by Gloria Cook
He shook her hand, more lightly than she would have liked. ‘Nate Harmon. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.’
When he let his hand fall from hers, her skin was left feeling it had suddenly leapt alive. It tingled, and she placed her other hand round it to share this strange, desirable sensation. ‘This is my friend Jill Laity. She’s a land girl. On the farm. She’s engaged.’ Why had she thrown in that last remark? He’d think she was making some sort of statement aimed at showing that she, herself, was unencumbered. She was embarrassed but it didn’t really matter. She wanted to keep him talking. He was so unlike the rest of his boisterous, chatty contingent.
She let out a small shriek when an arm was thrown round her waist and she was furious to be unceremoniously hauled away. By Will. ‘Come and meet Faye. It’s brilliant catching up on old times.’ She looked back urgently, intending to apologize to Corporal Nate Harmon, but he was nowhere in sight.
Tristan still couldn’t fathom why Ben was suddenly being so attentive to Faye and nor could she by the puzzled looks she was aiming at him. Then he had something more pressing to consider. Louisa Carlyon had arrived and she was weaving her way towards Jonny. He left the family to head the woman off.
‘Mrs Carlyon! Good evening to you. Would you care to dance?’ Tristan had never imposed himself on a woman before but he put a firm grasp round Louisa’s wrist and pulled her into the middle of the dance floor. She struggled against him. The music, ‘Moonlight Serenade’, stopped and there was a brief round of clapping, then a different, louder, raucous tune, played only by the American musicians, broke out.
‘Now what, Mr Harvey?’ Louisa cried above the din. ‘I shouldn’t think for a moment that you know how to jitterbug.’
‘What? No! No, we can’t possibly dance to this.’ Tristan could hardly believe he was doing it again as he wrapped a hand around her arm. At all costs he must keep her away from Jonny. All through his injury leave the name most frequently on Jonny’s lips was Louisa Carlyon’s. Jonny was in the grip of a condition Tristan had seen in the last war, of men getting emotional, seeing the things most precious to them in a shining light, straining to reach out and retain them, for they believed they were unlikely to survive their next battle. He had felt like this himself about his first wife, Ursula, whom he had adored, while in the barbaric trenches on the Western Front, where he had been nearly blown up and killed; he still bore the physical and mental scars. If his son thought he was in love with this woman, if they got to be alone together, it might lead to terrible consequences. ‘Let me get you a drink instead.’
Louisa allowed herself to be propelled to the end of the queue for refreshments. Tristan Harvey’s behaviour was inexplicable. Who the hell did he think he was? But at least she had the chance at last to talk to him. He usually evaded her presence, unless Jonny was around, when he’d watch them both from eagle eyes. ‘It seems you’ll go to any lengths to keep me away from Jonny.’
‘Not at all.’ He blushed, deeply embarrassed. He’d put himself in a fix. And his ploy wouldn’t work anyway. If Jonny wanted to talk to Louisa, to dance with her, or do anything else with her, he’d go ahead and do it, such was his son’s determined nature. ‘Um… um, sorry about the queue. Seems that’s all we do nowadays.’
‘You mean women do. I don’t recall seeing many men in the food queues.’ She sensed he wanted to escape now but she wasn’t having that. She took a grip on his jacket sleeve. ‘Mr Harvey, what’s all this about?’
‘J-just thought it was time I was sociable to you. Look, you don’t have to stay with me. There’s plenty of young people here. I’m sure you’d rather be with them.’
‘Actually I’d rather talk to you. I want to know why you hate me so much.’
She looked hurt and sad. Vulnerable and humiliated. And it was all his doing. He had first looked at her briefly on the day of her birth and had taken against her, seeing her only as the offspring of a hated enemy, the handsome, no-good lounge lizard who had seduced his wife. But now, although Louisa shared the contemptible Bruce Ashley’s fair colouring, she had a strong hint of Ursula about her, and Tristan was shaken to the core of his being to realize that even now, after twenty-five years, and his subsequent happy marriage, he still felt his first passionate love for Ursula. ‘But I don’t hate you, Louisa! Not that.’ Certainly not now.
