Always in my Heart

by Pam Weaver

  At one point, they had to make a dash for it when a couple of German planes flew over, hotly pursued by two Spitfires. They were soon seen off, and everyone waved and cheered as the RAF boys disappeared over the horizon. The party broke up at around nine-thirty and they all began the long walk back to Angmering.

  As Shirley lay in her bed that night, it was almost too hot to sleep. She only had a sheet over her and she had taken her nightie off, but even with the window wide open, the room was stifling. She stared at the ceiling and thought about her day. Tomorrow, Clay and some of the other Canadians would be coming to help move the pigs.

  She wished Clay wasn’t coming, but when she’d asked some of the other lads for help, he’d taken over, even though she’d told him time and again that she wasn’t interested in him as a boyfriend. She’d tried telling him at the dance that she liked him as a friend and didn’t want anything else, but he hadn’t been listening. The last couple of times, he’d been on duty and unable to come to the social and she’d had a much better time. But then he’d started hanging around the farm and he was beginning to annoy her. He was critical too. ‘Why have you put on that dress? You look much nicer in the blue one.’

  As she thought about it, she began to bristle. He didn’t own her. Nobody, she thought crossly, had the right to dictate to her what she should do. The trouble was, the pigs were too difficult for them to manage on their own. One was going to be slaughtered, but those belonging to the Pig Club were being moved to a new home. Janet was worried that when he got back, Mr Oliver would keep them for himself, so she’d found a small field next to the nursery on Station Road where the nurseryman said they could keep the pigs for a share of the meat at Christmas. They would have to make pens for them and make the area secure, which would mean a lot of hard work. The pigs were already big, so it would take every bit of muscle to keep them under control while they were being moved, and the Canadians were always boasting how strong they were, so let them get on with it! She and Janet would be in the orchard picking apples. Several ladies from the WI were coming to pick as well. There were few windfalls. The pigs had made good use of them, and although it was a tad too early to pick from the branches, she and Janet wanted some return on all their hard work.

  Shirley was sure they’d make a tidy profit all round, certainly enough to give Janet and Lucy a decent start in their new life. What a pity Mr Oliver was such a dinosaur. With a little imagination, Oliver’s Farm could be a really profitable business, as she, Janet and Granny Roberts had proved. On his last visit, Mr Telford had been delighted.

  ‘I am impressed, Mrs Oliver,’ he’d said. ‘No, I’m more than impressed. You have done a magnificent job here, and because of that I am in a position to offer you a place on the government scheme for the share of a tractor. The horses have done a wonderful job, but a machine doesn’t get tired and it doesn’t need stabling.’

  He’d been devastated when Janet had told him she and Lucy were leaving.

  ‘The country needs people like you, Mrs Oliver, people who work hard and are willing to take advice. Are you sure I cannot persuade you?’

  ‘’fraid not,’ said Janet.

  Shirley sighed. She and Granny knew the reason Janet was going, but Mr Telford was no fool and he’d probably worked out that once Mr Oliver was back in charge, his wife would have no say in the matter. Shirley’s mind drifted back to Elizabeth. She’d miss being in this lovely room, but she was glad that there was a real chance she would be staying in the area. She’d made some good friends here. She’d write to her mother tomorrow and tell her about the cottage.

  Her gaze wandered towards the bedpost and the place where she’d found that poster. Odd that Elizabeth had put it there. A sudden thought struck her. There were four bedposts on this bed. What if Elizabeth had put something in each of them? Wide awake now, she knelt up and looked in the ones at the head of the bed. Nothing. They were quite empty. She stepped off the bed onto the floor and reached for the post at the foot of the bed. It was a struggle getting the knob off, but when she looked inside, her heart almost stopped. It was just as she’d thought. Something else had been hidden down there.

  CHAPTER 28

  It took some time to get the rolled-up paper out. Shirley had to resort to the pin from Elizabeth’s workbox again, and she had to be careful not to tear it. As it emerged, she could see it was a newspaper cutting. She smoothed it out on the bed. One side was a jumble of bits and pieces, including part of an advertisement for a summer sale at Plummer’s department store. Where was Plummer’s? She didn’t recall a shop in Worthing with that name. Smith & Strange, Hubbard’s & Bentall’s, but not Plummer’s.

