by Gloria Cook
‘Don’t go across the road and take the route by the back lane, Dad,’ Jonny said. ‘Drive through the village, then back again. I’d like to wave to a few familiar faces.’ Raised in Hennaford during his early years, he felt it was his home rather than Roskerne and he savoured taking in much-loved people and places. Just past the pub, across from the little village square, housewives in turbans and pinnies were queuing outside the butcher’s. ‘Dear old Sidney must be enjoying the whole damned show. He’s a worse gossip than the women. I spoke to Tom on the blower last night. He says the new Land Army girl’s a little smasher. Got a sweetheart, apparently, but we’ve put up ten bob on being the first to at least get a kiss out of her.’
Tristan shook his head, but couldn’t help grinning. ‘You’re a couple of bounders. One day you’ll meet your match. Fall in love, I mean. Then you’ll regret all this messing about.’
‘Marriage and I are not destined to ever meet. Afraid you’ll have to look to Adele for grandchildren.’ As they reached the last tiny cottage of the straggling village, its many-paned windows dutifully criss-crossed with tape so as not to shatter dangerously in the event of a bombing raid, Jonny threw his dog-end in the ditch and thrust out his chest. ‘There’s only one thing to do with life, live it to the full. Well, I’ve got the uniform to impress this girl with, but Tom’s had the advantage of time to soften her up. Jill, that’s her name. Whoever wins, she’s a Harvey notch-up anyway.’
* * *
Jill was sweeping the pigsties, her dungarees wet and splattered in meal. Cleaning in here wasn’t too unpleasant as the pigs did not soil their bedding but used the long passage at the rear. She was enjoying her excursion among the friendly, softly squealing pink piglets and their docile mothers. Each pen was divided and there was a centre gangway, which had made filling the feed troughs an easy task.
She’d got the pile of muck up to the door at the end when she felt eyes upon her. Lottie, no doubt, who often kindly checked up on everything she did.
She did meet the gaze of a pair of dark Harvey eyes but these belonged to a rugged man in RAF uniform, with a kitbag hanging off his shoulder. His hair was coal-black, but otherwise he was much like Tom. With an air of self-assurance he was taking in everything about her. ‘Hello,’ he drawled.
‘Um, hello. You must be Squadron Leader Jonny Harvey. I’m Jill Laity.’ To be polite, she rested her broom aside and stepped out to him.
‘It’s a very real pleasure to meet you, Jill Laity. But you’re wrong about who I am. I’m Group Captain Will Harvey. Got a spot of unexpected leave.’
For an instant Jill felt silly. Of course he wasn’t Jonny Harvey, he had no wounds from a plane crash. Her excitement grew. ‘Does Mrs Em know you’re coming? She didn’t mention it at breakfast.’
‘No one knows I’m here. Except you, Jill.’ He had a striking sort of smile.
‘Well, everyone’s going to be happy.’ Jill clapped her hands together. ‘Your cousin Jonny is due to arrive this very morning. I don’t know if you’ve been told that he had a prang with his plane but got away with fairly light injuries, thank the Lord.’
‘Thank the Lord indeed. I heard about that. It’ll be good to see the old boy.’ Will moved close to her, bent his head and spoke into her ear: ‘As long as he remembers that I saw you first. Had your crib yet, Jill? Come inside for a cuppa. Mmm, the next few days are going to be a lot of fun.’
As he set off for the house in quick, agile steps, Jill blurted out, ‘There’s more news. I mean, you might not have heard…’
He returned to her so fast that Jill thought she should make a hasty retreat into the pigsties. ‘What news?’
‘That another cousin of yours is in Hennaford. I haven’t met her yet. Her name is Faye.’
‘Faye? Faye! From Tremore? Or rather, from America. Blood and bones! And here I was thinking I’d returned to the usual sleepy old place. Before I really do go, is there anything else I should know? Jill?’
Jill wished she hadn’t spoken. He was not as much like Tom as she’d first thought. There was something a little disagreeable about Will Harvey. Perhaps he had more in common with his Uncle Ben, whom, in the light of what she’d learned about him as a parent, she felt she could never like. ‘Actually, there is, but it’s Mrs Em’s place to tell you that, if she hasn’t already.’