‘How can you say that? You’ve always been beastly towards me. You don’t think I’m good enough to spend time in Jonny’s company, that much is certain. Why? I have to know.’
‘Hey, Louisa, why aren’t you dancing?’ Tom had witnessed the awkward conversation and had come to Louisa’s rescue. He shot his uncle a look of reproach. It was beyond imagination why anyone didn’t like Louisa. She was wholly good and thoughtful, absolutely delightful. ‘Excuse me, Uncle Tris. I’m going to steal her away.’
Throughout the rest of the evening Louisa glanced at Tristan Harvey. Sometimes he looked away, sometimes he dropped his head, always he fought off eye contact. Except once. When he looked at her strangely, almost longingly. What had that meant? She’d seek the first opportunity to find out.
While Faye enjoyed getting reacquainted with family members she remained stunned by her father’s mystifying reversal of attitude towards her. While he seemed to be happy, as if celebrating something personal only to him, he acted as if he was actually proud of her. At one point, he said, ‘I think you’ll agree, everyone, that Faye has turned out very well indeed.’
She and Lottie had immediately fallen back into their girlhood friendship. Lottie admired her organdie frock and matching bolero jacket. ‘You look like a screen idol. You must have men queuing up to ask you out.’
‘Not really,’ Faye replied, quickly placing the focus on Lottie. ‘Have you got anyone?’
‘No.’ Lottie couldn’t resist scouring the hall for the American corporal. Sadly, it seemed he had left. She told herself she didn’t care. Got a niggle in her tummy because she knew it wasn’t true.
‘Well, Faye,’ Emilia said. ‘There was no need to keep yourself a stranger from the rest of us. I was on the verge of coming over to see you at Tremore.’
‘Sorry about that, Aunt Em.’ Faye remembered how much more cheerful and relaxed life was at Ford Farm. ‘I’ll be over soon, I promise.’ She watched her father for his reaction to this now he wasn’t being his usual grumpy, rigid self. Apart from either ignoring or casting smug looks at Aunt Em, he was animated. Passing round cigars and laughing at anything anyone said even if only slightly funny. What had happened since he’d left the house this morning? It was all very peculiar, and disquieting.
Lottie said, ‘You must tell us all about Aunt Brooke and young Alec. Has Mum told you her news? She’s got to be very careful. She and Perry are going to have a baby.’
The good humour, put on Ben’s face because he had been so unexpectedly and wonderfully given a real sense of purpose at last, an opportunity to fulfil his lifelong ambition, was swiped off as violently as if he had been dealt a physical blow. Emilia was pregnant! God damn her. Damn her life! It was his babies she should have had. By now he would have had the son he’d wanted so much. She’d had two sons with Alec and now she might be bearing one for Bosweld.
Only Jill, who was coming towards the Harvey huddle, saw his shock and fury. And, so she thought, his pain. He’d obviously been shaken by the news of Mrs Em’s expected happy event. Jill was no expert on matters of the heart but she reasoned there could only be one reason for Ben Harvey’s reaction. Lottie had filled her in on her mother and uncle’s past. He was still in love with Mrs Em.
Ben saw Jill looking at him. With sympathy and kindness. He went to her, and somehow managed to keep his voice light. ‘Good evening, Jill. I hope you’re enjoying yourself amongst our little community. Would you care to dance with me?’
‘Thank you, Mr Harvey. Thankfully, it’s a foxtrot now. I don’t think I’m up to the more modern, fast styles. And yes, I like Hennaford and its inhabitants very much.’ She felt i
t wasn’t sensitive to mention her work on Ford Farm.
‘My name’s Ben.’ He held her firmly but not tightly and danced in smooth steps. Jill was aware of him shaking. ‘Your daughter is beautiful.’ Jill had swept her sight over Faye Harvey’s clothes and classiness in envy, but only for a moment. Ronnie loved her for exactly how she was, pleasantly ordinary and content with the simple things in life. Sophistication, high fashion and well-applied make-up wasn’t for her.
