The girls were doing their part by cutting an old felt hat into strips to make wicks for the oil lamps. ‘Waste not, want not,’ Jessie quoted. ‘These last much longer than the wicks you can buy.’ She also showed them how to polish the brass fittings on the lamps. ‘Clean with ordinary polish, then rub the brass with furniture cream using a soft cloth; they will gleam for much longer!’
‘How will the children get to school? It’s a long way to walk,’ Kitty said. She looked at the cloth she was using. ‘Oh, I rubbed the brass so hard this big hole appeared – sorry, Grandma.’
‘It was an old piece, don’t worry,’ Jessie said. ‘School? We have an idea about that – Grandpa has suggested the old Barn House could be a schoolroom and they can be taught there . . . Your mother is finding out about that.’ She didn’t enlighten them further.
The next day, Saturday, a letter arrived for Kathleen and she read it over breakfast, after she had returned from the stables. She looked the part of a stable girl now, in her new fawn jodhpurs, in which she could bend over without fear of them splitting like the old pair that had been returned to the ragbag. However, she retained Danny’s cap, which he had presented to her before he left for the Front. ‘This is the one Sam gave me on my birthday all those years ago,’ he’d said. Kathleen wore it at a saucy angle on her bobbed black hair.
Heather had the same style now, and Kitty was trying to cajole Jessie into cutting her hair too, but Jessie said, ‘A shame to lose those curls, Kitty – next year perhaps.’
‘I always have to wait for things, it’s not fair,’ Kitty moaned. ‘I’m nearly ten years old, remember!’ She still had to share Heather’s bike.
Kathleen was smiling. ‘Good news!’ she said, waving the letter at them. ‘Min and Josh have said they’ll come back here to live in the Barn House, and Josh will teach the children while Min helps Olga run the house!’ She was excited at the thought of being reunited with Min and her husband.
‘Will they bring the harmonium with them?’ Kitty asked. ‘I’d like to learn to play it.’
‘That will come by carrier,’ Jessie told her. She looked around for Jimmy, who sat up at the table now and was always eager to go out to play when he’d finished his breakfast. ‘Where’s Jimmy disappeared to?’
A head emerged from under the table, and the crockery rattled at the disturbance, then the rest of the little boy appeared. ‘I was only giving Bobby my bacon rinds,’ he said airily.
‘He’s so like his father,’ Jessie said fondly. ‘Determined to do what he wants.’
Heather surprised them all by standing up and shouting at her grandmother: ‘You never say that about me! Don’t you think I take after Dad too?’ Then she stomped out of the room.
Silence for a moment, before Kathleen made to follow her daughter. Jessie put out a restraining hand. ‘No, Kathleen, this is not the time to say anything – she’s getting to a certain age, thinks she’s grown up, but she isn’t. She’ll get over it, just be patient.’
‘Let me go after her,’ Kitty offered. ‘I’ll get round her.’
Kathleen nodded. ‘Yes, you go.’
Jessie gave Kathleen a concerned look. ‘It’s all right,’ she mouthed.
Mrs Amos had refrained from saying anything until then, but now she muttered to herself, ‘That girl needs putting in her place.’
Kathleen overheard this and was furious. ‘Some people need to mind their own business!’ she cried. ‘I’m going back to the stables now; Doc will be wondering where I am. It may be Saturday, but I have to work every day of the week!’ With that, she went out of the front door, slamming it behind her.
Doc didn’t ask her why she was pale and her face tear-stained. ‘Will you hold the mare, please, while I have a look at her feet? She seems rather lame, and it’s probably time we called the blacksmith to fit her with new shoes.’
Later, when their morning’s work was done, he said, ‘Would you like to tell me why you are upset? It will go no further, I assure you.’
They sat on a hay bale, side by side. ‘Oh Doc, I know I ought to tell Heather that Sam isn’t her father. I’ve been waiting for the right time, but now she’s growing up. What do you think I should do?’ she appealed.
‘My dear, she has to know sometime, but it is bound to upset her whenever you tell her. What does Sam think?’
‘We discussed it a while ago, but he didn’t think she was old enough to know the truth at that time.’
