by Katie Flynn
‘No chocolate,’ Eleanor had agreed, dimpling at her husband. ‘You are cruel, Bill! Waking him up and giving him his breakfast at five in the morning is going to be next to impossible unless I can bribe him with chocolate, and kindly do not call me Ellie,’ she had added, fluttering her lashes. ‘I wish you were able to come with us. You say that’s impossible, though why you can’t ask for leave …’
Eve remembered how for one moment the look of indulgent affection on her father’s face had been replaced by a sort of weary annoyance. ‘Darling heart, you must try to understand that war changes everything. No one will be able to get leave whenever they feel inclined. By the time you have arranged for the flat to be shut up and so on and are ready to come down to Plymouth, I may well be at sea. And you know I’ve had to sell the car now I’ve nowhere to keep it, so even if I’d got shore leave for some reason I wouldn’t be able to pack you and the kids into the car and simply drive off into the wide blue yonder, the way we did on that last holiday.’
Just the memory of that wonderful holiday brought a smile to Eve’s lips and made her forget that Mummy was showing, once more, how she regarded her daughter. Eve was quite as fond of chocolate as Chrissie, yet it had not occurred to her mother to offer her one of the bars with which the satchel was crammed. I could ask, of course, Eve told herself, watching enviously as Chrissie clutched the satchel closer to his chest and made the sort of growling noise that a dog makes when he thinks you mean to steal his bone. But asking would only make Mummy cross and besides, if I tried to take even the tiniest bar Chrissie would scream the place down, and I’d probably get into trouble all over again. But the train was slowing as it approached Waterloo station and Mummy seemed to have forgotten about the satchel and its contents. They had a big cabin trunk and two suitcases stowed away in the guard’s van, and Eve imagined it would be her job to find a porter, discover from which platform the next train left, and go with the luggage to the new train, though it would be Mummy who handed out money when they got there. Better not to mention chocolate bars, then, or Chrissie’s clutch on the satchel. She offered to sling it round her shoulders for ease of carrying, but apparently he suspected that such an innocent move might end in his losing it altogether, so she said nothing more, not even when Eleanor pulled her white velvet vanity case down from the rack and thrust it quite painfully into her daughter’s arms.
‘Stay with Chrissie and take good care of him,’ she commanded. ‘Show the tickets to any official who asks to see them but never give them up.’ And then, as the train jerked to a halt, ‘Ah, we’ve arrived. Stay as close to me as you can, children, and keep your eyes peeled for Auntie Ruby. She promised to come to the station if she possibly could, to help us with the luggage and so on. Oh, Chrissie love, you’ve got chocolate all over your face! What would Daddy say? And I promised him I’d not bring chocolate. Will you let me carry it for you – just as far as the cloakroom, you know? Then Eve can clean you up whilst I check our bags.’
Eve sighed, but knew it was no good complaining. Mummy had loved her once, Daddy said so, so it must be true; and according to Daddy she loves me still, Eve told herself rather dubiously, seizing Chrissie’s hand. Oh, I do hope Auntie Ruby comes in time to help us get aboard the next train. What if we should miss it? And then there’ll be a taxi at the other end, and the driver won’t want a boy covered in chocolate in his nice clean cab. How I wish Daddy was here and not somewhere out at sea, because Mummy will expect me to look after Chrissie on my own and he’s so obstinate and difficult.
Trying to look back, Eve wondered whether she had been as self-willed as Chrissie when she was his age, but she thought not. Why should she be difficult when her beloved daddy understood her so well? But that had been before Chrissie, when, according to Nanny Burton, Eve’s mother had spoiled her too, just as Daddy did now.
It had been nice to be the favoured child and she supposed she should not grumble because Chrissie had taken her place. She sighed. One ought to love one’s baby brother and take pains to help him in any way one could, but in her secret heart Eve did not even like Chrissie, far less love him. Oh, she pretended like anything, put on a good face, praised his golden-haired prettiness, but in her heart, deeply buried, she hated the little beast.
But now Mummy was ushering her out of the compartment to join the queue of people in the corridor heading for the nearest door.
