Читать книгу Letters To Alice - Rosie James - Страница 7
Оглавление24th April 1941 London
Dear Alice
This is the first moment that I have been given any time off to drop you a line. I know things have been dreadful for everyone in Bristol, too, recently, and I’ve been hoping and praying that you are safe. Please write soon, and tell me that you are. I’m hoping that no news is good news.
It would be difficult for me to describe the scene here after the bombings this month. Amazingly, many of us – and many buildings – seem to be still in one piece, but the devastation is horrifying, and I have seen some terrible things. Every hospital has become an emergency centre (St. Thomas’s was hit) and no one has been allowed off duty. Even the most junior of us have been expected to rise to all occasions, and of course we have. We are all doing our best not to let the side down.
It has been a privilege to witness the bravery and courage of the victims, Alice – one elderly gentleman I was looking after, and who was close to death, still managed to smile at me as I clasped his hand and held him at the end. The look we exchanged as he finally slipped away will stay in my memory for ever.
No one ever grumbles, but just gets on with everything in a matter-of-fact way. We haven’t had that much sleep lately and meal times are brief, but the determination and camaraderie have helped to keep us going.
After last September’s outrageous attack on the city, and now this latest one, let’s hope that Hitler will give us a rest for a bit. (I sometimes wish I was in uniform somewhere, and doing something positive to help bring this ghastly business to an end.)
I hope, I really hope, that we can all arrange to get together soon.
Always and ever – Sam.
PS. Sorry to spill all that out on you, Alice, but one of the reasons for writing is that, a couple of times, I have asked myself whether I have chosen the right profession after all. Because handling unrecognizable bodies, and trying to comfort the frantic and bereaved, has been a nightmarish revelation, and there was one moment when I almost lost control and broke down. (Though thank goodness I managed to hold it together!) Such emotional weakness in anyone hoping to be a surgeon is not acceptable, but I had to tell someone, and you are the only person I want to share this with. I already feel some relief in confessing it.
Please write and tell me that you don’t think me a total coward. S.
PPS. This is not something I would want to worry my parents about. S.
Dear Samuel
Thank you for your letter. Yes, we have had a terrifying time here, too, but have survived to face another day, another year…or years, perhaps. Mrs. Hammond and I have spent several nights in the under-stairs cupboard together, emerging quite safe – if a little stiff – in the morning!
And like you, I have witnessed amazing bravery and goodwill everywhere. People are determined not to give up, but to carry on as cheerfully as possible. A mostly-demolished shop in the city had a notice outside saying “More open than usual.” That gave everyone a laugh. The office where I am employed is still intact and open for business. Not even a single day off for me – worse luck!
It would be lovely to see everyone again soon, I agree. But we are all so spread out now. However, I am sure your mother would manage to arrange something!
All my best wishes, Sam. Alice.
PS And you are not a coward. I don’t know any cowards. Don’t call yourself stupid names! A
Bristol 1941
The bus was crowded, almost full, the hot August sunshine streaming through the grubby windows making Alice lift her hand to shade her eyes.
As they’d all got on, she’d made her way to the back where there were three vacant seats all in a row, next to the emergency exit. She’d left her suitcase next to the driver, though in the limited space available some other passengers had to have theirs alongside them in the aisle, or held awkwardly between their feet.
Alice had brought very little with her, mainly because her uniform took up so much space. But she’d put in a couple of dresses and a cardigan, another pair of sandals, and two spare sets of underwear. She imagined there would be laundry facilities. In her wash bag was a new flannel, a bar of soap, a tube of toothpaste, and her toothbrush. And along with six pretty hankies which Gloria had given her as a sort of going-away present was her indispensable pot of Pond’s cold cream. The handbag on her lap held some money, a strip of Aspros, a comb, her powder compact and a Tangee lipstick. At the bottom of her case, beneath everything else, were two new exercise books, some pencils, and the wallet containing her letters and her precious fountain pen.
