Gracie's Sin
Page 1
Gracie's Sin
Freda Lightfoot
Hodder Stoughton (2002)
Tags: WWII, Historical Saga, Female Friendship
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Synopsis
1942
Three young women craving adventure join the Women’s Timber Corps --
All for different reasons. . .
Lou sees it as a way to stay near her lovely new husband. Instead it brings heartache and tears, fear and betrayal. But it is she who holds the friends together when the going gets tough.
For Rose it means escape from her bullying brother. But her desperate search for love and acceptance leads the fun loving girl to change and be willing to inflict the same cold hearted treatment upon others; even her closest friends.
Gracie simply falls in love with the uniform and then commits the greatest sin of all: falling in love with the enemy. This puts at risk her freedom, her patriotism, the respect of her friends and even her life.
After the rigours of forestry training in Cornwall under Matron’s steely gaze, and a spell as acting air-raid wardens, the trio are posted to Grizedale forest in the Lake district where they love the outdoor life and new challenges; the knowledge that they are doing their bit. But their enemy is the war, and faith and friendship are tested to the utmost in their efforts to survive.
Gracie’s Sin
Freda Lightfoot
Copyright © 2002 and 2011 by Freda Lightfoot.
All rights reserved.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-9568119-4-3
Published by Freda Lightfoot 2011
This is a book I couldn’t put down . . . a great read!
South Wales Evening Post on The Girl From Poorhouse Lane
Another heartwarming tale from a master story-teller. For All Our Tomorrows.
Lancashire Evening Post
The Favourite Child (In the top 20 of the Sunday Times hardback bestsellers)
a compelling and fascinating tale
Middlesborough Evening Gazette
A stirring tale of a woman with an iron purpose
The Keswick Reminder
Kitty Little is a charming novel encompassing the provincial theatre of the early 20th century, the horrors of warfare and timeless affairs of the heart.
The West Briton
The Bobbin Girls
an informative and lively read
West Briton
A bombshell of an unsuspected secret rounds off a romantic saga narrated with pace and purpose and fuelled by conflict.
The Keswick Reminder
Luckpenny Land
paints a vivid picture of life on the fells during the war. Enhanced by fine historical detail and strong characterisation it is an endearing story...’
Westmorland Gazette
An entertaining saga
Manchester Evening News
Three young women craving adventure join the Women’s Timber Corps --
All for different reasons. . .
Lou sees it as a way to stay near her lovely new husband. Instead it brings heartache and tears, fear and betrayal. But it is she who holds the friends together when the going gets tough.
For Rose it means escape from her bullying brother. But her desperate search for love and acceptance leads the fun loving girl to change and be willing to inflict the same cold hearted treatment upon others; even her closest friends.
Gracie simply falls in love with the uniform and then commits the greatest sin of all: falling in love with the enemy. This puts at risk her freedom, her patriotism, the respect of her friends and even her life.
After the rigours of forestry training in Cornwall under Matron’s steely gaze, and a spell as acting air-raid wardens, the trio are posted to Grizedale forest in the Lake district where they love the outdoor life and new challenges; the knowledge that they are doing their bit. But their enemy is the war, and faith and friendship are tested to the utmost in their efforts to survive.
Acknowledgements
I am indebted to Elsie Taylor and to Betty Kirkland for the information they made available to me on the Timber Corps and the nature of the work they did. They kindly checked my manuscript and pointed out my mistakes which I hope I’ve accurately corrected, though I have still allowed my own timber girls to use tents on one brief project, which they would be unlikely to do in reality. I hope they will forgive me. My thanks also go to Ulverston Library for the information on Grizedale Hall. For the sake of story telling, I have taken a few liberties with the facts here too. Grizedale Hall was a Grade One Security Prison for high ranking German Luftwaffe and U-Boat Officers. It would be against the Geneva convention for them to do manual work on the land, or to be allowed the kind of freedom that I give my fictional PoWs. In every other respect, I have made the setting and situation as accurate as possible. You can read more about Betty and Elsie in the article The Forgotten Army at the end of this ebook.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
The Forgotten Army
A Sneak Preview of For All Our Tomorrows
Also by Freda Lightfoot available as ebooks
About Freda Lightfoot
1942
Chapter One
The train shuddered to a halt at Bodmin Road Station on a gasp of steam. There was no indication on this wooded, country platform that this was the correct destination, all signs having being painted out because of the war. Passengers scrambled to their feet and began to lift down bags from the overhead luggage racks.
