by Kitty Neale
‘Your mum told me that you’re menstruating. It’s a rotten thing to happen on your birthday.’
Ellen said nothing as she tried to get to grips with a new word. Menstruating, so that’s what they called it. She hated it – hated that she would have to go through this every month and she still didn’t understand why.
‘Nearly there, Hilda,’ said Gertie as at last they neared the village.
‘Good, I’m flaming freezing.’
‘It’ll get worse before it gets better.’
When they reached the general store, Ellen was about to climb down, but her mum said, ‘There’s no need for you to come in with me. Stay with Gertie.’
‘But…’
She was ignored, her mum hurrying into the shop.
‘What’s going on, Gertie?’ Ellen asked. ‘Don’t ask me, darling.’
It wasn’t long before her mum was back and clutching a cardboard box that Gertie leaned down to take from her while she climbed onto the cart.
‘Mum, what’s that?’ Ellen asked curiously.
‘Nothing much, a bit of shopping, that’s all. Right,’ she said, taking the box from Gertie, ‘we can go back to the cottage now.’
Ellen was puzzled, wondering how her mother had finished her shopping so quickly. ‘Aren’t you going to the butcher’s?’
‘No, now enough questions and let’s get home.’
As Gertie eased the horse out into the road a truck tooted from behind. As she pulled over, the sound of singing reached them as the vehicle passed. The tarpaulin was raised at the back, and they saw several women dressed in breeches, with green jerseys visible under open coats, all of them sporting brown felt hats. Some of them waved and Ellen waved back.
‘It’s the Land Army girls.’
‘The Land Army was first set up during the Great War following disastrous attacks on our merchant shipping,’ Gertie said, using this opportunity to give Ellen a history lesson. ‘We import about sixty percent of our produce, and with so many ships sunk during that war, Britain came close to starvation. The Land Army was formed and the girls carried out vital work in increasing our agricultural output. They were disbanded in 1919, but as we’re now in the same position, the government has re-formed the Land Army. Those women are invaluable to farms, either arable or dairy to increase production, and, though it’s jolly hard work, it’s once again vital.’
‘Rather them than me,’ Hilda said.
Gertie refrained from saying that both she and Ellen had been working the land for ages on her smallholding, and she didn’t know what she would have done without their help. When they left, she’d be lost – but as there was no sign of the war ending, thankfully she didn’t have to worry about it yet.
When they got back to the cottage, Hilda safely stowed the cake. Mrs Brandon had kindly offered to make it, insisting that she had enough ingredients hoarded to make it special. And it was, Hilda thought as she peeped inside the box.
‘Let me look,’ Gertie whispered as she came alongside, placing an arm casually around Hilda as she leaned forward. ‘I told Ellen to go upstairs and change into her old trousers.’
Hilda tensed. When Doug had left seventeen months ago she had missed him so much, and had thought nothing of it when Gertie had comforted her when she cried. The trouble was that since then Gertie still took to throwing an arm around her at every opportunity. Equally casually, Hilda moved away, saying, ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, very pretty, and Ellen’s going to love it. Is it fruit or sponge?’
‘Fruit! You must be joking; dried fruit is getting like gold dust. It’s sponge, but Mrs Brandon has sandwiched it with jam.’
‘I don’t know how she had the patience to make all those tiny little flowers out of icing sugar. I hate doing anything that’s fiddly.’
‘Gertie, let’s face it, you hate anything to do with cooking.’
She grinned. ‘Yes, that’s true, but thankfully you do it now. It’s nice to have you in the kitchen while I’m doing the mucky jobs outside.’
‘When it comes to the pigs, rather you than me.’
‘They’re clean creatures really, but I’d better get on with it,’ Gertie said, giving Hilda another quick hug.
Hilda stiffened, but seeing Gertie’s open smile she decided that she had to be imagining things. Gertie was just being friendly, that was all. They were as close as sisters, and surely sisters occasionally hugged? Not that she had one to judge by and, like Gertie, she was an only child. Hilda was saddened. History was repeating itself with Ellen, and though she’d hoped to find that she was pregnant when Doug had left, once again her hopes had been dashed.