  On the other side, she found a story about an inquest into the tragic death of a twin. Apparently, a young man, Stephen Oliver, aged twenty-seven and newly returned from the horrors of war, had bought a farm. The older brother to his twin, he had lost his leg after an injury refused to heal, and after all that he’d been through, this was to be the fresh start. The brothers had been estranged some years before because the younger one had brought shame on his family by trying to cheat an ageing relative out of some money. He had received a custodial sentence. Sadly, within a year of their reunion, the older brother, Stephen, was killed, trampled to death by cows. As it happened, the younger brother had been visiting his brother at the time. ‘My brother and I patched things up,’ he’d told the coroner. ‘I was returning to my car when I heard a shout. I ran to the gate where the cows had gathered. That’s when I saw my poor brother under their hoofs.’ The article went on to describe how the witness had broken down and needed medical assistance before the court could proceed. The verdict was accidental death, and having died without a will, the farm had gone to his next of kin, Gilbert Oliver.

  Shirley sat back and frowned. So what was all that stuff about the farm being in the family for six generations? She read the article again. The older brother bought the farm. He didn’t inherit it, and if he was a cripple, what was he doing surrounded by cows, anyway? When she’d first come to the farm Shirley hadn’t realized how dangerous cows could be, especially if they thought their young were under threat. If Stephen Oliver only had one leg, surely he would have known to be extra careful, and if he’d already been on the farm for a year, he would have known how to keep himself safe.

  Shirley was puzzled as to why the cutting was there. The reason why Elizabeth had hidden the brochure was obvious. She’d wanted to look at it and remind herself of her wonderful future, but apart from the fact that it was about her husband, why keep this cutting hidden? There had to be something more significant about it. She wanted to talk to Janet, but somehow she felt she might worry her for nothing. It was then that she noticed a pencilled note written down the side of the cutting. It was as plain as a pikestaff once she’d seen it, but what did it mean?

  ‘Peach & Lemon Liverpool,’ then some unreadable blob, followed by ‘573A64.’

  Peach & Lemon – was that some sort of crop? That didn’t seem likely. Why hide it? Why write it on this particular cutting? ‘Liverpool 573A64’ looked a bit like a telephone number, apart from the ‘A’, and it couldn’t be a number because there were too many digits. Most telephone numbers only had three digits. Dr Dyer’s was Goring 952.

  There was an indecipherable smudge after the word ‘Liverpool’. Was that important? She got off the bed and looked down the tube again, but it was empty. When she climbed back into bed again, Shirley felt a kind of presence in the room. It wasn’t spooky or upsetting, but she was sure Elizabeth was trying to tell her something. If only she knew what it was.

  Granny Roberts had offered Florrie a room in her cottage until she could find a cottage to buy. It was a wonderfully generous offer and Florrie couldn’t wait to meet the kind-hearted people who had cared for her children so well. She had accepted Len’s offer to help her move over to Angmering. He’d managed to get compassionate leave and as soon as he saw her, he said he’d put in for a transfer to be closer to her. Whether he
got it or not was anybody’s guess. Being in the army, he didn’t get much choice, but Len thought it worth a try. He’d borrowed someone’s car and driven down from Yorkshire overnight. Dog-tired, he perked up as soon as he saw Florrie. She was wearing her best dress, the one she had worn when she’d first left home, a pink and blue striped dress with short sleeves and little buttons down the front. It was a good job the dress had a small belt at the waist. She had lost so much weight it hung on her. She had to make a new notch in the belt to make it fit snugly. Florrie felt a bit like a sack of potatoes tied in the middle, but what could she do? She had nothing else.

  Florrie said her goodbyes on the ward and she and Len went out into the grounds. ‘Oh, how I’ve missed you, my love,’ he said, sweeping her up into his arms.

  ‘Put me down, you great lummox,’ she laughed, and he lowered her gently to the grass. ‘You do think we’re doing the right thing, don’t you, Len?’