‘Is this it? Have we arrived already?’ Lou felt an unexpected stinging at the backs of her eyes, and a small sob escaped as she squeezed closer to Gordon’s side in the overcrowded carriage. He grasped her hand, held on to it tightly and Lou was pleased to see that even her husband’s normally cheeky grin was a bit lop sided.
She’d meant to be so brave, so matter-of-fact when the moment came for them to part and here she was on the point of blubbing. But then they’d only been married five minutes. Two whole weeks in actual fact but it felt like five minutes. A month ago she hadn’t even known Gordon Mason existed, now he was her husband. The very thought made her insides turn to water with excitement.
It all started when Lou and her friend Sybil had decided to spend a week in the West Country on a much needed holiday. They’d found cheap digs in Brixham and were having the time of their li
ves, paddling in the sea, sitting on beaches, exploring quaint harbours and pretending there wasn’t a war on at all. Then up had strolled a couple of sailors and that was that. Within seconds her whole life had changed. Sybil had given Gordon the glad eye of course, as she usually did with a good looking man, but it was clear from the start it was Lou he fancied. He’d proposed to her that very first day.
The following morning, having smuggled him in through her landlady’s back pantry window and up to their room where he’d slept like a lamb on the floor, after a few satisfying clinches of course, Lou had sent a telegram to her mam, telling her not to expect her home. At the end of the week poor Sybil had returned alone to the factory in Rochdale, where they both wove silk for parachutes, in something of a huff, while Lou set about making other plans for her life.
The landlady of their digs had been sporting enough to stand for her at the short wedding ceremony, choosing to wear a pink flowered hat and leopard skin coat for the occasion and taking it quite in her stride that these two young people who had only just met, should rush into lifelong matrimony. ‘Happens every day dear,’ she told them. ‘What with the war, and all those poor lonely sailor boys. I’d wed one meself, given half a chance.’
‘She’d be better off adopting one,’ Gordon had remarked with one of his wry grins.
Since then they’d only managed to spend two entire nights together, though Gordon had somehow managed to wangle enough free passes for it to seem more. He’d even got quite nifty at sneaking off the base without a pass at all, and there’d been no further need to smuggle him into her digs, now they were legally married. He could walk in quite openly. Lou felt as if the last two weeks had been one long honeymoon.
She lifted her hand, twisting it about so she could admire the shining gold band on the third finger of her left hand. The name still sounded strange, oh, but didn’t she just love being Mrs Lou Mason instead of boring Louise Brown. What would Mam say if she could see her now?
Someone jabbed an elbow into her shoulder and she came out of her day dream with a jerk. Doors were being flung open; weary passengers stretched aching limbs, rubbed grit from their sleepy eyes as they clambered stiffly down from the carriages. The honeymoon was over and real life was about to begin.
‘This is it, love. Keep your chin up. Think of it as an adventure, and I won’t be far away.’
It had been the day after the wedding that she’d seen the poster asking for women to join the Timber Corps, a section of the Women’s Land Army, offering work on estates in Cornwall. It seemed the perfect solution for it meant she could stay near to Gordon. Lou had signed up without a second’s thought.
Plymouth now seemed like a million miles away, and, air raid attacks being what they were on that city, little consolation. Besides, as Gordon pointed out, he could get his sailing orders at any moment and be right in the thick of it. She kept her mind deliberately vague and unfocused on this point because it made her go all sick inside at the thought. Lou wished suddenly that she was back home with her Mam and three sisters, though they spent the whole time worrying and waiting for news of their various husbands and boy friends as well as Ronnie, their brother, who was in the army somewhere in Singapore. But here, without Gordon, she’d be all alone.
Lou tried to smile but it turned a bit wobbly. Even her legs felt like jelly as she stepped down onto the platform. Gordon handed down her kitbag then pulled the carriage door closed with the leather strap and leaned out through the open window.
He looked so handsome standing there in his sailor uniform, the neatly pressed collar flapping gently in the breeze, his round, tanned face, beaming at her with a stoic brightness and his love for her shining out of his dark brown eyes.
‘It’s all the wrong way round, isn’t it? I should be seeing you off.’
‘We’re seeing each other off, each to do our bit. Equal partners, eh love?’
‘I love you,’ she said.
His face went oddly still and serious, then, reaching down, he grasped her by the arms and half lifted her off her feet so he could kiss her. That was the wonderful thing about Gordon. He never seemed to notice that she was five foot seven and what might be politely termed, voluptuous. He called her a pleasing armful and handled her as if she were light as a feather. He kissed her deep and long, as though they hadn’t kissed anywhere near enough these last weeks, and left her as breathless and limp as a fourteen year old schoolgirl, rather than a practical young woman of twenty-three.
