Читать книгу A Scent of Lavender - Elizabeth Elgin - Страница 9

In smaller print it said that nine of our fighters had been lost. What it really meant was nine young pilots, scarcely out of school, were dead.

The raids had been on the Southeast, the Southwest, and Wales. The south-east, everyone knew, even though the Ministry of Information always withheld place names, was where the fighter stations were; Manston, Tangmere, Biggin Hill. Fighters and fighter stations must be put out of action before the invasion began. Everyone knew it. So now, whilst southern cornfields were ripening, one hundred and sixty-three enemy bombers had been shot down in five days, for the loss of fifty-four of our fighters.

The battle for Britain had begun, it would seem. For as long as they could last out, hang on to fly yet another sortie, the future of our country was in the hands of young men, most of them not yet old enough to vote. Or to marry without parental consent for that matter, Lorna thought as a choke of tears made a tight ball in her throat.

Yet she was worrying about keeping hens on the lawn; bothered because William – when he found out about them – would be annoyed. Annoyed, too, about her short-cut hair and, if he gave her a closer look, horrified she had plucked her eyebrows! And all that was as nothing when, these past five days, fifty-four mothers and wives and sweethearts would have been told, in words of regret, that their pilot would never come home on leave again. So why, in the name of all that was holy, was she worrying over nothing? Any one of those fifty-four women would be grateful to have Lorna Hatherwood’s troubles.

She folded the paper, laying it on the table top so she might not see the face of the young bomber pilot who had deliberately guided his crashing bomber into the sea so it should not hit the streets of houses below him. He had been married just nine months ago, the caption beneath his picture said, so yesterday, too, a young woman called Margaret would have received the small, yellow envelope that would consign her to widowhood, and to grief.

‘It’s just too awful and there’s nothing I can do about it, either,’ she whispered to the silent room.

Well, was there anything? Was she really, really sure? But you couldn’t be sure about anything when you were fighting tears you needed to let fall for fifty-four young men and a broken-hearted widow.

Yet of one thing she was very sure! Her short haircut stayed, Ness stayed, and the six hens, too! And if William didn’t like it – we-e-ll, she would worry about it when she had to!

‘There’s sumthin’ going on at the manor.’ Ness kicked off her shoes at the back door. ‘Everybody thinkin’ it was a false alarm, that the Army wasn’t interested after all, then there they are! Didn’t you see them?’

‘No. But I went to Meltonby – ran out of stamps. How many were there?’

‘Two lorries and three trucks. Got a good look at them from the stackyard. Kate said she thought they must be a working party, cleaning out, doing repairs and things.’

‘And how many soldiers, Ness?’

‘Couldn’t say. But there was one on the roof and a couple fixing telephone wires. Will you mind them coming?’

‘Nothing I can do about it – it’s a free country, thank God. I think we should give them a chance before we start moaning about them. After all, William is in the Army and I wouldn’t like people to resent his being there, nor think he’d steal anything he could lay his hands on. Rowley shouldn’t have said what he did.’

‘Rowley Wintersgill’s an arrogant little sod. Six months in the Armed Forces would do him the world of good. Most young men his age are already in uniform. I often look at him,’ Ness frowned, ‘and wonder how Kate and Bob could have spawned such a nasty piece of work. But blow him! Heard any news? Gossip …?’

‘No. And I didn’t put the wireless on for the one o’clock news. There’s such a battle going on, down south. Headlines in the paper that we’ve lost more than fifty pilots in five days. That lot in London tried to cover it up by saying the Luftwaffe lost more planes than we did. But how long can we hang on, Ness?’

‘As long as it takes, I reckon. And why Hitler’s hanging back, I don’t know – the invasion, I mean.’

‘Give it time …’

‘Yes. But hadn’t you thought, Lorna, that time’s running out for Hitler, too. Kate said that soon the tides and the weather will be against a landing. Some article she read.’

‘Words – articles – are cheap, like talk! But let’s forget That Man. We’re getting het up, worrying about when we’ll be invaded and that’s what he wants! Tell me – when is Bob going to start on the corn harvest?’

‘Any day now. The wheat first, then the barley. Mr Wintersgill said when they’ve got the corn into the barn, you an’ me can go gleaning. There’ll be a lot we can rake up for the hens. Kate said barley makes hens lay better. Maybe it would start ours off!’

‘Maybe,’ Lorna whispered.

‘Now see here, queen, what’s to do?’ Ness demanded. ‘Sumthin’s bothering you. Not had a nasty letter from William?’

‘No. Nothing in the post this morning. But that’s not why I feel so – so depressed. It was reading the paper, y’see. All those young men killed, and them hardly a hold on life. And all I can do is read about it in the papers and feel sorry, when all the time I should be doing something useful!’

‘But you can’t. Married women aren’t expected to leave home. And to volunteer for the Armed Forces you’d have to have William’s permission, don’t forget.’

