Letters to Alice

by Rosie James

  So Dora had found it difficult not to smile broadly when the ambulance had arrived to take her friend off to hospital on that bitter February night, because whichever way you looked at it you couldn’t deny that Dora’s readings were getting better and better all the time.

  To celebrate the end of World War Two, the following day, Tuesday the 8th May, had been declared a public holiday, and everyone was prepared to more or less down tools and start to enjoy themselves.

  But the animals didn’t know anything about a public holiday, as Farmer Foulkes pointed out.

  ‘They cows’ll ’ave to be milked, an’ the birds fed,’ he’d said, when the subject had come up, ‘but I s’pose you young uns’ll wanna go to Bristol later t’morrer… Roger’d better take y’all in the van. Tha’s after everythin’s finished up ’ere, mind,’ he’d added, and the “young uns” had all exchanged glances. They’d make sure everything was all done and dusted in good time.

  They were getting ready for bed on Monday night, and Fay said as she lit another cigarette, – ‘When d’you think we’ll be chucked out of here, then? Does Foulksie have to give us notice, or do we have to give him notice? Or do we just go when we feel like it?’ She threw herself onto her bed and lay back, blowing smoke up to the ceiling. She glanced over at Alice who had finished at the wash basin and was climbing into her pyjamas. ‘And is it my imagination, or have these beds got more and more comfortable?’ Fay bounced up and down briefly. ‘D’you remember that first night? None of us thought we’d get a wink of sleep, did we?’

  Alice got into bed and plumped up her pillows. ‘Well, we’ve just got used to the mattress which is so hard it’s like an orthopaedic support. So it’s done our backs good – probably,’ she suggested. ‘When I sleep back at Gloria’s place, I feel as if I’m sinking down to the floor,’ she added. Then – ‘And as far as when we actually leave here goes,’ she went on, ‘I suppose it’ll be when the regular farm hands are demobbed.’

  Fay yawned and glanced over at Eve. ‘Any chance of me having my turn at the wash stand, Evie?’ she enquired. ‘I hope you haven’t used all the hot water.’

  Eve completed the lengthy scrubbing of her teeth – which always took her far longer than anyone else – swilled out her mouth, then wiped everything around with a cloth, before hanging her towel over the clothes horse and going across to her bed. ‘There’s plenty of water left,’ she said, ‘and anyway, we’ve only got to shout down the stairs and more supplies will be brought up by our faithful Roger – you know that,’ she added, rather sulkily.

  She stared across at Fay and Alice for a moment Then –

  ‘What the hell’s the matter with you, Evie?’ Fay demanded, swinging her legs off the end of the bed and getting up. ‘Don’t tell us you’ve got some personal news to impart?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Eve said crossly, finding her hankie to blow her nose. ‘It’s just that…. well…. I’m no good when anything comes to an end. And tomorrow…tomorrow…is the end of all this…’ she swept her arm around the room. ‘And the end of the war! Something I should feel deliriously happy about, but I’m not, and I can’t help it. I’ve always been the same,’ she went on, ‘I just want to hold on to things that I feel happy with…feel secure with.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Even in small things, silly things…I hate coming to the end of a book that I’ve been reading because I know the ending, and so it’s all gone for ever.’ She sniffed. ‘That’s silly, isn’t it, I know it is,’ she said, ‘but, you see, I’ve…I’ve never had company like I’ve had for the last four years. I’ve never shared a room with anyone before, never had anyone to chat to before going to sleep, or to get up with in the morning…and I’ve loved it! I’ve loved every minute of everything here…milking the cows and seeing their darling calves…even cleaning out the chicken run, and muck-spreading, and running away from that blessed goose that doesn’t like me…’

  ‘Well, you would keep trying to cuddle her babies,’ Fay reminded her.

  ‘I know,’ Eve admitted. ‘But they are so sweet…and…even scrubbing down the yards when it’s been pouring with rain has been sort of…fun. Because we were all in it together.’