* * *
‘A sprog?!’ Will exclaimed in disbelief in the farmhouse kitchen. ‘Mum, you’re actually expecting a sprog?’
‘Yes, Will, I’m having a baby,’ Emilia replied cheerfully, although her delight at his unexpected appearance was dampened a little. Will bore some resentment over the fact that his father had left the farm to her, denying him sole inheritance, and she had been weighing up when to relay her news to him.
‘Well, congrats, Aunty Em!’ Jonny, who had entered the house with Tristan almost at the same second as Will, encircled her in an affectionate embrace. He playfully punched Perry on the arm. ‘You too, old chap. Took your time, but got there in the end, eh? Dad, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It slipped my mind,’ Tristan said. It hadn’t. The grief of losing his beloved second wife was still too keen to enable him to revel in the happiness of others, and he was anxious about Emilia carrying a baby at this stage in her life. ‘Hope you’re keeping well, Em.’
‘Jonny, it’s so good to have you with us.’ Emilia hugged him. She had acted as his foster mother during the last war and had strong maternal feelings for him.
Tilda was kept busy with the teapot as all present sat round the table and listened to a glossed-over account of Jonny’s crash-landing.
There was a tap on the door. Jill peeped round it. ‘Is it all right…?’
‘Of course.’ Emilia beckoned to her. ‘Tilda’s got a potato cake for you.’ The farm grew a lot of potatoes, and with so many shortages, the housekeeper was kept at full stretch fashioning new recipes for the humble vegetable.
As Jill crept in on stockinged feet, Jonny leaned back in his chair and winked at Will. ‘I say…’
Emilia introduced Jill to the newcomers.
‘Jill and I have met already.’ Will eyed his cousin in distinct one-upmanship. ‘Come and sit by me, Jill. I’ve saved you a space on the form.’
‘Thank you, Group Captain,’ she said coolly, and a typical no-nonsense Lottie-type glare slipped into her eyes.
‘That’s told you,’ Jonny crowed in a whisper across the table to Will.
‘A guinea says you’re wrong,’ he returned in kind.
* * *
Tom knew his older brother and cousin were inside but he didn’t join them. He carried a bundle of newly hewn wooden posts and a mallet to the pigsties. Lit a cigarette. Then, as if suddenly losing all his energy, he fell down on to his haunches. Sighed. Cursed.
His features drawn tight, he stared up at the sky. It was deceptively free and peaceful, a warm sun romancing the pale- blue dome. Often, with the airfields of St Eval, Portreath, Trevellas, Predannack and the American-occupied St Mawgan all fairly nearby, it was speckled with Spitfires, Hurricanes, Beaufighters and Blenheims, and occasionally a scare was created by the emergence of enemy bombers. He lowered his eyes to the ground and smoked in continuous dejected drags until the stub was burning his fingers. ‘It’s not fair,’ he muttered under his breath, keeping his head bent. It wasn’t himself he was referring to.
A pair of gumboots arrived in sight.
‘Tom, are you all right?’
He rose and tossed the stub away. He loosened his shoulders and swept a hand through his thick hair. ‘Just taking a breather, Jill.’
‘Mrs Em and Tilda are wondering why you haven’t come inside for your tea break. I’ve just met—’
‘Will, Jonny and my Uncle Tris,’ he broke her off. ‘I know they’re arrived. I’ll see them later. What are you doing here?’
Tetchiness wasn’t something she expected to find in Tom. ‘Um, Mrs Em’s sent me to help you.’
Seeing her confusion, he shook hi
s head over his grouchy behaviour. Although he was the manager of the farm, it didn’t bother him that his mother was mostly in charge. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound like a crosspatch. I’ve got…’ He thought to tell her what was troubling him, but he didn’t know her well enough to trust her as a confidante, and she got on so well with Lottie she’d probably tell her, so he said, ‘I’ve got a headache. Right! The fencing needs renewing. We’d better get to it. You can steady the posts while I hit them home.’