‘It’s something you should do together, I think, so he can reassure her, but of course, that’s not possible with him so far away. I think you will know when it is the right time, Kathleen, but not just now, eh?’
‘Thank you, Doc.’ Kathleen rose and dusted herself down. ‘I’ll take your advice.’
When she arrived back, the girls were out in the garden with Jimmy, throwing Bobby’s ball for him to fetch. ‘The children from London are coming to our house soon!’ Heather called to Doc. ‘And guess what? Min and Josh are going to stay in the Barn House!’
‘I’d better fill the motor with petrol then,’ he called back.
THIRTY
Early one Saturday morning, Doc travelled to the East End to collect the first of the evacuees, who had been taken to the refuge set up by Min and Josh. The O’Brien family had few possessions because their dockside home had been gutted by a bomb, but today they would have a home again, although the future was still uncertain.
Kathleen and Heather cycled over to the brickyard to make sure everything was ready, while Kitty helped Jessie at Home Farm and kept an eye on her young brother. Jessie fried bacon for breakfast; Daisy and Wilf would be home soon with the milk. She yawned; she had been up since dawn making sandwiches for Doc to take to London, and for Kathleen and Heather, who would get the stoves going and light the fires in both houses. The kettle would soon be singing and mugs were lined up for tea. Where was Mrs Amos? she wondered. Still in bed? She hadn’t done much to help since they heard the sad news about Marion, though that was understandable.
She turned the sizzling rashers over, and thus preoccupied, didn’t hear the tentative knocking on the door. Kitty, holding Jimmy firmly by his left hand as he clutched a soggy rusk in his right, called out, ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s Dennis. Is Kathleen there?’
‘Oh,’ Kitty said casually. ‘Come in. I thought you were in Devon. Mum’s gone over to the brickyard this morning. We are expecting visitors, but we didn’t expect you!’
Dennis had shot up in height and looked gangly and awkward. He was fifteen years old and his voice was breaking. ‘I called at the Barn House last night, just in case, but there was nobody there. I had to sleep in the big barn where the pottery was made; someone had left the door unlocked.’
‘Oh, all the pottery is now in the big house. But why are you back?’
‘I was homesick, I suppose.’
‘How on earth did you get here?’
‘On my bike; it’s taken me nearly two weeks. I had to find places to sleep after blackout. All the signposts have gone, but I had my compass that I got in the Boys’ Brigade – us lads in the workhouse all belonged; I played the drums, I wasn’t no good with a bugle.’
‘Well,’ Kitty said, ‘come in the kitchen. Grandma’s here – she’s cooking breakfast – so you can explain it all to her!’ She looked him up and down. ‘I expect she’ll say you need a bath!’ She wrinkled her nose.
‘Well I did sleep in a pigpen one night,’ he said ruefully.
Jessie was kind enough to give him a hug, then directed him to the bathroom. ‘I expect you’d like to wash and freshen up. Have you any clean clothes?’
‘In my rucksack.’
‘There’s a fresh towel on the hook and a flannel in the drawer under the sink. Your breakfast will be cooked shortly, but I should get in there quick – here come the troops! They’ll be surprised to see you, but I reckon they’ll be glad of your help.’
Fortunately, Dennis had gone to make his ablutions before Mrs Amos
appeared. She had become very thin and gaunt in the face since losing her daughter, but she didn’t talk about Marion any more. She kept those feelings to herself.
Heather was excited when she heard about Dennis’s return. ‘He can stay with Min and Josh, I expect, can’t he?’
‘We’ll see. You’ll have to wash your hands in the sink . . .’
‘The bathroom will stink,’ Kitty put in. Jessie looked at her reprovingly.
‘Everything shipshape, Kathleen?’ she asked.
‘Nearly! I’m starving,’ Kathleen said.
‘I made all those sandwiches,’ Jessie said mildly.
‘I ate most of them,’ Heather admitted, ‘and Bobby was hungry after running after us all that way.’ Daisy emerged from the pantry, having deposited the milk and eggs. ‘How long will that boy be in the bathroom? Wilf needs to go . . .’
Mrs Amos surprised them all with her comment: ‘The privy is still outside where it always was. Wilf, stop making a fuss. You’re not the only one with a weak bladder.’
