Wave Me Goodbye

by Ruby Jackson

  Grace was on her way upstairs to take a bath before dressing for the dance. She certainly did not want to tell Mrs Love that there had been no running water at all in the house in which she grew up and so she merely agreed. To her surprise, Mrs Love kept beside her as they progressed up the stairs.

  ‘Spending quite a bit of time with young Jack, Grace. Not sure her ladyship would think that a good idea. A girl has to think of her good name, you know.’

  Grace stopped in the middle of the staircase. ‘My good name. What do you mean?’

  ‘No need to get uppity. I have a responsibility. Until other girls arrive, you’re the only woman in a houseful of men.’

  ‘Harry and Jack hardly make up a houseful, Mrs Love. Besides, I never see them in the house, except at the table.’

  ‘I know that and you know that, but you’re going to a village dance tonight and the village doesn’t know that. Just be careful.’

  Her joyful anticipation of a pleasant evening somewhat spoiled, Grace hurried past her.

  ‘I see you’ve had his wireless the past two days. That’s nice.’

  Grace longed to say that listening to the wireless was more interesting than listening to Mrs Love but she restrained herself. Jack had handed her the wireless in full view of the assembled farm workers. Seemingly, Bob Hazel had taken a larger wireless out of an uninhabited cottage a few days before and had put it in the men’s dormitory. Jack had loaned his much smaller one to Grace; there was nothing more to it than that. Surely, Mrs Love knew that.

  She switched on the radio when she reached her room. How cheering it was to hear music and the evening news, although she would not be hearing that this evening. She would be dancing. A recording by the great Joe Loss and his band was playing as she took out her frock – she’d removed the tie – a carefully reserved pair of stockings, not silk, and her sole pair of elegant shoes. In a few weeks, Grace, who had assiduously saved what remained of her pay after the amount for her food was taken off, intended to buy white sandals for the summer. For the first time in her life, she had a little money of her own and could buy whatever she wanted. So far, clothing was not rationed but probably would be, like everything except those foods classed as non-essentials. Clothes rationing was ‘only a matter of time’. She went off to the bathroom, thinking how perfectly the white sandals she could see in her mind would look with the green frock. Perhaps Jack would ask her to walk out with him. She could see them, hand in hand, walking along beside one of the streams on the estate, her new sandals startling white against the green grass …

  No, Grace, don’t rush, she told herself, and stepped into the lovely hot water.

  To her surprise, and slight disappointment, Harry and Esau had both decided to go to the dance. Esau said that he looked forward to an evening of company with farm workers he knew from the area, and Harry, who assured Grace that he would not ask her to dance with him, was looking forward to live music.

  ‘I were listening to that Joe Loss while I shaved. That’d be a turn-up for the books if bands like his was to play for us.’

  ‘He won’t be in the village hall tonight, Harry; you’ll have to make do with an old joanna, a fiddle and a squeeze-box,’ Esau said laughing.

  Grace, who was more accustomed to records played in the church hall, thought that the three musicians that evening were superb. ‘We had local bands in the church hall sometimes, Jack, but I don’t think any of them were as good as this.’

  The hall was absolutely packed with people of all ages, even fairly young children, and a brave attempt had been made to decorate it with such spring flowers as were available. The three-piece band was playing lustily and, while the others found a table, Jack took Grace onto the floor to dance.

  It was some time since Grace had even attempted to dance but, to her great surprise, she was delighted to find that she could move easily with Jack, who was obviously an experienced dancer.

  Of course. Jack was a university student. Students probably went to dances, if not every night, at least on Fridays and Saturdays.

  ‘At your university, Jack, were there dances every night?’

  ‘Work hard, play hard, Grace. Dancing’s a great way to relax, don’t you think?’

  ‘I haven’t been to many dances,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll have to remedy that. You just need more experience to become a good dancer; honestly, you have a great sense of rhythm.’

