‘What’s up?’ said Doris. ‘You don’t sound very keen. Don’t you want to be me best friend?’
‘Yes…I don’t mind,’ said Maisie. ‘But I was just thinking about Audrey. Real sad, isn’t it? Hey up…look who’s coming. Let’s try not to fall out with ’em, eh?’
Gertie Flint and Norma Wilkins were approaching, but looking much less belligerent than usual.’
‘We’re dead sorry about Audrey,’ said Gertie.
‘Are you really?’ said Doris, just a mite aggressively.
‘Yeah…honest we are,’ said Norma. ‘It’s real sad her dad bein’ killed, an’ her havin’ to go back to Leeds an’ all. She’s gone for good, has she?’
Maisie nodded. ‘I s’pose so.’
‘We was wondering,’ said Gertie. ‘There’s only you two now, and us two. Would you like to be friends with us?’
‘Why should we?’ said Doris, tossing her flaxen plaits.
‘’Cause we’d like you to be, honest we would,’ said Norma. ‘I know we’ve been dead mean sometimes. And we were horrid, teasing poor little Tim like that. We felt awful when he got hurt.’
‘Shut up, Norma,’ said Gertie. ‘Yer don’t need to go on like that. Leave ’em alone if they don’t want to be friends. We don’t care.’
‘I thought we did,’ said Norma.
‘Yeah…all right,’ said Maisie, decidedly. ‘We’ll be yer friends if yer want us to be, me and Doris. Won’t we, Doris?’
‘Oh…all right then,’ said Doris, but still a shade grudgingly.
‘We was just jealous, Maisie,’ said Norma. ‘’Cause you’re real clever, aren’t you? Always top of the class, and so was Audrey. We thought you were a couple of swank pots, y’see. But you’re not. You’re dead nice really.’
Maisie shrugged. ‘I can’t help being clever,’ she said, with an air of modesty.
‘I’m not clever,’ giggled Doris. ‘You don’t need to be jealous of me. Me dad sometimes says I’m as thick as two short planks.’
‘No, you’re not!’ retorted Maisie. ‘That’s not very nice of him.’
‘I don’t care,’ laughed Doris. ‘He’s only teasing.’
‘But you’re real pretty, Doris,’ said Norma. ‘I wish I had nice fair hair like that…’
‘Oh…thank you,’ said Doris. She gave a self-satisfied smile and tossed her plaits again. ‘Yes, it’s OK…you can be friends with us if you want, can’t they, Maisie?’
Chapter Nineteen
The cold and miserable winter was followed by a warm and balmy spring, at least as far as the weather was concerned. Many people of the nation had begun to grow complacent as the months went by. Especially as the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, remarked at the beginning of April, ‘After seven months of war I feel ten times as confident of victory as I did at the beginning…Hitler has missed the bus.’
‘What do you think about that?’ Patience asked her husband. ‘He should know what he’s talking about; after all, he is the Prime Minister.’
Luke shook his head. ‘I haven’t forgotten Munich,’ he replied, ‘and neither have a lot more folk. I have as much confidence in Chamberlain now as I had when he came back waving his scrap of paper. Peace in our time… Yes, it was a comforting thought and I’m sure he wanted to believe it. But I doubt if he will be leading our nation for very much longer, my dear. We need a man of action.’
Four days later the Germans occupied Denmark, and then Norway, who had remained neutral. The British forces who went to their aid suffered heavy losses. Then, in May, the German army burst into Holland, Belgium and France.
‘That’s the end of our phoney war, the ‘bore war’ or whatever they called it,’ said Luke. ‘And the end of Chamberlain too, I fear… No, that’s not true. There would be more reason to fear if he were to stay.’
‘Poor man,’ said Patience. ‘He did his best and he meant well.’
‘I’m sure he did,’ said Luke, ‘but I am realising now that to be well-meaning is not always the best thing. It wasn’t in this case.’
‘So who do you think they will get to follow him?’
‘There’s only one man who can command the support of the House of Commons, and that is Winston Churchill. He’s not always been popular, but most folks are coming round to his way of thinking now…’
Churchill’s message was grim. ‘I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. What is our aim? Victory at all costs…however long and hard the road may be.’