‘Yes, Gertie, you get on while I make a start on our lunch.’
‘Righto, but I can’t wait to see Ellen’s face.’
She’s just being nice, Hilda told herself yet again as Gertie hurried off, yet there was still a niggle of doubt…
At two o’clock, Hilda called both Gertie and Ellen inside. ‘Grub’s up, but before both of you sit down, I think a wash is called for.’
‘Oh…Mum.’
‘Don’t argue, Ellen.’
‘Come on,’ Gertie urged. ‘We are a bit dirty.’
‘A bit! It looks like the two of you have been rolling in mud.’
‘You look nice, Hilda,’ said Gertie, a soft smile on her face.
‘As it’s Ellen’s birthday lunch I thought I’d make a bit of an effort,’ she said, looking down at her skirt. ‘You two should do the same.’
‘I don’t own a skirt,’ Gertie said. ‘Ellen does, though she’s grown so much and I doubt the two she has would fit her now. Go on,’ she urged, ‘at least make yourself presentable.’
They were soon back, smiling with appreciation at the nicely laid table. ‘My, aren’t we posh?’ Gertie said. ‘It’s almost like being back in my father’s house.’
‘Hardly. For one we haven’t got silver cutlery, and this table only seats four, not twelve, but for once I’ve put a nice tablecloth on it.’
‘I think it looks lovely,’ Ellen said as she took a seat. ‘What’s for lunch?’
‘Vegetable soup.’
They all tucked in, and, once finished, Ellen was about to leave the table. ‘Hold on,’ Hilda said. ‘Stay there.’
‘Why?’
‘Never you mind.’
Hilda hurried to the scullery and, taking the cake out from under its cover, she lit the candles, but then suddenly, from nowhere, a strange feeling washed over her. No, no, she had to be imagining it, yet the sense of someone standing beside her, a presence, was strong. She wanted to turn her head, wanted to look, but, frozen with fear, she couldn’t move a muscle.
‘Come on, Hilda,’ Gertie called.
In that instant the spell was broken, leaving Hilda shaken and bewildered. At last she was able to move, to turn her head, but saw nobody there. Still trembling, she picked up the cake, and somehow managed to plant a smile on her face as she carried it into the living room. Her voice sounded a bit quivery, but this was a special moment for Ellen and she didn’t want to spoil it as she sang, ‘Happy birthday to you…Happy birthday to you…’
Gertie joined in and Hilda saw her daughter’s delighted smile. There had been few real treats since the war had started, and suddenly she found her eyes moist with tears. If only Doug were here – if only he hadn’t missed his daughter’s birthday again. Hilda shivered; the incident in the scullery was still with her and now she almost cried out against the thought that crossed her mind. Of course it hadn’t been Doug. She didn’t really believe in ghosts, in spirits, so why was she letting it get to her? It was just fear, Hilda told herself, that was all, the day-in, day-out fear for Doug’s safety.
‘Oh, Mum, it’s smashing,’ Ellen said, her eyes on the cake that Mrs Brandon had decorated so beautifully with pink and white icing.
‘Blow out the candles and make a wish,’ Gertie urged.
‘I…I wish my dad…’
‘Don’t say it o
ut loud,’ Gertie warned. ‘If you do, it won’t come true.’
Ellen closed her eyes, this time making the wish silently, and then opening them she blew out all of the candles in one go. ‘There, it’ll come true now,’ she said, smiling happily.
Hilda fought to pull herself together. She could guess what her daughter had wished for and hoped it would be fulfilled – that Doug would get leave again soon, or, even better, that this rotten war would end and he would come home for good.
Chapter 7
All Hilda’s worries and imaginings left her early in December when she got a letter from Doug. Christmas came, a spartan one, followed by a dismal New Year. There hadn’t been any more strange incidents, but sometimes Hilda found herself thinking about the feeling of someone being there, beside her in the scullery, yet she still couldn’t come up with an explanation.
One day in early January, Hilda decided to talk to Gertie about it, and said, ‘Gertie, do you believe in ghosts?’
