This last was directed at Winnie and Gladys, who both nodded. Everyone knew she was really saying Mario was welcome in the kitchen again.
‘All right, boss.’ Rowena was now grinning from ear to ear and looking happier than she had in weeks.
Abby and Rowena left the kitchen together a short time later, while Winnie stayed behind to feed Joy, and as Abby watched her friend fly across the fields to where Mario was as though she had wings on her feet her expression was pensive. The two of them wouldn’t have it easy. Italian prisoners of war throughout the country were no longer kept in camps and hostels and sent out to work in gangs under the control of armed soldiers like they had been to begin with, they were allowed to live on farms with relative freedom, but there was still a good deal of resentment against them. And certainly the shilling a day the farm paid them, as laid down by the Geneva Convention, wouldn’t provide much of a nest egg for when the war ended. In the Farmers Weekly there had been a report only the other week which had labelled all Italians excitable and born lazy, finishing with the bitter comment that to see them cycling around the countryside in their time off was little short of offensive. This was obviously written by someone with a real grudge but that didn’t help the ordinary working man’s perception of the prisoners of war. Abby had had the foresight to rip the offending article out of the magazine before Rowena had had a chance to read it, but she had thought about it often since. It reflected the current mood and it wasn’t pretty. She just hoped the two of them would have the sense to keep their heads down and say little until the war ended and things began to get sorted.
Abby watched Rowena talk urgently to Mario for a moment or two before he lifted her up right off the ground into his arms and swung her round and round. She smiled to herself. Maybe they would be all right.
Suddenly she wanted the warmth of Ike’s kindly voice, the strength of tender arms about her and the feel of his hard body holding her close. She was longing to see him tonight. This love which had crept up on her had become very precious.
Chapter Nineteen
As with James years before, Abby knew immediately she looked into Ike’s face what he was about to say. ‘You’re going to be sent abroad.’ She stared at him, her hand going to her mouth as he jumped out of the Jeep and took her into his arms.
‘Hey, honey, come on.’ He pulled her into him, his voice deep and soft. ‘We knew it would happen sooner or later, didn’t we?’
When she could speak, she said, ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’ And as she gave a little gasp, he added, ‘Early.’
‘Where?’
‘Not sure exactly. The US War Department’s announced the Japanese homeland must be invaded soon; it’s going to be an all-out push against them now. That’s all we’ve been told for the present. Then again the long-awaited invasion of Europe is well overdue and there’s been noises about that too. The fact is no one knows for sure and maybe it’s best that way.’
It wasn’t best. How could he say it was best? She wanted to know where he was going.
Her face must have spoken for her because as she drew away from him and looked up into his eyes, he smiled, saying, ‘Don’t fight it, honey. Go with the flow. It’s the only way.’
Go with the flow! The American saying grated like never before. She didn’t want to go with the flow. She wanted to scream and yell and hang on to him for dear life. ‘I don’t think I can be very grown up about this,’ she said in a small voice.
In spite of the gravity of the situation and her tragic face, Ike found himself chuckling out loud. ‘You’re priceless.’ He hugged her to him again, smelling her freshly washed hair which carried the scent of apple blossom and summer days. His voice husky now, he said, ‘Can we get out of here to somewhere private? Somewhere we can talk a while?’
Abby nodded. She climbed into the Jeep without another word and drew her cardigan more closely round her shoulders. The evening had turned quite chilly, but she knew the shivery feeling which had taken hold had nothing to do with the weather. He was going away.
After a minute or two of silence as the Jeep bumped and jolted its way along the farm track and out into the rough road beyond, Ike said, ‘Do you mind if we don’t go dancing tonight? I’m not in the mood.’
‘Me neither.’ She felt as if the world had fallen about her ears.
They went to a little pub they knew some way between the farm and the village which had a garden bordering the river. After Ike had bought two beers and handed over half a crown to the barmaid, they made their way out of the bar and into the grounds outside, finding a quiet bench close to the water. The air was heavy with the sweetness of freshly mown grass, the water as clear as crystal as it lapped and gurgled its way over stones made smooth by age. There were one or two other couples dotted about the garden, all the men in uniform and each couple talking very quietly. The rear of the pub was covered in wisteria and the perfume from its fragrant blooms carried on the breeze. It was too beautiful. Too poignant. Abby felt as though her heart would break.
‘I’ll come back for you. However long it takes, I’ll come back for you. You know that, don’t you?’
The velvet brown of his eyes was almost black as he put his hand over hers, but Abby found she couldn’t reply. She had the urge to let the tears flow but she told herself she couldn’t let go now. Every minute, every second of this evening was precious and not to be squandered on self-pity. She had to show him she could be strong; he had enough to think about without worrying about her.
It took a few moments but then she was able to say, ‘I’ll be waiting. You know that, don’t you?’
She felt his fingers tighten on hers. ‘I hoped so. Abby, I never thought I would fall in love again, not the way I felt after Eleanor had gone. It was too painful, too . . .’ He waved his free hand, unable to express himself further.