‘Yes, she is. She never used to be. She was a plain little girl.’ Ben needed comfort and this young woman’s tender, slight body soothed him a little. Thank God he’d not long ago met Maxwell Goodrington or he’d go mad. He was longing for the next communication, which he had been told could come at any time of night or day, when he must be ready to travel wherever he was told to go immediately. Goodrington had said, ‘I was down in this neck of the woods on other business and I happened to hear someone mention your trips to, as I shall say carefully, certain foreign parts for the wine trade. I take it you’re fluent in the language? Good. I shall speak to my superiors. Someone might be in touch with you soon.’
Please God, Ben prayed more earnestly than he ever had in his life. Let it happen and let it be very soon.
He said, ‘Have you spoken to the girls working for me yet, Jill?’
‘Yes. We’ve all had a pleasant conversation with Mrs Killigrew.’
‘When you can manage a spare minute you must come over to Tremore and spend time with them.’ He slid in a little closer to her and gazed into her eyes. ‘Come to the house. You must have dinner with me.’
‘Thank you for the invitation, Ben, but I must not. I’m engaged.’
Ben slackened his hold on her, silent for a while. ‘So you should be. A nice girl like you should be in love with some decent sort and get married and have a happy life. Is your fiancé in the services?’
‘Ronnie’s in the Duke of Cornwall Light Infantry. He was studying to be a scientist before.’
Her devotion for her man radiated out of her and Ben was pleased to see that at least one woman could stay faithful to her true love. Emilia had soon turned to Alec after his own quarrel with her, and she was almost certainly entertaining Bosweld before Alec’s death. The bloody, bloody bitch. He loved her and he hated her. He hoped something terrible would happen to her, but nothing to do with her baby. The last time he’d ill-wished Emilia her baby girl of just three and a half weeks old had died. He only wished Emilia harm. With a vengeance.
‘Are you all right, Ben?’ He became aware of Jill’s anxious voice. ‘You look quite drained.’
‘Oh, yes, I—I think I need some fresh air. I hope Ronnie returns safely to you.’ The dance came to an end and he relinquished her. ‘I’ll say goodnight, Jill. I’ve had enough of this place.’
Jill wasn’t left alone for long. She was spun round on her feet. ‘What the hell were you doing dancing with him?’ Lottie bawled at her. ‘And where’s he slunk off to?’
Firmly releasing herself from Lottie’s grip, Jill said, ‘I shall dance with whomever I please. You don’t own me, Lottie. Your uncle didn’t seem well. I think that’s why he left.’
Faye had followed Lottie. ‘He’s behaved very strangely this evening. Well, he’s back on form, paying me no consideration.’
‘Hey, little lady, was that an American accent I just heard?’ Herv and his mates were crowding round the girls, eager to speak to Faye and claim dances from them all.
‘I was brought up in Washington,’ Faye explained, her eyes on the door her father had not long banged through. She’d have something to say to him when she got back to his house. She would not be picked up and dropped at his whim. Yet there had been a dejected droop to his shoulders at the end and she couldn’t help feeling worried about him.
Lottie had gone silent over Jill’s unexpected retaliation. She had warned her to keep away from her rotten uncle. Well, if the land girl wanted to be stroppy and show favour where she shouldn’t then she could damned well look elsewhere for a friend. Oh! And as for these damned Yanks now bantering down her ears! Why did they have to take over everything? Tossing her head, she made to steam away. And found Corporal Nate Harmon in her path.
He stepped sideways. ‘Let me give you space, Miss Harvey. I can see my friends are annoying you.’
A scolding path of red burned all the way up Lottie’s neck and face. For the second time in the same evening she was being forced to acknowledge just how bad-mannered and childish she was. She’d had no right to be dictatorial with Jill. ‘No, I…’
Nate Harmon walked away from her.
Chapter Eight
Two nights later, there was a knock on Jill’s bedroom door.
‘Come in,’ she called, frowning after a moment when no one appeared. If it was Lottie, Mrs Em or Tilda seeking to disturb her nightly jottings to Ronnie they would have entered. It had better not be Will come to pester her. He and Jonny had backed off, but until Jonny had left this morning, with his father, to stay at Tremore, sign language of the innuendo kind, plainly about her, had passed between them.
