A Christmas Wish for the Land Girls

by Jenny Holmes

  ‘Shall I fetch another glass of water?’ Giles asked as once again Geoff rushed to the rescue.

  Evelyn and Brenda waited for Geoff to bring Dorothy to them. She sank into the chair that Evelyn had refused, one hand on her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

  Geoff crouched beside her. ‘All right, Dorothy, take it easy. Deep breaths; that’s right. Can you explain what’s wrong?’

  She panted rapidly and let her head sink forward.

  ‘We have to get her out of here,’ he decided instantly. He looked at the throng of dancers as he considered the best and quickest way to do this.

  ‘Let me run to the house and fetch the car,’ Giles suggested. When Geoff nodded he departed quickly.

  Geoff carried on tending to Dorothy. ‘Listen to me, whatever has upset you, it’s important for you to try to calm down. You should probably take some medicine to help your heart so I’m going to drive you straight home and see that you take it. Giles won’t be long fetching the car. Is that all right? Can you hear me?’

  ‘Cliff,’ she whimpered as she tried to push her old friend away.

  ‘Never mind about your brother,’ Geoff insisted. ‘He can look after himself.’

  ‘He’s … she’s … Oh, how could he?’ Dorothy flapped her hands to ward him off then covered her face and collapsed forward again.

  Evelyn took a short, sharp breath. With a panicky glance at Brenda, she started to push her way towards the door.

  Ernie crooned the closing words of the song. ‘Merry and bright … may all your Christmases be white.’ Douglas deftly steered Elsie towards the bunch of mistletoe hanging in the porch. Kathleen let Mouse lead her towards the refreshment tables.

  ‘Ladies and gents, there will now be a short interval,’ Ernie announced as he closed the lid of his piano.

  Cold air hit Evelyn as she pushed past Elsie and her dance partner locked in an embrace. It was pitch black outside but she could hear two voices arguing loudly.

  ‘You’re wasting your time! Do you hear me, Gladys?’ Cliff bellowed.

  With rising dread Evelyn followed the sound.

  ‘It won’t do any good. You can’t make me change my mind.’

  ‘No, but I can queer your pitch here in Shawcross!’ the woman yelled back.

  ‘So what?’

  ‘So!’ she screeched. ‘It will serve you right. Everyone will know you for what you are – your sister, your dad; everyone!’

  He laughed mirthlessly. ‘I always knew you had a nasty streak, Gladys.’

  Gradually Evelyn’s eyes grew used to the dark and she was drawn towards two figures standing by the stone cross in the middle of the green. She saw the glowing tip of Cliff’s cigarette and felt the prickle of its smoke as it entered her nostrils.

  ‘Is that right?’ the woman said. ‘You might have succeeded in fooling some of the yokels in this God-forsaken place but you don’t fool me. Does that sister of yours have a brain inside her head, by the way? Or is she as daft as she looks?’

  ‘Go ahead, say what you like about my family; I don’t give a damn.’

  ‘You knew I had a nasty streak yet you married me.’ The woman’s voice dripped with scorn. ‘You trotted me down the aisle regardless.’

  Suddenly Evelyn’s legs refused to hold her weight and she sank to the cold ground.

  ‘And don’t I wish I hadn’t. Who in their right mind would want to tie the knot with you?’ Cliff flicked his cigarette to the ground and stamped on it.

  ‘You did, though, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes; because …!’

  ‘Because what, Cliff?’ The strident voice was relentless. ‘Don’t tell me it was because you wanted to do the decent thing.’

  ‘Yes, and more fool me,’ he said bitterly. ‘You can’t squeeze any more money out of me, by the way.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing!’ Gladys gave another hollow laugh then out of the corner of her eye she saw Evelyn collapsed on the ground, struggling to stand up again. ‘Oh look; who have we here? No, don’t tell me – it’s Rita Hayworth, no less.’

  With a great effort Evelyn raised herself and carried on walking towards them. Cliff backed away while the woman stood her ground.

  ‘Is it true?’ Evelyn asked him. Her heart felt as if it had been ripped out of her ribcage and she could scarcely mouth the words.

  ‘Tell her, Cliff,’ the woman said.

  There was silence except for the hum of chatter from the hall.