  There was silence for a few moments, then – ‘I’ve just loved being one of the three wise monkeys, that’s all,’ she added slowly.

  ‘Oh, for gaw’d sake,Evie, shut your row,’ Fay said, ‘or you’ll start us all blubbing.’

  But she and Alice knew exactly what Eve meant, because their own feelings were much the same, and later, before finally blowing out their candles and trying to get to sleep, Alice said –

  ‘What are your plans, Fay, when it really is time to leave? Will you go back to your old job?’

  Fay shrugged. ‘Probably,’ she said, ‘for the time being. But I’ve been thinking about it and I might apply for an admin job at the Council House – I’d like to learn how things are decided in the city. How decisions are made, how meetings are run.’ She paused. ‘Of course, the first thing I’ll have to do is to find somewhere to live, because as you know, after my father died my gran gave up her council house in Knowle and went to live with my mum in Brislington. And I certainly do not intend going back there, ever.’ She paused. ‘Still – I’m not worried. I’ve got friends who’ll put me up while I look around.’

  So, that’ll be two of us, Alice thought, and Eve said –

  ‘Well, I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind you staying with us, Fay, until something comes up for you…though being in Bath might put you off – be a bit quiet for you. But it could be a port in a storm,’ she added.

  ‘That’s so sweet of you, Evie,’ Fay said – and meant it. ‘But as I said, I’m not worried. I know something’ll happen for me.’ She glanced over at Eve. ‘Will you be going back to your job at that music shop?’

  Eve paused before answering. ‘I honestly don’t know,’ she said slowly. ‘I always thought it was the only thing in the world that I wanted to do, but now I’m not so sure. The last four years have taught me that there is another world out there which anyone can try.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘You know when we were having tea at the Ritz? When that man was playing the piano in the foyer? I thought – I could do that! I mean, I’d never want to do what my parents did – go on the concert circuit, playing all the Classics to distinguished audiences – even if I was good enough. Because what I really love is playing for people…ordinary people…who just want to make music for fun. I’d always want my music to be fun, and not just play clever pieces for people to admire.’ Eve’s eyes shone as she spoke. ‘D’you know – when I played at the Welcome Home concert, and at the pub last Christmas, and everyone sang along so heartily, I nearly burst with happiness! It was like being in heaven!’

  Fay and Alice couldn’t help smiling at Eve’s enthusiasm. ‘And you certainly took us all there with you, Evie,’ Alice said.

  ‘What about you, Alice?’ Fay said. ‘I know you’re going to be looking for somewhere to live after Gloria’s wedding, but what about your job at the estate agent’s? Will you go back to that?’

  ‘Well, they assured me that it would still be there after the war,’ Alice said, ‘so at least I’ve got some security for the time being But…who knows? I’ll keep looking at the adverts in the local papers for anything that might interest me more.’

  The fact was that the war years had given everyone the feeling that future choices might lay ahead…a choice to change things in their lives which it wouldn’t have occurred to them to envisage five years earlier. It could be described as restlessness – or freedom.

  Tuesday, the 8th of May, dawned fair after a night of heavy rain, and the sun shone as if to welcome the most important day of the country’s year. Of the country’s last five years.

  V.E. Day.Victory in Europe Day.

  And if anyone needed it pointing out, Home Farm proclaimed the victory in bunting decked overall at every possible point…the banners moving gently in the breeze, the red, white and blue of the nati
onal flag announcing to the world in general that peace was here at last. That we were free of Hitler’s monstrous regime for ever.

  All the day’s work on the farm had been completed with the usual diligence, and at 3 pm, Walter, Mabel, Roger and the three girls sat in the kitchen and listened to Winston Churchill give his speech of victory from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street. And as he spoke, it was impossible for the six listening at Home Farm not to feel a lump in the throat as they heard the words – words which would go down in history – spoken by the great war leader who had helped to bring about their survival. (Some even said that it was by his efforts alone that victory had been secured.) In his speech, he paid tribute to the men and women who had lain down their lives for victory, as well as to all those who had fought valiantly on land, sea, and in the in air. He also said – “We may allow ourselves a brief period of rejoicing, but let us not for a moment forget the toil and efforts that lie ahead. Japan with all her treachery and greed, remains unsubdued. We must now devote all our strength and resources to the completion of our task, both at home and abroad. Advance Britannia!”