Yet she shouldn’t be wholly suspicious about Will. This morning he had joined her in the dairy, usually the women’s domain. He had kept his hands, as if innocently, behind his back. ‘Don’t worry. Tom, your new guardian’s not far away. Anyway, I’ve just popped in to ask you to come outside. I’ve pulled everyone together, including Faye, who’s here. I want to take a photo of everyone. It will be nice to look at when I get back to camp.’
‘You want me in it?’ She’d been delighted to be included.
‘Of course. You’re part of the gang now. Jonny’s very disappointed Louisa Carlyon is not here.’
Thinking the Harvey airmen weren’t so bad, Jill hauled herself off the bed and opened the door. And changed her mind about Will again. He was leaning forward, smiling disarmingly but in a way that was too familiar. ‘What do you want?’
‘Don’t be like that, Jill. Perhaps I should have chosen a more appropriate place to come to you. You know I’m catching the early train back tomorrow. I want to say a private farewell to you.’ He glanced over her shoulder into the room. ‘Busy with the writing paper and pen again, I see. Your Ronnie’s a lucky blighter. I know a few chaps, well, a good many of them are dead now, who’ve received “Dear Johns”. A loyal woman waiting for them at home goes a long way in the comfort stakes.’
Staying wary of him, she was nonetheless glad for this chance to bid him a proper goodbye. It might be the last time he saw his home. ‘I hope you have a good journey, Will. I’ll pray for you. Good luck.’
‘Thanks. Fancy a stroll round the garden?’
So he couldn’t resist making another move on her. ‘Hardly.’ She tossed her head. ‘Listen. I am not going to have sex with you.’
She was expecting ridicule, perhaps scorn – Will could be sharp when crossed – but he threw back his head and howled with laughter. ‘Blood and bones. Can’t blame a chap for making one last try. You have been spending time with Lottie, haven’t you?’ He dropped his voice melodramatically. ‘Don’t think you’ll get away with it often, putting Lottie in her place like you did at the dance. She’s been rather quiet since then. It means she’s brooding. Likely to turn into a she-cat at any moment. She can be fiendish when she gets going. Then no one can control her. Even I hate being at the receiving end of her most vicious temper.’
‘I don’t believe anything of the sort.’ Jill was annoyed. Lottie was a young adult, of an age much given to rapid changes of mood. ‘Lottie can be strong-willed and that’s all.’
Will’s attractive dark face broke into a giveaway smile. ‘Perhaps you’re right. You must know her better than I do now. I’ve been away from the farm for the last four years. I worry about Lottie. Seriously though, Jill. I would like to talk to you away from the house. Come outside for a cigarette?’ At her look of doubt, he raised crossed fingers. ‘Promise it’s not an excuse to make a pass. On Harvey honour.’
Jill had g
ained enough insight about the younger Harvey men to know that when they swore an oath then heaven or hell wouldn’t make them renege on it.
A weak moon provided some light. More ominous lights were provided by the faint criss-crossing of faraway searchlights moving through the cloud-pathed sky. A pipistrelle bat, out searching for moths, a more innocent hunter than an enemy bomber, was picked up in the searchlights. To avoid the glow of their cigarettes pin-pricking the darkness they lit up inside the dugout shelter at the bottom of the back garden. ‘Will, what did you mean about Lottie? Why are you worried about her?’
‘Not just her.’ Will rubbed at the tension in his neck. ‘All of them. My whole family. Even Perry. And dear old Tilda. And I wish to God that my mother wasn’t pregnant.’ Jill listened patiently as he rambled on. ‘I’m glad I’ve at least had the chance to see Faye again. Pity Uncle Ben isn’t treating her properly. He went through some peculiar moods at the dance and he’s remained uncommunicative towards her since. She’s his daughter, for goodness sake! My father wasn’t particularly close to Lottie, but he was ill, couldn’t stand a noisy little brat like she was back then buzzing around him. I don’t know what’s the matter with Uncle Ben. Or Uncle Tris. He behaves so badly towards poor Louisa. Well, you can see what a lovely sort she is. I’d propose to her if I wasn’t called on for active service. She’d make a splendid wife, always so interested in what others do. A chap could count on her to always be loyal and supportive.’