  ‘All right; if you won’t, I will.’ This was Gladys’s moment and she was determined to make the most of it, extending her hand towards Evelyn as if pleased to make her acquaintance. ‘I’m Gladys Huby. And you are?’

  Huby? She is his wife then. Cliff has lied to me from the start. ‘Is it true?’ Evelyn repeated. She ignored the woman and stared at Cliff. ‘Are you already married?’

  ‘Oh, Cliff, what have you done?’ As things clicked into place, Gladys lowered her voice and spoke with mock sympathy. ‘Has he been leading you on, love? Yes, that would be my husband’s style.’

  ‘Is it true?’ Evelyn demanded for a third time.

  ‘You’re definitely his type, I’ll give you that.’ Gladys took a cigarette case from her handbag then pushed her face towards Cliff with a cigarette between her lips. ‘Do you have a light, by any chance?’

  He swore and pushed her to one side, making her stumble against the stone plinth. Then he turned to Evelyn and spoke urgently: ‘Go back inside. I’ll explain later.’

  Gladys tucked her silk scarf back in place then adjusted her collar. ‘Did you see that?’ she asked coolly.

  ‘No, Cliff; explain now.’ Evelyn kept her eyes fixed on his face.

  ‘Yes, all right; I’m married to this … this!’ Fury robbed him of the word he was searching for. ‘But I haven’t clapped eyes on her in years.’

  ‘Three, to be exact,’ Gladys confirmed. ‘December the fifth, nineteen thirty-nine; that’s when he left me in the lurch. We’d been married just under three months.’

  ‘And I’ll tell you why I agreed to marry her, shall I?’ He stabbed his finger towards Gladys without looking at her.

  Evelyn’s heart shuddered under the fierceness of his gaze. Her stomach cramped and bile rose to her throat.

  ‘Because she was expecting. That’s what she told me, at any rate. But it turned out to be a lie.’

  ‘He means I lost the baby at sixteen weeks,’ Gladys countered calmly as she delved into her bag and found a lighter for her cigarette.

  ‘So she says! But I found out there never was any baby. It was all a trick.’

  ‘Stop!’ Evelyn pleaded. She turned away to be sick, holding her arms across her stomach and retching violently.

  ‘There was a baby and it died,’ Gladys maintained as she offered Evelyn a handkerchief from her bag. ‘That’s when Cliff scarpered and I found out that he was the one who’d been telling me a pack of lies, not the other way around. He’d given me a wrong address for a start. He said his family lived in Sheffield. That particular wild-goose chase kept me busy for quite a while.’

  ‘I don’t want to hear,’ Evelyn pleaded.

  ‘I didn’t give up, though. I was Cliff’s wife and I had the papers to prove it.’

  ‘I married you under false pretences!’ he raged, like a beast trapped under a net, snarling and lashing out at his captor.

  Gladys inhaled smoke then blew it out from the side of her mouth. ‘Eventually I went right back to the start of the trail, to the Red Lion in Northgate where I’d first met him, just as the war was starting. Do you remember, Cliff? We listened to Mr Chamberlain on the wireless, telling us it would all be over before Christmas; no more Herr Hitler and his Nazi army marching into Poland willy-nilly. “I’ll drink to that!” you said. Everyone was very merry.

  ‘No one in the pub remembered you when I went back, though. The landlord was the same but he didn’t recognize you from the description I gave. Tall, dark and handsome were ten a penny round there, he
said. “Ask at the baker’s on the corner,” he told me. “They might know more about your Cliff Huby. Or else at the Lyons tea shop on the corner of Kitchener Street.” One thing led to another – the nippies in the tea shop said to try the lady in the hat shop and finally, here I am.’

  ‘Thanks to me.’ A fourth person had stepped unobserved from a parked car and was approaching their group. It was Muriel Woodthorpe, picking her way between mounds of melting snow, as prim and proper as ever. ‘I was the one who made the connection earlier today. I never forget a face, by the way. That’s him, I realized in a flash. Gladys Huby’s husband has gone to ground right here in Shawcross!’

  *

  ‘Will she be all right?’ As Dorothy was carried from the hall into Geoff’s waiting car, Kathleen broke away from her dance partner to speak to Joyce.