  As the speech ended, they could hear the shouting and cheers from the crowds in London, and Roger stood up.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, glancing down at the three girls. ‘Mr. Churchill said “advance” –and advance is what we’re going to do. To Bristol.’ He planted a kiss on Mabel’s head. ‘Thanks for doing the afternoon shift with the cows, Mum,’ he said, and Mabel smiled up at him quickly.

  ‘Oh, Dad’s gonna ’elp me in a minnit,’ she said. ‘You go and enjoy y’selves!’

  They got to Bristol at 5pm, and as they approached the outskirts they could see that everywhere was decked out in bunting…hundreds and hundreds of yards of it, hanging from lamp posts, on gate posts, from upstairs windows of houses, the streets full of people walking with determined stride towards the city centre. There were only a few cars making their way, and one or two were stopping to pick up anyone who’d like a lift into town. But it was mostly large groups walking along, arms linked, and stopping to talk to anyone they came across, who filled the suburban areas…people spilling out from their houses to cheer and chat, and to hug and kiss complete strangers, banging dustbin lids to use as drums. It was a mad, sometimes hysterical, atmosphere, but always good-hearted, with not a hint of criminality in evidence.

  Roger decided that he’d park in Broad Walk, about a mile or so from the Centre. ‘I’m not sure what it’ll be like when we get down there,’ he said. ‘Up here, out of the way, the van should be safe enough from any over-enthusiastic revellers. And it shouldn’t take us more than half an hour to walk.’ He didn’t think it would go down very well with his father if the van came back battered and bruised, with perhaps the windscreen smashed up by a flying beer bottle.

  It was a wonderfully fine evening as the four strolled – or rather, were hustled along – amidst the crowd which was gathering in numbers by the minute. And by the time they reached the Centre they were being pushed along, rather than walking along. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Especially as Roger was using his six- foot- four frame to protect the girls, from time to time drawing them into him protectively.

  But none of them felt the slightest bit worried. The whole atmosphere was a family one – a nation’s family freed, at last, from fear and dread, with no one thinking about tomorrow, or what the future held. Today was a day to rejoice. And be together in the rejoicing.

  As might be expected, the WVS vans were there dispensing hot and cold drinks, but out of nowhere, it seemed, beer was freely available for those who wanted it, with surprisingly few incidents of bad behaviour by those who had enjoyed themselves a bit too much.

  Suddenly, Roger spotted a group of people gathered around a shop on the corner, and he pressed forward to see what was happening – the girls following. The door of the shop was open, and they could hear a wireless playing at full blast It was a running commentary from London by the BBC, describing the scene in the capital. And from the background noise of cheering and chanting and singing it was obvious that an uproarious time was being had by all. And then the listeners outside the shop in Bristol heard that the royal family were all out on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, to the deafening whoops and cheers from the huge crowd below. To add to the unforgettable scene, the Palace had been lit up by floodlights – the commentator pointing out that this hadn’t happened since 1939.

  It was much later when Roger suggested that it was time they began to go back. He glanced down at Eve. ‘Do you want to call in to see your parents on the way home, Eve?’ he said, and she shook her head.

  ‘No – I don’t think so, thanks, Roger…they’ll have been listening to the wireless all day, but they won’t have ventured out of doors. My parents don’t do celebrations.’ She hesitated. ‘And I shan’t bother to tell them that we came to Bristol tonight,’ she added.

