by Annie Groves
Connie winced. She had stayed on in the WAAFs for an extra couple of weeks because there had been a lot to do in the aftermath of the war. As well as doing her usual general office duties, her work had mainly been making sure that war-damaged RAF personnel were being followed up and getting help from the right channels. Not that there was a lot she could do. Most men were simply discharged and left to get on with it, something which left her with a yearning to do something constructive with her life.
‘Actually,’ said Connie taking a deep breath, ‘I’ve made some plans of my own. I’ve decided that I want to be a nurse.’
She knew they’d be surprised but Gwen almost dropped her teacup and Ga’s mouth fell open. ‘A nurse?’ she said in a measured tone. ‘Do you think you have the stomach for it?’
‘I’ve toughened up a lot because of the war,’ said Connie.
‘We really need another pair of hands on the smallholding,’ said Ga, glancing at Connie’s mother.
‘We’ll manage,’ Gwen smiled.
‘Manage?’ Ga challenged. ‘It’s hard enough to cope now. Your mother and I are not getting any younger and we’ll need every pair of hands we can get.’
The nurseries weren’t large by the standards of other nurseries in the area. They grew seedlings and vegetables and her mother kept hens for the eggs. There were a couple of stretches of waste ground which had never been developed but there was plenty of work to be done. Connie knew that if she stayed at home she would be expected to work in the small lean-to shop attached to the side of the house or in the greenhouse. She didn’t mind helping out, but she certainly didn’t want to do it for the rest of her life and besides, she wasn’t sure the nursery could support so many people.
Connie sipped her tea. She’d always known it would be a bit of a job persuading Ga and her mother that she wanted a career of her own. She wasn’t afraid to go ahead with or without their blessing, although she would much prefer them to be happy to let her go. She was determined to stand her ground, come what may. She was nearly twenty-two for heaven’s sake. The war had changed everything. Girls had more opportunities than they’d ever had before, and besides, now that Emmett was out of the picture what else was there? She didn’t want to leave it any longer. The training took four years. By the time she’d finished, she would be twenty-six … quite old really. Ga’s reaction was predictable but it took Connie by surprise that her mother didn’t put up more of a fight.
Pip barked.
‘That’ll be Mandy, home from school,’ said Gwen as the dog hurried outside. Connie’s younger sister Mandy had been at infants’ school for about a year. ‘Mrs Bawden, next door, and I take it in turns to take Mandy and Joan to school. It’s her turn this week.’
Connie stood up as Mandy burst through the door and threw herself into her arms. ‘Connie, Connie!’ Laughing, Connie twirled Mandy around in a circle.
‘How many times do I have to tell you, Mandy?’ Olive grumbled petulantly. ‘No outdoor shoes in the house.’
Connie let her go and Mandy slid to the floor. Obediently the little girl retraced her steps to the back door and took off her shoes, placing them next to the umbrella stand. Connie caught her breath. With her hair in plaits and wearing a grey pinafore and white blouse her little sister looked so grown up.
A couple of minutes later, Pen Cooper knocked on the door and stepped into the house. She had a jam jar in her hand. Inside the jar, an angry bee knocked itself against the glass. Pen was not only a gypsy but she was also a bit of an eccentric. She wore a long flowing dress and plenty of beads. She had make-up too, which was unusual for a traveller. Thickly layered powder and some kohl around her pale mischievous eyes. When she saw Connie she stopped and held out her arms. ‘’Tis good to see ye.’
‘It’s good to see you too, Pen,’ Connie smiled. ‘I’ll come up later and see Kez if that’s all right.’
‘You knows it is,’ Pen beamed, ‘and welcome.’ She turned her attention to Olive. ‘Now, are you ready, dear?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ said Olive. ‘It’s killing me and someone’s got to get the ground ready for the calabrese and winter cabbages.’
Connie saw her mother’s back stiffen.
‘Yoohoo.’ They heard another voice call from the front door and Aunt Aggie came into the room. Aunt Aggie wasn’t really a relation but she was Ga’s oldest friend. A rather prim woman, Aggie never had a hair out of place. She always seemed to be dressed in her Sunday best and today was no exception. She wore a yellow floral dress, white peep-toe shoes, newly whitened, and she carried a white handbag. She and Olive had been friends since they were at school together. Peeling off her white crochet gloves, Aggie offered Connie a cold cheek to kiss. ‘How nice to have you home again.’