She looked around, waiting for the bus to fill up. She couldn’t help feeling slightly apprehensive about what lay ahead…it was going to be a completely new experience, that was obvious – but then she, along with everyone else was having to adapt to new experiences – some of which were highly dangerous – and, unfortunately, often fatal. They were living in troubled times, and there was nothing left but to accept what was happening and just get on with it. Her mother had told her often enough that that was what life was all about. That every generation had its ups and downs. And anyway, what she and her fellow passengers were facing was not going to be dangerous…just very different, that’s all. In fact, where they were all going would be blissfully free from death and destruction. It would be calm and peaceful. A sort of respite from the perpetual fear of sirens announcing an air raid, from the spectacle of searchlights criss-crossing the night skies…
Everyone else around her was about her own age, Alice guessed…early twenties or so…dressed much as she was, summer frock, sandals, the occasional cardi or headscarf. She noticed that one or two had brought their gas masks – which was unusual nowadays. After the initial terror of being gassed had passed, most people didn’t bother to carry them any more. Alice remembered being made to practise using hers. Remembered her gasp of fright as, for a second or two, she hadn’t been able to breathe properly, had felt trapped, and ugly. And frightened.
But so far so good. The war was nearly two years old already and no lethal gas had arrived. Surely that would never happen now? She bit her lip. Why on earth was the world having to go through this all over again? It was only a couple of decades since the last one…the Great War…how could history be repeating itself? Especially after Mr. Chamberlain had come back from his meeting with Hitler, the piece of paper he was holding bearing such high hopes of “peace in our time”? Utterly futile as it turned out. High hopes? No hopes, as it turned out.
Alice wondered what her mother and father would make of it, if they were still here. Her eyes misted as she thought of them. Her merchant seaman father had survived against all the odds in the first one – his ship somehow managing to deny the hungry Atlantic another expensive meal. Yet he was to lose his life later in a stupid accident. Alice’s lips tightened as her thoughts tormented her. For four long years God had answered her mother’s prayers, only to turn His back on them afterwards. It didn’t make any sense.
The last few women were boarding the bus now, and coming towards Alice was a tall, well-built girl with dyed blonde hair nearly reaching her shoulders, and held in place by a Kirby grip at either side. Her friendly face was enlivened by a pair of deep blue eyes, her full lips painted a bright red. As she grinned down, her teeth were snow-white. She immediately plonked herself next to Alice.
‘Watcher, I’m Fay,’ the girl said cheerily. ‘Blimey, it’s flippin’ hot, idn’t it? God alone knows what we’re all letting ourselves in for in this carry-on!’
‘Hello, I’m Alice,’ Alice said, responding with a generous smile of her own, warming to the girl’s outgoing nature and hearty Bristolian accent.
‘Watcher, Alice,’ Fay said. She rummaged in her large holdall and took out a tube of Maynard’s wine gums. Yer – have one a’ these! You’re not teetotal are you? They’re pretty alcoholic if you’re not used to them!’
Alice took a gum from the tube and popped it into her mouth. ‘Thanks. And I’m not teetotal.’ (Well, not exactly. Despite her upbringing, she had enjoyed the odd port and lemon with Gloria when they’d sometimes sat together at the end of the day. (Though something had made her refuse a swig of gin – Gloria’s preference.) Gloria Hammond owned the small terraced house where Alice had rented a furnished room since leaving the Carmichaels’ place in Clifton. Gloria was a determined optimist – especially since Mr. Churchill had become prime minister last year – and although she’d agreed to tape up her windows to lessen the effect of any bomb blast, she flatly refused to use the Anderson shelter in the vicinity, preferring to sit in the cupboard under the stairs with her wireless and a bottle of gin. “When your number’s up…” she used to say when anyone tried to persuade her to take more effective cover. The house was situated close to the church of the Holy Nativity in Totterdown, and Alice sometimes went there to pray for the souls of her beloved mother and father. And to pray that Sam thought of her sometimes. That he would never forget her.