  Great sense of rhythm. She had heard those words before. Who had said them? Sally. It was Sally Brewer and she had been talking about Sam. Grace closed her eyes and conjured up a picture of Sam, but the picture did not want to form. She was here in Bedfordshire with Jack Williams, who thought she was pretty. Without regret, she felt the dream of Sam float away.

  Sam will always be special, she thought, but this is different. That morning, she had had her first short driving lesson with Jack, who was nothing like Sam. Jack was not quite so tall as Sam, and he was more slender, but she was delighted to find that, like Sam, he was kind. He seemed to know that she was nervous and spoke quietly and approvingly. She felt herself respond to him. Such joy not to be shouted at, not to be found wanting. For a second, sitting there beside him in the lorry, she had wanted to push his slightly too long dark hair out of his brown eyes but had managed to control her hand. She blushed now at the memory. How forward that would have been. What would he have thought?

  He had noticed her blush. ‘It is a bit hot,’ he said, ‘and Lady Alice says we’re supposed to mingle with the locals. Besides, I can see lots of lads who want me to break a leg so that they can dance with the prettiest girl in the hall.’

  Grace, aware only of Jack and the music, looked around the room. Yes, several men were looking in their direction. ‘They want to be able to dance like you, Jack.’

  He laughed. ‘Believe me, that’s not it. We’d best join the others.’

  With a final flourish, he steered her across the room to the table where their friends were. There was beer and cider to drink, and plates of tiny sandwiches were on all the tables. The empty glasses on their table, the crumbs and a crust or two showed just what a good time was being had.

  ‘Is this what’s called height-of-sophistication party food, Jack, lad?’ asked Harry, pointing to the few tiny sandwiches that were left.

  ‘In wartime, yes.’

  ‘You were right about the music, Grace,’ said the very happy Harry, as he lurched to his feet. ‘Anyone ready for another beer?’

  He ambled off and was soon seen standing in a corner near the stage, drinking his second beer and tapping his foot to the music.

  ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s a responsible adult, Grace. Esau, are you sure you don’t want to dance or join some of your old friends?’

  ‘Benefit of age, lad; they’ve been over while you two were dancing.’

  ‘Would you like to dance, Esau?’ asked Grace, standing up again to go with him.

  But the old man had no time to agree or disagree, for Grace was snatched by one of the local farmers and spun furiously around the hall. Their movements could never be interpreted as dancing and he did not let go of her when the music stopped.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and tried to pull herself free, but she could not break his grip.

  She was frightened but tried to stay calm. After all, they were in the village hall. No harm could come to her with all the farmers and their wives and daughters looking on. ‘Thank you for the dance,’ she said again, ‘but please let go of my hand; you’re hurting me.’

  ‘What’s a decent girl doing with a conchie? We know what to do with cowards and traitors. Now, you come along with me and sit with village folk that’s doing their bit for the country.’

  ‘I’m happy to sit with the villagers but I came with my friends from the Court.’

  He began to pull her along, and Grace looked back towards the table, hoping that one of the men could see her plight. They were not looking in her direction. She gave in and wal
ked across the floor. ‘But let go of my hand or I’ll scream,’ she said.

  ‘Bitch,’ he said quietly but with real venom as he released her hand, which was now quite white, so tight had been his hold. ‘Get back to yer conchies.’ He had raised his voice so loud that dancers were stopping to see what was going on. ‘We don’t want none of your lot here, do we, lads?’ he signalled to several young men standing near the drinks table, but most turned their backs.

  Grace, who was rather shaken, wished they might have shown their disapproval by rescuing her. Just then, help arrived from an unexpected source.

  ‘Had a bit too much of your best cider, Arnold?’

  Hazel and a middle-aged woman had joined them on the dance floor. ‘You know we don’t want problems, especially ones that will get back to his lordship, do we?’ Hazel put his arm around the man’s shoulder and steered him towards his friends. Mrs Hazel smiled at Grace and began to chat to her as if they knew each other well.

  ‘He makes delicious cider, Grace, but does tend to sample a little too much of it. Now, I want you to come with me to meet some workers from other farms. Don’t worry, no one will bother young Jack with Esau sitting there.’

