by Katie Flynn
Despite herself, and with tears still dappling her cheeks, Lily could not forbear to chuckle. ‘This is very sudden,’ she said. ‘I thought you adored Colin as much as I did. I thought you were planning to borrow Maisie O’Hara’s wedding dress so that we could be married despite the war. I know you told me you’d met Colin’s mother and thought she was somewhat overbearing, but …’
Mrs Kendal snorted. ‘She boasted about her flight lieutenant son who was teaching other men to fly Spitfires, but when I told her my girl was in the Land Army she brushed it aside. In fact, she sneered.’
Once more, Lily chuckled. ‘You didn’t say any of this in your letters,’ she reminded her mother. ‘I did get the impression that you were not too keen on Mrs Tunstal, but not that you actually disliked her.’
‘How could I say such a thing when you meant to marry her son and seemed to be deeply in love with him?’ her mother asked reasonably. ‘But now that it’s all over between you I shall be frank. Neither Michael nor I thought he was worthy of you, and we both hoped the friendship would not last.’ She beamed at her daughter. ‘The world is full of modest and delightful young men, many of them old friends of yours. You were carried away by Colin’s looks and charm, but looks don’t last and charm isn’t always sincere. Oh, my darling, I know that right now you feel that you could never love anyone but Colin, but you’re wrong, you know. Your heart is sick after the blow he’s dealt you, but you’ll recover, I promise you. Why, you’re twenty-one years of age – I hope you had a lovely birthday, by the way – and you’ve only ever been out with one young man. If you’d joined one of the armed services you would have met a great many delightful fellows, but stuck away on that farm miles from anywhere you’ve had virtually no opportunity to meet anyone else. I’ve never forgotten you telling me that you didn’t even join the other land girls when they went off to a dance in the town because you felt it would be disloyal to Colin. When you go back to Drake’s Farm you must hold your head high and attend every social event as though Colin had never existed. And whilst you’re with us you must do the same.’
Lily sighed. ‘I’m going to ask for a posting somewhere far away from Drake’s Farm,’ she admitted in a small voice. ‘I just can’t face them, Mother. I’ve gone on and on about Colin; how can I eat my words and go back there? And besides, I did go to one dance and there wasn’t one man present that I would have looked at twice. I’m better away from Drake’s Farm, honestly I am.’
Mrs Kendal considered, head tilted slightly to one side. She was a pretty woman, very like her daughter, though her thick fair hair was streaked with white and her figure hinted at the plumpness of middle age. She thought for a moment, then smoothed the hair off her daughter’s forehead and smiled triumphantly.
‘Do you remember Mr Parker? Oh, you must do – he and his wife farm no more than two or three miles outside the city. You used to love going there to give a helping hand when you were only ten or eleven. Remember?’
‘Yes, but does he employ land girls?’ Lily said doubtfully. ‘Didn’t he have a daughter who helped him and his wife to run the farm? You can’t be suggesting that they might get rid of her and employ me, because I’m sure it’s most unlikely.’
Mrs Kendal tutted. ‘Silly girl, of course I’m not. The thing is, Peggy Parker left the farm a year or two ago to become a driver in the air force and though they’ve applied for a land girl Mrs Parker was telling me only the other day that they had had no luck. Another thing in your favour – if you apply for the job, that is – would be that you wouldn’t need living accommodation. So I’m sure if you went and saw Mr Parker he’d be delighted to give you a try. And now, darling, go upstairs, take off those clothes, have a wash – I’m afraid it will have to be cold because I don’t think there’s any hot water – and put on a clean summer dress. It will make you feel much better, I promise.’
Lily stood up and bent to kiss the older woman’s smooth cheek. ‘Int you a wonderful woman, Mrs Kendal?’ she said in the broad Norfolk accent which the children at school had used when no teachers were around. ‘I won’t say I’m completely cured of Colin, because that wouldn’t be true, but I feel so much better already, you wouldn’t believe. Oh, how I wish I hadn’t thrown the letter away! You might even be able to make me see the funny side of it!’