  ‘Course we are.’ He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. Florrie’s senses were reeling and she went weak at the knees. Her heart was pounding in her chest like a silly young girl’s, and every part of her wanted more of him.

  ‘From now on, you’re Mrs Greene,’ he said. ‘My darling wife.’

  Tears rimmed her eyes as she nodded. ‘I’d really like to do what you said.’

  He gave her a puzzled look.

  ‘Go to church,’ she reminded him, ‘and make all those promises.’

  ‘Then so we shall, my lovely.’

  They held hands as they walked to the car.

  ‘When do you have to go back?’ she asked.

  ‘Day after tomorrow,’ he said, and her heart sank a little. ‘I shall have to leave in good time if this Rolls-Can-’ardly is going to get me back.’

  Florrie gave him a quizzical look.

  ‘You’ve heard of a Rolls-Royce,’ he said, grinning. ‘Well, this is his younger brother. It can ’ardly start, can ’ardly get up a hill and can ’ardly stop when I brake.’

  Florrie slapped his arm. ‘Oh, Len,’ she laughed.

  As they drove away from Fontwell, she explained about the offer she’d had of a room at Mrs Roberts’s place. ‘It’s just until I can find a place of my own.’

  Len nodded. ‘That’s fine,’ he said, ‘but for the next couple of nights, I’m taking you to a hotel.’ He leaned over and squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll help you look for a place tomorrow, but after all this time, I want you to myself.’ He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

  Florrie couldn’t contain her smile. How wonderful. How exciting.

  When they reached Angmering, they went straight up to the church. It was easy enough to find. There was nobody about, although the noticeboard said there was Holy Communion on a Wednesday. They pushed open the little door and stepped inside. For a moment or two, she wished she was wearing a better dress and that Shirley was her bridesmaid. Tom could have given her away if this was real. It was cool and shaded as they walked silently towards the altar. When they reached the front-row pews, Florrie bobbed a curtsey and Len bowed his head out of respect for the cross.

  As they sat down together, a woman with a mop and bucket appeared. She gave them a quick smile and said, ‘Good morning’ as she went by. They watched her as she disappeared into what they supposed was a kitchen.

  Florrie and Len sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Florrie stared at the stained-glass window and wondered how many eyes had admired and learned from the message they’d brought over the centuries that the church had been in existence: the birth of Christ, the crucifixion and the empty tomb. Len looked up at the vaulted archway, where a hundred years before, some Victorian artist had painted the Ten Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed down the sides and across the top.

  After the sound of running water and the clanking of her bucket in the sink had stopped, the cleaning woman reappeared. She wore no hat, but she had a shopping bag over her arm. They made no eye contact as she padded past them and out of the church. The door closed softly behind her and Len took Florrie’s hands in his.

  ‘I don’t remember all the words, Florrie, love, but as God is my witness, I love you with all my heart.’ He let go of her hands and reached into his pocket to pull out a small box. His hand trembled as he put the ring on her finger. ‘With my body I thee worship, with this ring I thee wed, and I promise to love you all the days of my life.’

  Florrie looked up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘And I promise always to be faithful to you, Len,’ she said, ‘all my life until death do us part.’

  He leaned over and whispered in her ear, ‘And I promise that as soon as we can, we’ll make this all legal and proper, but I’m saying before God, you are my wife.’

  She laid her head on his shoulder and they sat for a while enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies and the glow of what they’d just done.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ The vicar’s interruption made Florrie and Len jump. They sat up straight.

  ‘The wife and I just came in for a few minutes in the peace and quiet, sir.’

  The vicar nodded. ‘Soldier, thank you for what you are doing to protect our country,’ he said. ‘I for one appreciate your sacrifice and dedication.’

  Len was taken by surprise, but he said, ‘Thank you, sir.’

  The vicar held out his hand for Len to shake. ‘My name is Reverend Theodore Wright. May I offer you a prayer of blessing?’

  Len glanced at Florrie. ‘Much appreciated, sir.’

  Later, as they strolled back to the car, Florrie said, ‘Do you think that was a sign?’

