by Tania Crosse
‘Yes.’ Meg’s voice was small. ‘But so’s America. The Japanese couldn’t expect them to take such an attack lying down.’
‘At least America’s decided to join us in the fight against Hitler, as well. At last,’ Maggie Fenshaw put in glumly. ‘So that’s maybe one good thing to come of it, even if they have lost half their fleet and so many brave young men, too.’
‘Tell you what, I wouldn’t like to be a British colonial out in the Far East just now, either,’ Meg considered, her frown deepening. ‘A rubber plantation owner or something. They say the Japs are ruthless fanatics, even worse than the SS, if that’s possible.’
‘All society parties and G and T’s.’ Alan shook his head gravely. ‘No good can come of a life like that. But I pity the poor sods if they don’t get out before the Japs get there. Lose everything, they will. And it’s women and children, too. Not just the menfolk. And I reckon there won’t be much either we or the Yanks’ll be able to do to help them.’
‘Yes, well, you’d think we had enough on our plates keeping Hitler off our shores,’ Maggie sighed. ‘I just wonder where our Paul will be sent when his training’s over.’
Meg watched as Alan reached out and squeezed his wife’s arm, and a little piece of her heart tore. Yes. It was a rare person who had nobody to fret over. A husband or sweetheart, a son or father, uncle, cousin or friend. She almost envied the twins whose parents had disappeared without trace, and the boys didn’t seem to care too much. They could probably find their mum and dad if they really wanted to. They must have changed their rationing registration, and surely a few enquiries around the food shops would shed some light on the matter. Unless they’d moved right away, of course.
‘Mr Wigmore’s former chauffeur,’ Meg said, not sure where the thought had come from, ‘he’s out in North Africa somewhere. Sent us a letter a little while ago which was nice. Didn’t say a lot, of course. They’re not allowed to. And it’d only be censored if they did.’
Alan sucked in his lips and released an enormous breath through his nostrils as he pulled himself to his feet. ‘Well, we’ve got plenty of work to do in the morning, so I’m off to bed,’ he announced. ‘The way the man from the ministry’s pushing us, the next thing we know, we’ll be having to dig up the verge along the track to grow turnips and what have you to feed the extra sheep he wants us to have. I’m beginning to wonder if we’re not going to need another pair of hands soon.’
‘Hmm.’ Meg gave a half smile. ‘He certainly pushes hard. Anyway, I’ll just let the dogs have a run and then I’ll turn in, too.’
‘We’ll leave you to lock up, then.’
‘Yes, of course. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight. Sleep well.’
As soon as Meg stepped towards the door, Thimble sprang up from toasting herself near the range. Slipping into her old duffel coat and wellingtons, Meg went outside into the raw December night and unhooked Jed, the Fenshaw’s sheepdog, from his chain. Although Jed was an outside dog, Alan and Maggie had been quite happy for Thimble to live inside, since that was what she was used to. The two dogs got on well, and mouthed each other playfully as they set off across the farmyard to the fallow field beyond.
Meg didn’t follow them. She knew they’d come back as soon as she called. Instead, she went to spend a few minutes with Duchess in her loose-box. The giant mare was lying down asleep, but she was happy to rouse herself and nuzzle against the shoulder of the human she’d known for so long.
‘With all this extra work and hardly any petrol to do it with, I’m that glad we kept old Duchess when we took over the farm from you,’ Alan had declared to Meg on numerous occasions.
Meg had been glad, too – more than glad, more like ecstatic – when the first time Ralph had brought her back to visit her old home, she’d discovered Duchess still in the stable. ‘Goodnight, old girl,’ Meg said now, kissing Duchess’s soft, velvety nose. ‘See you in the morning.’
Shutting up the stable, she called the dogs and they at once came bounding back to her. She re-clipped Jed onto his chain and he curled up snugly in his kennel, while Thimble followed Meg back inside the farmhouse.
Upstairs, Meg changed into her nightclothes and slid into her old, childhood bed, in the room that, apart from the time spent at Robin Hill House, had been hers since birth. She missed all her friends back at the big house, but true to her word, she pedalled back there once a fortnight if Alan could spare her. And she was going back for a few days over Christmas. For Ralph had been promised some much overdue leave.
