Foxden Acres (The Dudley Sisters Quartet Book 1)

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘And you don’t mind?’ Bess asked, puzzled.

  ‘Mind? Why should I mind?’

  ‘Because I thought …. You and James …?’ Bess stuttered. ‘I saw you kissing on Friday night, St. Valentine’s--’

  ‘Yes, I did kiss James, outside the Hall, but not for the reasons you think. I had some news I wanted to share with him - with you both. That’s why I invited you to the Crown. But because you and James were going away and wouldn’t be there, I told James before I went to the pub with Laura and Polly.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Bess said.

  ‘The reason James kissed me was to congratulate me on my marriage.’

  ‘Marriage?’ Bess stood, open-mouthed. ‘Who have you married?’

  ‘Tom. We were married in the New Year, before he went overseas. That’s why I went back to Kent,’ Annabel said, holding out her hand to show Bess her wedding ring.’

  ‘Tom? My brother Tom?’

  ‘Yes, didn’t Laura tell you?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her.’

  ‘Surely James--?’

  ‘No. I haven’t seen him either.’

  ‘We became close when we met again in Ashford hospital, when Tom came back from Dunkirk. But I fell in love with him on the night he sang “Roses of Picardy” to me in the Crown,’ Annabel said, smiling at the memory.

  ‘I thought your family wanted you to marry James?’

  Annabel laughed. ‘They did, until I told them how much I loved Tom. They weren’t happy at first - and they were furious when they found out that we had married in secret. Tom only had forty-eight hours’ leave, so it was all a bit of a rush. Anyway, they’ve come to terms with it now and they’ve accepted him. James knew I loved Tom, but I couldn’t tell him we were married until I’d told my parents.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Annabel. I thought you loved James.’

  ‘I do love James, I always have. It might have been more than brotherly love once, but that was a long time ago when we were in our teens. Now I love James in the same way that you love Tom - like a brother.’

  ‘James looked so happy when you kissed him,’ Bess said.

  ‘He was happy. He was telling me how much he loved you. He said he was taking you away for a romantic weekend, and he was going to ask you to marry him.’

  ‘Oh my God, Annabel, what have I done?’ Bess cried. ‘I turned him down.’

  ‘You did what?’ Annabel fumed. ‘James loves you so much!’

  ‘And I love him, with all my heart,’ Bess cried.

  ‘Then you must tell him. Tell him before he goes up tonight. From what he said on Friday - or rather, from what he didn’t say - his squadron is about to see action again. He said he wouldn’t be able to get home to Foxden for some time. That’s why he was given leave. If you go now, you might just catch him. Take my car.’

  Bess pulled up outside the main security gate at Bitteswell Aerodrome. ‘I need to see Flying Officer Foxden. It’s urgent.’

  ‘Can I see your pass, miss?’ the military policeman asked.

  ‘I don’t have a pass, but it’s very important. If you phone through I’m sure--’

  ‘Sorry miss, you’re too late. They’re preparing for take-off,’ the MP said.

  Bess jumped into the car and drove round to the side gate. She could see the planes clearly, see the engineers working on them, hear the whirr of the propellers. Two airmen were lighting cigarettes outside the canteen. Bess watched them walk away and then stop to speak to a group of men. James was not one of them. She looked back at the canteen and her heart almost stopped. James and another officer were standing in the doorway. Bess waved frantically, willing James to look her way, but it wasn’t until he walked onto the runway with the sun behind him that he saw her.

  ‘James,’ Bess shouted. ‘I love you! I will marry you!’

  James waved briefly, turned and spoke to the officer he had left the canteen with, and then jumped into a Jeep and drove at speed to her.

  ‘James, I’m sorry. I saw you kissing Annabel and I thought …. Can you ever forgive me? I want to be your wife more than anything in the world.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, darling. The only thing that matters is that you’ll marry me. Oh, Bess, I do love you!’ James said, holding her hands through the gate.

  ‘I love you too.’

  ‘I have to go, darling. Will you wait for me?’

  ‘For as long as it takes,’ Bess said, not wanting to let go of James’s hand. ‘Please be careful.’