  ‘Let’s hope so.’ Joyce kept her fingers firmly crossed. They must trust Geoff to know what he was doing. But Dorothy looked terrible. She was still struggling for breath, her head lolling forward, as Geoff placed her carefully on the back seat then sat beside her and ordered Giles to drive to Garthside Farm as fast as he could.

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ Elsie had joined the growing group of Land Girls standing outside the hall.

  ‘It’s her heart.’ Brenda was caught between staying with the group and setting out after Evelyn. Shocked by the first firm evidence she’d seen of Dorothy’s condition, she regretted how easily she’d dismissed it up till now as exaggeration and an excuse for laziness. ‘She has special medicine to deal with it,’ she told Elsie.

  ‘Would you believe it?’ Kathleen shivered and drew her cardigan around her shoulders. ‘One minute she’s singing her little heart out then the next thing you know, she’s at death’s door.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Elsie said with a shudder.

  ‘No, don’t,’ Joyce added quietly, thinking that it must have been the strain of organizing tonight that had brought on this attack. After all, Dorothy had been so determined to make a success of the event that she’d been on the go non-stop for days.

  Brenda alone had kept track of Dorothy’s actions just prior to her collapse; she’d seen the determined way she’d reacted to her brother’s mysterious exit by running out after him, returning soon after in a state of hysterics. Now, though, Brenda slid away from the girls who were wondering whether it would be best to call a halt to the dance and send everyone home early.

  ‘That would be a shame,’ Kathleen said. ‘We’re all having such a good time.’

  ‘But this has put a definite dampener on things.’ Elsie was less in favour of carrying on. ‘What do you think, Joyce? If you were in Dorothy’s shoes, what would you want us to do?’

  Brenda ran across the green towards raised voices. She heard Cliff shout and a woman interrupt him but it was too dark to make out exactly where they were. ‘Evelyn?’ she called. ‘It’s Brenda. Where are you?’

  ‘Do you hear that?’ Gladys nudged Evelyn with her elbow. ‘Someone seems keen to get hold of you.’

  Recoiling from her touch, Evelyn backed into Muriel.

  ‘Watch what you’re doing,’ Muriel complained. ‘Well?’ she demanded of Gladys with a long-suffering sigh. ‘You’ve found him, so what now?’

  ‘Evelyn, are you there?’ At last Brenda made out a group of four people gathered by the cross: three women and one man, caught in silhouette in the light from the open doorway of the Cross Keys.

  ‘What next, hubby of mine?’ Gladys repeated Muriel’s question as a direct challenge to Cliff. ‘Are you willing to come home with me and play Happy Families?’

  Cliff swore and lunged at her.

  ‘I didn’t think so,’ Gladys mocked.

  Brenda arrived out of breath. ‘There you are!’ she gasped at Evelyn, who sat down heavily on the stone ledge behind her, holding a handkerchief to her mouth. ‘I was worried about you.’

  ‘She’s had a shock,’ Gladys told her as she continued to glare at Cliff.

  Muriel obviously felt that honour was satisfied and that it was time to go. ‘Will you look after her?’ she asked Brenda who sat down next to Evelyn. ‘Make sure she gets home safely.’

  ‘Bugger off, you two!’ Cliff exploded. He shoved Muriel out of the way. ‘You – whoever you are – mind your own business.’ He squared up to Gladys. ‘And you; I swear I’ll wring your bloody neck!’

  Brenda leaped to her feet. ‘Steady on.’ She shoved Cliff sideways, away from the two women. ‘Can someone please tell me what’s going on?’

  Evelyn stood up more slowly, her hair tumbling forward over her bare shoulders, her hands shaking. ‘It’s all right, Brenda; I’ll explain later.’

  ‘Go on; bugger off out of here!’ Cliff cursed again and raised his fists, forcing Gladys to stumble backwards.

  Muriel needed no further telling. ‘Don’t worry, we’re leaving.’ She hitched her handbag into the crook of her arm then set off towards her car. ‘Come along, Gladys.’

  Cliff’s wife weighed up the new situation. She hadn’t bargained on a hysterical sister or a jealous girlfriend when she’d planned this little expedition into the Dales, or on a friend being willing to stick her oar in. And, to judge by a quick glance towards the hall where a large group had gathered, there was every chance that others would join them. ‘Rightio,’ she decided. ‘I’ll say ta-ta for now.’