‘There’s Auntie Ruby,’ Eve said suddenly, stopping dead as she spotted her aunt’s bush of tangled hair through the window. ‘Oh, thank goodness. Chrissie will let Auntie Ruby wash his face, because he’s frightened of her.’ She picked her little brother up, satchel and all, and made him wave to Auntie Ruby as the queue of disembarking passengers shuffled past behind them.
When at last they descended on to the platform their aunt whisked Chrissie up and sat him on her hip, ignoring his grizzling and smiling cheerfully at Eve. ‘Your mum has given this child chocolate,’ she announced needlessly, for one glance at Chrissie’s face proved the truth of the statement. ‘You’re a good little lass; I see you’ve got your mum’s vanity case. Well, you hang on to that whilst I clean the young master up. You’d better come with me, because we don’t want to get separated. Your mother’s gone to find a porter – we’re meeting her in the buffet so you can get yourselves something to drink before you board the Exeter train.’
‘The Exeter train?’ Eve said. ‘But we’re going to Plymouth.’
Auntie Ruby looked surprised. ‘Don’t say your mother didn’t tell you? You’re spending one night, or possibly two, in Exeter before going on to your lodgings. Your father’s decided that Plymouth, being a very important port, is no place for his family in wartime.’
‘Where are we going, then? After Exeter, I mean?’ Eve asked, thinking that it was typical of her mother not to admit that their destination had changed. ‘Oh, Auntie Ruby, I wish you were coming with us.’
Auntie Ruby chuckled as she ushered the two children into the ladies’ cloakroom. ‘I have work to do here,’ she said. ‘As for where you’re going, you wouldn’t know where it was even if I told you.’ She took the satchel from Chrissie, and when he wailed a protest and tried to snatch it back she gave him what Eve considered to be a well-deserved slap. ‘Behave yourself!’ she said sharply. ‘Your train leaves in twenty minutes and if I have to spend all that time cleaning you up, young man, spend it I will.’
Despite Eve’s fears, the transfer from the train to a small boarding house in Exeter had been far simpler than she had imagined. Mummy had been at her most charming, praising the town, the lodgings and their landlady, who was clearly fond of children and thought Chrissie adorable, admiring his curls, his big blue eyes and his delightful manners; for like his mother, Eve thought resentfully, he could turn his charm on and off to suit every occasion.
And there had been no difficulty in finding a taxi driver who would pick them up the next morning and take them to Drake’s Farm, where Daddy had arranged for them to stay. Chrissie had pouted but Eve had felt a lift of the heart. So they were to stay on a farm, a real farm, one with pigs and chickens, and cows and horses – all the things she had read about, in short, but had never seen.
‘Farms is the best place for children in wartime,’ Mrs Edge, the Exeter landlady, had told Eleanor wisely. ‘I don’t know this Drake’s Farm, but then I wouldn’t, would I, if it’s closer to Plymouth than here? But all farms is alike when you come down to it, and probably just what your children need, I don’t doubt. You say your husband chose it? Well there you are then.’
Eve had opened her mouth to say the original plan had been to go all the way to Plymouth, then closed it again. Mummy hated it when she showed she had been listening to a conversation. Best play safe; Eve grinned to herself. ‘Lay low and say nuffin’,’ as Uncle Remus had put it, ‘and you won’t go far wrong.’
But Mrs Edge and her comfortable little house were already part of the past, and right now Eve was seated beside her mother, with Chrissie on Eleanor’
s lap, watching the green and gold countryside pass by. She had entered the taxi whilst Mummy had been discussing the fare and so had missed any mention of how long this journey would take, which was unfortunate since it seemed to her to be a very long time indeed. She jerked her mother’s sleeve, wanting to remind Eleanor that she was not a good traveller, but her mother was staring out of the window, a frown creasing her brow. Then she leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.
‘How much further is it?’ she said, making it plain from her tone that she had not realised how far they would have to go. ‘I know you said it was a fair way but surely we must be almost there?’
The driver slowed and swivelled in his seat to give his passengers an amused look. He was a young man with bright ginger hair and a face full of freckles. When he smiled Eve saw that he had a front tooth missing.