‘I’m not likely to, and I wasn’t thinking of making such a grand gesture. I want to stay at Ladybower, yet I know I should be doing more. I’m going to talk to Nance about it, see what she says and – oh, my goodness! The phone!’ And as if she already knew that William was at the other end of it, she ran to answer it, closing the door behind her.

‘William!’ Ness muttered. Lorna could do without a call from him! Lately she had been despondent – felt guilty, Ness wouldn’t wonder, about taking in a land girl and not telling her husband she was still here. And worrying, an’ all, about the hens on the lawn. A call from her William was the last thing the poor girl needed – unless he’d changed his tune a bit and said something nice for a change. Like he loved her and was missing her.

‘William, was it,’ she asked of a wide-eyed Lorna standing in the doorway. ‘Still loves you, does he?’

‘He – he never said, but he’s coming home; got a seventy-two-hour pass, Ness. Travelling overnight on Thursday. He’ll be here on Friday.’ Her face was pale, her eyes filled with disbelief. ‘Oh, my goodness!’

‘But you’re pleased? And it was very thoughtful of him to give notice,’ Ness grinned. ‘Gives me time to move out – well, that’s what we agreed, wasn’t it?’

‘Y-yes. Said he was being drafted. Very pleased about that. Said he’s been floating about like a spare part these past weeks.’

‘So where is he goin’?’

‘He didn’t say. Well, he wouldn’t, over the phone. Careless talk, you know. He wants me to meet him at York station; asked if I had enough petrol left and I told him I had. Should be arriving about ten, though I suppose the train will be late.’ Trains were always late now. ‘Oh, I feel quite peculiar.’

‘Of course you do. Excitement, that’s what and the shock of it coming out of the blue. More’n eight weeks since you saw him. Bet he’ll be glad to get out of his uniform.’

‘Yes. Must take a look at his civvies – see if anything needs pressing. And it isn’t excitement I feel. It’s just – well – peculiar.’

But was that the right word? Wouldn’t apprehensive or even worried be more appropriate because the feeling, by whichever name, was nothing to do with the land girl who now lived at Ladybower, nor the hens, nor what William would likely call the wanton chopping of her long hair. What she was really apprehensive about, Lorna all at once realized, was that!

She thought about their twice-weekly coupling every Tuesday night and Sunday morning; about his scratchy moustache that left her upper lip sore and red afterwards. That. Another name for wifely duty. It had been rather nice, she thought, having the bed to herself for two months.

‘Of course you feel peculiar,’ Ness said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘And you’re getting yourself into a tizzy over nuthin’. He’ll like your hair, queen; bet you anything he does. And he won’t mind about the hens being on the lawn – not if he’s patriotic, he won’t. And when he’s gone, I can creep back and no one’s going to be any the wiser – except Flora Petch, that is.’

‘Unless someone makes it her business to tell him about you, that is.’

‘So will you mind if he does find out, Lorna?’

‘No! Of course not!’

She meant it. She wouldn’t. And if she thought about it, she had no worries at all. Not real ones. There was nothing so very awful that it couldn’t be explained away. William would be so glad to be home again that he wouldn’t let anything spoil his three days – would he?

And then she remembered the wife of nine months who would give the rest of her life to see her man again for just five minutes to say, ‘Goodbye. I love you. I shall always love you,’ and the thought was so awful, so poignant and heart-rending that she burst into tears.

Lorna dropped two pennies into the slot machine and fished out a platform ticket. Then she enquired of a passing porter when and where they expected the Salisbury train, to be told on platform five. In half an hour. If they were lucky!

She was very calm now, though the thought had all at once struck her – and too late to do anything about it – that if William was being drafted, would he not have all his kit with him and how was she to get it, and him, into her Baby Austin? But she would worry about it later. Now there was time to get a cup of tea at the station buffet, to sit and drink it slowly and think about all the news she had to tell him. About the soon-to-arrive soldiers at the manor; about Bob Wintersgill being busy with the corn harvest and about the six pretty white and black pullets in the back garden; tell him that only yesterday they – she – had had the very first egg and wouldn’t it be wonderful when all six were laying their little heads off to help the war effort! She had decided she would tell him at once about the ark on the back lawn; that way it would lessen the shock – if shock it was to be.

She smiled at the elderly lady who looked too frail to lift so huge a teapot, placed three pennies on the counter, then made for a table near the open door through which she could see platform five.

The tea was weak, but pleasantly warm. She dropped a saccharin tablet into it then took the cup to where a spoon was tied with string to a hook on the counter. Stirring her tea she walked back to the table, looking at her watch, dismayed to find that only five minutes had passed.

Ladybower. She would think of the house, cleaned and extra-polished; of vases filled with flowers from the garden; of the tea tray, set with a starched cloth and the best china cups. She had arisen early this morning, before Ness had clumped downstairs with a case containing everything from her wardrobe and drawers. Best clean the lot out, she had said. ‘If we’re goin’ to be sneaky, best make a job of it – leave no traces!’