The complacency of the British people, along with the apathy and the apprehension, was transformed to a new spirit of hope and determination. The glorious spring was followed by an equally golden summer. But every day, as that summer drew on, although it brought blue skies, brought increasingly bad news…
Andy Cartwright, Daisy’s young man, was serving in France as one of the British Expeditionary Force. There was great concern for him in Middlebeck, and for thousands of others, when the British Army was forced to retreat.
‘Say a prayer for my lad, won’t you, Reverend?’ Andy’s mother asked Luke. She had been a spasmodic church-goer, but had attended more regularly since her son had gone overseas. In fact Luke had noticed that his congregation as a whole had increased since the beginning of the year, people realising that it might not be a bad idea to turn to the Almighty for help.
‘Indeed I will, Mrs Cartwright,’ Luke told her, ‘and for all the others.’ The news had just broken through of the armada of ships and boats, both great and small, involved in the rescue operation from the beaches of Dunkirk.
A tired and dishevelled, though not dispirited, Andy arrived home in Middlebeck two days later, and the following weekend his girlfriend, Daisy, was granted a pass from her ATS camp in Herefordshire and she travelled north to see him.
They called at the rectory the following day. ‘We want to get married real soon,’ they told Luke. ‘In a few weeks’ time if we can. We should be able to get leave and have a few days together.’
Luke did not even try to dissuade them or to advise them to wait a while. They were young and in love and they wanted to ‘belong to one another’ they told him. This was not the only speedy marriage that he had arranged. Time was of the essence and, although it was never spoken out loud, it was uncertain how much time might be left for young couples to spend together.
And so arrangements were made that very weekend for the wedding to take place on the second Saturday in July. Daisy, to the great delight of both girls, asked Maisie and Doris if they would be her bridesmaids.
‘Why us and not your sisters?’ asked Maisie.
‘Oh, there’s too many of ’em,’ said Daisy, ‘an’ they’d only fall out about it, so I’ll have you two instead. It’ll not be a big posh do, but I want to have a white frock. Me mam said why don’t I get married in me uniform, same as Andy will, but I’ve allus wanted to be a proper bride. An’ you two can wear whatever colour you like; pink or blue or green, a pale green, like…’
‘Not green,’ said Patience. ‘Green is supposed to be unlucky, isn’t it?’ She wasn’t really superstitious, but she knew that bridesmaids very seldom wore green.
‘Happen pink then,’ said Daisy. ‘Little girls always look nice in pink, but it’s up to you. I don’t mind. I mustn’t say little girls though, must I? Look at the pair of yer! How you’ve shot up since I was last here.’
It was agreed that Patience and Doris’s mother, Ada, would purchase material from the stall in the market hall and make the bridesmaids’ dresses themselves from a paper pattern. And Daisy would buy a ready-made dress from a shop she knew of in Hereford, which was not too expensive.
She called again at the rectory on Sunday afternoon. ‘I’m real sorry little Audrey’s gone back,’ she said to Patience, ‘or else I’d’ve had her as a bridesmaid an’ all. Well, actually, I’d’ve had her and not Doris, but I wanted two, y’see. And then I found out that Maisie and Doris had got friendly, like, and Andy has known little Doris since she were a ba
by. Me and Audrey, though, we were real good friends when I was working for old Amelia…Miss Thomson, I mean,’ she added with a grin at Patience. ‘I’m goin’ to pop over and see her now, then I’m goin’ to tea with Andy and his mam and dad. I’m not taking Andy to see ’er Ladyship. She was never all that keen on him, but I might invite her to the wedding. What d’ you think, Mrs Fairchild?’
‘That would be a very nice idea,’ replied Patience. ‘It’s a kind thought, Daisy. I think you will find that Miss Thomson has mellowed a little. She has two land girls billeted with her now, as no doubt you have heard, and they have a rota to help her with the housework and some of the cooking, although I have heard she is doing quite a lot of the cooking herself. And I believe your mother goes in a few mornings a week, doesn’t she, Daisy?’
‘Aye, that’s right; so she does. She does the washing and scrubbing floors an’ all that sort o’ thing. She says Miss T. asks about me, so that’s nice of her, isn’t it? That’s why I’m going to see her.’