‘Another couple of miles, I dare say; mebbe three,’ he said jovially. ‘But these country roads aren’t kept up the way the main roads are, which makes it seem longer.’
Eleanor sank back in her seat. ‘Well, I suppose we can put up with three more miles so long as it’s not any further,’ she said grudgingly.
Eve sighed. One of her many faults, according to Mummy, was her inability to travel by car without at some stage having to abandon ship or be sick. The journey had not been so bad whilst the taxi pootled along the smooth main road, but they had left that some time ago and Eve was beginning to feel distinctly queasy. Three more miles of this! There were potholes and bends, puddles and other obstacles, and though the countryside was beautiful it was also growing wilder by the minute. Eve cast a despairing glance at her mother; Eleanor knew her daughter’s weakness and would surely take pity on her. If they could stop for a few minutes she could be sick in the ditch which she had noticed running alongside the road, but if she said nothing …
‘Almost there now,’ the taxi driver said cheerfully. ‘We turn left here and the farm’s about a mile up the lane. Oh …’ He braked sharply, surveying in some dismay the deep ruts and untrimmed hedges that lined the track he had been about to turn in to. ‘Well, I can’t take the taxi up there. ’Twasn’t meant for anything but horse-drawn traffic, clearly, and very little of that.’ He grinned at them. ‘’Tis only a mile. ’Twon’t take you above fifteen minutes if you step out.’
He drew the car to a halt, got out of his seat and went round to the rear passenger door. ‘I’ll knock a bob or two off the fare, seeing as how you’ll have to walk the last bit,’ he said.
But her mother shook her head firmly. ‘How can you be so foolish?’ she said scornfully. ‘We’ve two large cases and the cabin trunk and we only hired you because you had a trailer for our bags. You can’t expect me to tackle that lane with two children and all that luggage. Kindly get back in the car so that we may all continue our journey.’
Eve was fighting her own particular battle – she could feel her breakfast heaving around inside her tummy – but she had heard the annoyance in her mother’s voice; clearly Eleanor had decided that this man would respond better to bullying than to charm. But the taxi driver only grinned more broadly.
‘It’s all right, missus, I was only having a bit of a joke with you,’ he said. ‘This is the back way, seemingly. I’ll drive you round to the front.’ But even as Eleanor relaxed and began to smile the driver, who had ignored the children until now, suddenly pointed an accusing finger at Eve. ‘You’re car sick, aren’t you?’ he said, his tone so matter of fact that it did not occur to Eve or her mother to deny it, though Eve tried her best to hide the churning. ‘Come you out of that.’
He seized her shoulder in a not unfriendly grip and pulled her out of the taxi. ‘Oh aye, I can see all the signs and I won’t have no kid throwing up in my cab, no matter how much you pay me.’ He gave Eve an admonitory little shake, then addressed her. ‘I can’t say as I blame you for feeling a bit off, ’cos these roads are pretty rough, but you look like a healthy young woman. What are you – ten, twelve? If I take your mum, your baby brother and the luggage round to the front of this here Drake’s Farm you can walk up the back way. You’ll be there in no time and you won’t have to put up with being shut in the taxi.’
‘I’m nine,’ Eve said, but she felt a glow of pride. Mummy might not value her or think her capable of finding her way up the steep lane without adult assistance, but the taxi driver had actually thought she was ten or twelve and therefore almost an adult herself.
Right now she was gazing at the lane, delighted to be out of the car and in the open air, yet secretly worried in case she should get lost between here and Drake’s Farm. She said as much and the taxi driver patted her shoulder before climbing back into the driver’s seat, winding down his window so that he might answer her.
‘The only buildin’, apart from Drake’s Farm itself, is an ancient barn. If you just keep on walkin’ you’ll see the farm’ouse quick enough. Want to take your little brother along for company?’
Eve laughed. Her stomach was settling down and all of a sudden she felt excited rather than apprehensive, though the thought of being accompanied by Chrissie almost spoiled her pleasure in the sunny day. She shook her head decidedly.