Foolish really, Lorna had thought as they drove to the hostel in Meltonby where a bed was available for the weekend, because one of the land girls was away at her brother’s wedding. Flora Petch hadn’t minded the change in arrangements. Maybe for the best, she had said, since she had a baby due the other side of Meltonby, and babies could start their arriving any time of the day or night!

Doubly foolish, Lorna thought, eyes fixed on the doorway, when you started to deceive, because all weekend she would be watching every word she said, regarding Ness that was, and lies – or maybe evasions was a better word – would lead to more evasions, and William would have every cause to be angry when – if – he found out.

She sighed deeply, returning the empty cup to the counter, smiled again at the tea lady still heaving her pot, then determined to walk up and down platform five, from one end to the other, for the remaining twenty minutes. She would count the ups and downs. It would give her something to do and prevent her thinking up fresh mental tortures for herself. Yet after ten minutes’ concentrated pacing she began to think that perhaps William was not coming; that something had happened to prevent the three days’ leave. Something not too serious, that was. And the thought was no sooner a wish when she saw people looking down the line, moving back from the platform edge. The train was arriving; she heard a distant rumbling and the hiss of escaping steam before it clanked and shuddered to a stop.

She saw William before he saw her and was able to take a deep calming breath, observe him dispassionately. He was carrying only a small case and his respirator. He had lost weight. All at once she wondered why she had worried and pushed through the crowd to where he stood.

‘William, darling!’ She reached on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, because cheek kisses in public were permitted now. Long, lingering goodbye kisses were no longer frowned upon either, though William would never allow such a thing. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you!’

‘Lorna!’ His face had gone very red. He was looking at her in bewilderment and she didn’t know why. She was wearing the blue flowered frock he was particularly fond of and her best pearl beads and pearl earrings. She had tried to make herself especially nice for him, yet his look was one of surprise. And then she knew why, as almost involuntarily her hand reached up to her head.

‘Lorna! What in heaven’s name have you done to yourself?’

‘Don’t you like my hair?’

‘Like it!’ Jaws clenched, he strode to the bottom of the footbridge, taking the steps quickly, staring rigidly ahead.

‘William! Wait! Please wait?’

He heard her and stopped, then turning to face her, waited for her to speak, to explain.

‘William – the car. It’s on the right, in the car park.’ It was all she could think of to say as people pushed and milled around them. ‘We’d better move. We’re getting in the way.’

She picked up his case and hurried toward the steps at the far end of the bridge, across the concourse towards the sign marked Car Park. Unspeaking she made for the little black car, glad to see a familiar object yet all the time not wanting to be enclosed in its smallness with William’s right shoulder jammed against hers.

She opened the door, placed the case in the back, then slithered into the driving seat, turning the ignition, grateful she would not have to get out again and crank the engine into life.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said as they waited for a break in the traffic. ‘Are you sure you don’t like my hair?’

‘A shock,’ he said reluctantly, staring ahead. ‘I liked it long. You know I did.’

‘But it’s so easy to manage now. No tugging and pulling. Anyway – I like it!’

‘I see. You like looking as if you’re fresh out of gymslips, do you, because that’s what it does to you! You’re a married woman, Lorna!’

‘Of course I am, but I do like my hair short. You wouldn’t understand, but I feel so – so free. And I don’t want to grow it. I couldn’t bear to cart that great mop around with me ever again. I felt so top heavy! And long hair isn’t hygienic – especially when there’s a war on!’ She was protesting too much, she knew it, yet still she muttered, ‘And if I might say so, William, it isn’t very kind of you to find fault when I’ve been so looking forward to seeing you!’

There! Not only had she stood her ground, defended her new image, she had answered back, too!

There were traffic lights ahead. On red. She slowed, and pulled on the brake. Then she took a deep breath, willing the light to stay on red until she got a grip on her feelings, refusing to speak, to say one more word that might get her deeper into trouble. And thank heaven she had decided against lipstick and even the tiniest touch of mascara.

‘Sorry!’ William, actually apologizing. ‘Sorry, old girl. A shock. I mean – well, I’ll look like your father when we’re out together!’

‘Then shave off your moustache!’ The traffic ahead was moving. ‘You’d look ten years younger if you did,’ she smiled, hesitantly. And he smiled back and said that sorry, the moustache was a part of his officer image – gave him dignity, and all that.

‘Very well. You may keep it,’ she said with mock severity. ‘And William, I really am glad to see you.’

Storm in a teacup over, she thought, as relief thudded inside her, and fingers crossed that she would get away as easily with the hens and Ness Nightingale!

They were halfway down Priory Lane and not two minutes from home when Lorna stopped the car, almost without thinking.

‘William – are we friends again?’