Abruptly, she clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Mother, I threw it into the wastepaper basket in the attic where we all slept! I scrumpled it up, but it would be just my luck for one of the girls to read it. Well, that settles it. I’m not going back, not to Drake’s Farm at any rate, and if I could get a job on the Parkers’ place that would be perfect.’
Giving her mother a final kiss, Lily mounted the stairs and stood on the landing for a moment looking out through the window at their long back garden. The asparagus season was over but its delicate fern still flourished, and even from here Lily could tell that the blackcurrant bushes had been harvested. By standing on tiptoe she could see, in the distance, the rolling fields of what she was almost sure must be the Parkers’ place. She told herself joyfully that she could walk there if necessary, but thought it quite likely that her mother had kept her old school bicycle, which would halve the journey time. Smiling to herself, she opened her bedroom door, meaning to dump her knapsack and then go along to the bathroom – what luxury – for a thoroughly enjoyable, and much needed, strip-down wash.
Slinging her bag ahead of her, she was almost inside the room before she realised it was already occupied. Lying on her bed and smoking a cigarette whilst reading a book which had certainly not come from her father’s shelves was a young man. He was in shirt, trousers and boots, and when he saw her staring at him he sat upright and cast down his book, though he continued to hold the cigarette.
‘What the hell …?’ he said.
Lily allowed her gaze to travel from his not very clean boots to the top of his head. He had bright ginger hair, white lashes and brows and he looked as though he could do with a darned good shave. He grinned at Lily’s astonishment, which annoyed her and made her straighten her back and give him one of her coldest looks.
‘What are you doing in my bedroom?’ she asked frostily. ‘I’ve just been talking to my mother and she didn’t say there was anyone in the house beside ourselves. What the devil are you doing here?’
‘I could say the same,’ the man said. He had an American accent, Lily realised. ‘I don’t suppose Mrs Kendal knows I’m home yet. But what about you? You barge into my bedroom without a word of explanation, chuck your knapsack down on the foot of my bed and all in all act as though you own the place. Who are you, anyway? Mrs Kendal never mentioned … oh, I get it. You’re the long lost daughter who’s on a farm somewhere in Devon.’ He grinned at her. ‘Am I right? Only nobody mentioned you were coming home on leave, and when I came in and there was no one home I just came up to my room to snatch an hour or so’s rest before going downstairs to see what’s available for lunch.’
Lily gasped. What a nerve the fellow had! His room indeed. Why, she had been sleeping in this room ever since she could remember. This impudent young man must be the officer who had been billeted on her parents when he had been injured in an accident – now that she looked at him more closely she could see stitch marks, pale but clear, standing out against the tan on his cheek. However, she certainly did not intend to share her room with this rather crude colonial. Once more, she swept him with a disdainful look. She had never liked red-haired men, and this one added to his lack of charm by having a snub nose, about a million freckles and slightly rabbity teeth. Lily drew herself up to her full height and jerked a thumb at him.
‘Out!’ she said briskly. ‘This is my bedroom, and I am about to clean up and get rid of the travel stains. Collect your traps, whatever they may be, and take them up to the attic. There’s a folding bed up there and I’m sure my mother will find you sufficient bedding for it, but I certainly don’t intend to move out of my own bedroom just for your convenience.’
The young man
did not move. ‘If there’s only a camp bed remember I’m a good deal taller than you,’ he pointed out. ‘If anyone sleeps up there it ought to be you. And anyway, first come first served.’
Lily came right into the room and flung open the wardrobe doors. ‘Please clear your things out at once,’ she said. ‘There’s no point in arguing. You will simply have to make do with the attic, because I’m hoping to get a job near here so I can live at home. But you were right: I am the Kendals’ daughter. So who are you?’
He sketched a salute. ‘I’m Captain Hank Ruskin; I fly Liberators.’ He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘Anything more you want to know?’ He rubbed his eyes and swung his legs off the bed, and for the first time Lily realised that though he had been reading his book and smoking a cigarette he had been doing so despite being almost asleep. For a moment she felt a pang of remorse and was tempted to tell him to stay where he was whilst she used the bathroom, but then she decided that that might well make him think she was backing down, which she had no intention of doing. Now that he was on his feet she could see he was well over six foot tall, and she noticed for the first time that one of his legs seemed to be bandaged from thigh to ankle. Lily felt guilty. How would he manage with his wounded leg? She could scarcely expect him to climb the narrow attic stairs, which weren’t stairs at all, really, but a ladder which one pulled down whenever ascending to or descending from the attic above.