  James laughed. ‘Gerry can’t hurt me now, I’m invincible. I’m in love with the most beautiful girl in the world and she’s going to marry me!’ he shouted to the guard, as he climbed over the gate.

  The young military policeman looked the other way as James and Bess kissed each other passionately.

  ‘I love you,’ James said.

  ‘And I love you, more than anything,’ Bess replied.

  ‘Then will you wear my ring until this damn war is over, or until I can put a wedding ring on your finger?’ James took off the signet ring his grandfather had given to him on his twenty-first birthday and slipped it onto Bess’s wedding finger.

  ‘But James, this is your family ring. It has the Foxden crest on it. It shouldn’t be worn by anyone except the heir to the Foxden Estate,’ Bess said.

  ‘Then you’d better take good care of it for me, hadn’t you, like you do the Estate.’

  ‘I will, I promise,’ Bess said, and they kissed again.

  The young MP cleared his throat.

  ‘Goodbye my love,’ James said, as he tore himself away from Bess.

  The planes were lining up on the runway as James sped back to his aeroplane. As he climbed into the cockpit he turned and waved, and Bess blew him a kiss.

  ‘I love you!’ she shouted. She knew James couldn’t hear her; she could hardly hear herself above the noise of the aeroplanes.

  Leading the formation, James’s Wellington thundered down the runway ahead of the other planes and was first to lift off. The second and third planes followed closely behind him, then the fourth, fifth and sixth planes left the runway in quick succession with the last four planes bringing up the rear. James flashed his tail-light, and Bess waved until he was out of sight.

  Bess was so excited she couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed looking at James’s ring on her finger. She relived every kiss they had shared, and recalled again and again how James had asked her to wait for him – and how happy he was when she said she would marry him. In the morning, Bess wondered whether she should hide the ring, wear it round her neck perhaps, but she decided against taking it off. The man she loved had put his ring on her finger and she had promised to wear it until he returned – and she would.

  Bess went down to breakfast, but was too excited to eat.

  ‘Bess Dudley, what have you got on your wedding finger?’ Mrs Hartley asked. Her old friend had spotted James’s ring and as tears of happiness welled up in her eyes, she hugged Bess to her. ‘I am so pleased for you, Bess. I knew Master James loved you. I could see it in his eyes every time he looked at you. Even afore this damn war, I could see that he loved you.’

  ‘And I loved him, Mrs Hartley,’ Bess confided, ‘but I never dared to hope that one day ….’

  ‘What will be will be, my dear girl! Don't they say it’s fate, what happens to us in this life? Now eat your breakfast, you need to keep your strength up. You’ve got a lot of work to do, lass – and a lot of plans to make,’ she said, with a wink. The land girls tumbled through the kitchen door, having intercepted the postman, and sat down to breakfast with their letters.

  Kitty opened a letter from her mother who, she said, was living at the Black Swan, the pub in London’s East End where she was a barmaid. ‘She’s got a new gentleman friend and she’s old enough to be his mother by what she says in this letter,’ Kitty said, laughing. ‘It was always good fun at the Black Swan. When I used to go there, I was never short of gentlemen friends. Problem was, if I took a fella home me ma
m would introduce herself as me sister and try to pinch him off me. She’s a real gal, my mam is,’ Kitty said proudly.

  ‘My mother’s praying for my virginity at chapel,’ Fanny said.

  ‘Blimey!’ Kitty looked serious. ‘It’d do no good if the whole bloomin’ congregation prayed for mine,’ she said, and everyone laughed.

  ‘Kitty, you are terrible!’ Polly said.

  ‘It’s true,’ she replied, tucking into a thick slice of toast with jam.

  ‘Changing the subject,’ Sylvia said pointedly, ‘my sister has moved to Portsmouth. She’s got a teaching job down there so she can be there when her husband comes home on leave – he’s in the Navy.’

  Everyone discussed the letters they’d received and there was a great deal of laughter as a result.

  Bess took her breakfast dishes to the sink, washed them, and left the room before any of the girls noticed James’s ring. There would be plenty of time to tell them her news later.