‘Of course not. Why?’
‘You’ll think I’m mad, and anyway, it happened over two months ago.’
‘What happened?’
Hilda told her and, seeing the expression on Gertie’s face, she wished she’d continued to keep her mouth shut. ‘All right, I know it sounds potty.’
‘Our mind, senses and eyes can play all sorts of tricks on us, and if you want my opinion, that’s all it was. I refuse to believe in any of the mumbo jumbo that people come up with: ectoplasm, speaking to the dead, or, even worse, fairies at the bottom of our gardens.’
‘What on earth is ectoplasm?’
‘A substance emerges from so-called mediums and is supposed to be spirit, but if you ask me it’s just a clever conjuring trick, an illusion.’
‘So you don’t believe in life after death?’
‘I’d like to think there is, but there lies the problem. Scientists have looked into these claims and so far nothing has been proved. Until it is, I’ll stick with the scientists who deal with fact, not fiction.’
When Gertie talked about ectoplasm and fairies in the garden, Hilda had to admit it sounded a bit silly, yet she still wasn’t convinced. What happened to her had felt so real, yet if investigated she couldn’t offer proof. Oh, she was tired. With windows shut and curtains drawn to keep out the cold, she found the room stuffy and yawned widely. ‘I think I’ll turn in.’
‘All right and goodnight, dear.’
Hilda lit a candle to guide her upstairs, nervous as the flames flickered, illuminating some areas while others remained creepily shadowed. It was this old place, having no electricity, along with being stuck in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps Gertie was right and her mind had played tricks on her. In fact, if she stayed here for much longer, Hilda was beginning to think that it would slowly drive her mad.
Another couple of months passed and at last winter changed to spring again. Ellen loved this time of year when new green shoots emerged on plants and trees. It would be a time of planting again, working outdoors, something she loved.
It was still cold though, and any time spent on the smallholding meant wrapping up well, but digging was a great way to warm up. All three of them worked steadily and, at last, close to the end of March, Ellen’s wish came true. The cottage was too remote for visitors, so when there was a knock on the door they all looked at each other in surprise; Ellen was the one to answer it.
‘Dad! Oh, Dad!’
Moments later her mum was there. ‘Doug! I can’t believe it! It’s nearly two years since you were last here and I was beginning to despair of you ever getting leave again.’
Ellen moved aside as her father took her mother into his arms and their hug seemed to go on for ever.
‘Well, are you going to let me in?’ he finally asked.
Smiling with joy, Ellen walked in ahead of them, but Gertie looked less than pleased. ‘Doug. How long are you here for?’
‘Three weeks.’
‘Is that all?’ Hilda wailed.
‘I know, love, but considering the journey was a bloody nightmare, at least I’m here.’
‘Did you come on that motorbike again?’
‘No, pumpkin, I had to get a train this time.’
‘How did you get here from the station?’ asked Gertie.
‘I managed to get a lift for part of the way, but had to walk the rest.’
Ellen couldn’t take her eyes off her father. He looked so handsome in his navy blue uniform, sailor’s hat worn at a jaunty angle and blue eyes shining as he held his arms out to her mum. She ran into them again, the two of them locked in an embrace. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he murmured.
‘I’ve missed you too, but look at me, in trousers, no make-up, and my hair in a turban.’
‘Darlin’, to me you’d look great in a sack, in fact, I can’t wait to get you into one.’
‘Doug! Ellen’s listening.’
‘Sorry, but how about a kiss?’
Ellen looked away as her parents’ lips met and her eyes fell on Gertie. She frowned, puzzled. Gertie looked furious, her face dark with anger. Yet why? She was about to ask her what was wrong, but then found herself pulled forward, her father’s arms enclosing her as well.
‘Come here, pumpkin. My God, look at you. You’ve grown so much.’
‘Are you hungry, Doug?’
‘Hilda, you know me, I’m always hungry.’
‘Yes, like father like daughter,’ Hilda said happily. ‘Well then, I’d best get you something to eat.’