‘I know, I know,’ she said.
‘And I certainly never expected to ask anyone to marry me.’
‘No, don’t.’ Her hand lifted to his lips. ‘Don’t say it. Please don’t, Ike. When . . . when you come back. Say it then.’ James had asked her and then he had gone away and never come back. It would be history repeating itself. But if he didn’t ask her now, if he waited, it might be all right.
She knew she had disconcerted him and for a moment it looked as though he was going to protest, then his face cleared. His voice soft, he said, ‘When I come back? It’s a date, my love. Because I’m coming back for you and nothing will stop me.’
He had understood. Her hand moved to his chin which was freshly shaven and her fingers stroked the little cleft there. ‘I love you,’ she said. And she meant it with all her heart.
PART SIX
Changes 1945
Chapter Twenty
When the alarm jangled her awake, Abby lay for some moments in the semi-gloom before she remembered. It was VE Day. Churchill was going to announce the war in Europe was over at three o’clock that afternoon. Everyone was going to a special thanksgiving service at the parish church at noon, followed by a tea party in the village hall after the Prime Minister’s broadcast. It was finished.
She glanced across the room to where Joy was lying snuggled into Winnie’s side like a puppy. The child was teething, and although she started off each night in the small bed Mario had made for the little girl, which had been squeezed in next to her mother’s, she invariably ended up in Winnie’s. Joy was fast asleep, rosy cheeks flushed and silken brown curls drooping over her forehead. She was a beautiful little tot with the sunniest nature imaginable, and, pray God, Abby thought, she would never have to go through another war. This had to be the war that ended all wars.
Abby’s gaze moved to Rowena. Today’s announcement would have little effect on them here at the farm, especially for her friend. How long it would be before Rowena and Mario could or would dare marry she didn’t know. Certainly for the foreseeable future the government had decided prisoners of war would continue working on the land wh
ere applicable, and there were no plans to disband the Land Army for the present. Gladys had heard nothing from Vincent from the day he’d left the farm so they didn’t know if he was dead or alive, or whether he would ever come home even if he had survived the war.
Abby turned onto her back, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling. She’d have to try and enter into the spirit of things today, but with Japan still needing to be subdued and Ike in the thick of it she didn’t feel like letting her hair down. Twelve months. Twelve months of missing him and worrying about him and feeling now and again something terrible had happened, only to receive a letter which would put her mind at rest. For a while. She’d learned her presentiments weren’t to be trusted because she’d had Ike dead and buried at least half a dozen times.
‘Stupid,’ she muttered to herself, swinging her legs out of bed. But she didn’t seem able to apply any logic or reason to how she felt. And she missed him so.
She padded across the room and drew back the thin curtains. The morning was wet and thundery. The blackout restrictions had been lifted a couple of weeks ago and it had been wonderful to take down the thick black material which had blocked even a chink of light, although since then a wet spell had meant the skies had been dull and grey. But the summer was coming and soon sunshine would herald the start of a new day. It would be wonderful to wake up to sunbeams dancing across the room.
No daydreaming. She turned to face the room and its sleeping occupants. The animals had to be seen to and jobs had to be done, VE Day or no VE Day. When they went to the celebrations in the village, Mario, Roberto and Luigi would take care of the farm, but before that there was the usual hard day’s work in front of them all.
Later that morning, just after half past eleven, the four women, Clara and little Joy were dressed in their Sunday best and ready to leave. The preceding week three stout members of the WI in the village had made it their business to collect money for food and decorations and organise the purchase and cooking of the feast. There were going to be jellies, custards, blancmanges, sandwiches, tarts, cakes large and small, ice cream and even a victory cake, iced in red, white and blue. Clara had been sick twice with excitement already.
It was drizzling as they left the farmhouse and climbed into the lorry. Gladys sat beside Rowena in the front seat, and Abby, Clara and Winnie, with Joy perched on her mother’s lap, made themselves comfortable in the back on temporary seats made of straw bales.
Mario and his two comrades had come to receive their instructions for the rest of the day from Abby some minutes earlier, and now the three men waved and smiled as the lorry drew away. The women knew the men’s smiles hid a certain amount of pain and sadness. In the atrocities which had occurred shortly after Italy’s surrender eighteen months ago, Luigi had lost his immediate family. Not through any act of aggression by the Allies, but at the hands of retreating German soldiers taking revenge on their Italian ‘betrayers’. Everyone at the farm had been upset when Luigi had received word from one of his sisters describing how his wife and children, his parents and one of his brothers and his family, along with nearly eighty other citizens, had been herded into a church planted with landmines which had then been detonated.
‘What a day, eh, lass?’ Winnie said. ‘We’ve been waiting for this for a long time.’ She settled Joy more securely on her ample lap as the lorry trundled along, then, realising she had been a mite tactless, she added hastily, ‘And it’ll be another celebration day when Ike comes home.’