But who knew, anything could have happened by then. She just prayed Ralph would indeed be by her side on Christmas morning.
*
Meg leant forward to adjust the bunch of glossy holly that she’d placed on her parents’ double grave.
So there we are, she spoke to them in her head. The whole world’s at war. Again. And as you know, I’m back at the farm. So things have gone full circle. It’s only temporary, of course. When the Fenshaws’ son comes back from the war, I won’t be needed there anymore. And anyway, I still want my own farm. Unless Ralph really objects. I’ve never told him my plans, you see. I know I should have done… But he is a gardener, and that’s a bit like being a farmer, isn’t it? But that’s all in the future. If there is a future. All anyone wants now is for the war to be over, but it’s going to be a long haul, and nobody knows what’s going to happen in the end.
I hope you like the holly. At least it’s got red berries. You can’t get proper flowers now. Everyone’s growing vegetables instead. But, if you can hear me, Happy Christmas wherever you are. I’ll come again in the New Year. So, God bless, and I love and miss you both so much.
She squeezed her lips together to stem her threatening tears, and kissing her fingertips, let them linger on the headstone a moment before she stood up. It was stupid, she knew, the way she came to talk to her parents like this. But there was always the thought that maybe their spirits were fluttering somewhere near, and that they could still sense her presence, if nothing else.
She turned away, back to reality, to Thimble lying patiently, tethered to the gate. The dog got up, eagerly sweeping her tail over the frost-hard ground, as her mistress came towards her. As Meg untied the lead, she happened to spy on the opposite side of the road, a figure that stirred something deep in her memory.
‘Mandy?’ she called hesitantly.
The young woman stopped and turned round, a frown shadowing her face. And then as realisation dawned, she crossed over to Meg’s side of the road. ‘It’s Meg, isn’t it? Meg Chandler? Oh, my goodness, it’s been years! I didn’t know where you’d gone when you left.’
‘Yes. Five years to be precise.’ Meg at once felt a little ashamed at not having kept in contact with her old school friend. ‘And I’m sorry now I just upped and left,’ she apologised. ‘But I was all over the place at the time.’
‘Yeah, I can understand that. Your parents and everything,’ Mandy smiled sympathetically. ‘It’s good to see you again, mind. How are you? And what brings you back here? Oh, silly me. Been to the graveyard. And… this isn’t the dog you had before, is it? Gorgeous, mind,’ she ended, ruffling Thimble’s head.
‘No.’ Meg’s throat closed up. ‘This is Thimble. Mercury, well, he died,’ she said, not wanting to relate the full horror of how her beloved pet had been deliberately poisoned.
‘What, you lost him, as well?’ Mandy was appalled. ‘Oh, you poor thing, that’s terrible! I am sorry. But… tell us more about yourself. Married, I see.’
‘How—?’
‘The ring gives it away. But… oh, my God, don’t tell me you’re…?’
‘Widowed?’ Meg released a wry sigh. ‘No, thank God. But… who knows? RAF.’
‘Bomber or fighter?’
‘Neither. Special Ops.’
‘Wow.’
‘And you?’
‘Engaged. Army. North Africa somewhere.’
‘Ah.’ Meg gave an understanding nod. ‘I know someone el
se out there, too.’ And then she pulled herself up short, her forehead rucking. ‘Isn’t it awful? We haven’t seen each other in years, and the first thing we ask each other is if our other half is still alive’
‘Yeah, it should be, let’s go and celebrate meeting up again. Have a girls’ night out. I mean, we can still do that, but it’s not the same, is it?’
‘No. We could have a great night out, and then come home to bad news. But, are you still working at the milliner’s?’
‘Nah. Trade dropped off. Who wants a new hat now clothes are on coupons? Got me marching orders back in September, and been idling ever since. I’ll get me call-up papers soon, though, I expect. Thought I might try and join the Land Army.’
Meg’s eyes stretched wide. ‘Really? I’m a Land Girl. Back at my old home. The Fenshaws’ now.’
‘Ah, yeah, that’s right. So how did that come about?’
Meg explained as briefly as she could about Robin Hill House, watching the astonishment growing on her old friend’s face. Mandy could hardly believe how things had worked out for her.