‘Bloody glad to hear that,’ Fay said enthusiastically. ‘I’m hoping that where we’re going there’s a decent pub – or even an indecent one! Somewhere to unwind at the end of the hard days we’ve been warned about.’ She sighed. ‘I bet they’ll choose me to muck out the pigs, and shovel the shit!’ She gave Alice a sidelong glance. ‘Whereas…I can see you feeding the chickens, collecting the eggs, and giving a little newborn lamb its bottle! You look far too fragile to get your hands dirty!’
‘Oh, I’m quite used to getting my hands dirty,’ Alice assured her. ‘Anyway – I’m sure we’ll share the duties.’ She smiled up at Fay, taking another wine gum. She liked Fay.
Just then, the last passenger got on the bus and walked carefully up the aisle towards them. She was wearing a blue and white pin-stripe dress with a neat Peter Pan collar, a straw boater, and short white gloves. A mass of auburn curls framed a rather earnest-looking face. She paused hesitantly, as if waiting to be invited to sit down, and Fay looked up and patted the seat next to her.
‘Yer –come and join us,’ she said heartily, and one or two looked around to see who was talking. Fay’s voice had a ringing quality to it, edged with a smoker’s huskiness – which suited the rest of her, Alice thought. ‘Come on – let’s give you a hand with that thing.’ Fay helped the other girl to slide her suitcase alongside. ‘And we might as well get the formalities over with – I’m Fay – this is Alice – and you’re…?’
Another moment’s hesitation before – ‘I’m…I’m Eve Miles,’ the girl said, sitting down. Then – ‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ she added demurely, taking off her hat and gloves, and putting them with the handbag on her lap.
As the bus trundled away from Temple Meads railway station – the picking-up point for everyone – conversation, which had been somewhat muted and discreet, soon gathered momentum. That was the thing with this war. Complete strangers talked to each other without reticence, exchanging views and news on everything from bomb damage and rationing to what they’d do to Herr Hitler if they got the chance. And some of the things Alice had heard weren’t fit for the ears of polite company. Still, you couldn’t blame anyone. Look at the row of houses they were passing…well, they had once been a row of houses, now just a filthy mass of rubble and blackened bricks. And scenes like that were repeated in many other parts of the city. Who knew what happened to all the poor occupants? They’d have to start all over again…if they’d survived.
Alice turned to glance out of the side window for a moment, her expression softening as she thought of Helena Carmichael, and the children.
Especially she thought of Sam…well, she was always thinking of Sam.
Not too sure where Sam was at the moment, she hadn’t heard recently. But the younger ones were all safe and sound, their boarding schools having been evacuated to remote parts of the country. It was true that the city had enjoyed a few months of comparative peace since the last bombardment, but no one was taking the brief silence for granted…you just never knew. The deadly Blitz in April had left everything and everyone temporarily – only temporarily – shattered. But resolute. Whatever happened, people had kept going about their daily business, shops, offices, limited transport, salvaging what they could to stay open and working. Encouraging each other with optimistic banter and snatches of songs…“Hitler you’re barmy, you should have joined the army…” The war had brought a city of complete strangers into one big family intent on supporting each other, and most seemed to be cheerful in spite of everything, each determined to “do their bit” for the war effort. It was amazing how things sometimes turned out.
Alice had been expecting to be called up for the war effort but hadn’t considered the particular role set out for her. She’d been interviewed, and passed her medical test with flying colours, thank goodness – well, she was made of stern stuff, even if she was rather slight. And she was seldom unwell, for which she was grateful. No, she realized she could have been marked out for anything. Factory work, hospital work…perhaps even European resistance work! That might have been exciting! If rather dangerous. Probably very dangerous… Alice had sometimes allowed her imagination to wander as she’d got on with her job as a shorthand typist in one of the city’s estate agent’s.