  Grace, still distressed – although she tried not to show it – walked with Hazel’s wife and soon found herself being introduced to farmers and their wives, other farm workers and several other land girls. Everyone who spoke to her, especially the land girls, who shared both horrid and amusing stories with her, was very friendly and welcoming. She received genuine offers of help of all kinds. One farmer’s wife was a hairdresser and offered to do her hair for any special occasion.

  ‘And Jenny, over there talking to her land girls, worked for a really fancy dressmaker in London. Wedding dresses are her speciality.’

  Grace laughed. ‘I won’t need a wedding dress any time soon.’

  ‘You can’t see the way your young friend is looking at you… and he’s not alone either.’

  Grace blushed. ‘It’s been lovely to meet all of you but I really think I should get back to our table.’ She looked over at Jack and Esau and, seeing how happily they were chatting, wondered if they would even notice if she stayed away.

  Mrs Fairchild, the hairdresser, said that she’d walk over with Grace to say hello to Esau and to meet Jack. ‘We hear his lordship’s accepted conscientious objectors. You have to understand that some folk in the area don’t understand. Most of us has sons and brothers somewhere in Europe and we hear tell things isn’t going too well.’

  ‘What don’t people understand, Mrs Fairchild? Conscientious objectors or the earl hiring them?’

  ‘The conchies, of course. It’s a man’s sacred duty to kill anyone as wants to harm his family.’

  Grace stopped in the middle of the floor. For a moment, she thought she might be sick. Kill anyone who wanted to harm your family? Was the woman serious? And she called such an action a sacred duty? ‘Please excuse me, Mrs Fairchild, but I think Mr Youngman might want to get home. We’ve been here longer than we intended.’

  ‘He’s getting on, is Esau, and he’s not been the same since his wife passed away. Well, do let me know if you want your hair doing. You have nice thick hair. Needs a bit of tidying, though, and maybe a more modern look.’

  Grace agreed with her but had decided that if her hair grew down to her feet, she would not let this woman touch it. There was just something about her predatory eyes. She looked across the floor and was concerned to see that, in the few minutes she had been talking to Mrs Fairchild, Jack had gone. There was no sight of Harry and only Esau sat at their table. He looked worried.

  ‘Had a nice chat, Grace?’ he asked with a brave attempt at a smile. ‘There’s some right nice folk around here.’

  When Grace did not rush to agree, he added, ‘And some as isn’t quite so nice.’

  ‘Mrs Fairchild says as there’s rumours, I think it was rumours, about bad news from the war. Where are they, Jack and Harry?’

  ‘Young Jack’s gone to find Harry just in case he’s been a mite too free with the beer. Some of it’s home-brewed and a city stomach won’t be used to it.’ He turned around on the uncomfortable wooden chair and surveyed the room, exchanging a smile now and again. ‘There’s many here as is the salt of the earth, pet. Don’t let one or two spoil your time with us.’ He tried to sound cheerier. ‘Friendly, like, the other land girls?’

  Grace, who wanted to find Harry and Jack so that they could drive home together, tried to look interested. She liked Esau and, at any other time, would have enjoyed being able to sit and chat with him. There was so much about the land that he could teach her. ‘Yes, lovely,’ she said. ‘One even went to the same training farm as me, but I’m a little worried, Esau. The man who grabbed me was really frightening, and that woman is … I don’t quite know how to describe her.’

  He got to his feet. ‘Time was, not a man in this hall would have crossed me. I’m older than I thought. Come along with me. Jack’ll have taken Harry out to clear his head.’

  Spots of blood on the doorstep were the first signs that something was wrong. Grace gasped.

  ‘Steady, Grace, there’s a hundred reasons for a bit of blood at a dance. Let’s take a look outside.’

  There were more blood spots on the path. Grace wanted to run, shouting the names Jack and Harry as loudly as she could, but when she looked questioningly at old Esau, he shook his head. ‘Listen a minute.’

