Letters to Alice

by Rosie James

  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.’

  Chapter Two

  Farmer Foulkes emitted a sustained, satisfied
burp, then stood up, pushing his chair back. His wife looked up at him sharply.

  ‘Now then, Walt…manners…we got company…’

  Walter was unapologetic. ‘Jus’ my way of sayin’ thanks for a gert lush supper,’ he said. ‘That was a rare bit a’ goat, that was, and other un’s fattenin’ up nicely as well.’ He let his gaze slide to each of the girls in turn. ‘An’ anyway, these ain’t company – they’re our Land Girls an’ they might as well get used to our ways.’

  Alice swallowed quickly. So they’d just eaten goat! She’d never tasted it before – had thought it was mutton… but it had certainly been delicious, accompanied by crisp roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, carrots, turnips, runner beans, and a massive Yorkshire pudding nestling in rich brown gravy. Followed by a crusty apple pie and mouth-wateringly sweet custard. The sugar in that must have used up everyone’s ration for the week! The table had groaned with what could only be called a surfeit of good food. Did everyone living on a farm have this much to eat every day, Alice wondered? It was something she had never even thought about.

  Walter Foulkes was a huge man, with a rather churlish manner and an obviously cynical attitude regarding the employment of townie women on his land. But he knew he had no choice. The lads from the village who’d always worked for him had already been called up, but at least Roger was allowed to stay. At least until further notice.

  The farmer had a head of greying, black hair and eyebrows to match, and Alice imagined that he’d probably been a handsome man in his youth. And his wife, too, would have been an attractive girl… Mabel’s hair, wound up in a big knot on top, was still a strong brown colour, though tinged with grey, and her eyes were large and expressive. The two would probably have been a golden couple, before life and weather and work had got to them.

  And how would she, Alice, look at their age? How would the twins, and Sam look? She couldn’t imagine Sam looking anything other than he was now…or was, the last time she’d seen him. Tall and straight, with a mass of thick hair the colour of conkers polished smooth, swept back from an aristocratic forehead, his profile chiselled, his dark eyes meltingly soft…the epitome of distinctive, British masculinity.