She settled back into her seat. She was lucky – they were all lucky on this bus. At least where they were going they wouldn’t be waiting for the air-raid siren to start its terrifying wail, no more listening for that hateful throbbing of German aircraft as you ran, panicking, to take shelter, no more listening to the thunder of falling bombs, of seeing fires light up the night sky, of feeling broken glass and telegraph wires scrunch under your feet as next day you walked along after a raid, trying to get to work. There’d be none of that, deep in the countryside…the enemy wouldn’t waste time and ammunition down there. And if they did ever hear the siren – where they were going – it would be a long way away, wouldn’t it? For the benefit of the city dwellers, not for them.
Yes, Alice did feel really lucky. And not for the first time. Lady Luck had been shadowing her for a lot of her life – even if she’d known great sadness, too.
They were well away from the outskirts of Bristol now, and heading into the Somerset countryside, and suddenly her introspection was interrupted by Fay exclaiming – ‘Just look at us! We’re like the three wise bloody monkeys sitting ’ere… See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil!’ She giggled infectiously at her own observation, though Eve – who had had her eyes closed – only managed a faint smile in response. And Alice said –
‘Well, we can’t do much about the first two – but what about the third one…?’
‘Oh, I can’t promise anything,’ Fay said airily. ‘If evil seeks me out, I’ll give as good as I get, don’t you worry!’
Just then, the Women’s Volunteer Service member who’d checked them all off on her clipboard as they’d got on the bus earlier, stood up from her seat in the front. She was a portly, kindly woman, dressed in a dark uniform. She’d taken off her hat which she was flapping at her face and neck, trying to cool off. She lifted her hand, and almost immediately everyone stopped talking to listen.
‘Now then, ladies…’ She raised her voice against the noise of the engine. ‘My name is Iris, and I’m here to hand you over, so to speak, and make sure everyone gets to their right place.’ She paused. ‘I realize this is a bit of a mystery tour, but soon we’ll be dropping groups of you off at various farms where you’ll be working.’ She glanced down at her clipboard. ‘I hope you’ve all remembered to bring your uniforms – and identity cards – and please give your ration books to the farmer’s wife, or whoever asks you for it.’ She looked around at everyone searchingly. ‘This is going to be a very different way of life for most of you, but I know you’ll all do your best. This war can’t last for ever, and in the meantime we’re all in it together, aren’t we? And I hope you’ll all be “healthy and happy in the Women’s Land Army,”’ she added, quoting the advertising slogan. She paused. ‘Now, anyone got any questions?’
Someone half-stood. ‘I can’t remember how much time- off we get,’ she said. ‘Will we be able to go to the nearest fleshpots and enjoy ourselves now and then?’
Iris threw the speaker a shrewd look. ‘You’ll be free for part of Saturdays, and I think Sundays, as well,’ she said. ‘Whenever you can be spared from your duties, I imagine. It will obviously be up to the farmer.’
Fay nudged the other two. ‘Well, the generous pay is hardly going to lead us astray, is it,’ she said, ‘and so far, I haven’t noticed anything resembling a “fleshpot” anyway.’ Then, after a minute – ‘Do either of you know this part of the world?’ She leaned forward to glance out of the window. ‘We could be anywhere, it’s just fields and hedges, fields and hedges…’
It was true – and they did seem to be driving further and further into remote territory, leaving anything resembling town or city life behind them. They trundled on through numerous small hamlets, stopping at various farms to drop girls off in twos and threes. They passed groups of cows sheltering beneath the shade of huge trees, saw sheep grazing on hilly slopes sometimes leading down to a stream bubbling along like an uneven strand of quicksilver, saw the occasional horse pulling a cart, wending its weary way along almost deserted roads.
As she gazed out, taking everything in, Alice automatically thought about the George’s Brewery dray horses…those magnificent creatures, their coats always polished to a shining ebony…remembered the smell of malt that wafted through the city when brewing was on the go, making the nose tingle. The area had had its share of bombing – like the rest of the city centre – but she’d never heard that the horses had come to grief. Hopefully they’d been moved to a safer place.
