by Rosie James
And then eventually Fay would take her place in the front. Fay was a right one, Fay was. Well, this might not be three in a bed, but three in a van, with just him, would do Roger for now!
Fay passed a tube of sweets through the small window to the others, and Roger said as he took one –
‘So – what are you three going to be up to today…apart from seeing your families?’ he asked. ‘I suppose there are three lucky blokes waiting to take you in their arms? Have any of them popped the question yet?’ He’d been wondering about this ever since the girls had arrived on the farm.
‘Not to me, anyway, ‘ Fay said promptly. ‘I can assure you that it’s not going to happen because I do not intend to tie my life to the whims of a selfish, domineering man…ever. No disrespect to you, of course, Roger,’ she added. ‘But I prefer a free and easy fun life, thank you very much all the same.’
Roger half-smiled at the very decisive answer to his question. ‘What about you, Eve?’ he said, turning his head briefly to glance at her. ‘I bet you’ve got some dandy fellow waiting for you.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Eve said innocently. Well, what chance did she ever have to find boyfriends when she lived at home? And anyway, the only man who had made her feel funny inside when he looked at her, and had made her feel she was someone special, had been married. Whenever he’d been anywhere close to her, her blood would rush through her veins at such a pace that it made her head ache. And once, he’d come up behind her as she’d been sitting at her desk checking the stock ledger and had parted her hair and blown a soft breath of air down her neck…making her nearly faint. If she hadn’t been sitting down she would have collapsed at his feet. No other man had ever had that effect on her, and anyway she’d long ago convinced herself that her position in life was to care for her parents. You couldn’t do everything. You had to make choices.
‘Well, come on, then, Alice,’ Roger said, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘I just know there’s a lucky chap waiting for you…don’t tell me you share Fay’s opinion about men!’
Alice didn’t answer for a second, then – ‘No, I don’t, Roger,’ she said truthfully. ‘But, like the others, there’s no one special in my life. At the moment.’
But there is, there is, there is, oh yes there is…and always has been. He doesn’t know it, and I can never tell him. And he has spoiled my chances of ever finding someone else to love because I shall only ever love him, only ever want him.
‘Well, blow me,’ Roger said, feeling strangely pleased that there wasn’t a hoard of suitors waiting to sweep the girls off their feet as soon as he dropped them off. What was the matter with all the townies? Couldn’t they see what they were missing? Any one of the three girls in his van would suit him all right! Especially as he’d got to know and like them over the weeks. They were right crackers, these three!
So hang on…it looked as if it might be an open field after all…
‘Alice! My lovely…well, here you are at last! Come in, come in!’
Gloria pulled the front door wide open and stepped forward to give Alice a massive hug. Gloria was a short little woman with a bundle of once-fair hair which had turned to a pepper and salt colour, and of which, when she was young, she had always been very proud. She continued to wear it long, but tied back in two bunches, and sometimes with a coloured bow of ribbon on each. Today, there were two bright red ones. She had small features, and her rather brown skin was a bit leathery looking because she had always loved to sit out in the sun, but her darting, bright blue eyes constantly twinkled as she spoke, demonstrating an easy, outgoing nature. Everyone liked Gloria.
‘Hello, Mrs. Hammond…it’s so good to see you,’ Alice said, returning Gloria’s embrace. ‘And look what Mrs. Foulkes has given me to give you!’ She handed over the box of goodies, and Gloria spent the next few moments exclaiming over the contents and saying how very kind it was of the farmer’s wife to think of her. Then, together, the two went inside and along the hall to the small dining room, where coffee and biscuits were already set on the table.
It was 10.30, and Roger had been right about the estimated time of their arrival. But they’d spent a bit longer in Bath than they’d meant to, because Eve’s parents hadn’t been at home when they arrived and they’d waited around with her for a bit. And then when they’d got to Knowle, Fay’s gran had rushed down the path as soon as she saw the van arrive – she’d been watching from the window – and had hugged everyone – including Roger, who’d got out to help Fay climb down from the back, clutching her box of food. Then Gran had made them come inside for a few minutes so that she could get a proper look at them all. Whoever they were, she loved having visitors.
‘Now then,’ Gloria said as she poured the Camp coffee into their cups, ‘I know you’ve told me some of what you’ve been doing in your letters, but start from the beginning and go over it all again.’ She squeezed Alice’s hand. ‘I’ve missed you, my dear.’
‘And I’ve missed you, too, Mrs. Hammond,’ Alice said. Then she spent the next half an hour filling in every detail she could think of, enjoying watching the shifting expressions on Gloria’s face as she took it all in. Especially the description of Mabel’s wonderful meals.
‘Well, I must say you do look very well, Alice,’ Gloria said. ‘Farm life might be hard and messy, but it doesn’t seem to be doing you any harm! But there, I suppose fresh air and good food is the best recipe for good health…’ She passed Alice the plate of biscuits. ‘I’m afraid I can’t compete with the farmer’s wife, but I’ve got us a nice little lunch – and Dora’s coming in from next door to share it with us because she wants to hear everything as well – and she’s going to read the teacups.’