‘I like Priscilla and Jennifer,’ said Maisie. ‘They’re the two land girls. Well, it’s Priscilla that I know best. She’s in the church choir…an’ I am as well now,’ she added proudly.
‘Are you, by gum?’ said Daisy. ‘I didn’t know you could sing.’
‘Yes, she has a lovely voice,’ said Patience. ‘We could hear her singing all over the house, so Luke asked her if she would like to join the choir. She’s one of the youngest choristers, of course.’
‘I sing when I’m happy,’ said Maisie, ‘and I’ve been real happy since I came to live here, ’specially now me mum’s up here an’ our little Joanie and Jimmy. She’s helping Mrs Tremaine with the land girls, y’know – me mum, I mean. An’ our Joanie’ll be starting school in September. An’ I’ll be in the top class then, Standard Four. I hope we still have Miss Mellodey. I ’spect we will, ’cause we’ve got some of the top class kids in with us now.’
Daisy laughed. ‘You’re still a little chatterbox, aren’t you? And what about yer friend, Audrey? Does she write to you? How’s her mam going on?’
‘Well…’ Maisie hesitated. ‘Audrey writes now and again, not all that much though. I don’t think her mum’s very well.’
‘Luke has kept in touch with her vicar,’ said Patience. ‘He met him when he took Audrey back home. I’m afraid Mrs Dennison is far from well. She wanted Audrey with her, which was understandable, and I’m sure the little girl is a comfort to her, but…’ She glanced warily at Maisie who was listening intently. ‘…but, as I said, she’s not well. We just have to say our prayers, Daisy, and hope for the best.’
‘Yes…I see,’ said Daisy. ‘Poor little Audrey, poor kid… Anyroad, I’d best be off across the green to see Miss T. If I don’t see yer before, I’ll see yer when I come back for me wedding. Only six weeks! I can’t believe it.’
Daisy was surprised at the greeting she received from Miss Thomson.
‘Well now…Daisy, how lovely to see you…’ Her former employer actually kissed her on the cheek, but very primly, then quickly drew away from her, looking rather flustered and embarrassed.
‘I’ve come to tell yer that me and Andy’s getting married,’ said Daisy, following Miss Thomson into the room she called the lounge. Well, that was a turn-up for the book, being invited into the lounge! ‘An’ we’d like you to come to the wedding. It won’t be a big posh do, but we’re ’aving a bit of a get-together afterwards in t’ church hall. I’ll send yer a proper invite, like, but it’s the second Saturday in July.’
‘How very kind of you, my dear.’ Miss Thomson turned quite pink and her lips curved in more of a smile than Daisy had ever seen on her normally forbidding face. ‘I can’t remember the last time I was invited to a wedding… And will you be staying in the army – the ATS, isn’t it? – after you are married? I must say that you look very smart in your uniform, Daisy.’
‘Ta very much,’ said Daisy. She was proud of her khaki jacket and short skirt and her neat little forage cap which sat pertly on top of her dark curly hair, although she wasn’t wearing the cap now, of course, in the house. ‘Aye, I reckon I’ll be staying on in the ATS. I’m down near Hereford, an’ Andy…well, I’m not right sure where Andy’ll be. He’s just back from that Dunkirk place, y’know. We’ll just have to meet when we can, him and me. Like folks keep telling us, that’s what happens in wartime.’
‘Yes, quite so,’ said Miss Thomson. ‘We have all had to make changes. I have two of those land girls staying here. Very nice young ladies they are, though; well-mannered and really very little trouble at all.’ Daisy suppressed a grin. Miss Thomson sounded surprised that they were ‘nice young ladies’. Or maybe she had mellowed, as Patience had said, and had seen the best in them.
‘Perhaps you would like to meet them, Daisy? They are both here this afternoon, washing their hair, I believe. I will just pop upstairs and see if they would like to have a little chat with you, and then perhaps we could all have a cup of tea together.’
By heck! she has changed, thought Daisy, looking around the room which she had hardly ever sat in before, only cleaned and polished the old-fashioned furniture. It still smelled somewhat musty with lack of use; fires were very rarely lit in there. But there were now a few women’s magazines on the sofa which surely did not belong to Amelia. Were the girls actually allowed into this hallowed place?