  He patted her hand, which was threaded over his arm, and grinned. ‘Most definitely, my lovely.’

  When her mother appeared at the gate, Shirley let out a whoop of delight, which brought Tom from the stables. They all greeted each other with hugs and dancing on the spot.

  ‘Come into the house,’ Shirley cried. ‘We thought you’d be here a lot later, so Janet and Lucy have popped down to the village. I’ll make us a cup of tea and then I’ll take you to meet Granny Roberts.’

  ‘What on earth is that?’ cried Florrie when she saw the dartboard on the wall.

  ‘That’s Granny Roberts’s idea of a good laugh,’ said Shirley, explaining how it all came about, and she was pleased to see that her mother enjoyed the joke.

  Florrie was impressed with Shirley’s room and the farmhouse in general.

  ‘Does Tom mind being on the landing?’ she whispered anxiously.

  ‘No,’ said Shirley, wondering if she should tell her where they had slept when they’d first come here.

  ‘I can see the stars,’ said Tom, coming up the stairs behind them. He threw himself onto the bed to demonstrate how the skylight window was directly above him. ‘Sometimes I see the Spitfires too.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Florrie.

  ‘Come and see where I work,’ said Tom. ‘I want to show you the horses. The pigs have all gone now . . .’

  Shirley smiled as she heard him clatter downstairs with her mother and went to put the kettle on. Half an hour later, as they swapped more stories, Shirley noticed her mother’s ring. ‘Is that new?’

  Florrie nodded. ‘Len gave it to me.’

  Shirley seemed puzzled. Why would Len give her mother a new wedding ring? Florrie glanced anxiously at Len.

  ‘I’ve only got a couple of days,’ he began, ‘so your mother and me went to the church before we came here.’

  ‘You got married?’ Shirley squeaked.

  ‘We said our vows,’ said Len, glancing at Florrie, ‘and the vicar gave us his blessing.’

  Shirley’s face fell. ‘But I don’t understand,’ she said crossly. ‘How could you get married without even bothering to tell us? Surely you must have known we would have wanted to be there.’

  Tom looked confused.

  ‘I know,’ Florrie began, ‘but you see—’

  ‘It was all my fault,’ Len interrupted. ‘I persuade
d her. We had a special arrangement. I know I’m being selfish, but’ – he took Florrie’s hand in his – ‘I’ve got to go back the day after tomorrow and I wanted your mother all to myself for as long as possible. A big day and a party would mean we wouldn’t have much time together.’ He looked contrite. ‘I’m sorry. I hope you can both forgive me. It’s only for two days and then she’s all yours.’

  Florrie could see the indignation in her daughter’s eyes fading.

  Len continued to look sheepish. ‘Perhaps we could have a bit of a shindig the next time I come home?’

  Shirley hesitated for a second; then she hugged Len’s arm. ‘Oh, all right. You’re on, but you’re still very naughty.’

  ‘That I am,’ said Len, giving Florrie a wink.

  ‘Is it all right, then, Shirl?’ said Tom.

  ‘Course it is,’ said Shirley. ‘Mum and Uncle Len have just got married.’

  Len held out his hand and Tom shook it warmly. ‘Does that mean you’re my dad now?’

  Len clapped him on the shoulder. ‘If that’s what you’d like, son, then I’d be honoured.’ He looked at Shirley again. ‘There’s one more thing. I’m taking your ma away with me on honeymoon. It’s all booked and I’ll bring her back first thing the day after tomorrow.’

  It seemed strange to wave them goodbye almost as soon as they’d got here, especially as they didn’t even wait to meet Janet and Lucy, but Shirley couldn’t be upset. It was obvious Uncle Len adored her mother and she’d never seen her looking so relaxed and happy.

  CHAPTER 29

  When Marilyn came over to see Shirley late the next day, the pair of them biked up to Clapham to have a look at the cottage for sale. Sadly, it wasn’t at all suitable. Neglected for far too long, it had grass at the front a mile high, ivy growing inside the front door, a broken window had let in the rain, and it was obvious when they peered through the window that the floorboards were rotten. What’s more, judging by the amount of mouse and rat droppings, the place was infested.