We drove back to Oxford that afternoon, and this time we brought our suitcases into Mum and Dad's house. I could see that Mum had tidied up the room and even pushed the two single beds together, yet another sign that they accepted our relationship. John and I enjoyed an active intimate relationship, so when he suggested that night in bed that we had better show restraint in case my parents heard anything, I whispered back that that was nonsense and all we had to do was be very quiet. I think we succeeded very well.

There was something I wanted to ask my father, but I judged it better to broach the subject when we had some time alone together. That day when Mr Jenner gave me the option of going to Australia, he said that Dad had saved his life while they were in the army together. I had never heard this story, and wanted to know more, so I grabbed the opportunity when it came.

Dad chuckled “So 'Pox' told you about that did he?”

“'Pox?'” I queried.

He laughed. “Why yes. Everyone had a nickname in the Army, and since his name was Edward, and Edward Jenner was the man who developed smallpox vaccinations, he was called 'Smallpox' at first, but that very quickly became just 'Pox'".

I felt that Dad was sidestepping the question, so I pursued it, asking what actually happened.

“Well, it was like this. There was a range instructor, assigned to training us in the use of firearms, hand grenades, etc. We didn't like him very much, always yelling at us and finding fault. He had a little black moustache and we called him 'Hitler' — not to his face you understand? We had had a lot of practice throwing dummy grenades from a bunker with a wall of sandbags in front of us. This particular day he decided to spice things up by giving us some live grenades to throw. Eddie was going to throw, and I was the next in line. So, he pulls the pin, leans back and throws the grenade. I don't know if he was nervous and his hands sweaty, but the grenade bounced on the sandbags and dropped back inside the bunker. I was pretty fit in those days, with good reaction times from my cricket playing, so I reached down, grabbed the grenade and hurled it over the parapet and pulled us both down onto the ground. It went off with an almighty bang. 'Hitler' wasn't so quick to react, so he was absolutely covered in dust, and it was all we could do not to laugh. He actually said, 'Good show, Cobb.', the only compliment he ever paid me."

“So, you really did save Mr Jenner's life. You should have got a medal,” I said.

"I saved mine too, don't forget. I don't think that makes me a hero."

"Well you are in my eyes Dad, and not just for that - for many other things as well," and I gave him a hug. He didn't seem to mind.

We had a few more days in Oxford before going down to London and from there we would take the flight home. We had suggested to my parents that they might like to come to London too, as that way we could spend more days together, and this they agreed to do. We took the train as it was pointless having a car in London.

Our hotel was in Covent Garden, close to the centre of everything, including many of the theatres, and such famous sites as Trafalgar Square, The Mall, Buckingham Palace; the Houses of Parliament were an easy walk away, or a swift ride in the famous red buses or the ubiquitous London taxis. We enjoyed seeing all these famous places. One evening, we all went out to see the famous play “The Mousetrap” by Agatha Christie, which had already been running in London since the early nineteen fifties. It's still running there, breaking all records for any type of show.

There was one day that was particularly special. London is home to Lord's Cricket Ground, the world centre of cricket, and John of course wanted to see it. He had with him a letter of introduction from somebody very senior in the ranks of Australian cricket, and that letter was a key that opened many doors. When he took my hands in his, looked at me seriously and asked if I minded if he took Dad with him instead of me, it was all I could do not to laugh.

“Of course you must take him!” I cried “I couldn't live with myself if I deprived him of something as special as that.”

The following morning the 'boys' headed off to Lord's, while Mum and I had a wonderful time shopping in the centre of London in Oxford Street. There are so many fabulous shops there, we could easily have spent a fortune, but we restricted ourselves to window-shopping, well, most of the time. We rewarded ourselves with 'afternoon tea' at Claridges, a British institution if ever there was one. We were both wearing pretty dresses and heels (and we certainly needed to rest our feet!) so we looked right at home there. We felt like royalty! I took my camera out of my bag and asked a waiter if he would mind taking our picture and he readily complied. I'm sure it wasn't the first time he had been asked that. Now Mum and I have proof of our visit to Claridges!