The present isolation seemed all the more significant because every signpost had been removed to thwart the intentions of an invading army, and Alice said –
‘It’s funny. I’ve lived in the south west all my life but I’ve never actually been far out of Bristol. Certainly not this far.’
‘Same here,’ Fay said. ‘Wouldn’t want to. I like town, meself… Clifton Downs are enough country for me! Always plenty of space, and little cosy hidey places if you need them.’ She nudged Alice. ‘Know wha’ I mean?’
She turned to glance at Eve. ‘How about you, Eve? Is any of this familiar to you?’
As usual, Eve waited before answering – as if she was weighing every word. Then – ‘I come from Bath, so we’ve got plenty of countryside of our own…like this…but I don’t recognize where we are, I’m afraid.’
Alice smiled along at her. ‘It must be nice and quiet, living in Bath,’ she said. Even though Bath was a mere twelve miles or so from Bristol, it had not had a single raid. Nor was one expected.
It was late afternoon before the bus arrived at its last port of call, and there were just the three of them left now, still sitting there in the back. As they leaned forward to stare out, they could see a large cluster of farm buildings in the near distance, spread out behind a wide wooden gate fencing in some brown cows. A black and white sheepdog was on watch, wagging its tail, and two Jack Russell terriers, silent and alert.
Iris got out first, and the others followed. ‘Right then,’ Iris said. ‘You’re the last – but not least, I’m sure…so, we have Eve Miles, Fay Reynolds and Alice Watts. Right?’
The girls nodded. ‘Good, thank heaven I haven’t got one over, or one missing! So that’s my lot for today.’ Iris was obviously relieved. ‘Come with me and I’ll introduce you.’
The girls followed, lugging their suitcases. Eve wrinkled her nose.
‘Oh dear, what a nasty smell,’ she said quietly.
‘That’s cow shit, luvver. Or manure, if you prefer,’ Fay informed her cheerily. ‘We’d better get used to it I suppose.’
The place was called Home Farm and after Iris had left, Mabel Foulkes, the farmer’s wife – an overweight, affable woman – took the three girls upstairs to the room which they were to share.
It was long, the bare wooden floorboards creaking under their feet. It felt a bit stuffy despite the two windows wide open at each end. There were three single beds more or less next to each other, each with two pillows, and covered with a patchwork quilt. A couple of cupboards stood against the wall, and on a solid-looking steel-legged table was a huge jug standing in a bowl, with a large enamel bucket on the floor beneath. On the wall was a faded mirror.
‘We’ll bring hot water up for you every morning and at night,’ Mabel said, ‘and the lavatory’s outside next to the scullery. There’s also another one down the garden, right at the end past the cabbages. You can’t miss it.’
There was a moment’s pause.
‘There’s no bathroom, Mrs. Foulkes…?’ Eve said faintly.
‘Oh no, my luvver! Well, not as such…but don’t you worry, there’s a guzunder under your beds if you need to go in the night, and for bathin’ we all use the hip baths in the kitchen. They’re OK – even if it does mean knees up to chins!’ She mopped her brow. ‘But mostly the men just stand in the sink by the pump in the yard! Especially when it’s hot! But don’t worry – you won’t be asked to do that! Just say when you wanna bath and the kitchen’ll be all yours! It’ll be helpful if you could make it later in the day,’ she added, ‘when all the work’s finished. OK?’ Her hands on her hips, she smiled at them kindly. ‘Breakfast for you will be 5.30, down in the kitchen, lunch in the fields if you’re workin’ there – I’ll bring out flasks of tea. Or if there’s a lull, you can have it in the kitchen, a’course. And supper’s usually about 7.30.’
She turned to go, then looked back at the girls. ‘Sorry my husband wasn’t here when you arrived – ’ ’ee’s up yonder, hay-makin’ with our son – Roger. They’ll be down presently. Now, you get unpacked and I’ll put the kettle on for a nice cup a’ tea. I expect you could do with one.’
That was putting it mildly. They’d had very little refreshment on the journey, stopping only a couple of times for a break and cold drinks.