‘Flipping heck, that’s amazing,’ she gasped. ‘To think you went to live with the people who caused the accident.’
‘Not them, their chauffeur was to blame,’ Meg corrected her. ‘You saw them at the funeral. They’re good people, and my new family now. And of course, that’s how I met Ralph.’
‘And now you’re back at Home Farm.’
‘Just for the duration.’ Both girls smiled ruefully, and Meg considered how Mandy seemed to have grown up a lot in the intervening years. She’d always been kind and friendly, but they’d never been ever so close. But Meg had the feeling their relationship could pick up again.
‘Tell you what, if you’re serious about the Land Army,’ she ventured, ‘the Fenshaws are thinking they might need someone else, as well. The man from the ministry wants blood, and we’re going to have to grow fodder on every inch of ground to feed the extra sheep he wants us to have. I can ask Alan and Maggie if you like. It’s really hard work. Almost everything has to be done by hand. Look, you’ll get broken nails and callouses,’ she grimaced, holding out her hands.
‘Hmm, nothing a nail file and a bit of polish wouldn’t sort out,’ Mandy grinned back. ‘I’ve still got quite a collection from before the war. Gone a bit thick, but you can still use them. So it strikes me, if the Fenshaws are agreeable, we’re on!’
*
‘That, my darling, was the best Christmas present any man could ask for. Even if it was a day late.’
‘Oh, you!’ Meg pulled the pillow from behind her head and playfully hit Ralph with it. ‘Yesterday was Christmas Day, and we were expected to be up early. And last night, you were the one who fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Ralph’s mouth was spread wide as he laughed aloud. ‘How ridiculous was that?’
Meg’s face moved into soft lines. ‘You’re exhausted,’ she said, reaching up to cup his lean jaw. Certainly there were dark smudges under his eyes, and his cheeks were more hollow than ever. ‘The work you do for the war is really special, but I can see it puts a strain on you. You need more than just a few days’ leave.’
‘I know.’ Ralph’s expression became more serious. ‘And then I could make love to my beautiful wife over and over again. Like this.’ He propped himself up on one elbow, intensity burning in his eyes as he lowered his head against her bare shoulder, kissing her skin with feather-light touch and trailing his lips down towards her breasts. Beneath the covers, his fingertips walked over her slender thighs to find that secret place, making her gasp with pleasure again. ‘And like this,’ he muttered, covering her mouth with his and taking her on a wondrous journey once more.
She let herself fall back into that miraculous world, a world where there were no guns or bombs, just white petals and pink roses and sunshine and the heady scent of the flowers Ralph had grown in a magical garden just for her. She floated away to a place where dreams come true, and she clung onto Ralph’s strong, dependable frame as he moved slowly and leisurely inside her until she exploded with joy, crying out with elation.
‘Sshh!’ he chuckled. ‘You don’t want everyone to hear, do you?’
‘I don’t think I care, to be honest,’ Meg grinned back. ‘Just to have you here is so wonderful. I just… I just wish you didn’t have to go back tomorrow,’ she choked.
‘So do I. But at least I’ve got home leave. Some poor wretches will be separated for years.’
They instantly fell sombre again, and Meg pulled her nightdress back over her head as she sat up. ‘Yes. Mandy, my old friend I told you about, her fiancé’s in North Africa, like Vic. And she doesn’t know when she’ll see him again. If ever.’
‘Well, let’s try not to think about it just now.’ Ralph gave her that smile that melted her heart. ‘Let’s just enjoy the day. Pity Mr Perry and Mrs Sofia couldn’t make it. They’d have livened things up a bit.’
‘Yes. They couldn’t manage the petrol ration, and Sofia refuses point blank to go on a train. Can you imagine her flicking her scarf about in a carriage crammed with soldiers?’
‘And with Boris having joined up now, she mightn’t be so jolly anymore.’
‘Hmm, you’re probably right there. But I’m sure dear Penny will keep us all amused. But I think it’s about time we put in an appearance, don’t you? Your mum and dad asked us round for breakfast, remember?’
‘If we must. I’d rather stay here all day with you.’
‘Ralph Hillier, you’re incorrigible.’