Alice smiled at that. Even though Gloria had her feet well and truly on the ground, she did love her neighbour to read the tea cups because Dora had a gift for it. It was Dora’s thing.
The procedure always followed the same pattern. After they’d finished drinking their tea, the remaining dregs would be swilled carefully round and round, then tipped into the saucer, leaving a small pattern of leaves sticking to the bottom of the cup. Then Dora would put on the mysterious expression she always used, and peer at the evidence confronting her, sometimes smiling, sometimes frowning at what she was seeing. And what Dora had seen in those leaves over the years had been amazing. Amazing enough for everyone to be convinced that the truth lay there, plain as day. Bad things as well as good things, mind you. But hadn’t Dora assured the several women hiding together under Gloria’s stairs during that dreadful air raid earlier in the year that even though bombs were falling all around, none was to hit their street and destroy their houses? Well, she’d been right! Absolutely right! All their houses were still intact – though minus a window or two. What more proof did anyone need that Dora had second sight which she could see in those tea leaves?
Alice finished her coffee and sat back, looking around her. ‘Do you know what I would really, really, really love Mrs. Hammond?’ she said. ‘If you’ve got enough hot water, I would love to have a bath! A bath that I can actually lie out in…’
Gloria cut her short and stood up. ‘I’ve already thought of that, Alice,’ she said. She hadn’t thought much of Alice’s description of crouched bathing in hip baths. ‘You can have the bathroom all to yourself for as long as you like – well until lunch is ready! Come on – I’ll run the water for you.’
Fay’s gran took a long look at her as they sat together at the kitchen table.
‘Well, well, don’t you ever look lovely, our Fay,’ she said slowly. ‘I think you’ve even put on a bit of weight – around the face, I mean.’
‘D’you think so, Gran?’ Fay got up and went outside to stare at herself in the hallstand mirror. ‘Perhaps I have,’ she said, ‘but it’s no wonder, because Mrs. Foulkes always piles the food on the table and it’s hard not to eat everything on offer.’
‘Quite right, luvver, you take it while it’s going,’ Gran said lovingly. ‘The war’s bound to
be over one day, and then you’ll be back ’ere having my cooking again!’
Fay dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s head as she sat back down again. ‘I’d never grumble at the thought of that, Gran,’ she said. ‘Your cooking has always suited me just fine. I’m only sorry that you can’t share some of what we have at the farm.’
‘Oh don’t you worry about that, luvver,’ Gran said, passing Fay another doughnut. ‘We’re not starving, I promise you. The rationing can be a bit of a nuisance sometimes, but no one goes to bed hungry in Britain and we’re all very grateful for that.’
Fay looked across at Gran for a moment, her lovely, even-tempered grandmother. How could she have spawned a son like Fay’s father?
‘How are things in Brislington?’ Fay said. ‘I s’pose I’ll have to go over there after lunch.’ Well she wanted to see how her mum was, of course, but since Fay was helpless to do anything to help her, the visits had been rare for some time. And it upset her on each occasion.
‘Oh well, your dad pops his head in to see me every now and again,’ Gran said, ‘just to make sure I haven’t gone up in smoke. But of course he’s always busy at the bank during the day, and then takes those ARP duties at night very seriously – as you know. Every time he looks in here he’s always got his tin hat on.’
‘Yeah, he would,’ Fay said. ‘I’d always hoped his might have been the faulty one, but no such luck. As far as I know, not even a stray bit of shrapnel has got him.’
Gran laughed at that. ‘You’re a rare one, you are, our Fay. What’ll you come out with next!’ She sighed briefly. They were too much alike, those too, both self-opinionated and with strong personalities. They’d always quarrelled and disagreed about everything…Fay had even refused her place at the prestigious Colston’s Girls’ School to spite her father.
Presently, after they’d had lunch and had chatted endlessly, catching up on all the news they had to tell each other, and with Fay describing the Foulkes family in her usual amusing way, she looked at her watch.
‘I need to go upstairs, Gran, and pick up some clothes to take back. I think our summer frocks have done their stuff for this year.’
Gran nodded, getting up. ‘I’ll find a couple of carrier bags for you, luvver,’ she said. ‘And there’s a bus to Briz in half an hour – if you’re going over. It stops at the bottom of Red Lion Hill now, so you’ll have to run for it. What time did you say you were meeting the others in town?’
‘5 o’clock outside the Hippodrome,’ Fay said, adding, ‘I hope Evie manages to get a bus over from Bath. And when he heard us talking about it, Roger asked if he could hang around with us for a couple of hours as well, before the drive back at 7.30. Well – he doesn’t get about much, always working at the farm, so we couldn’t blame him.’ Fay started making her way upstairs and glanced back, adding,‘Anyway, it was him who sorted out our travel arrangements – so we could hardly object. Especially as the farmer got all red in the gills when taking the van to Bristol was suggested. But…Roger’s a decent bloke…he’s fun…and we all like him,’ she added as she went into her own room upstairs.
At the end of quite a long day, conversation began to peter out slightly as Roger drove them all back to the farm.