  She stood quietly, and so still was the air that she became aware of the absolute perfection of the spring evening. Bright stars and a quarter-moon lit the sky and she smelled lilac on the evening air. But the scent and the sight were now spoiled by the sound of shouting and even blows, which came from behind a shed just a few yards away.

  ‘You away back and fetch Bob Hazel and I’ll deal with this.’

  Grace hesitated. ‘Dear Esau, you find Hazel,’ she said, and then, shouting angrily and as loudly as she could, she ran towards the shed.

  A cluster of men were milling around, almost as if they were engaged in some primitive dance. Something lay on the ground and, as she saw a man pull himself free of whoever was holding him, she recognised Jack’s shock of dark hair. He shouted something and dropped to his knees beside the body on the ground. That was when Grace screamed. It was Harry and his face was covered in blood.

  For a second, there was a stunned silence and then the crowd dispersed as men ran in every direction, leaving Jack and Harry on the ground alone in the pale moonlight. The hall door opened and light and men and women spilled out together. A woman ran quickly towards them and kneeled down beside Jack.

  ‘Iris Simpson.’ Grace recognised Mrs Hazel’s voice. ‘She was a hospital nurse. What happened, lass?’

  ‘It’s Harry.’

  ‘Let’s get you out of here. Bob will stay, and Esau. The lad’s a doctor, isn’t he?’

  ‘Medical student.’

  ‘They’ll manage between them. Someone’s gone for the policeman.’

  ‘I need to stay, Mrs Hazel. I need to help.’

  ‘What can you do?’

  ‘I can tell the truth.’

  ‘So can others here, Grace. They’re not all against conscientious objectors, you know. If the constable needs you, he knows where to find you.’

  ‘I won’t leave till I see Harry.’ She turned to Bob Hazel. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Hazel, but he’s my friend and I can’t just leave him lying there. Is he dead? Is that why you’re bundling me away?’

  He did not answer but, putting his strong right arm around her shoulders, he forced her to go with him to the milk lorry, in which Jack had so happily driven them to the village such a few hours before. His wife walked along on her other side, making sympathetic noises.

  Grace knew that it was no use to struggle and she could see that she might well be in the way. ‘Please, Hazel, I can’t go back to the Court without the men. And where’s Mr Youngman?’

  That question was answered very quickly as Esau was sitting in the p
assenger seat.

  ‘Now, Grace, sit here in the driver’s seat. Esau’ll keep you company, and me and the missus will be back quick as we can. One of the farm lads has a motorbike and he’s gone to tell her ladyship.’

  ‘No. What happened to Harry? You have to tell me, Hazel. I will not get into the lorry until I know. And Jack? Don’t let anything happen to Jack.’

  ‘Damn it, girl, have you never learned to do as you’re told? Harry got into a bit of a fight – he’s had a bit too much to drink and he fell and hit his head. Heads bleed awful but Jack and Mrs Simpson are looking after him and—’

  He stopped as the strident sound of an ambulance disturbed what had been a lovely spring evening. ‘Go back to the Court, Grace. You weren’t there when the fighting started and so can tell the police nothing. You’ll no doubt pass her ladyship on the way. Now go.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  Before he could start arguing with her again, she reminded him that she had had only one driving lesson.

  ‘You can start it and you can stop it? The bit in between will take care of itself. Now, go home,’ he ordered, almost pushing her into the lorry, slamming the door and turning away to run in the direction of the hall.

  SIX

  Jack had shown Grace how to start the milk lorry, how to turn off the engine, and had quickly explained gear changes. There had been no time to do much more than allow her to guide the vehicle along a fairly straight part of the road. Faced, however, with the current situation, she started the engine with shaking hands and managed to grind into first gear. Unsure how to get into any higher gear, she had dashed away the tears that had begun to fall, sent Esau a tremulous smile, and concentrated on getting back to the Court.

  Later, she was to think what a funny sight the lorry must have been as it crept stumblingly along. But right now, all she could think of was Harry. What had happened to him? Could any local farm worker hate so much that he would set out to injure or kill a man whose principles were different from his own?