‘Well, of course we are! We’ll forget the hair, shall we? Live and let live, eh?’

‘Yes, dear, and I’m sure you’ll get to like it, but – well – I have something else to tell you!’

Best get it over with; best, if there was going to be an argument to have it here in the lane.

‘And what else have we done? Overspent our allowance?’

‘Of course I haven’t!’ She said it more sharply than she intended, because he was talking down to her; talking like he really was her father! ‘It’s just that we have got – I have got – six hens on the back lawn!’

‘You have what? Hens? In heaven’s name, why?’ His face was red again. ‘That is a very fine lawn! Whatever made you want to put hens on it? If the grass cutting is too much, why on earth didn’t you ask Goff Leaman to do it for you?’

‘I’m well able to push a grass cutter, and the reason for the hens is that it is patriotic to produce food and if I don’t, I’m going to get some sly digs from the village. Most people have got rid of their flowerbeds and I thought hens on the grass would be the lesser of two evils.’

‘Without asking me?’

‘But do I have to ask you!’ she rounded angrily. ‘You left me in charge when you went away. Can’t I be trusted? I thought very long and hard before I put the hen ark there.’

‘Ugly things, arks …’

‘Yes, but tidier than a shed and wire netting and posts all over the place to keep the hens from straying. And next time you come on leave they’ll be laying and you’ll have lovely fresh eggs for breakfast.’

‘You could have bought equally fresh eggs from Kate Wintersgill.’

‘All right! But for how much longer? Eggs will be the next thing to be rationed – she said so herself. But if you are determined to put me in the wrong, William, then you have succeeded!’

‘No, Lorna. I’m sure you did what you thought best, but I hadn’t bargained for hens on the lawn. Sorry if I sounded abrupt.’

‘Yes, you did sound abrupt and yes, I will accept your apology. And please remember that I’m not a soldier you can shout an order to – or at!’ Her voice began to tremble. ‘And why are we going on like this? Today should have been wonderful, yet we’re having words again! What is wrong, William?’

‘Nothing is wrong. It’s just that you had your hair cut when you knew I wouldn’t like it and you put hens on that beautiful lawn without a lot of thought. But we are not arguing, Lorna – at least I am not! You, though, are getting very het up. What else have you done?’

‘N-nothing!’ Now, really, was the time to tell him about Ness, but she had pushed her luck far enough for one day. ‘Nothing else.’

‘Oh, but there is! I always know when something is wrong. Tell me, is the land girl still in our spare room?’

The question came suddenly, uncannily. It was as if, she thought, panic-stricken, that the words land girl were written on her forehead in inch-high letters.

‘The land girl is at the hostel in Meltonby, since you ask!’ she gasped. Ness was there – technically. And why was she lying and please, please don’t let anyone mention Ness before William’s leave was over? Hens and hair she had got away with, but admitting to a land girl at Ladybower, when William had said she must leave, was asking for trouble. ‘And if you don’t believe me –’

‘Of course I believe you and of course I trust you to take good care of Ladybower – and yourself – whilst I’m away. So don’t let’s quarrel? I’ve been looking forward to this leave. Can’t we pretend I’m a civilian again – just for three days? No more moods, eh?’

‘All right. And I’m sorry if –’

‘And no more sorries, either.’ He pointed ahead. ‘Do you realize I can see Ladybower’s chimneypots and I want to get home and out of this uniform. So start her up, there’s a good girl, and let’s be on our way!’

‘Yes, dear.’ She said it contritely as the Lorna of old would have said it. Her capitulation pleased him and he patted her knee paternally like the William of old had always done.

Sighing, she started the car.

‘There are a few things to be washed, Lorna – can you do them? They’re in my case – and there are the things I’m wearing now. I’ll get out of this uniform and have a bath, if there’s any water?’

There was. She had switched on the immersion heater before she left for the station, even though the powers-that-be frowned on such things. Electricity was a munition of war and electrical appliances must only be used of necessity. Higher than average electricity or gas bills would come under scrutiny, everyone knew, and the miscreant warned, though no one, this far, had actually been taken to court for wasting electricity or gas. It would have been plastered all over the daily papers as a warning, had it been so – like the woman who was fined seventy-five pounds for obtaining two pounds of off-the-ration sugar. Seventy-five pounds, would you believe? Six months’ wages!

‘Water, dear? For a bath for a weary soldier?’

‘Sorry. I was miles away, thinking about the immersion heater. I’ll pop upstairs and switch it off!’

She did just that, checking the bathroom to make sure Ness had not left her toilet bag. And she had not. Then she went into the spare bedroom, glancing around. But Ness had removed every smallest personal thing. Her sheets and pillowslips were already in the laundry basket, Lorna knew, and the blankets folded neatly and covered by the bedspread. It would be all right – just as long as no one mentioned Ness’s name during the next seventy-two hours! And why should they?