‘I’d better make a start,’ said Pen and Gwen took a protesting Mandy away from Connie’s arms and upstairs to get changed out of her uniform. ‘But I want to see, Mummy. Why can’t I watch?’ They could hear her complaining all the way to her room.
Connie watched fascinated as Pen took some tweezers from her pocket. ‘Ready?’ she said again and slid the lid from the jar.
‘Are you sure about this Olive, dear?’ Aggie asked.
‘Pen knows what she’s doing,’ Olive snapped.
Aggie poured herself a cup of tea and sat down with one leg swinging as she crossed it over the other. The bee continued to bang itself against the jar until eventually Pen caught its wings with her fingers and put it onto Olive’s swollen knee, holding it there until thoroughly enraged, it stung her. Olive winced. Pen removed the dying bee and eventually the sting it had left behind.
Gwen reappeared at the door. ‘While Mandy is getting changed, I’m going outside for a bit.’
Connie left the three women to watch Ga’s swelling knee and followed her mother outside to where she found her picking runner beans.
‘There’s so much to do this time of year,’ she said matter-of-factly as Connie made a start on the broad beans in the next row. Their smallholding was very popular and the shop was always busy. Their customers knew everything was very fresh, perhaps only just picked. Olive kept the prices down while Gwen did her best to keep the supplies from running out, in between the housework and looking after Mandy. Connie knew how hard her mother’s life was and the unease slipped in.
‘You don’t mind me not working in the nursery, do you Mum?’
‘I’m pleased you’re going to make a career for yourself, dear,’ said Gwen. ‘You’ll make a good nurse.’
‘Ga was a bit cross,’ said Connie. ‘I don’t want to leave you in the lurch.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ said Gwen.
The nursery was hardly making its way when Olive bought it but Clifford was such an excellent nurseryman that he had pulled it back from the brink and made it a going concern. When he was called up in 1943, the two women took over. Gwen used to serve in the shop, but these days she preferred to work on the land, leaving Ga to look after the business side of things. It was never voiced, but the arrangement was so much better since Olive’s knee started playing up. On bad days, Olive could sit in the shop, which was little more than a glorified lean-to, and let the customers serve themselves.
Although the family managed to lift the early potatoes themselves, they generally hired casual labourers to help with the main crop in September. They mostly used the locals because the gypsies didn’t often come this way. When Connie was a child and the gypsies came to Patching, she and Kenneth were invited to share in their communal meal. Connie loved it, especially when Peninnah, Kez’s grandmother, would take her pipe out of her mouth and tell them about the old days. She had an encyclopedic knowledge when it came to family and some of them sounded such wonderful people. ‘They called ’e Red shirt Matthew on account as he always wore a red shirt …’ ‘So they stuffed the two rabbits under ’is big ol’ hat and legged it all the way ’ome …’ ‘She’d stolen ’is trousers, so when ’e got out of the lake, ’e was as naked as the day he we
re born. He had to walk ’ome without a stitch on ’is back.’ Pen would stop to chuckle. ‘That learned him not to mess about with a gypsy girl …’ Connie and Kenneth would roar their heads off even though they hadn’t a clue who she was talking about. Nobody minded the gypsies being there back then. They were hard workers, the women and children selling handmade pegs and bunches of flowers around the centre of Worthing and the men doing any kind of manual labour on offer.
The war had changed everything. The government had created the Land Army pushing the gypsies further to the fringes of society perhaps, but the hope was that if the powers-that-be disbanded it, farmers would use gypsy labour once again. However, the fate of Kezia and her family was not Connie’s main concern right now. As they worked side by side, she noticed how tired her mother looked.
‘I’m fine,’ said Gwen when Connie remarked on it. ‘I’ve had a bit extra to do with Ga being laid up but things are easing up a bit now. We’ve taken on a local girl to work in the shop, and Clifford will be demobbed soon.’
‘Have you been to the doctor?’
