in his voice. Pride and "something else, a hunger, a longing. Again she stole a quick glance at his face, turned toward her, and in it she could see that same pride and longing she ! heard in his voice. "A nice place, too." "I'm sure it is," 'she said. "Won't you tell me about it? About Bai* of Plenty?" By now they were off the rough ind dusty road, gliding along the highway to town, and as he spoke Bay of Plenty she kept her eyes an the ' road, watching the broad black ribbon vanishing under the liood of the car and listening in growing sympathy and enchantment to the music in his voice, to the i-ibrant, eager music of his voice :hat rCie rapidly in a crescendo of nostalgic emotion that carried her jack with him across the seas to :hc earthly paradise lie knew as ionic. She felt with him the pride, :he longing, the utter, desolate home sickness. "The wind-swept seas out icyond the point, always seething, 31ue and white, and inside between he green plush banks the calm, dear water." Poor homesick, loyal ad. "And the green hills rising beyond the town, l'resh and green, the reshest green 011 earth with the heep grazing on the slopes"' . , .

Her heart swelled in sudden realisation (if the vital truth in the word: Empire. Here at her side was a living example of the Spirit of the British Empire. And this air training school just across the fields from her home, she could see, was more than an airport, it was one of the core's of Empire. An Empire in peril. So these brave men-boys, with a single purpose, rallied together, from Canada, from Australia, the Straits Settlements, New Zealand, from all the outstretched linger tips of the British Empire, as inevitably as the lingers of a giant hand closing, closing into a Ik-it. "Once you lived there, you'd never want to leave." British Columbia, Nova Scotia. Quensland. Malaya, or Bay of Plenty —each is Home. She stopped the car in the square. "But 3 r ou did leave," she said in a tiny voice. "Why?" She searched ' his face, although the answer she } already knew-. He smiled. His lips were soft and r I tender, almost like those of a girl. "What eb;e could one do?" he counts ered, shrugging his shoulders. "What else would, one want to do?* AVhat else? she thought. What else, for a man? He made to open the car door, then turned again to her. "I hope you won't mind, but, are you the 3 girl I've seen in the garden of that 1; brick house just beyond where you tween the house and the road ?" L' gave me he lift? In the garden be- ? "That's where I live," 'she said, "so t it's quite likely you've seen me there." "I thought so. I've noticed you-" She could think of nothing to say. She smiled. He seemed so eager. t "I always think of home when I see you working there." . "Do you?" e "Yes. You remind me of someone .j I know. The white dress, the Avay you toss j'our hair when it fall's across your face. You seem to have a bit of trouble subduing your hair. 7 That was her trouble, too." Poor lad. Poor homesick kid . . - Of course she might have known -• there would be something like that. r "What is her name?" » His face Hushed. "You'll think " I'm a softie," he said, and then, " "Mary."' ? She laughed in surprise. He looked at her reproachfully. "You're laughing at me," he said. "No, no," she said. "But, my name also happens to be Mary." Their laughter, young and fresh and clean a* the water from the fountain in the town square, merged and bubbled so that the passing townspeople turned to look, and seeing them, the pretty young blonde girl and the handsome airman, smiled and winked knowingly at each other. For more than three weeks Mary was supremely happy. It was but a short drive from her farm home to the lake, so there had been long summer evenings at the beach —with Johnny.' Swimming—with Johnny. Strolls along the shore in the moonlit evenings, listening to the gentle kjss of the waters agairrst the beach —with Johnny. There was the church corn roast —and Johnny was beside her. And there were evenings when they sat side by side on the side verandah of her home, when she thrilled to the tenderness and longing in his voice as lie tokl her more of Ncav Zealand, even though she did feel a slight prick at her heart when he spoke with the same tenderness of that, other distant, Mary. (To be continued).