We were only back at the hotel a short while when Dad and John arrived back from their day out. I have never seen Dad look as happy as he did on that day. He was so proud he looked as if he would burst.

“Guess what?” he cried “We were shown around by the Secretary of the M.C.C himself!” We looked suitably impressed.

“He took us everywhere, even the Long Room.” This was obviously holy ground. “I have a picture of John and I standing on either side of the Secretary in the Long Room to prove it. Just wait till I show that to the chaps at the cricket club!”

“So, you had a good day then.” I murmured

“Good? It's the happiest day of my life!” he exclaimed, and then suddenly looked at my mother and became decidedly sheepish “Er, that is apart from the day I married your mother.”

Mum couldn't help but laugh. “I forgive you,” she said “After all you bought me some clothes today.”

But Dad hadn't finished yet. “The Secretary has invited me to sit in the Members' Stand as his special guest when the Ashes test is played here next year. Imagine that!”

I walked up to him and hugged him.

“Daddy, I'm so pleased for you. I know it's something you always dreamed of doing and now you've done it.”

“Yes, thanks to John and to.....”

“Sssssh” said John “We agreed not to mention his name.”

The last couple of days passed in a flash, and suddenly it was the morning when we had to pack our suitcases for the last time before flying out. I was so glad that I had left plenty of room when we flew over, because now my suitcase was full to bursting. How fortunate it is that women’s clothing is generally lighter than men's, or I would have been straying into 'excess baggage' territory even though our allowance was greater as we were flying first class. Dad insisted on carrying my suitcase which was very sweet of him, and I felt it confirmed that in his eyes I was now a woman. In those days, men did carry heavy things for women, opened doors for them and other little courtesies. I can't help feeling that in the insistence on equality, we have lost as much as we have gained. Perhaps that's me being old-fashioned.

Mum and Dad wanted to come to Heathrow to bid us farewell and spent a couple more hours with us. Heathrow was a much smaller place in those days. I think it had only two terminals, one of which was devoted to overseas airways including Qantas. After we had checked in and no longer had to worry about our suitcases, we still had a couple of hours before we had to pass through Customs. We found a coffee shop and passed the time pleasantly. John had a surprise for Mum and Dad, which he had discussed with me the previous night.

“Agnes and Joseph,” he began, “We've greatly enjoyed your hospitality and both feel that it has been the highlight of our visit, despite all the wonderful places we have seen. As you know we have a busy time coming up early next year (this was an oblique reference to my upcoming surgery), but we would like to invite you to come and visit us towards the end of the year, all expenses paid, so that you can see where we live. As you know Joseph, the Ashes won't be played in Australia next year, but if you come towards the end of the year, there will be plenty of cricket, including the Sheffield Shield matches. We could attend a match or two at the 'Gabba' in Brisbane.”

My parents sat stunned for a moment, until Dad finally found his voice. “That's a very generous offer John but....”

“Please, no 'buts'” said John “Think about it if you wish, but we would really love to see you there, and you know it would mean so much to Lesley as well as myself.”

Dad looked at Mum, who nodded, so he said, “In that case the answer is 'Yes', and 'Thank you very much'.”

Soon after that our flight was called. John shook hands with Dad and was embraced by Mum. At the same time, I was being embraced by Dad.

“You may not remember this,” he said quietly in my ear “But when you went to Australia, I said something about it making a man of you.” He chuckled quietly “I couldn't have been more wrong, but I do want you to know that I am so glad you are my daughter, and I'm very proud of you.”

“Dad!” I felt my eyes starting to sting “I love you so much, and I'm so glad I've made you proud. I promise I'll never let you down.”

Then it was my turn to be embraced by Mum.

“Darling,” she said, her voice quavering, “It's been wonderful to spend time with you again, and to hear how well things have worked out for you. John is a fine man. You couldn't hope for a better partner in life. We will look forward so much to seeing you over there. I love you darling.”

“Oh Mum, I love you too. I'm so glad we came over and became a family again. I'll keep writing regularly and let you know how everything turns out.”

As we passed through the swing doors into the Customs area, I looked back. Mum and Dad were standing there, hand in hand. I smiled and waved and then the closing doors blocked my view.

End of Part 1