  *

  It was a sunny spring morning, when the young sergeant delivered James’s letter.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss.’

  ‘Sorry, sergeant?’ Bess said. ‘Sorry for what?’

  The young sergeant lowered his head. ‘If there’s anything?’ he said.

  Anything-’

  Bess heard a small voice that sounded like her own say, ‘Thank you.’ She watched the young sergeant walk across the courtyard, get into his car and slowly drive off. I should be cutting spring cabbage, she thought as she opened the letter and read,

  My dear Bess,

  This letter is the hardest that I have ever had to write and one that I had hoped you would never have to read. However, my darling, if fate has dictated that you must read it, it is because I cannot be with you to tell you how much I love you.

  Don’t cry, my darling. We were lucky to have found each other, and to have known real love. Some people spend a lifetime looking for the kind of love that we had and never find it.

  Take care of yourself, Bess, and don’t be sad. Remember me with love and with happiness, not with tears.

  Think of me sometimes when you’re riding across the Foxden Acres.

  Forever yours,

  James.

  EPILOGUE

  The loudspeaker on the platform, which hadn’t been in use since the war began, crackled and sprang into life. Several people cheered while others called for quiet. An elderly woman opened the door to hear the message more clearly, by which time the cafeteria was in silence. “THE NEXT TRAIN TO ARRIVE ON PLATFORM TWO IS THE ONE-O-FIVE FROM LONDON EUSTON.”

  Bess and Annabel jumped up and looked at each another. Simultaneously they began to speak, then stopped. Neither could hear what the other was saying. There was so much noise as people leapt out of their seats and rushed to the door. Bess caught sight of herself in the glass of a signed photograph of Vera Lynn but decided to ignore her unruly curls, while Annabel rummaged through her handbag and found her lipstick and powder. She applied a little lipstick but put the powder back into her bag – there was no time. The two women laughed. They laughed with excitement and with relief. The waiting was almost over. Bess knelt down and wiped a speck of chocolate from Charlotte’s mouth before gathering her up in her arms and following Annabel, who was already making her way through the crowds to the southern end of the platform.

  Bess watched Annabel’s red trilby disappear amid a rainbow of hats, berets and brightly coloured scarves. Someone shouted, ‘The train’s coming!’ and the crowd surged forward. With Charlotte still in her arms, Bess took advantage of the space available and moved to the northern end of the platform.

  At their new location, Charlotte was no longer in danger of being squashed and Bess had a better view of Annabel – or would have when Annabel arrived at the opposite end of the platform. Bess lifted Charlotte onto a large wooden crate and held her firmly while she scanned the ever-growing crowd for her friend. Her gaze locked onto a familiar face. ‘Laura?’ she called. Bess craned her neck to see more clearly. The young woman was tall and slender, and had the same blonde sun-streaked hair and bronzed complexion from working in the fields but, as she turned her face fully towards her, Bess could see she was not Laura.

  Bess hugged Charlotte to her and wondered where the women of Foxden’s Land Army were. Sylvia had moved to Portsmouth to be near her sister after her sister’s husband was killed in the Battle of the Atlantic, and had returned to teaching. Fanny had gone home to Wales to be with her mother, who was mourning the loss of Fanny’s grandmother. And Kitty - where was she now? Bess worried for Kitty. Had she gone back to her old lifestyle of living off her wits and the generosity of gentlemen? Bess hoped not.

  A young woman standing close to Bess burst into tears. She was nervously twisting a thin gold wedding band round her finger. Bess took a clean handkerchief from her pocket and gave it to her. She accepted it without lifting her head. When at last she stopped crying she took a deep, shuddering breath and said, ‘Thank you.’

  Most of the women were happy, excited. Many, like Bess and Annabel, had waited years to see their loved ones return. Even so, the lives of every woman here would have changed in some respect, while their men had been away. Women who had once looked forward to a future as a wife and mother now knew how to assemble an aeroplane engine and de-grease a magneto, drive a tractor, plough a field, and run a business. Women who had been dependent on their husbands financially had been earning their own money, making their own decisions – and for some there would be no going back.