  By this time, they had been on their feet for so long that the walk back to the van seemed twice as far as the walk in earlier. As they went up the hill through Totterdown, Alice glanced in the direction of Gloria’s house…she would be celebrating all right! With her Don. Well, they had plenty to celebrate, the two of them, quite apart from today, and she wouldn’t ever mention to Gloria that she’d been in Bristol tonight, because Gloria might be hurt that she hadn’t called in – but she didn’t need to know, did she? Least said, soonest mended…

  Although there were still plenty of people about, by this time the crowd had certainly thinned out, the streets much quieter. And it was with some relief that they reached the van at last, and climbed aboard, Alice and Eve huddled together in the passenger seat and Fay, as usual, on her makeshift chair in the back. Before switching on the engine, Roger turned to them all.

  ‘Well, it certainly seems that the end of the road is in sight,’ he said, his tone unusually solemn, ‘and I expect you three can’t wait to get back to civilization…to the proper lives you had before the war dragged you onto the farm…’

  Alice interrupted him. ‘Roger – don’t say things like that! It’s true we were, well, called up to do the job, but I can tell you, we’ve never regretted working on the farm…being with all of you, being with the Foulkes family.’ She turned to the others. ‘We consider ourselves lucky to have been chosen for Home Farm, don’t we?’ and both Eve and Fay quickly agreed with her.

  ‘And I’ve certainly learned a few things I didn’t know before!’ Fay exclaimed. ‘I’m thinking of adding hedge-laying and muck-spreading to my list of achievements when I’m asked for references!’

  ‘I’m not sure that milking a cow would be considered relevant to any job I might go for in the music industry,’ Eve said doubtfully – ‘I never thought I’d be able to do it – but once I got the hang of it – well – it was so…lovely, so rewarding. Those cows…what would we do without them? I shall never look at a cow in a field again without wanting to pat it, and say thanks for everything.’

  Sensing that Roger seemed a bit down in the mouth, Fay said – ‘Anyway – who knows when we’ll actually be leaving? We’ll obviously have to wait until your regular farm hands return, won’t we, Roger?’

  He shrugged. ‘S’pose so,’ he said. ‘It’s all a bit vague at the moment but someone up the pub said it was rumoured that next month the first lot will be demobbed.’ He stared out of the side window for a moment. ‘One of ours has been stationed in Lincolnshire, servicing aircraft, for the whole of the war – so he’s sure to be one of the first home – my mother heard that he expects to be back in time for harvesting. And our other bloke – he’s army, and stationed up north, mostly - he’ll be one of the first back as well.’ Roger made a face. ‘So – before you know it, everything will be back like before. They’ll all be back, and you’ll all be gone – like ships that pass in the night,’ he added cynically.

  Fay shushed him. ‘How dare you refer to me as a ship!’ she said. ‘I may have put on a bit of weight – thanks to your mother’s divine c
ooking – but a ship I am not! So you just wash your mouth out, Roger Foulkes!’

  They all laughed at that, glad to puncture the sudden sadness which seemed to have crept up. As so often happens, euphoria – that brief, fraudulent emotion – is almost always followed by anti-climax, and a sense of loss.

  And that was what Roger Foulkes was feeling at this moment. The last four years had been the best in his life. Before revving up the engine, he glanced around at the girls.

  ‘Promise you’ll come and see us sometimes,’ he said seriously, ‘you know, when you’ve gone permanently…’

  Fay leaned in and patted his arm. ‘Stop being so melodramatic,’ she said. ‘There’s about as much chance of us going away permanently as a man landing on the bloody moon – and that’s never going to happen! So put your foot down and get us home! I’m starving – and Mrs. Foulkes said she’d save us some supper!’

  The following morning, a letter arrived in the post.

  My dear Alice

  Well, peace is here at last! And the other night I’m afraid several of us – not on duty I hasten to say – went out and got very drunk! Of course we’ve known that peace has been on the horizon for some time, but to think that the final All Clear has actually sounded feels too wonderful to be true.

  I feel so grateful, Alice, that we’ve all survived. And that now we can all get together again. My mother is already planning a big family party, so make sure your diary is not too full and that you will be available when summoned!