William put on the white shirt and grey flannel trousers Lorna had laid out on the bed. The bath had revived him after his overnight journey and he regarded his mirror image with not a little smugness. He had lost weight! The suspicion of a belly he’d had when he left for Wiltshire was gone. Why, dammit, he could even fasten the belt at his waist a notch tighter!

He walked to the open window, drawing in the scent of the summer afternoon, feeling pleased with himself. Nun Ainsty had not changed. To his left was the pillar box, to his right, Dickon’s Wood. And spread out below him was the village Green on which Martha Hugwitty’s two geese grazed and nibbled, and the tiny duck pond on which a lonely old duck still swam.

The midday sun was warm, the sky blue and the scent of grass and flowers was good in his nostrils. He was a lucky man, all things considered. A little upset, naturally, that Lorna had been foolish without his presence to guide her, but she was young; younger even than her years. There was nothing worldly about his wife and he knew he could trust her completely – her fidelity, that was – and never have to worry that she would give him cause to doubt her. Lorna had an air of innocence about her for all she was a married woman. He had heard only yesterday about the wife of a fellow officer who had not only gone off the rails but written a Dear John letter asking for a divorce!

He looked in the mirror, smoothing his hair, liking what he saw there; a man in his prime and fitter than ever he had been. He would have an enjoyable weekend, then on Tuesday report to his new posting; a permanent base and in England, thank God! Could have been North Africa or the Far East, but he’d been lucky and got the safe number he had all along intended, and well worth the time spent in the Territorial Reserve. He would survive this war, he knew it.

He fingered his moustache. Had Lorna seriously meant he should shave it off? Would it really make him look younger, complement his flatter stomach and slimmer waistline? He patted the one-notch-tighter belt almost smugly and decided that the moustache stayed. Dignified. Gave him an air of dependability. Clients had trusted his wholesome image. Lorna’s grandfather had felt the same way; been glad, in his last years, to give his granddaughter into the keeping of one so steady and reliable. Lorna had said yes the first time he asked her to marry him as if she already knew her acceptance would have her grandfather’s blessing.

Yes, William Hatherwood was a fortunate man. He had a compliant wife, a comfortable, well-run home in a picture postcard village. He had also been given a posting to Aldershot, which suited him very nicely. Life wasn’t all doom and despair – apart from the invasion, which was never very far from most people’s minds. And that being the case, the invasion would be declared taboo for the remainder of the weekend!

‘Butter is to be rationed even more on Monday,’ Lorna murmured as they sat at the kitchen table having supper. ‘And lard and margarine.’

‘Oh dear.’ William had not noticed a shortage of anything in the Officers’ Mess.

‘Two ounces of each per person per week …’

‘Then I suggest you collect yours every two weeks, dear. Two ounces of anything is hardly worth the time and effort weighing and wrapping it.’

‘Yes. A good idea …’ Or it would have been had there not been two people living at Ladybower and four ounces of anything seemed rather more collectable. ‘Tell me, William, are you near the awful air raids?’

The daylight raids, intended to wipe out the first line of resistance to Hitler’s invasion plans, continued with frightening ferocity. For how much longer could Hitler order the Luftwaffe into the air, twice, sometimes three times a day, at such a loss in bombers? And for how much longer could our fighter pilots stay on their feet, let alone take to the air, sortie after sortie? How did you fly Hurricanes and Spitfires when you were almost asleep standing up?

‘The raids don’t bother us a lot in Wiltshire, nor will they where I am going. Aldershot isn’t a target – yet. And I have been thinking, Lorna,’ – think about, talk about anything but the damned invasion – ‘that I shall take the car with me when I go back – my car, I mean.’

‘Why?’ Lorna laid down her knife and fork. ‘Surely the Army has enough trucks and cars of its own? Why take yours, and how would you get the petrol for it?’

‘The same way as you do – with my own petrol coupons. By the way’ – he was all at once alert – ‘you haven’t been using mine, have you?’

‘Of course not! Your coupons are where you left them in your desk drawer, but could you – would you – mind giving one of them to me? A one-gallon coupon, I mean …’

After all, she had driven to the station and back and even though the petrol ration went twice as far in her small, economical car than it did in William’s, she calculated she had used up at least half a coupon in getting to York and back. Petrol coupons were like gold dust and you didn’t get anywhere near enough.

‘I will, though I didn’t think you’d begrudge me a couple of miles.’

‘Twenty-five miles, the round trip!’ Lorna was surprised that common sense hadn’t told her to let the matter drop. ‘And you have two months’ petrol coupons unused, I know, and more due on the first of next month. Please, William – I’d be so grateful.’

‘Very well. I’ll put a gallon in the tank for you.’ He was surprised she could be so nit-picky. The Lorna he had left behind him wouldn’t have made a fuss over a couple of squirts of petrol because, and she had to admit it, that small contraption of hers went for miles on very little fuel. ‘And I’ll check my own – tyres, oil and water. Quite a lot of the chaps have their cars with them. Handy. If I can wangle the time I’ll be able to get home without a leave pass more often – if I’ve got my own transport.’