  Bess was deep in thought when she noticed someone frantically waving a red trilby at the south end of the platform. That was the signal. The train was approaching. Bess waved back, wondering whether her friend was able to distinguish her hand from the dozens of others being waved. She probably couldn’t, but it didn’t matter.

  Bess at one end of the platform and Annabel at the other searched the faces of the soldiers and sailors who were looking out of the windows or hanging out of the doors. Many of them were injured. Some had bandages round their heads, others their eyes. One soldier in a carriage near to where Bess was standing had lost an arm. The empty sleeve of his jacket had been pinned to the padding on his shoulder. The boy next to him shook uncontrollably; unaware of what was going on around him. Another stared out of the window, but seemed to see nothing. Bess’s heart broke at the sight before her, but she kept looking. Somewhere among the hundreds of exhausted and wounded young servicemen was Charlotte’s father.

  Bess lifted her hand and looked at the ring on her engagement finger, bearing the Foxden crest. It had been four years since James put his ring on her finger and asked her to marry him.

  Some weeks after James’s plane had gone down, Lord and Lady Foxden sent a message with Mr Porter asking Bess if she would go up to the Hall when convenient.

  Welcoming her warmly, Lady Foxden offered her tea. ‘Or something stronger,’ Lord Foxden said.

  Bess thanked them, refusing both, and slipped James’s ring from her finger, holding it in the palm of her hand for what she thought was the last time.

  Emotion choking his words, Lord Foxden said, ‘We are going to have a memorial service for James, and…’

  ‘And,’ Lady Foxden continued, ‘as James’s fiancé we’d like you to sit with us, Bess. When the Air Force finds James and brings him home, we’ll bury him properly. But we want to mark his pass-- passing now.’

  Numb with grief, Bess nodded. She tried to say thank you, but her throat was so tight with emotion she was unable to speak. She opened her hand and offered its contents to Lord Foxden, who shook his head. ‘My son gave you his ring, Bess. We’d like you to keep it.’

  James didn’t come home. His body was never found. Bess bit back the tears. It had been almost six years since the night James visited her in her small London apartment and asked her to go back to Foxden and turn the Estate into arable land. During that time there had been five good harvests, as well as a constant supply of seasonal produce – none o
f which would have been possible without the hardworking women of Foxden’s Land Army. Old friends like Molly, Miss Armstrong, Mrs McAllister and the Goldman children had made Foxden their home for varying lengths of time. And there had been hundreds of servicemen come to Foxden to recover from injuries that were physical or mental – and sometimes both.

  One young soldier who had spent time convalescing at Foxden was Bess’s old friend, Frank Donnelly. Frank had lost an eye when his unit came under fire in the Italian Alps. Everyone in the company ran for cover except a young corporal who was paralysed with fear. Frank scrambled out of his makeshift dugout, ran to the boy and dragged him to safety. He saved the boy’s life, but almost lost his own when he was shot in the temple.

  Several months later, on the day his bandages came off, Frank told Bess that he had always loved her and asked her to marry him.

  Bess liked Frank and in the years that followed she grew to love him. She didn’t have the same passion for Frank as she’d had for James. James was her first love and Frank understood that. Frank was sensitive and caring and told Bess that he would wait for her and when she was ready, he would do his best to make her happy.

  Bess took James’s ring from her engagement finger and put it on the corresponding finger on her right hand. I’ll always love you, James, but now the war’s over, it’s time I let go of the pain and –

  ‘Is that my daddy?’ Charlotte was tapping Bess’s shoulder. ‘Is that my daddy?’

  ‘Yes, darling, that’s your daddy,’ Bess said, lifting Charlotte from the crate. Moments later Tom caught sight of Bess and his little daughter. He dropped to his knees and opened his arms.

  ‘Take my hand, sweetheart,’ Bess said to her niece, sensing that the child was anxious. ‘We’ll welcome your daddy home together, shall we?’

  Charlotte took several tentative steps towards her father, and stopped. ‘You’re not my daddy. I want my daddy in the picture,’ she cried.