‘Connie, I’m fine,’ Gwen insisted.
Connie knew better than to argue. ‘When’s Clifford coming home?’
‘At the end of the month.’
Connie breathed a silent sigh of relief. With Clifford back, he could take some of the workload off Mum and she could begin her training at the hospital in September as she had planned. She relaxed as she carried on picking. ‘What’s she like?’ Connie asked.
‘Who?’
‘The girl in the shop.’
‘Sally? She’s a bit scatty at times but a good worker,’ said Gwen, her bowl now full. ‘The runner beans have been really good this year.’
Mandy had come out of the house and begun skipping. Connie watched her half-sister and was impressed.
‘She’s only just learned how to do it,’ said Gwen proudly. ‘I think she’s quite good for someone not quite seven, don’t you?’
There was a movement by the back door and Peninnah appeared with Ga. Olive was limping and she had to hold on to the doorposts to keep herself steady but at least she was mobile again. Her leg was heavily bandaged. The two women said their goodbyes and Pen blew a kiss to Mandy.
As she watched her great aunt turn around in the doorway and walk painfully back indoors, Connie turned back to the job in hand. The two boxes were full, one with runner beans and the other with broad beans in the jackets as they headed towards the shop. As they took the supplies inside, Connie met the girl working there.
Sally Burndell was a pretty girl with dark hair and full lips who made no secret of the fact that she was going to go to secretarial college later in the year and was only in the shop for a short while. Connie liked her directness. They arranged the fresh beans underneath the beans already in the boxes to make sure the older beans picked the day before were sold first. Gwen went round picking out failing fruit and vegetables and making sure the supplies were topped up. Connie fetched some fresh newspaper from the storeroom and showed Sally how to make it into bags by folding them a certain way. She also got her to fan out the paper wrapped around the fruit in the orange boxes.
‘Press them flat and put them in a pile,’ said Connie.
‘Whatever for?’ said a voice behind them.
Connie turned to see Aunt Aggie watching them from the doorway.
‘They could be used as toilet paper,’ she said. ‘It’s a lot softer than newspaper. It’s a tip I picked up from the WAAF.’
‘Huh!’ Aunt Aggie scoffed. ‘What’s wrong with newspaper?’
‘I must go in and get the tea,’ said Gwen, wiping her hands on a towel.
‘And I’m off for the bus,’ said Aggie turning to leave. ‘Olive said I could have some beans. Not too many. There’s only me.’
Sally wrapped a few runner beans in newspaper and handed them to her. Aunt Aggie took them without a thank you.
‘See you soon, Aggie,’ Gwen called.
They watched her go.
‘When you’ve got a bum as big as hers,’ Sally said, ‘I guess you’d need a newspaper as big as The Times.’
‘Shh,’ Connie cautioned. ‘She’ll hear you.’ But she and her mother couldn’t help giggling.
Thankfully, Aggie hadn’t heard the remark because she walked on.
‘Play with me, Connie,’ Mandy pleaded as Connie followed her mother outside.
Gwen turned around. ‘No need for you to come into the house,’ she smiled. ‘I’ve made a sausage in cider casserole. All I have to do is take it out of the oven. Stay here and play with Mandy.’
The two sisters grinned. Mandy flicked her plaits over her shoulder and before long, Connie was holding the rope and they were skipping together. Connie hadn’t done this for years. She was a bit out of breath but she hadn’t lost her touch. Pip wandered outside.
‘When I was little,’ she told Mandy, ‘I used to tie the rope on the down-pipe like this and when I turned it, Pip would join in.’
As soon as she said it, and much to Connie’s delight, he joined in. Mandy clapped her hands in delight. By the time their mother called them for tea, she, Pip and Mandy had become great friends.
Three
Teatime over, Connie tucked Mandy up in bed and after a bedtime story they sang her favourite song, ‘You Are My Sunshine’. It was a precious time for both of them and one that Connie had started when her little sister was very young. Every time she’d come home on leave, Mandy had begged her to sing it as she said goodnight. Connie crept out of Mandy’s room and had what her mother would call a cat’s lick in the bathroom and changed her clothes. She put on the pale lemon sweater and same grey pinstriped slacks she had worn in Trafalgar Square and after calling out her goodbyes, headed in the direction of Goring-by-Sea railway station. Pip invited himself along with her, sometimes running on ahead, occasionally stopping to sniff something. She watched him scenting a blade of grass, a telegraph pole and the postbox and marvelled at his carefree love of life.
