The Land Girls

by Victoria Purman

  Her other life.

  How quickly it seemed as if she was now living someone else’s.

  Her father had arranged her first posting in the Land Army. She didn’t know who he’d called or what strings he’d pulled, but once Lily had declared to her mother that she was determined to quit Miss Ward’s Training College for Young Business Girls, where she’d failed spectacularly to learn typing and shorthand, to enlist in the Land Army, her mother had immediately phoned her father, who had apparently made a call.

  To say her mother had been horrified at her pronouncement was only a little shy of the truth.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about? Girls from good families don’t sign up to work as … as common labourers. It’s for the girls with no prospects, who think a little time in the country and a free uniform might be a lark. Shopgirls. Cleaning girls, secretaries, that kind of … person. Girls like you go into office work and then get married, Lily. Or … or if you’re bored silly at that typing school, you could become a Red Cross volunteer or work at the Cheer Up Hut on King William Street.’ For the first time, Lily realised there were limits to how much the Thomas family was willing to sacrifice for the war. And their daughter’s reputation was clearly not one of those things.

  ‘I’m determined, Mother,’ she’d replied. ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘Lilian.’ Her mother’s angry shout across the front reception room had stunned Lily into silence. She’d never seen her mother so upset. Her cheeks were puffed and red and the cords of her throat strained against the high collar of her buttoned shirt.

  What would you do, Susan?

  Lily had looked up to the framed portrait of her sister on the marble mantel. So serious and smart in her Australian Army Medical Corp uniform. Why, she was probably saving a young soldier’s life right that moment as Lily had been arguing with her mother about how common it was to pick fruit or dig potatoes or pluck oranges from groves.

  Mrs Thomas had quickly glanced at the door and then lowered her voice to an angry whisper, in case their maid Davina could hear. ‘What’s got into you?’

  The war had finally got into her, that’s what. The people she loved the most—Susan and David—were away. If they were willing to sacrifice everything for king and country, the least she could do was get her hands dirty.

  A week later, enough strings suitably pulled by her disapproving father, Lily had found herself picking cherries at Norton Summit in the Adelaide Hills on Mr Playford’s forty-acre property, in the five square miles of what was known as cherry country.

  The high winter rainfall, undulating landscape and cooler climate of the hills made for the perfect topography for cherries. And it was just close enough that Lily’s mother could keep an eye on her.

  Lily hadn’t given her parents an option, really, in the end. She’d discovered in herself a kind of wild spirit, an unleashed energy, and quitting Miss Ward’s had only further emboldened her.

  Her mother had escorted her on the ten-mile taxi trip from North Adelaide up Magill Road and through the winding hills to the Playford property. Lily chastised herself for thinking her mother’s real motive was to run into the Premier himself.

  They’d turned off the road onto a precarious winding track with cherry-clad hillsides all around them. It took a few minutes to arrive at Lily’s quarters, and when the stone cottage came into view she had sighed in wonder at how pretty it was. Nestled in a valley, the cottage was decorated with climbing roses and weeping bright purple fuchsias in stone urns at the stone steps. There was a large holly tree on one side of the cottage, and a carpet of daisies and purple sweet peas in the lush garden.

  ‘Look, mother. Isn’t it beautiful?’

  Her mother had clutched her handbag on her lap, quickly glancing out the window before turning back to glare at her daughter. ‘It won’t be a picnic, you know.’

  ‘Mother …’

  ‘You’ll be out in the orchard working all day and night, you know that. In the sun. Your complexion.’ Mrs Thomas shivered at the thought. ‘At least the accommodation seems acceptable. I have to admit I half-expected you to be put up in a packing shed. By that measure, it looks pleasant enough.’ Lily’s mother gripped her arm. ‘You may change your mind if you wish, Lilian. You’re not bound to this ridiculous idea. If you want to, we can ask the driver to turn right back around and drive us home. Your father and I won’t think any less of you if you do.’

  Lily’s throat had tightened. She so desperately wanted to get the words out in the right order, in the right way. ‘Mother, please. I know it will be hard work.’

  ‘You’ve had people do for you your whole life. You don’t know what you’re in for.’

  How could Lily explain to her mother that that was exactly why she’d signed up for the Land Army in the first place?

  ‘I promise I will tell you if I change my mind.’

  Her mother had frowned. ‘I’m going in to check where my daughter is to be accommodated. Please, for heaven’s sake, let there be running water and toilet facilities. And a private room. You don’t want to be sharing with those girls from who knows where.’

  ‘Ouch.’ The prick of a sharp twig interrupted Lily’s thoughts. She sucked on the soft pad of her palm until the stinging stopped. She was learning that scratches and grazes were part and parcel of cherry picking. She tried to be more careful this time, manoeuvring a hand through the dark green leaves and the branches. She pinched a stem between her thumb and forefinger and was careful to pull it from the branch, not the cherries from their stems. She lowered the fruit into the bucket that was tied around her waist with a wide leather strap. It was half full again and she repositioned it so it didn’t pull on the small of her back.