For a few moments there was complete silence, then Fay went across and opened the doors of the cupboards. On the shelves were a couple of piles of towels.
‘Hm. Well, good thing I didn’t bother to pack me evenin’ dresses,’ she said lightly. ‘But I s’pose there’s enough space here for what we want.’ Without taking off her sandals, she flung herself down on the bed nearest the door and grimaced.
‘Bloody ’ell! This is solid concrete if you d’ask me!’ She tried to bounce on the unyielding mattress. ‘I doubt if we’ll get even a wink of sleep, God ’elp us.’ She sat up and bent down to reach for her handbag on the floor beside her, took out a packet of Player’s Please and a box of matches. She glanced up at the others. ‘If I don’t have a fag soon, I’m gonna go bloody mad.’ She lit up, then flopped back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, inhaling, and blowing out smoke like a steam train.
Eve gave a slight little cough – and Fay threw the cigarettes and the matches across onto the bed Eve was sitting on the edge of. ‘Fancy a drag, Eve? Be my guest…at least these aren’t rationed!’ She took another deep drag. ‘I was desperate for one on the bus but it was so hot and stuffy I didn’t like to.’
‘I don’t smoke, actually,’ Eve said, rather primly.
Alice looked across at her thoughtfully. Of the three of them, Eve seemed the most unlikely candidate for the war job that had been allotted them.
‘You don’t know what ya’ missin’ – you should try it!’ Fay told her. ‘Fags keep you going, they’re good for you!’ She inhaled again deeply, and coughed. ‘I’ve just donated a coupla’ boxes of Woodbines to the Red Cross for the parcels they send to our soldiers. See – ciggies are helping us win the war!’
Alice sat down gingerly on the bed next to her. And had to agree with Fay. It was rock-hard.
For a few moments no one said anything, each privately weighing up the present situation. And it was a weird one, Alice thought. For the foreseeable future the three of them – complete strangers – were going to be thrown together, sharing everything – including their bedroom. Alice had only ever shared with her mother before.
And what if they didn’t get on together? Didn’t like each other? Fall-outs and unpleasantness would be terrible, make everything so much worse than it need be. She glanced briefly at the others as her thoughts ran on…she felt certain that Fay was going to be easy company, but Eve was a different kettle of fish. For one thing, she’d turned up dressed as if she was going to a garden party instead of embarking on life in a farmyard! She had a precious way of speaking, with an aloofness about her which was a bit off-putting, her whole manner suggesting that she was far too good for present company. Alice shrugged inwardly. Whatever lay ahead, they’d just have to make the best of it.
Presently, Eve was the first to start unpacking. Very carefully. After taking out some of her personal items which were on the top and putting them in a neat pile, she began to lay out her uniform. Breeches, fawn shirt, long woollen socks. She glanced up at the others, holding up the green V-neck pullover. ‘Are we expected to wear all this? In this heat?’ Adding, rather petulantly – ‘Why can’t we just wear our dresses?’
Fay opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then thought better of it and got off the bed and began to unpack as well. She flung everything out all around her on the bed, then stuck the regulation cowboy hat on her head at a jaunty angle. ‘D’you think this suits me? Will I get off with someone when I wear it if we go out?’ She went over to the mirror and groaned. ‘No, it doesn’t and I won’t. It’s ’orrible.’ Then, impulsively, she slipped off her dress and thrust her legs into the corduroy breeches, her feet into her pair of thick brown brogues. And started jigging around.
‘Come on – this calls for the Hokey Cokey!’ she cried.
Instinctively, Alice followed her lead, and with just their bras, breeches and brogues on, the two linked hands and whooped into the popular number, the floorboards creaking and groaning beneath them. “Ho’ Hokey Cokey Cokey ! Ho’Hokey Cokey Cokey!…knees bend, arms stretch, ra, ra, ra…!”