They reached the Goring crossroad and walked up Titnore Lane. All at once the dog stopped and motionless, sniffed the air, then he took off at breakneck speed. A few minutes later she could hear him in the distance barking joyously. Connie quickened her step and as she rounded a small bend in the lane, she saw them – the gypsies. By now Pip was hysterical with delight, jumping from one to the other, his tail wagging as he let out little yelps of pleasure. Connie was surprised. The dog had only been a puppy when he’d last seen the gypsies but he clearly remembered them.
Connie could pick some of them out even from here. Peninnah Cooper, Kez’s maternal grandmother was stirring something in the black pot hung over an open fire, and was that Kez’s cousin sitting on the caravan steps? Reuben Light, Kez’s father, his frail old body bent low with arthritis and it seemed that he had developed an unhealthy cough. Reuben spotted her and stood up to wave but where was Kez?
Connie recalled how devastated she had been when her mother and Ga moved to Goring in 1938. How would Kez know where she was? Writing a letter was hopeless. For a start, what would she put on the envelope? ‘To the gypsy caravan somewhere near Patching pond in May’ hardly seemed appropriate and besides, Kez couldn’t read. Connie had wept buckets at the injustice of it all, which was why the fact that Kez was just down the road from where she now lived after all this time was so amazing.
There was a movement by the caravan and there she was. She had a baby in her arms but as soon as she saw Connie, Kez called out her name and pushed the child into Pen’s arms. Connie broke into a run. The two women met in the lane and flinging their arms around each other they danced in circles, laughing as they went. Kezia smelled of rosemary and lavender, her flaming red hair tied untidily with a green ribbon flapped behind her as they spun together. She was wearing a long floral dress with a tight bodice and loose unlaced boots. They broke away and held each other at arm’s length to look at each other and the questions flew. How are you? You look great. Is that your baby? H
ow long has it been since we met? It must be eight, nine years … Where have you been all this time? A little boy had joined them and was tugging at Kezia’s skirt. She bent to pick him up, settling him comfortably on her hip. As they wandered towards the caravan a delicious smell of rabbit stew wafted towards her.
‘Stay and eat with us,’ said Kez.
Connie linked her arm in Kezia’s. Oh, it was good to see her again. ‘I’ve just eaten but I’d love to share a cuppa.’ She smiled at the child on Kez’s hip. ‘And who is this?’
‘This is my son, Samuel,’ Kez beamed. ‘He’s nearly three. Say hello Sam.’ But the child turned his head shyly into his mother’s neck.
‘Pen told me you had kids,’ said Connie. ‘But two?’
‘I had three,’ said Kezia, her voice becoming flat. ‘Pen is holding the babby but my little Joseph went to be with the angels.’
‘Oh Kez, I’m so sorry,’ said Connie suddenly stricken for her.
When they reached the caravan, there were more greetings and now that she was up close to him, Connie could see that Reuben was but a shadow of his former self. All the same, he was delighted to see her. ‘It must be ten year since I laid eyes on ye,’ he smiled, his gold tooth flashing in the failing evening sun.
‘Nine,’ Kezia corrected.
‘It does seem a long time ago, doesn’t it?’ said Connie shaking the old man’s hand.
Behind Reuben’s traditional gypsy caravan, she caught a glimpse of a long motor trailer, an ex-army vehicle. Kezia explained that using his army pay, her husband, Simeon, had just bought it for the family and now he was converting it into their home.
‘He says it’s the way of the future,’ said Kez proudly.
Other members of the family, including Kezia’s husband, Simeon (how they all loved their Old Testament names) tumbled out to greet Connie respectfully. If they seemed a little surprised that a Gorgia would be joining them as they ate, they said nothing. Reuben offered Connie an upturned box and as she sat down a sullen-faced lad came out of the trailer.