  During her first week, she’d gorged herself on the ripe fruit, indulging in their juicy sweetness like a young child devouring their favourite sweet. Mr George had told the girls they could eat as many as they liked.

  ‘Go on,’ he’d said with a knowing smile. ‘You’ll soon get over it. Can’t eat the fresh ones myself. The wife stews them up and then I’ll have them with fresh cream. You’ll see. You’ll be sick of the sight of them before too long.’

  Lily wasn’t quite at that point yet.

  When it was full, she trekked to one of the wooden cases that had been positioned at the end of each row of trees and emptied her bucket. Soon after, one of the orchard men would carry the cases off to the packing sheds. They were a little too heavy for the girls, so the task was reserved for the experienced and trusted men who had worked on Mr Playford’s orchard for decades. Lily also suspected it was a way for them to keep watch over the workers.

  To her immense surprise, Lily was happy with the repetitive work. She had never worked so hard in her life, and never worried less. Her days in the orchard were pleasant and quiet. The gully breezes kept the hills cooler than the plains and the suburbs, and she had grown to enjoy the comparative solitude of picking. It gave her time to think, something she hadn’t had much of a chance to do before. Some of the other girls sang to pass the time, taking turns with the chorus and verse of ‘White Cliffs of Dover’, or one of the other tunes from the popular radio shows. She listened, picked, carried, emptied and did all those things over and over in a peaceful routine that lasted all day. Here, she was untroubled by the busy whirr of the complicated social life she’d had when she was living in Buxton Street. The dances and concerts and piano practice and sewing classes and the expectation that she should be seen in the right places by the right people, to entertain, to distract, to be a diversion for her parents.

  That was over and she’d never been happier.

  Now, when Lily looked up into the summer sky between the cherry trees she saw bright blue. When she took in a deep breath she smelled earth and fresh air. The sounds were the rustle and occasional curses of the other pickers as they scratched themselves or fell off their ladders; or the more diverting call of birds in the trees around them, or in the natural bush surrounding the block. The
Norton Summit mornings were cool, and when the Land Army girls trooped out of their quite pleasantly furnished old two-storeyed home and made their way to the packing shed for their instructions for the day, they breathed in eucalypt and damp earth and cherries.

  There was no need for pretty frocks and making do with remade outfits and hair pins and make-up and stockings out here. It was boots and overalls and hats under which to hide all kinds of frizziness.

  Lily glanced down at the ring on her wedding finger.

  She still felt a tremble in her stomach at the idea that she was married. As she picked, her memory worked its magic.

  It had happened the night after Evelyn Woods’ twenty-first birthday party.

  The night after she and David had made love in his rooms at the Greenways Apartments.

  The night after she’d irrevocably fallen in love with David Hogarth.

  Lily had been up in her room after dinner, sitting at her dressing table composing a letter to Susan, when Davina had knocked on her door and announced that she had a visitor.

  ‘That lovely Mr Hogarth is here to see you,’ she’d told Lily with a raised eyebrow.

  Lily hadn’t had time to point out Davina’s impertinence and, anyway, she didn’t care any more who knew about her and David. She’d quickly checked her reflection in the mirror above her dresser, kicked off her slippers and put on a pair of court shoes, and had skipped downstairs, her heart in her throat.

  David had shot to his feet when she burst into the room.

  ‘David,’ she’d cried out, and she had stopped, suddenly finding herself out of breath at the sight of him. He’d looked so sad and handsome all at once that she’d wanted to rush to him and throw her arms around him.

  ‘Lily.’ He’d crossed the room to her in three long strides. She’d held out her hand and he’d taken it in his.

  She’d wanted to tell him how glad she was to see him, that she wanted to kiss him again, to do more than that, but the sombre look in his eyes had stalled her outburst. She’d seen no point in pretending she didn’t feel these things, these desires for him and how he made her feel. Time was short now and Lily felt the pressure of it, propelling her, squeezing in on her.

  David had lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. The press of his lips caused her heart to race.

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming. You didn’t say,’ Lily had managed.

  He’d searched her face. ‘How could I not come? After last night?’

  ‘I’m glad you did.’

  ‘I asked you to be brave, didn’t I?’

  Lily had nodded. ‘I am brave. I’ve had to be that way since Susan went away.’

  ‘Of course you have.’

  Lily had held his hands in hers, pulled them towards her beating heart. ‘We don’t have much time left. It’s racing away from us, I can feel it. I can feel it pulling you away from me.’