‘Oh, all right, then. I must say I’m looking forward to egg and bacon again, even if we are eating Percy Piggy,’ he teased, pulling a face.
‘You can’t be sentimental about such things as a farmer,’ she scolded him, getting up and slipping into her dressing gown. ‘And there is a war on, you know.’ And then she released an exasperated breath as someone knocked gently on the front door. ‘I wonder who that is?’ she sighed.
‘I’ll go,’ Ralph offered, and he disappeared downstairs.
Meg recognised Gabriel’s voice, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. She heard the front door close again and a few seconds later, she turned to Ralph with a smile as he came back into the bedroom. But the smile faded from her face as she saw his expression.
‘Breakfast’s ready,’ he said absently. And then he murmured, ‘Hong Kong’s surrendered. It’s just been on the wireless. The Japs… There’s been a terrible massacre. Things couldn’t really be worse, could they?’
And as Meg stared at his stricken face, her chest contracted. While they’d been lost in their love for one another, on the other side of the world, people had been engulfed in horror. Dear God, would there ever be a way out?
Twenty-Four
1942
A cold, deadening drizzle enshrouded the April night in a dank, miserable mist, but inside the lambing shed, all was warm and cosy. With a good foot of straw on the concrete floor, and twenty odd sheep in their woolly fleeces radiating heat, Mandy was surprised to find that she didn’t feel the least bit cold, even though it was two o’clock in the morning. Over their trousers and thick jumpers, Mandy and Meg both wore the sort of boiler suit that Winston Churchill had made popular. And though she knew it was their turn to stay up all night for this particular group of ewes that were due to lamb, Mandy wasn’t at all tired. Although she’d lived in the countryside all her life, she’d never been closely involved with lambing. It was all new and exciting to her, and witnessing the birth of lambs in the middle of the night was quite magical.
‘It’s so calm and peaceful, isn’t it?’ she mused as there was a lull in the proceedings. ‘Nothing like being out in the countryside at night, is there?’
Meg gave a contented smile. ‘I’ve always loved lambing. Delivered my first lamb when I was four.’
‘Crikey.’
‘Yup. But with my dad keeping a close eye on me, of course. He let me do more difficult ones by the t
ime I was eight, but I was ten before he’d let me stay up at night. I loved it. It was so mysterious, being out in the dark. Working just by the light of a hurricane lamp. Ironic, really.’ Meg paused to scoff with bitterness. ‘I was always on at my dad to badger the electricity people to get us connected to the National Grid, but he said it was up to the landlord. But he did eventually get a generator so we could install the milking parlour. But now Alan and Maggie have got mains electricity, we can’t use it out here because of the blackout. So we’ve got to grope around in near darkness yet again!’
‘Better than being bombed.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Meg agreed, shrugging her eyebrows. ‘Not really had any air raids to speak of recently, though, have we? Most of the news seems to be about the Far East, what with the fall of Singapore and everything.’
‘Yeah,’ Mandy sighed. ‘There’s not been much about North Africa of late, neither. I wonder what my Dennis and his lot are up to. And you must be wondering if your Ralph’s flying one of his missions as we speak.’
Meg nodded. She knew Mandy meant well, but it instantly triggered the old, strangling fear. ‘I just try not to think about it,’ she gulped. ‘Ralph seemed a bit strained over Christmas. He tried to hide it, but I could tell. He needs a good long break. I’m worried he’ll start making mistakes if he’s pushed too far.’
‘Yeah, that’s a worry for everyone, isn’t it? When you’re tired.’ Despite her excitement, Mandy couldn’t suppress a long, satisfying yawn. ‘Shall I pour us a coffee from the flask? That chicory stuff’s terribly bitter, but at least it’ll be hot.’
‘I just want to have a look at that ewe, first,’ Meg answered, tramping through the thick bedding of straw. ‘She was moon-gazing earlier and she’s been restless for quite a while. If you can help me catch her, I’ll have a quick feel inside.’
‘Righty-ho. So which one is it?’
‘That one,’ Meg pointed, pulling the top of the boiler suit from her shoulders and rolling up her right sleeve before quickly washing her arm in the bucket of water. ‘Her blue mark’s slightly longer than some.’