When he put her down again, Lou’s cheeks were all flushed and her hat had fallen off and was rolling between the feet of a group of soldiers and airmen who were milling around, some, like Gordon, holding adoring sweethearts close. Others hoisted laughing children into their arms before marching off for an eagerly awaited leave, grinning from ear to ear. She felt a shaft of envy for their good fortune. If only she could turn back the clock. How could she even get through one day without seeing him?
Snatching up the hat, Lou rammed it back onto her head, quite ruining her carefully arranged chestnut bangs, and ran back to grasp Gordon’s hand, as if she meant never to let him go.
An aged porter hurried forward to collect a dowager’s smart brown leather suitcase, sensing the opportunity for a tip; squabbling children were being admonished by harassed mothers; the sound of quiet weeping as family members clutched each other in relief or fear as the train breathed noisily beside them like an impatient animal eager to be off. Then came shouts from the station master, the banging of doors and blowing of whistles, and finally the clunk and rhythmic turn of wheels, the contented hiss of steam as the train began to inch forward, eager to continue on its journey. Still holding Gordon’s hand, Lou walked along with it.
‘Don’t fret, love. I’ll nip over to see you as soon as I can. This isn’t forever. Not by a long chalk.’
‘I’ll write when I find out what free time I’m to have.’
Their hold finally broken, they stared helplessly back at each other, nothing left to say yet so much unspoken in their eyes. Gordon leaned out of the carriage window, waving till the last possible moment, till the train had rounded the bend and he’d been swallowed up by a swathe of greenery and belch of steam. Lou felt as if he were being sucked away, out of her life for ever, which was nonsense. Hadn’t he just said he’d see her again soon? Eyes smarting, she went back for her luggage.
Within moments the melee of people had vanished, the porter and station master had returned to their respective hideaways for a welcome cup of tea and only two people were now left standing forlornly on the deserted platform. Lou, and one other. A girl, of about the same age as herself.
They gazed upon each other in open curiosity.
The pair couldn’t have been more different. One tall and statuesque, the other petite with long straight blond hair. Where Lou’s gaze was frank and open, lit by the warm friendliness of a wide smile, this girl had an oval childish face, pale skinned with huge grey eyes giving every appearance of terror, as if she couldn’t imagine how she came to be here on this deserted platform in the middle of nowhere, but would really like to turn tail and run after the departing train, were there any hope of catching it.
But in one respect at least, they were entirely alike. They both wore the same smart brown overcoat, woollen stockings and highly polished brown shoes, identical brimmed hats and, most telling of all, the same shiny new badge of crossed brass axes which marked them as comrades. Lou thrust out a hand.
‘Louise Mason, Lou for short. I take it you’re heading for the same place as me? Timber Corps training camp?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Gracie Freeman.’ Hands were shaken, grins exchanged and with an air of awkward embarrassment at being pitched together, two strangers into an unknown situation, they busied themselves collecting bags, various brown paper parcels and gas masks. Lou swung her kit bag up onto her shoulder with ease, as she had seen Gordon do many times with his. The smaller girl made no attempt to follow suit but seemed happy to drag the l
ong kit bag by its neck cord.
‘Dratted thing took up more space than me on the train,’ she said with a wry smile.
‘Aye, it would, seeing as how it’s nearly as tall as you are. You could do with a dog collar and lead, then happen it’d come by itself if you whistled.’
The voice, Gracie decided, was North Country, rather than her own Hereford with its distinctive Welsh border twang, but it was warm and somehow reassuring. She visibly relaxed, beginning to feel better already. Laughing, they walked together off the platform into the station yard, which seemed to be equally deserted. The only sound in the still September sunshine coming from some unidentified bird high in the trees that lined the track.
‘By heck, is that a song thrush? You don’t get many of them to the pound in Rochdale.’
‘A blackbird actually. Is that where you come from? Lancashire.’
Lou beamed proudly. ‘For my sins, as they say. What about you? Come far?’
Sin! Gracie’s attention was caught by the word, one she had come to hate. There was rarely a Sunday morning in chapel when she hadn’t heard it on the lips of some lay preacher or other, her own father in particular. It had always seemed to the young Gracie, that if anything at all might bring happiness or pleasure in life, it must be a sin. How fiercely she had resisted all those stern rules; the limericks she’d hidden in the pages of her New Testament when supposedly learning scriptures; the scarlet and azure ribbons she’d kept in her handkerchief box to brighten up the sober colours of her homely skirts and blouses; the secret dance lessons with her more frolicsome mother. She felt a pang of guilt. Mum would miss her badly, though she was not entirely blameless in Gracie’s decision to leave.