‘It’s all right, Winnie.’ Winnie’s face was so transparent Abby knew exactly what her friend had been thinking. ‘This is a great day and we’re going to make the most of it.’ Peace had come to a battered Europe after years of senseless bloodshed and whatever the private pain and sorrow, Britain was going to rejoice.
There was some weeping during the church service as individuals remembered loved ones whose ultimate sacrifice had made this day possible, but later in the afternoon as Big Ben chimed out three o’clock, everyone was holding their breath as they listened to the Prime Minister’s broadcast over loudspeakers in the village square. Although Japan remained to be subdued, he said, the war in Europe would end at midnight. ‘Advance Britannia!’ he proclaimed. ‘Long live the cause of freedom! God save the King!’
It was the signal for the release of years of pent-up feelings. Abby kissed and hugged Clara, Winnie and the others and was in turn kissed and hugged, and then everyone in the square found themselves doing the same to neighbours, friends and strangers; dancing, blowing whistles, throwing confetti and rose petals and generally going wild with an infectious joy which gathered pace as the afternoon progressed. Church bells pealed as Abby and the others sat down to tea in the village hall. Afterwards, all the adults listened to exuberant reports on the wireless about the impromptu parades and massive hokey-cokey dances snaking round Queen Victoria’s statue in the capital, and the way the King, Queen and two princesses had made countless appearances on the palace balcony to the delight of the ever-swelling throng of jubilant folk below.
In the lull before the evening events, which included dancing and fireworks and a huge bonfire with an effigy of Hitler on the top, Abby sat having a quiet cup of tea with Gladys. Rowena was cheering Clara on in some game or other the children were playing, and Winnie had taken Joy into a side room where the younger children were all having a nap, so it was just the two of them. Abby reached across and took the older woman’s hand, her voice soft as she said, ‘You’ve been wonderful, Gladys. Wonderful.’
‘Me?’
‘Aye, you. Not just today but all through this war.’ Gladys had lost her husband and firstborn, maybe even Vincent too for all they knew, and yet she had put her personal feelings aside and had entered into the day’s celebrations with gusto. ‘It can’t be easy at times like this.’
‘Well, you know me. I get on with what I have to get on with and that’s an end of it.’ Gladys smiled through the tears Abby’s kind words had brought on. She hesitated before saying, ‘I can’t help praying my Vincent’s safe, Abby. Oh, I know he treated Winnie shamefully and I don’t excuse that, I really don’t, but if he came back now and saw Joy . . . He’d have to marry the lass, wouldn’t he, seeing what a bonny little thing his daughter is?’
Abby squeezed Gladys’s hand but said nothing. Where Vincent was concerned, she certainly wouldn’t be holding her breath he would do the right thing.
‘He was a handsome little lad, my Vincent. Everyone used to say so. But Josiah and him never got on, you know, not from when Vincent was knee high to a grasshopper. Vincent always had it in his head that his father favoured Nicholas, although he didn’t really. It was just that Nicholas was more like Josiah, that’s all, and with being the eldest and the farm going to him, Josiah spent more time teaching him about the paperwork side and all.’
Abby nodded but again made no comment. This wasn’t the first time she had thought how ironic it was that a nice warm woman like Gladys could love and forgive a son like Vincent anything, whereas her own mother, who had had three decent children, hadn’t got an iota of maternal affection in her.
‘Do you think he’s still alive, Abby?’ Gladys had withdrawn her hand and now her fingers were working against each other as she stared into Abby’s deep brown eyes. ‘Tell me the truth, do you?’
It was some seconds before Abby replied. She drew in a long breath, trying to find the right words. ‘I think if anyone could survive, Vincent could. I don’t want to rake up old history but he’s a master at looking out for number one.’
Gladys looked at her for a moment more and then the corners of her mouth lifted. ‘You’re right there,’ she said wryly. ‘By gum, you are. Well, bad as he’s been I hope his luck has held out. He’s my own flesh and blood, my boy, and I love him.’
This last was said somewhat defiantly and now it was Abby who smiled. ‘He’s lucky to have a mother like you, and I mean that.’
‘Go on with you! You can’t soft-soap an old biddy like me, Abby Vick
ers.’
As darkness fell, the street lights were switched on all over the country for the first time since the outbreak of war. For Clara and some of the other children who could barely remember a time before the blackout, it was like a fairy-land. The ruddy glow of the huge bonfire and the fireworks were enjoyed all the more by lots of the villagers who had brought out drinks they had been saving for the peace celebrations, which was just as well as the pub had had to close early because it had run out of supplies.
The night was cold and damp but it wasn’t raining any more. As everyone gathered round the bonfire for baked potatoes in their jackets and hot roasted chestnuts, the big loudspeakers continued to report the news from London where it was said Winston Churchill, wearing his famous siren suit and homburg hat, had appeared on the Ministry of Health balcony as the Guards’ Band struck up ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’. The Prime Minister had sung and conducted the crowd below in ‘Land of Hope and Glory’, and they expected the celebrations and scenes of unrestrained joy to go on all night.
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