‘Then you must take yours, William. We’ll give it a clean and polish. Shall you drive it back on Monday morning?’

‘Think I will. And that was a very civilized meal, dear. I enjoyed it. Think I’ll take a turn round the village then pop into the White Hart, treat myself to a glass of decent ale. The further south you go, y’know, the worse the beer is. I’ve missed getting a northern pint.’ He pushed back his chair and the legs grated on the stone tiles of the floor. ‘Won’t be too long. Reckon I’ll have an early night. Didn’t get a lot of sleep on the train.’

He left, looking well pleased with himself. Lorna pouted; he was forgetting that when he was a civilian he had always helped with the washing-up after supper. But she mustn’t find fault. This was his first leave, however short, and he must be really glad to be home.

But an early night? Just what did that mean? Was she expected to go to bed with him, or was he genuinely tired? Friday wasn’t one of their nights. Perhaps he really was tired and in need of sleep.

She smiled, relieved. It was a beautiful summer evening, William had enjoyed his supper and she, Lorna, had got away with her misdemeanours with hardly a protest. And fingers crossed she would get away with –

The White Hart! The thought struck her like a slap. Who might he meet there? Would Mary Ackroyd ask him, innocently enough, what he thought of his wife’s lodger and didn’t he think the land girl from Liverpool was a very nice lass?

‘Mary!’ Panic stricken, she sent her thoughts winging to the landlady of the White Hart. ‘Whatever you do, don’t mention land girls – please?’

‘Oh, damn!’ she wailed. Not another misunderstanding, another coldness between them? There would be the mother of all rows if he found out about Ness from someone other than herself!

She took a deep breath, folded her arms belligerently and stared out at the hen ark. Then she ran her fingers through her short, soft hair – to give herself courage, that was – and whispered,

‘Sorry William, but Ness stays. I don’t want to have to remind you that Ladybower is my house; I never have and I never will, if I can help it. But if you bluster and blow and demand, then I shall. I shall tell you, quietly and calmly, that I will have whomever I want to stay here. I’m sorry, dear, but I will!’

Then as suddenly as defiance had taken her, it deserted her and flew out of the window and away, taking her brief courage with it.

‘Please, Mary …?’ Talk to William about the harvest and the bombing in the south and the soldiers who could arrive any day at the manor. Talk about ships and shoes and sealing wax but please, I beg you, don’t talk about Ness?

Lorna slid out of bed and walked on tiptoe out of the bedroom. Last night had been all right. No misunderstandings, no recriminations. William had returned without knowing that Ness still lived at Ladybower, and gone to bed almost at once.

‘I won’t wake you when I come up,’ she promised, and he had slept heavily, arms flung wide, leaving her only the edge of the bed to cling to. She had awakened twice in the night and been surprised to realize that William was there beside her. It had not taken long, she thought guiltily, to get used to having the bed to herself; to go to it master of the house and get up her own mistress! Then she thought shame on herself and ran downstairs, opening curtains as she went, letting in another sunbright day.

She walked barefoot into the garden, curling her toes on the dew-damp grass, loving the way the hens ran to greet her and to stand, heads cocked at the wire, waiting for the food she would throw to them.

I wonder, she thought indulgently, which of you is going to lay an egg today for William – bring home to him what a very good idea hens on the lawn is?

Carefully she filled a can with rainwater from the tub at the back door, then topped up the drinking trough. They were such pretty creatures. Surely William would come, if not to like them, then at least to accept their right to be on his lawn? There was a war on after all, and he might well have come on leave to find it had been dug up wantonly, and potatoes and carrots and cabbages planted for the war effort as the government so often pointed out.

‘Another egg today?’ she whispered fondly.

The weekend had gone well. Yesterday morning they made love as they always did on Sundays, and afterwards she had been unable to stop herself pulling the back of her hand across her mouth. She had forgotten how scratchy William’s passionate kisses were and lost no time splashing her face with cold water against the redness, then sighed with relief at wifely duty done. And, she had reminded herself firmly, you couldn’t get the child you secretly hoped for without duty done. If she were honest, she hoped with every coupling that a baby might happen. She wanted a child; had been amazed to find they did not come automatically when man and wife had relations within the intimacy of their double bed. She had been surprised, too, when William made it plain that children, when another war with Germany threatened, were not a good idea at all. And when that war came, she reluctantly ceased to hope for a child – at least until it was over – and to long, instead, for a mistake to happen in William’s calculations so she might find herself pregnant after all.

But there were ways and means of not having babies, she should have known. She had learned that much in her final year at boarding school, when talk after lights out turned, as it often did, to men and the things men did and the things you should not let men do. Men were only entitled to that when they married you. It said so in the marriage service, didn’t it? With my body I thee worship. Stood to sense that that was what it meant – the Church saying it was all right, once the priest had said the words.