‘No thank you. I’d have to carry him, you see, as soon as he got tired or bored.’ She lowered her voice. ‘He hardly ever walks if he can help it. My daddy says he’s terribly spoiled.’ She would have gone on to explain that her mother never corrected Chrissie no matter how naughty he was, but Eleanor had opened her door and was clearly listening to every word her daughter uttered.
‘Chrissie wants to come with you, Eve,’ she announced firmly. ‘It’s only a mile; if you have to carry him for a bit, it won’t hurt you. In fact it will probably be good for you to put yourself out for your little brother.’
Eve gathered all her courage and shook her head firmly. ‘No, I won’t take Chrissie. There are puddles and he isn’t wearing wellies. Besides, I’m sure he’d rather go by car.’
Here she was proved wrong. Chrissie pointed at Eve and then at the lane, chuckling with anticipation and preparing to scramble off his mother’s knee and into the warm September sunlight. Eve might have given in, but just in time the taxi driver gave her a friendly nudge.
‘Off with you,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I bet that kid weighs a ton. Go on or your mum will nab you.’
Eve did not need telling twice. She hurried away from the taxi, pushing through the neglected verges and trying to ignore the screams with which Chrissie greeted the thwarting of his wishes. Within moments she was out of sight of the car, and alone. Above her, birds darted from one side of the lane to the other, somewhere in the distance a cow mooed, and presently she heard the taxi driver start his engine, its noise growing fainter as he continued on his way.
Eve gazed around her and thought she had never seen anything so beautiful. A huge tree spread protective branches over her head, and telling herself that she would be all the better for a bit of a sit-down she chose a mossy log and perched on it to look around her. This was a magic place, she thought, for in the roots of the great tree there was dark mysterious water; she could imagine a tiny person only a couple of inches high sculling a small boat across the mirror stillness of the pool. She wished she knew what the tree was called and presently a name popped into her mind: it was a beech, and the stuff that littered the ground around her feet was beech mast. Eve frowned; how had she known that? She supposed that at some stage or other they had been taught the names of trees at school. She hoped that whichever school she would now attend had nature lessons.
She slid off the log, gave one last glance around her and set off once again. With every step she took she felt her surroundings becoming more familiar. Had she been here before? If so, Daddy must have brought her, because Mummy would never risk sullying her beautiful clothing or scratching the patent leather court shoes with their narrow heels and cute little bows – cream bows on black shoes – which were her present favourite footwear.
She heard the stream
before she saw it and when she did see it she felt she knew it as well as she knew the great River Thames, beside which she had frequently walked with Nanny Burton, pushing the baby Chrissie in his pram.
But this river was nothing like the Thames, of course. In fact Eve supposed it was not really a river at all, but what Daddy would have called a stream. But river or stream, it was as beautiful in its way as the great beeches. At this particular point it ran across the lane, gurgling over big flat stones, and it was easy to see that this was what Daddy would have called a ford, a place where cattle, people in wellington boots and even, she supposed, cars could cross. Eve leaned over the water and saw movement; she had hoped for mermaids but the little silver-gilt fish darting to and fro over the varied coloured stones were the next best thing, and anyway mermaids were sea creatures, not to be found in freshwater streams. She had peered into the depths of the Thames often enough and had never seen so much as a flicker of a fin, let alone a mermaid. But here in this enchanted place anything was possible.
Eve looked a little further upstream and saw the bridge. It was a wooden structure and not very wide, but she supposed that when the stream was swollen by winter rains anyone walking up this lane would have to use it. She hesitated. If she took her shoes and socks off she could cross by the ford, but that would mean replacing her socks on wet feet and she guessed how her mother would scold. Better to go by the bridge. She was halfway over when she remembered something else, and hesitated again. Daddy had told her the story of the three billy goats gruff, who had to cross the river in order to eat the sweet green grass which grew on the further bank. But the troll who lived under the bridge bounded out the moment he heard a footfall and announced his intention of eating the trespasser for supper.
Eve giggled, then leaned over the low parapet and glanced carefully at the tumbling water beneath. What a place for games! If she had to come this way to school she would make up a magic charm to keep the troll in his place, but though she might believe in mermaids – or half believe, rather – she knew that the troll was really just a fairy tale and would never pop out from his hiding place below the bridge to challenge all comers.