  Cliff lunged again but was restrained by Brenda while Gladys caught up with Muriel. He shook himself free then turned to Evelyn and spoke roughly. ‘Come on; I’ll give you a lift home.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Brenda warned her not to accept. Cliff’s mood was dangerous. Evelyn seemed dazed and confused.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she insisted. ‘I want to have this out with him.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ A dozen questions whirled inside Evelyn’s head. They couldn’t wait.

  ‘I’ll be in the church hall if you need me,’ Brenda said warily.

  ‘Ta. I’ll come and find you in a while.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel right to leave you.’

  ‘I’ll be all right. Go back inside.’

  So Brenda turned and walked slowly across the green. She’d almost reached the hall when she remembered she hadn’t told Cliff about Dorothy. She turned again to retrace her steps but he and Evelyn had already disappeared.

  ‘Why?’ Evelyn wanted to know. The shock was subsiding, leaving her with an empty feeling that needed to be filled with answers. ‘Why ask me to marry you when you were already married?’

  They’d left the green and walked over the packhorse bridge leading to Black Crag. Cliff was ready with his answer. ‘Because I love you, that’s why.’

  She quickened her pace. ‘What does that mean: you love me? It’s a word, Cliff – that’s all.’

  ‘No, it’s more than that.’ He beat his fist against his chest as if to say that was where the feeling for her was seated. ‘It’s deep down. It’s never happened to me before; you’ve got to believe me.’

  ‘Still just words.’

  He caught at her hand. ‘What about when we’re in bed together? Is that just words?’

  ‘Let go of me. Don’t touch me.’

  ‘Is it, though?’ He ran ahead of her and walked backwards as he spoke. ‘Think of that, Evie.’

  ‘I don’t want to think of that.’ His reminder of their lovemaking made her furious. ‘I want to know why you lied to me.’

  His head drooped and he stopped walking. ‘Because I wouldn’t have stood a chance if I’d told you the truth,’ he said plainly and simply.

  ‘That’s right; you wouldn’t.’ Her mind flew back to the day in summer when she’d arrived at the castle and first set eyes on Cliff as she’d stood with her suitcase in the yard. He and Weatherall had come out of the fresh green wood carrying a shotgun apiece and a brace of pheasants. The contrast between them – the old and the young – had struck her. She’d noticed the way Cliff had of managing his doddery boss by yelling explanat
ions in his ear then leading him by the elbow into the house. He’d come out again and shaken her by the hand. ‘I must say, you’re a pleasant surprise.’ There’d been no attempt to hide his admiration. A searching look had had its intended effect, leaving her flustered and speechless. ‘Things are definitely looking up,’ he’d said as he’d sauntered into his cottage, leaving her standing there.

  No mention that he had a wife or a girlfriend. Everything about his behaviour suggesting the opposite.

  ‘I didn’t set out to lie to you,’ he muttered miserably above the sound of the stream rushing under the bridge. ‘It just happened.’

  Her anger rose still higher. ‘Lies don’t just happen – you make them happen!’

  ‘Not on purpose. The subject never came up. And then I was in too deep – it was too late.’

  ‘That’s still not good enough. It’s a weak thing to say.’

  ‘Weak or not, it’s the truth. Anyway, Evie, I couldn’t have stayed away from you even if I’d tried. Every morning I looked out of my window, there you were, harnessing the horse or heaping tools into a wheelbarrow, sleeves rolled back, hair lifted up off your neck, showing off your figure in those trousers.’

  ‘I never showed off my figure on purpose.’ Exasperation overtook anger. ‘The uniform is given to us – two pairs of riding breeches, two pairs of dungarees. We don’t get a choice.’

  They faced each other in silence for a while. She thought back again to her reasons for coming to Acklam. ‘I wanted a fresh start,’ she remembered. ‘I’d had a hard time at home and was still nursing a broken heart. I was keen to tackle something new. The war gave me that chance. And then I got here and it was a shock – out in the middle of nowhere with Colonel Weatherall breathing down my neck.’

  ‘But no secrets, dark or otherwise, to queer your pitch,’ he reminded her. ‘That must have been nice and straightforward.’

  ‘I’d never have done what you did,’ she retorted. ‘I wouldn’t have led you on.’

  ‘You don’t know that. If it had been the other way around, you could easily have got carried along just like me.’