Jessie mopped her brow. It all seemed too much today, she thought.
Mrs Amos gave Dennis a stern look as he wolfed down a large plateful of bacon and eggs. ‘Anyone would think you hadn’t had a square meal for some time!’
‘I haven’t,’ he said truthfully. ‘All I got was a bite or two of cow cake.’
Jessie said hastily, ‘Would you like some bread fried in the bacon fat, Dennis?’
‘Oh yes please!’
*
Later, Kathleen took Daisy, Jessie and the girls back in the buggy to greet the newcomers at the brickyard. Dennis accompanied them on his bicycle. Shy Wilf elected to stay at home with Jimmy and the dog, under the watchful eye of his Grandma Amos.
Just as Kathleen was conjecturing whether the O’Briens came from Ireland originally, like herself, Kitty and Heather, who were on the lookout for Doc’s car, called out: ‘They’re here!’
Olga was the first to step inside, followed by Mrs O’Brien, carrying her youngest child, a little boy. Clinging to her skirts were three older children, a girl of about ten, and twin girls a few years younger, which caused a flurry of excitement. How would they be able to tell them apart?
Mrs O’Brien, a slight woman of perhaps forty, had retained a slight Irish accent, with overtones of Cockney; as she told them later, ‘I came over here to marry my Tom. I was only seventeen then and he was nineteen. Tom was called up because he was in the Army Reserve, and then . . .’ Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears.
Jessie held out her arms for the baby. ‘I know, my dear; we have had a bereavement too, we understand how you feel . . . What a lovely lad – is he Tom as well?’
‘Yes, how did you guess?’ Mrs O’Brien said, smiling now.
‘He’s your only son, isn’t he? After six girls! I have a grandson, Wilf, named for my first husband, Wilfred. And two wonderful sons in the army, fighting for their country. This is Kathleen, my Sam’s wife; she’s an Irish girl too, from County Clare. Kathleen and the children are with me while Sam is away.’
Jessie introduced the rest of the family one by one, including young Dennis, whom Olga said she remembered. ‘Kathleen will take you over the house so you can choose your rooms. There are three good bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs, which we thought would be ideal for your relatives as they are elderly.’
‘I can share with Bridget,’ Olga suggested. ‘Mrs O’Brien will be with the baby, of course, and the twins will want to be together.’
‘I’m Bridget too,’ said Mrs O’Brien, ‘but please call me Bridie.’
‘If there’s anything you need, just ask Olga and we will try to oblige,’ Jessie said. ‘My husband is about to return to London to collect Josh and Min and your aunt and grandmother. He’ll arrange a carrier for anything he can’t manage in the car. He needs to be back here before dark.’
Bridie suddenly shivered and looked afraid. ‘I wonder if there will be bombs in London tonight . . .’
*
Kathleen hugged her old friends warmly once they arrived. ‘It’s so good to see you again; I’ve missed you!’
‘It’s good to be here,’ Min said. ‘Josh is all ready to renew his teaching career; the carrier will deliver his desk and chair, blackboard and easel, several boxes of books and some old school desks next week. Oh, and my harmonium. And the local priest has offered to say Mass here for the O’Briens once a week.’
‘I’m afraid you will have to go over to the big house when you want a bath, and there’s only an outside privy,’ Kathleen apologised.
‘My dear, remember we are Primitive Methodists, and the manse was certainly that!’ Min replied.
‘How are the boys?’ Kathleen asked tentatively.
‘You have heard, of course, about James and John . . . David was sent home to hospital here. The other boys are in the conflict in the Middle East. Our youngest is still over here, training for the ministry. We need to keep busy ourselves, with all that going on. And praying helps.’
‘That’s how I feel too, about Sam – and Danny,’ Kathleen said. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to settle in and will see you all tomorrow. I have to go to the stables first thing, though.’
‘We are well provided for here,’ Min said gratefully. ‘Thank you, for everything.’
*
Olga was giving the three O’Brien girls an art lesson when Jessie called in after a couple of days to see how they were getting on.
‘It fascinates me to see the twins painting one picture between them,’ she observed to Jessie while the children were engrossed. ‘One is left-handed and one right-, so they don’t cross paths – or rather hands – do they?’