It was good working with Jill. She just got on with things and she didn’t chatter or give silly giggles or try to be clever. She was a nice, quiet presence. While he dug out and lifted away the old posts, she used a claw hammer to pull out the staples used to keep the wires taut, setting aside those that could be reused, and then rolling up the wires. She stacked the old posts by the woodshed. He hammered in the new pre-treated posts while she held them steady, and a trust was built up, that he wouldn’t allow the heavy blows to slip and injure her.
‘Well, we made quick work of that,’ he said, banging in the final staple. He felt his friendly grin returning. ‘We make a good team, Jill.’
‘Yes, we do.’ She smiled back. It was natural to smile at Tom. He joked about his fondness for girls but she felt he was also a steady sort. ‘Has your headache gone? I’ve got some aspirin in my room.’
He pressed a hand on her shoulder. ‘That’s very sweet. Actually, I’m fine.’ He proffered his cigarette packet.
‘Thanks, but I can’t keep smoking yours or Lottie’s.’
‘Take one. There’s a chap I meet in the pub who fixes me up with anything I need on the cheap.’
Their heads close together, they lit up from the same match.
‘Well, little brother. Looks like you’re keeping busy.’
The pair turned round and saw Will, his brow raised in amusement. He was holding a mug of steaming tea and a plate with half a pasty on it.
‘You’re very naughty,’ Will said in mock chiding. ‘Mum’s making a fuss about your whereabouts. I practically had to stop her from coming to look for you. After all, if Jill hadn’t found you here she would’ve come back and said so. I hope you haven’t taken unfair advantage, old chap, and bagged every dance with her on Saturday evening.’
‘I’ve promised the first and the last dance to Tom.’ Jill had no idea why she’d blurted out the lie. She and Tom had not discussed the dance since he’d first brought it up. She hoped it didn’t make her sound racy. But she had no wish to be dallied with by the two Harvey men in uniform, even though she had to agree with Lottie’s declaration that Jonny Harvey was the most handsome man she was ever likely to see. Ronnie was all she wanted. He was perfect for her.
‘It’s really good to see you, Will,’ Tom said, his tone mild. ‘By the way, Jill’s spoken for. Her bloke’s a lieutenant in the footsloggers.’
‘Well, God bless him then. Lucky chap. Jill, I’m to tell you that when you’ve finished here, you’re to join Lottie lifting spuds. You’ll find her roughly where you were yesterday.’
‘Thanks for your help, Jill,’ Tom said, as she left him and his brother.
‘A very interesting little piece.’ Will stared after her before handing Tom the refreshment. ‘Let’s sit and chat. You can tell me what’s the matter.’
‘There’s nothing the matter,’ Tom said, taking a very welcome gulp of tea. Unfortunately, Will, always the bossy big brother, would insist on the chat, so Tom started off for where family powwows were often held, midway on the granite steps that ran up an outside wall of the goat house.
‘Don’t give me that. You’ve never shunned Jonny or me before.’ Will sounded concerned rather than cross. ‘What’s up with you? Surely you’re not lovesick? Is it her? The land girl? You’ve fallen for Jill and can’t take the fact she won’t give up her bloke for you?’
‘Jill’s a lovely girl but my feelings for her are the same as yours. Well, not quite. I like her, wouldn’t want to seduce her and hurt her. She’s thoroughly decent, very nice. Best of all, she’s good for Lottie. Lottie’s fond of her. She’s teaching her to dance and sharing girly stuff with her. She’s taken Jill under her wing, so take warning.’ Tom chewed a mouthful of pasty. Made to take another bite, but Will nudged the food away from his mouth.
‘I’m not giving up. I want to know what’s wrong with you, Tom. I know you’re miserable. Oh, don’t tell me you’ve got someone into trouble? Well, I suppose it might not be too bad. Depending on what she’s like, of course. Do I know her? Is she from the village?’
‘It’s nothing like that.’ Tom put his mug down on the step and threw the remains of the pasty down to the pack of Jack Russells, who were gazing up at him hopefully from the foot of the steps. There was a vociferous mad rush to gain the crumbs, with the geese, hens, ducks and turkeys joining in.
‘I’m bored, Will. Fed up with the same routine every day. I want to enlist.’