Well, it had been a long, hot day, they were being thrown into another world, and for a few moments they needed to unwind and try to see the funny side of life…
But Eve didn’t join in, instead turning away to place her uniform in one of the cupboards. And the others didn’t try and persuade her. It was going to take time for Eve to lighten up.
Presently, after she’d unpacked, Alice thrust her suitcase under the bed and stood up. ‘I would like to check out the lavatory,’ she said ‘Shall we take a look around?
They went down the stairs and through the kitchen. Mabel was nowhere to be seen, but there was a huge brown teapot standing on the table, with milk and three enamel mugs. There was no sign of the Jack Russells, but the sheepdog they’d noticed earlier got up languidly from its place on the stone floor by the range and came over to be made a fuss of. Eve immediately bent down and put her arms around the animal’s neck, planting a kiss on its head and Alice looked at her quickly. Perhaps Eve had a dog of her own, and was already beginning to feel a bit homesick.
Next to the scullery was the lavatory. Its door was partly open, the rough stone walls whitewashed, a strong smell of disinfectant competing with the whiff of farm manure. A long chain dangled from the ancient cistern above, and Fay said hurriedly –
‘This isn’t exactly private is it…shall we suss out the other one Mrs. Foulkes talked about? The one further away down there somewhere?’
They went outside, the dog following, and made their way down the centre of the garden – which was packed with vegetables – their tread noiseless on the soft earthy path, the hum of bees and summer insects adding to the sultry atmosphere.
By now it was early evening and still very warm. As they wandered along, it was impossible not to appreciate where they were. The farm lay in a gentle valley, the fields rising up and away as far as the eye could see, and Alice felt a sudden surge of optimism about what lay ahead. For one thing, even if Eve was rather shy and out of her depth, Fay seemed the permanently cheerful sort and she, Alice, would never be the one to put the cat amongst the pigeons. They’d all get used to everything, and each other, in time. They had no choice.
The best of it for all of them was that the Germans wouldn’t be interested in them down here, out of the way. They wouldn’t hear or see a thing of the war this distance from the city. There’d be no sound, they’d be able to sleep peacefully at night – even if those beds did seem rather hard – with no blackout and shouts of “Put that bloody light out!” They could treat it like an unexpected holiday…couldn’t they?…even if they’d been warned that the work would be hard. Well, it wouldn’t be hard all the time, surely? Someone still had to feed the chickens and collect the eggs…
At the very end of the path they could see a low shed with its door closed, and Alice said, ‘Well, since this was my idea in the first place – shall I be the one to risk it?’
The others stood back as Alice opened the door and peered inside. Then she turned to face them again, her hand over her mouth trying to stop laughing.
‘I don’t believe this,’ she said. Even in the early years living in Hotwells, things hadn’t been this primitive. ‘Have a look,’ she said.
As the others peered in suspiciously, they saw that the windowless premises comprised a broad shelf of wood with three holes, side by side, cut into it. Some newspaper had been cut into squares and attached to a piece of string hanging on a nail on the wall. And the smell was memorable – to say the least.
‘Well,’ Fay said, ‘there certainly won’t be the need for any queuing, will there! We can all go together! Like I said – we’re gonna be the three wise monkeys all sittin’ in a row! Blimey, wha’ a laaaff!’
Eve was obviously mystified. ‘Where…where does it…I mean, after you’ve…been…what happens to everything…where does it actually…go? It can’t just stay down there, can it?’
‘Shovelled into a cesspit, my luvver, round the back there,’ Fay said practically. ‘But ’course –I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of cesspits in Bhaaaaaath Sphaaaaaa!’ She put on a posh accent. ‘Still, never mind. Any port in a storm, eh girls?’
After they’d all used the facilities – separately – the girls made their way back to the farmhouse and into the kitchen where Mrs. Foulkes was pouring their tea.
‘Ah there you are, luvvers,’ she said. ‘Glad yer lookin’ around and making yerselves at home. Now drink this while it’s still fresh.’ She handed them each a mug of tea. ‘Then I’ll get Roger to take up some hot water for you to wash. Supper’s almost ready.’