‘Which is which, so I can tell them apart?’ Jessie asked.
‘Louisa is right, and Lucy is left,’ Olga said, and both girls looked up and giggled.
‘Heather is hoping you will be able to finish her portrait – of course she’s grown up a bit since you started it, but it’s a lovely memory of a little girl, I think.’
‘Tell her to come over this weekend, and after I’ve completed her picture, I’ll find out if Kitty would like me to paint her too.’
‘I’m sure she’ll say yes. But I don’t think Jimmy can sit still long enough yet to be painted!’ Jessie smiled. ‘Abraham managed to get a photograph of the three children for Kathleen to send to Sam, though.’
‘They are a lovely family. And how is Danny? His little son must miss him, especially since he lost his mother.’
‘Danny and Marion had . . . parted some time ago. Wilf has spent more of his life with us at Home Farm; he has a devoted companion in my housekeeper, Daisy. It is sad, but she is more of a parent to him than Danny and Marion ever were.’
‘It wasn’t a happy marriage?’
‘Marion’s mother . . . well, she interfered too much. I hope I didn’t . . .’
‘Kathleen obviously thinks of you as her mother.’
‘She means the world to me, Olga,’ said Jessie, adding briskly, ‘Well, I’ll leave you to your lesson and see how they are getting on at the big house.’
‘Josh is chopping wood, I believe, and Min is cooking the meal today; we will join them later on.’
Jessie met Auntie Lou and Grandma for the first time. She knocked on their door and introduced herself, and was surprised to find that Auntie Lou was younger than she had expected. ‘Are you Bridie’s sister?’ she enquired.
‘I suppose you could call me her mother-in-law, because she married my adopted son, Tom. My husband and I couldn’t have children of our own, and Tom was eight years old when he came to us. We fostered him to begin with, and he called me Auntie. This is my mother, Lily . . .’
The old lady reclining in the bath chair suddenly spoke. ‘They call me Grumpy Grandma; they think I don’t know, but my hearing is sharp enough.’
‘Well,’ Jessie improvised, ‘grandmas are entitled to be grumpy sometimes, eh? And aches and pains come with age, as we all
know, but you’re smiling now, so . . .’
‘It’s a shock to leave somewhere you’ve lived for seventy years because of Kaiser Bill and his bombs, but we’re lucky to be here, due to your kindness. Prop me up, Lou, I want to shake hands with the lady!’
Jessie suddenly had a flash of inspiration. ‘I know someone who needs a friend; she’s a bit grumpy too, since she lost her only daughter over in France, so she needs cheering up. I’ll bring her next time I come.’ She mentally crossed her fingers – surely two grumpy grandmas would get on? But would Mrs Amos agree?
*
Dennis was wondering how he could be usefully employed; the pottery was in abeyance until the war was over, and whether the brickyard would ever be a thriving concern again was doubtful. He was fortunate in that he was now back in his old bedroom in the Barn House. Min had said to Jessie, ‘Of course he must come to us; it is the only real home he knows. You are chock-a-block at Home Farm. I can guess your thoughts, Jessie, but I imagine that Josh, tolerant though he is, would it find it difficult if Mrs Amos joined us . . .’
It was Doc who came up with a solution; he suggested that Dennis could be the woodsman over at the brickyard. ‘After all, he worked with Herbie and learned a lot. Then Josh wouldn’t be responsible for the firewood needed in the colder weather – Min mentioned to me that he has heart problems. Dennis is a big strong boy, and he thinks of this part of the world as his home ground.’
Not only did Dennis prove his worth and earn his keep as well as a small wage, as the weather worsened there were requests from old customers for logs, so he was busy from dawn to dusk and was paid a percentage of every order. He delivered the logs in the brickyard cart, and the old horse appeared to be glad to be back in harness.
Heather and Kitty went over to the Barn House most weekends, as Olga was putting the finishing touches to Heather’s portrait. Kitty had made friends with the twins, and Heather now had a best friend too – Bridget, a year her junior.
‘I wonder if Dad will get leave at Christmas,’ Kitty said to Heather hopefully.
‘Dad is in the desert, Mum says, in Egypt, driving the troops around. It must be boiling hot there,’ Heather said.
The Winter Baby Page 23