Lily took a deep breath and prepared to apologise. It was scarcely his fault that she had come home unexpectedly, or that it had not occurred to her that her mother’s wounded officer might be occupying her old bedroom. And he certainly could not have been expected to scramble up the ladder whilst her own room was unoccupied and, he must have thought, would continue to be so.
‘Look, Captain Ruskin,’ she said awkwardly, ‘I’ve been travelling for two days and I’m afraid I lost my sense of humour and a good many other things as I crossed the country. I hadn’t even noticed your bandaged leg when I started in on you. I’m truly sorry. Please leave all your things in this room and consider it your own until you are able to return to your station.’
She half expected a snub, because she had been pretty unpleasant before, but the grin he gave her was friendly.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘And it’s a base, not a station. I dare say your mom told me you were expected, but the message never got across.’ He jerked a thumb at the bandaged leg. ‘I’m only here until this heals, which shouldn’t be long, I hope. My co-pilot’s a great guy, but he’s a little on the skinny side and you need good leg muscles to fly a Lib, so the sooner my leg’s operational again the happier everyone will be.’ He grinned at his own choice of words. ‘Including you, I guess. Now you’re home I’ll ask Mrs Kendal to find me another billet.’
‘Oh, please don’t,’ Lily said, dismayed. ‘I’m sorry I was so horrible to you, and I promise I’ll be perfectly happy to sleep in the attic whilst you recover.’ She gave the young man her most winning smile. ‘Please don’t make me feel worse by refusing. If my mother knew how rude I’ve been to a guest she’d be very angry.’
Hank had been collecting his various pieces of property from around the room, and now he dumped them on the bed and returned Lily’s smile. ‘It’s real good of you, ma’am – Miss Kendal, I mean,’ he said. ‘I would offer to take your stuff up to the attic but you could do it yourself twice as fast. And now you’d best get off to the bathroom before you have your mom climbing the stairs to find out what’s going on. She must be the least curious woman in the whole world, because she lets me come and go just as I like. The doors are never locked, and there’s always food of some description available for a hungry guy who’s missed out on a meal.’ He glanced at the large watch on his wrist. ‘Or maybe you’d best leave your wash for now. Your mom serves what she calls a luncheon at noon and it’s ten to twelve already.’
‘Right, then we ought to go down in a minute,’ Lily said briskly. She grinned at him. ‘Did I tell you my name was Lily and I prefer to be called that rather than Miss Kendal? But tell me, is Hank a real name or did you make it up?’
The young man laughed. ‘I was christened Henry but no one ever calls me that,’ he said. ‘Lily; what a pretty name. It suits you. Back home on stateside I’ve an uncle with a big yard who grows lilies – I think they’re called regal lilies, or something like that. You look a bit like one, with all that pale gold hair.’
Lily blushed. ‘Do your crew call you Ginger?’ she asked, to change the subject. ‘If you were an Englishman they’d call you either Ginger or Carrots.’ She gathered up an armful of discarded clothing and began to hang it in the wardrobe. She thought that however great a pilot he might be he was the untidiest man with whom she had ever come into contact. Then she chided herself. He’d had no time to tidy the room before she had burst in upon him.
‘I do get called Ginger sometimes,’ he admitted, ‘but not twice! And now let’s go down to the kitchen. If your mom was surprised to see you she’ll be even more surprised to find I was upstairs all the time.’
During the meal Lily had the opportunity to study her new acquaintances as he and her mother chatted, and she realised that Hank reminded her strongly of someone she knew. But who? She searched through her acquaintance in her mind and at last came up with the answer. Who did she know with clumpy hair, a snub nose and a million freckles? Which of her admittedly narrow circle had light brows and lashes and a tendency to turn every remark into a joke? Before she could stop herself the name had slipped from her mind to her lips: ‘Johnny Durrell!’