Gertie had seen Ellen looking at her, the puzzled look on her face, and somehow managed to compose herself. It hadn’t been easy. She hated seeing Hilda in Doug’s arms, kissing him, and anger, along with jealousy, made her stomach churn. Hilda looked ecstatic as she scurried to make Doug something to eat, and now his attention was focused on Ellen as he sat down, pulling her onto his lap.
‘How’s my girl, then?’ he asked, hugging her close.
Gertie couldn’t stand it any more. Doug’s arrival was an unwanted intrusion, spoiling everything, and her carefully built-up illusion was being shattered again. When he’d left last time she had picked up the pieces, comforted Hilda, pretending sympathy when she cried, but feeling nothing but joy as she held Hilda’s slender body in her arms. Hilda seemed so fragile, so delicate, but of course that was an illusion too. Hilda was an enigma, appearing frail, yet sometimes as tough as old boots and was it any wonder that she loved this feisty, yet sometimes soft, woman?
Of course it hadn’t lasted, Hilda’s tears abating, and, with no excuse to wrap her arms around her, Gertie had to be content with just the occasional quick hug. Hilda had been with her for so long now and she’d been sure they were growing closer, dreamed of feeling Hilda’s lips on hers, but now Doug was here to come between them again.
‘What’s up, Gertie? You don’t look pleased to see me.’
Startled out of her thoughts, she said, ‘Er…of course I am, Doug. It’s nice for Hilda and Ellen, but such a shame you’re only here for three weeks. Anyway, lots to do so I’d best get on.’ On that note, Gertie hurried outside. Three weeks! Why couldn’t it be three days? Even better, three hours. There was only one crumb of comfort, Gertie decided as she tramped over the smallholding. When Doug left, Hilda would be distraught and would turn to her again for comfort.
It was only when they were in bed that night that Hilda and Doug could talk privately, but as they fell into each other’s arms after nearly two years apart, all Doug’s worries were put to one side as he made love, first passionately, and then gently, to his wife.
The sheets and blankets were in a tangle, their bodies glistening with perspiration, but now, as Hilda lay with her head on his chest, his worries returned and Doug voiced his thoughts. ‘Hilda, what’s going on with Gertie? She didn’t look too pleased when I arrived.’
‘I didn’t notice. I was too busy looking at you.’
‘I know I asked this last time I was here, but has she, you know, tried it on?’
&nbs
p; ‘Of course she hasn’t. I’ve told you before, we’re like sisters.’
‘Then how come when I was hugging you she looked jealous?’
‘Don’t be daft. You’re imagining things,’ Hilda told him.
‘If you say so,’ Doug said doubtfully as his eyelids drooped with tiredness. It had been a long day, delay after delay on the trains before he’d finally arrived; his last thought before falling asleep that he’d keep an eye on Gertie while he was here. If his suspicions were right, he wanted his wife and daughter as far away from her as possible.
Hilda lifted her head to see that Doug was asleep, the soft glow of a full, luminous moon shining on his face. She moved gently away to prop herself up on one elbow, gazing at him, heart bursting with love. Every day she had worried about his safety, fearing that his ship would join so many others that had been sunk with horrendous loss of lives. The thought of U-boats terrified her, visions of huge, dark prey, sneaking silently under the seas, torpedoes ready to strike unsuspecting vessels. She had nightmares, seeing Doug’s ship hit, of him fighting to get on deck while fire raged all around him. Hilda shuddered, recalling the many times she had awoken in the night, her nightmares so vivid she had thought them real.
She frowned, thinking about what he’d said about Gertie, and, though she had denied them at the time, his concerns echoed her own. Gertie had looked annoyed when Doug arrived, and she’d been funny with him all day.
Doug turned in his sleep and as his arm wrapped around her body, Hilda at last lay down. She didn’t want to worry about Gertie, didn’t want her short time with Doug ruined. She’d continue to deny her concerns and, anyway, Gertie hadn’t really tried anything – just an occasional hug that didn’t really make her feel threatened in any way. If Doug thought there was more to it, he’d go mad, so she would just have to alleviate his worries somehow.