Mind, it was the men who wanted that before they put a ring on your finger you had to look out for, said the form prefect, whose periods had started ages before anyone else’s and who therefore considered herself an authority on such matters.

Ah, yes, Lorna sighed; she had not been a complete innocent on her wedding day and had accepted that doing that was part of what was called wifely duty, or conjugal rights; the price a woman paid for the smug gold band on her eager wedding finger.

And now Lorna made sandwiches for William’s journey back to Wiltshire; cut them into dainty triangles, then wrapped them in greaseproof paper and a paper serviette. On the draining board stood a vacuum flask, filled with boiling water so the tea she would fill it with would stay hot, longer.

‘That’s got the stuff loaded.’ William, in his uniform once more and eager to be off. ‘Best make a start. Due back at 18.00 hours. Don’t want a black mark.’

‘Going by road will be better.’ Lorna filled the flask with tea. ‘You never know when a train is going to start, let alone when it will arrive. A good idea, dear, to take your car with you.’

There was a knocking, once, twice, three times on the front door, the calling card of the Meltonby postman. They heard the snap of the letterbox.

‘I’ll get it.’ William hurried into the hall. ‘See if there’s anything of importance before I leave.’

Of importance to her husband, Lorna thought, were things like the water rates, the council rates, the electricity bill and most important of all, the telephone account, which could run dangerously high when ladies spent so much time chatting to friends. But there were no such missives to excite William’s senses; nothing to check for errors or omissions, no telephone account to be queried. Yet for all that, his face was red and angry as he tossed the letter on the kitchen table.

‘Miss A Nightingale? And who is she? A land girl, by any chance?’

‘Yes. Ness.’

‘So why do her letters come to this house? Did she not think to tell her family and friends she no longer lived here?’ He looked into his wife’s flushed face, saw eyes that would not meet his. ‘Or is there some other explanation, Lorna?’

‘Ness lives here.’ She forced her gaze to his. ‘She’s in the hostel in Meltonby for the weekend; didn’t think it right we shouldn’t be alone for your leave.’

She was shaking so much she was sure he must see it, hear the trembling in her voice.

‘But you said she’d left. Weeks ago!’

‘No I didn’t, William. Never. You said she was to go, but I didn’t ask her to.’

‘So you went behind my back? You let me think she’d gone. Deceit, Lorna, and not at all like you. Well,’ he picked up his cap from the table, ‘I have no more time to argue with you. I take it you expect Miss A Nightingale to creep back when I have gone?’

‘Ness will be back after work tonight.’

‘Then you will tell her to go, Lorna; tell her it is my wish and she isn’t wanted!’

He put on his cap, picked up the flask and made for the door.

‘No!’ Lorna moved quickly to stand in front of it. ‘I don’t want you to leave like this! At least say “Goodbye. Take care of yourself.”’

‘You seem well able, my dear, to do that. What Lorna wants, Lorna must have. Why must you have the land girl in our home?’

‘Because Nance asked me to; said the bombing would start again soon, and that she’d be looking for billets for evacuees and mothers with young children. I knew you wouldn’t want children again and it seemed better to have Ness in the spare room. And I liked her and was glad of her company. Besides, Nance said there wasn’t room for her at the hostel.’

‘Very well.’ He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘I accept that Nance Ellery can be very persuasive and bossy at times and that you are inclined to take the least line of resistance. But the woman must go. Tell her tonight, there’s a good girl.’

It was an order, Lorna thought, not a request, and being referred to as a good girl stung her into action.

‘William, I’m sorry and I don’t want to upset you when you are leaving, but I won’t tell Ness to go. She isn’t a bit of trouble – she’s mostly at the farm anyway. And it’s patriotic to take her in; helps the war effort.’

‘I see. I don’t know why you had to be lumbered with her in the first place. The minute she wanted to conveniently disappear there just happened to be a bed for her at the hostel, so tell her to go back to it! I mean what I say!’

‘But she can’t! The hostel bed was only empty for the weekend.’

‘Are we to argue over her, then? Is she more important to you than me?’

‘That is childish of you, William, and unworthy.’ She felt more calm, now, and even more determined. ‘And we are not arguing because it takes two to argue and I have nothing more to say.’ All at once, her voice was amazingly quiet. ‘I don’t want us to part like this, though. Please try to understand?’

‘You’ll do as you wish, I suppose.’ He pushed past her and opened the door. ‘There is no more to say, if you are determined. I bid you good day.’

And with a banging of the front door and a crunching of wheels on the gravel of the drive, he was gone.

He bid her good day! What a way to say goodbye! He was going back to the war and all she got was a brusque good day!