Mrs Kendal stared. ‘What on earth made you say that?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t he one of the workers at Drake’s Farm? I know I’ve heard the name before and I’m pretty sure it was in relation to the farm.’
Lily laughed. ‘He’s a worker all right, but not a farm worker; an evacuee. He doesn’t actually live at Drake’s Farm, but he’s a nice lad and will always help out when he’s needed, and to tell you the truth he’s rather like Captain Ruskin here to look at.’
They were sitting round the kitchen table and Hank puffed out his chest. ‘A handsome guy, I guess,’ he said, and smiled as the two women scoffed.
‘You’re neither of you what I would call good-looking,’ Lily said honestly. ‘In fact if you saw him you probably wouldn’t think you looked a bit alike. It’s just something in your expressions, I suppose. I must write to Eve and tell her.’ She smiled a little sadly at Hank. ‘She’s an evacuee too and I suppose you could call her Johnny’s closest friend, but I know she’ll be expecting me back and what I really need to tell her is why I shan’t be returning to Drake’s Farm.’
There was a short pause before Hank spoke. ‘Are we allowed to know the reasons’ he asked mildly, ‘or is it something personal?’
Lily opened her mouth to make some innocuous remark, and realised she couldn’t. ‘I’ll tell you one day, perhaps, when we know each other a bit better,’ she said. ‘Would you like a little more soup? If so, pass your bowl.’ He did so, and Lily, replenishing it from the big saucepan, went on brightly, ‘Mother makes all her soups from our own garden vegetables. It was the same at the farm – almost nothing was bought in.’ She smiled at Hank across the table, telling herself that he might be the plainest man in the whole of the American air force but that was no reason to make him feel uncomfortable. After all, she had fallen in love with Colin, the handsomest man she had ever met, and look what had happened there. She handed him the bowl of soup and cut a large slice off her mother’s homemade loaf. ‘There you are, eat up!’ she said. ‘If you’re anything like Johnny you won’t be fussy and you’ll polish off anything on offer.’ She sighed reminiscently as a picture of Johnny and Eve popped into her head and for a moment she actually contemplated returning to Devon. After all, she had good friends there. Why let one unfortunate experience change her whole life? But it had, for the time being at any rate, and she would write to Eve that very evening to apologise and explain.
She helped hers
elf to another slice of bread – it was nearly as good as that made by Auntie Bess – and found herself wondering what Eve and Johnny would be doing now. Playing some game, she supposed, for the evenings were drawing in and they would have finished their chores for the day. Her thoughts were so far from the present that she jumped when her mother said chidingly: ‘Eat up, Lily darling. Concentrate on your food and stop thinking about Drake’s Farm. We’ll go to see the Parkers first thing tomorrow and discuss what to do for the best. All right?’
Chapter Nine
Autumn 1943
When Eve awoke it was raining; not viciously or even particularly hard, Eve thought drowsily. It was the same rain which had started three days ago and continued without pause ever since, the soft and gentle rain of Devon which could soak you to the skin without your really noticing.
Eve groaned and opened one eye to look at the alarm clock, then remembered that early milking this weekend fell to the lot of Miranda, the new land girl. She wasn’t new at all, really, for Lily had been gone the best part of a year and Miranda had come in her place only a month or so after she left. Eve sighed. It seemed as though she was fated to lose her best friends, though Johnny was a good substitute.
After Lily went there had been a short period when everything seemed upside down and topsy turvy, and in desperation the Favershams had asked for the loan of one of the boys from Spindlebush Farm.
‘But there’s no use lendin’ us a complete beginner,’ Mrs Faversham had explained worriedly. ‘Suppose we take on young Johnny Durrell? He’s a handy young chap, and though he can’t share the attic with the girls he can sleep in the little spare room. After all, the Armstrongs have never used it. But can you manage without him? I wouldn’t want to put you in a difficult position, losin’ young Durrell.’
Mrs Spindlebush had laughed. ‘He do spend most of his time with you anyway,’ she pointed out. ‘We’ll get the paperwork sorted out and carry on regardless, as the old song says.’