Amazingly, they had all managed to meet up as arranged, leaving their bags of fresh clothes in the van which Roger had parked in Denmark Street, before the four joined the busy throng of people milling around the Centre. All three of the Services were well represented, groups of men in uniform calling and whistling after knots of giggling girls who were thoroughly enjoying all the attention. The atmosphere had been whole-heartedly good-natured, the war pushed to the back of everyone’s mind for now – helped by the fact that there had been no raids, no sirens, for a considerable time.
During the lapses of silence in the van as they journeyed, each of the girls had their own thoughts to take back with them, to ponder and to mull over. Fay’s thoughts were as dark as ever about her parents’ situation, while Eve felt unusually perplexed…though in some ways happier about things than she had been for a long time. What funny things this war was turning up…
And for Alice, the day had seemed to touch her in a way she hadn’t expected. As they’d wandered around during the evening, she’d glanced across in the direction of Hotwells and thought of everyone still living there…if anyone was. The area had certainly been bombed, and their old house was probably one of the ones gone. Where were those families now, their children? Was someone taking care of them?
But when Fay had suggested they all walk up to Clifton Downs where there was bound to be plenty going on, Alice had said that she thought it would take them too long, and that anyway her feet were too sore to walk that distance. All the way up Park Street and Whiteladies Road and Blackboy Hill…
But none of that was true. The fact was that it would have broken her heart to be anywhere in the vicinity of the Clifton house…she hadn’t been near it for a long time.
And the memories, the ghosts, the longings would have spoiled an almost-perfect day.
Chapter Seven
Bristol 1934
Alice sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, feeling nothing. Only emptiness. As if she didn’t really exist.
Alice was fourteen years old, and last week Ada had died.
‘I’m afraid your mother suffered a fatal stroke,’ the professor had explained gently. ‘She would not have known it was happening, and she would have been without pain. We must be thankful for that, Alice.’
The Carmichaels had seen to the funeral yesterday, had arranged the small, intimate gathering afterwards in the morning room. All the children were there, apart from Sam who was in the middle of important exams, and the vicar, and two of the neighbours from Hotwells were there as well. With Cook quietly serving everyone cakes and tea, her eyes full of tears.
But although Sam couldn’t be there, he had sent Alice a letter as soon as he’d heard the news.
Dear Alice
The dreadful news was told to me today, and I must tell you how sorry I was to hear about it. Your mother, our Ada, was a lovely, valued lady, and I know my parents are so upset. They are wondering how they are going to manage without her.
Please understand that I am thinking about you, Alice, and imagining how you must be feeling. I know you will be brave, because you are a very courageous person.
Because of the exams I can’t be at the funeral, but I will be there in spirit.
I shan’t be home again until the summer holidays. Until then, I send my kindest regards and loving thoughts to you, Alice.
Sam.
Alice got up and went across to the bed, her fingers reaching for Sam’s letter which she’d kept under the pillow. Although she knew the words by heart, she read them again…“I send my loving thoughts to you, Alice…”
What did that mean? Did it mean that he just thought about her lovingly, kindly, because her mother had died, or did it mean that he loved her? Alice pressed the page to her chest, to her heart. The thought that Samuel could love her was too much to imagine, too much to hope for…and she knew that it was an impossible, fruitless, hope.
But she loved him. Had always loved him, would always love him. And had never told anyone about it, not even her mother. It was just too precious a secret to share.
She wandered listlessly over to the window, and stared out. There was the Clifton suspension bridge, solid as ever. Would that, too, come to an end one day? Collapse into the river Avon below, or just disintegrate into nothingness? It had already lasted longer than her mother’s forty-one years, but of course things made of steel or concrete are going to last much longer than people. That was obvious.
Alice frowned helplessly. How could her mother have passed on like that, without a word of warning? They’d been reading together, as usual, had said goodnight and God bless you…and in the morning Ada had simply not woken up. Had lain there peacefully in bed, as if still fast asleep.
And what had she told Alice th
at everyone had to do – that you had to accept what happened in life, and survive it? Well, Alice knew that one way she could do that would be to pursue her ambition…relentlessly. The ambition, the dream, which she had had all her young life, and which her mother had told her was perfectly possible if she was ambitious enough, and persistent. Alice bit her lip, trying not to start crying again. I will do it, Mama, I promise, because you believed in me. One day. I will do it to honour your memory…you will look down and see my name in gold on the spine of that red book…
Alice turned away. She didn’t feel like staying in, so perhaps she’d go for a walk. The Easter holidays were just starting so there was no school for her, but Rose and Margaret were having last lessons with their tutor. The eleven-year-olds, David and John, were home from their boarding school and had made themselves scarce somewhere. The house seemed very quiet, as if everyone was afraid of making a noise.
She went over to fetch her grey coat. She was going to need it because there was a cold wind blowing outside. She had sewn a black band into the top of the sleeve so that everyone would know she’d suffered a bereavement. Her fingers traced the tiny stitches which she’d worked into the strong fabric…it had taken her a long time, and she’d pricked herself once or twice while doing it.