But he would be back! By the time he got to the top road his temper would have cooled and he would turn the car in the lane and tell her he was sorry and hold her tightly and kiss her. And when he had done that he would use his talking-to-a-little-girl voice and coaxingly ask her to promise to send Ness away.

That was when she knew she did not want him to come back because if he did she was afraid that for the sake of peace and harmony she would promise that Ness would go and she didn’t want her to go. Besides, where was she to stay, with all the hostel beds full again?

She was relieved that after half an hour there was neither sight nor sound of William; relieved, too, that in her stubborn trembling defiance she had not needed to fall back on her last line of defence – ‘Ladybower is my house!’

‘Oh, what a mess!’

The shaking began again and she sat down heavily at the kitchen table. The tea in the pot had gone cold, so what the hell! Rationing or not, she needed a cup of strong, hot, sugar-sweet tea!

‘Sorry, William,’ she said shakily as she filled the kettle. ‘Ness stays! No deal!’

At six o’clock the kitchen door opened and a round brown hat sailed across the room and landed on the table.

‘What the – ?’ Startled, Lorna turned, then smiled to see Ness at the open door. ‘Now why did you do that?’

‘Oh, it’s a daft thing us Liverpudlians do sometimes; throw in our hat first to test the water, see if we’re welcome!’

‘Well, you are!’

‘Missed me, have you?’

‘More to the point, have you missed Ladybower?’

‘Ar, norrarf! The hostel’s fine, but it’s bedlam when thirty women are talking twenty to the dozen. And it’s worse once the hot water has all gone and everybody is wantin’ to know which sneaky cow’s had more’n six inches of water in her bath! But was it smashin’, having William home?’

‘Smashing.’ Lorna reached for the envelope she had placed behind the mantel clock.

‘This came for you – this morning.’

‘Oooh. And William saw it?’

‘He did!’

‘And one thing led to another and –’

‘And the cat was out of the bag, as they say. He went off in a huff.’ Her voice began to tremble again. ‘He accused me of being deceitful for not telling you to go.’

‘And when he found I hadn’t shoved off, he gave you down-the-banks, eh? So what is going to happen, Lorna?’

‘Nothing’s going to happen! William said you must go and I told him I wanted you to stay. I really want you to. Say you will?’

‘Of course I’ll stay, though I don’t like bein’ the cause of words between man and wife. And you’ve been weeping, haven’t you?’

‘On and off – just a little. Angry tears, really. He just slammed out, you see, and I was sure he’d turn round and come back and say he was sorry. But I’m glad he didn’t, because there would have been more words, more demands, and I’m not prepared to take orders any longer. And what’s more, I stood up for myself – didn’t even have to remind him that if push came to shove, Ladybower is my house and I’ll have who I want in it – well, within reason, that is!’

‘Ar, Lorna girl – you’re sure you want me here, that it’s worth all the bother? He’s going to come on leave again and there’ll be another slanging match and – and –’

‘More down-the-banks?’ Lorna said gravely. ‘And you know what? If William had been kinder, if he hadn’t practically ordered me to tell you to go, like a Victorian husband, if he’d coaxed and sweet-talked a little and asked me to do it for him because I love him, then I just might have given in and asked Nance to find somewhere else for you.’

‘I still think you should, Lorna. It just isn’t worth it.’

‘Oh, but it is! William must learn that I’ve got a mind of my own and I’m not prepared to talk about it any more, Ness. I’ve made up my mind, and that’s it! And I will tell you something. After William had gone I felt dreadful and I was longing for something special to happen to put things to rights. Y’know, like when I was little I’d say, “If the next bird I see is a thrush, there’ll be jam roly poly for supper.”’

‘Mm. We all did it, girl. So what happened so special to put the smile back on your face?’

‘We’ve had another egg, Ness! I heard such a cackling and there it was, all warm and new-laid. Something special, see? So I hard-boiled both eggs and put them in the salad. There’s ham left over from William’s sandwiches, so what do you say to ham and egg salad and boiled new potatoes for supper?’

‘I’d say,’ Ness smiled her wide, beautiful smile, ‘that this is the best billet I’ve ever had – and I’m stopping. Well, till Himself’s home on leave again, that is.’

‘And we’ll worry about that,’ Lorna said, chin set at defiance, ‘when it happens. So where is your kit?’

‘At the hostel. I’ve had the use of a bike these last three days. I’ll pedal over after supper; put the big case on the seat, and push it.’

‘I’ve got a better idea. We’ll collect your stuff in the car. And before you ask if I can spare the petrol – yes, I can! I wheedled a gallon out of William.’

‘You’re learning, Lorna Hatherwood! And I’m ravenous. I’ll just have a wash, then there’s such news to tell you!’

‘Potatoes ready in five minutes!’

Lorna let go a breath of relief. It would be all right. Tonight, William would phone to let her know he was safely back and she would tell him to take care and that she loved him.

Yes, of course it would be all right …