Miss Thomson was back in a few moments. ‘Go up, Daisy,’ she said. ‘They are in the back room on the first floor, across from the bathroom. They will be pleased to see you.’
First floor, indeed! thought Daisy, and in one of the posh bedrooms an’ all. Not banished to the attic floor as she and Audrey had been.
Two girls, one dark and one fair, although their hair was still damp and set in Dinky rollers, were sitting one on each bed. ‘Hi there,’ said the fair one. ‘I’m Priscilla, and this is Jennifer. And you must be Daisy. We’ve heard a lot about you, haven’t we, Jen?’
‘Oh heck, have yer?’ said Daisy. ‘I don’t like the sound o’ that.’
‘No, nothing bad,’ said Jennifer, the dark-haired girl. ‘Miss Thomson’s always singing your praises, isn’t she, Prissy?’
‘She certainly is,’ replied Priscilla. ‘Come and sit down and make yourself at home… You’re in the ATS then? We heard how you’d joined up. Miss T. was very impressed about that. So how are you liking it?’
The three girls exchanged stories about the ATS and the Women’s Land Army. They all admitted that they were homesick at times, but had learned to make the best of it. And there were compensations. Daisy enjoyed the company and friendship of a group of girls, something she had not been used to, working as a maid, whereas Priscilla and Jennifer, both town girls – Priscilla from Leicester and Jennifer from Manchester – were enjoying a very different sort of life in the countryside. But while Daisy was soon to marry the young man who was the love of her life, the two land girls were fancy free.
‘There’s an army camp not far away though,’ said Priscilla, laughing. ‘Up near Richmond.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Daisy. ‘You mean Catterick camp. Have you got friendly wi’ some of the soldiers then?’
Priscilla pursed her lips. ‘No one special. They get transported down here now and again when there’s a dance on at the Village Hall. And we go up to the camp if there’s something going on in the NAAFI. Not just me and Jennifer; I mean a crowd of us land girls. There are a lot more billeted at the squire’s house, you know.’
‘And how do you get up there?’ asked Daisy, knowing that the bus service was practically non-existent.
‘Well, we ride bikes, most of us, provided by the WLA. Or one of the sergeants might give us a lift in an army truck. There are ways and means,’ laughed Priscilla.
She appeared to be the livelier of the two girls, the one who was doing most of the talking. Priscilla was small with delicate features, not the sort of girl you would imagine working on a farm, Daisy thought, whereas Jennifer was robust and pink-cheeked, seemi
ngly much more of a farm girl. She was quieter, though, just smiling in agreement most of the time.
‘So you’re on one of the farms round here, are you?’ asked Daisy.
‘Yes, Mr Nixon’s,’ said Priscilla. ‘We call him Walter, though; everybody does. He was responsible for our training, him and the squire. We were clueless when we arrived, weren’t we, Jen?’
‘Absolutely,’ smiled Jennifer.
‘Walter trains quite a lot of the girls,’ Priscilla went on. ‘He’s a very good teacher, but he can get a bit short-tempered if you don’t catch on at once.’
‘Don’t I know it!’ said Daisy. ‘My Andy used to work for him; well, for him and the squire. It’s all Mr Tremaine’s land, y’know.’
‘The other girls are working further away though,’ said Jennifer, ‘the ones that are living at the big house. They get taken to their farms by lorry every morning, or sometimes they go on their bikes. Priscilla and I are lucky, working so near, aren’t we, Prissy?’
‘Yes.’ Priscilla nodded. ‘I sometimes wish we were with the others, though, at Tremaine House. But Miss Thomson’s not such a bad old stick when you get to know her.’
‘Huh! You don’t know what she was like when I was here!’ exclaimed Daisy. ‘I must say she’s changed, though. What time d’you have to be in, like, when you go off gallivanting?’
‘Oh, half-past ten or so,’ said Priscilla. ‘We’re never really late, though, because dances and all that sort of thing finish real early.’
‘It were half-past nine for me!’ said Daisy. ‘There was no end of a row when I stopped out late once. She actually sacked me.’
‘Yes,’ laughed Priscilla. ‘We’ve heard all about that, and about little Audrey getting into trouble.’
Above the Bright Blue Sky Page 30