‘What? You can’t! Just forget all about it, Tom. You can’t possibly leave now Mum’s in the family way – of all the silly things she and Perry could do. My neck’s on the line nearly all the time, and so is Jonny’s. You have to carry on here, Tom, for Mum’s sake. Forget this silly longing.’
‘But it’s not right that I live out this war in comparative ease and safety while men are fighting and dying every minute of every day. I want to do my bit.’
‘You are! You’re slogging your guts out from dawn until hours after darkness to help keep the nation alive. Britain’s so cut off that thousands would have starved to death without hard and willing workers like you. The country needs you here. So does Mum, and the farm.’
‘But there’s Lottie.’
‘She’s just a child.’
‘She’s more mature than you give her credit for.’
‘Look, Tom, the Ministry wouldn’t let you join up anyway. The only men here are Perry, who’s disabled, and Granddad and Midge, and they’re old. Face it. You’re going to have to see the war out here. If it’s a different life you’re after, if you want to see the world, you’ll have to wait until we’ve succeeded in sorting out Hitler and his cohorts.’
‘But I want to fight! I feel so underused here every day. I know how Uncle Ben felt all those years ago.’
‘Whatever you’re feeling, Tom, it’s nothing at all like what goes on inside his wretched mind. You want to serve your country and fellow men. So did Uncle Ben, but he also longed for honour and glory for himself. He didn’t have to become bitter about partially losing his sight. He made that decision and it’s cost others dear.’ Will patted his shoulder. ‘Come on, cheer up. You must believe you’re doing essential work in this war, otherwise you’ll drag yourself down and Mum with you. You’ve got too much backbone for that. You’re too good, Tom. And that’s the truth, even if you don’t want to accept it. Leave being a bit of a swine to Jonny and me. It’s natural to us.’ Will was laughing, but although there was some jollity in it there didn’t seem to be enough. Tom studied him. ‘You and Jonny talk as if you’re convinced you’re going to die. Are you scared?’
‘All the time, but it’s something you learn to keep under control. It’s a brilliant feeling though when I succeed in getting back some crucial intelligence, say of the whereabouts of a German munitions factory or a fleet of U-boats. I feel proud that I’ve taken on Dad’s passion for photography. If I do manage to get through all this it’s what I want to do, set up as a professional, to scour the world for new and astonishing sights. I don’t particularly want my third of the farm. There wouldn’t be enough land for us all to share after Mum’s gone anyway. It won’t be that easy in the future for you and Lottie when you have your own families, all living here together. You don’t really want to turn your back on the farm, do you?’
‘No. It means everything to me,’ Tom replied truthfully.
‘Then have I made you feel more settled?’
‘Yes. I suppose so.’
‘Tom—’ Will became intense – ‘I need to know that I ca
n rely on you to look after Mum and Lottie, if… you know what I’m saying?’
Tom lifted his head and stared into Will’s eyes. The usual potency in them had gone, replaced by a sad resignation. ‘You’ll come through, Will. You must believe that. You’ve made me feel humble. Of course I’ll see they’re all right. You can trust me. I’ll make you proud.’
‘Me too.’
They shared a hushed moment.
Then Will pulled back his lips into the widest smile. ‘Our raffish cousin has taken up my wager of a guinea to be the first to gain our wicked way with sweet young Jill. Are we going to allow him to win?’
Tom didn’t think about his answer. ‘No. And I’ll tell you why. I’m adding Jill to the list of those I’m determined to protect.’
Chapter Seven
Ben was in the restaurant of the Red Lion Hotel, in the wide sett-paved street of Truro. He had no appetite but was making a half-hearted attempt to eat the vegetable soup in front of him. To his mind, wasting food was a crime. Before the war he had been extravagant, eager to show off his wealth, but although he charged extortionate prices for the wines he still had in stock in his warehouse, the business most threatened by the war, he wouldn’t dream of buying anything on the black market that was vital to the country winning the war, like petrol for his filling station on the outskirts of Hennaford. He’d rather the military vehicles and factories had it. He saw it as his place to set a good example. He never made an unnecessary journey in his motor car but usually walked, cycled or rode.