  ‘I’ve been wandering the streets of North Adelaide all day,’ he’d whispered. ‘Trying to convince myself that what I’m about to do is foolish and ridiculous and unfair to you.’

  Lily had waited.

  His eyes gleamed and she noted the faintest quiver in his bottom lip. She kissed it still.

  ‘Oh, David.’

  He’d pulled his hands from hers and got down on one knee. ‘Lily, dearest Lily. Will you marry me?’

  Lily hadn’t had to think before she answered. ‘Yes.’

  He’d stood and gripped her shoulders, searched her eyes, perhaps looking for facetiousness there. There was none. She knew this wasn’t a game and she didn’t feel like a child any more. Could he see that in her eyes?

  ‘You don’t have to think about it?’ he’d asked, laughing at the speed of her reply.

  ‘No.’ She’d been sure. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Are you absolutely certain?’

  ‘Yes, David Hogarth, I am absolutely certain. I will marry you.’

  He had closed his eyes and breathed out all the tension that had been in his face. ‘You’ll marry me.’

  ‘If you love me, that is. You haven’t said it yet.’

  He’d kissed her, quick and fierce. ‘I don’t want to love you, you know. I don’t want to break your heart or mine by declaring it now. But it’s too late for that. I do. I have for a very long time.’

  ‘And I love you too.’

  ‘After last night,’ he said, and his eyes had softened. ‘After being with you that way, I didn’t want to leave without making my intentions clear. Why should we wait? We don’t know what the future holds, for either of us.’ He’d paused a long moment. ‘For me, in particular.’

  ‘I’ll wait for you. When the war is over and you come home, I’ll be here in Adelaide. We’ll make a life together, the two of us, no matter if it’s next Christmas or the one after that or the one after that. How does that sound?’ It was her responsibility now to give him hope, to give him a reason to try all that much harder to be safe. To stay whole. To fight to come home.

  It was impossible to think about the war being over, although it was wished for more than anything on earth that Christmas, the fourth Christmas of the war.

  ‘It sounds perfect. I want you to know that the thought of you here, waiting for me, will be enough to keep me going. It’ll be enough, Lily, to remind me what I’m fighting for. And if I don’t come back …’

  She’d kissed him before he could finish and they hadn’t stopped until they were breathless.

  In the cool nights at Norton Summit, Lily’s dreams about David always ended the same way, with that kiss in front of the marble fireplace in her parents’ sitting room in Buxton Street.

  When Lily told her parents that she and David had walked into the Births, Deaths and Marriages offices on King William Street the day before and were now married, her mother had fainted dramatically onto her favourite tapestry sofa. Her father had blustered and threatened all kinds of things with solicitor friends but David’s father was a solicitor and they had spoken by telephone and come to the decision that it might be best to announce it publicly rather than hide it, because the scandal of a discovery would be worse than the romantic elopement of a good Adelaide girl and a good Adelaide boy heading off to the war.

  And so it appeared in the Births, Marriages and Deaths page of The Advertiser on 19 December, 1942.

  Thomas-Hogarth—On Dec 17, Lilian Elizabeth, youngest daughter of Mr and Mrs F.H. Thomas of North Adelaide, to David (R.A.A.F) youngest son of Mr and Mrs W.B. Hogarth of Millicent.

  She’d been so excited at the idea of seeing it in the newspaper that she’d woken early and instructed Davina to rush out to O’Connell Street first thing in the morning to fetch a copy.

  ‘Two copies,’ she’d called as Davina rushed to the front door. ‘I’ll have to send one to Susan.’

  When Davina had returned, breathless from the rush, Lily had flicked through the pages impatiently until she’d reached the Marriages column, peering at the fine print and searching through the Andersons and the Arnolds and the Browns until she’d seen her name there next to David’s.

  This made it feel real. She read it over and over with a sense of giddy excitement tingling her fingertips as she traced her name in the fine print.

  That elation drained like water from a bath when her eyes drifted to the next column: Died on Active Service. There were too many entries, too many names to read, too much grief to absorb.

  Dumas, Charles John (R.A.A.F.)—Killed in action in Middle East, the beloved eldest son of Mr and Mrs E.R. Dumas.

  Griffin, Pte J.—Our dear pal Jimmy killed in action in New Guinea. His duty notably done.

  Holman, Charles—Killed in action, Egypt, husband of Irma and father of Ron and Colleen.

  They’d spent their wedding night together in the fanciest room at the South Australia Hotel on North Terrace, drinking champagne on the top balcony, leaning on the balustrade to wave to people on the footpath below, trying not to notice the railway station down the road, from where David w
as to leave Adelaide and his new wife early the next morning. She’d tried not to cry but had lost that battle, and David had cried too, with happiness at having married her, and with fear at leaving her.

  He had already arrived in Mildura to commence his pilot training at the RAAF base when the announcement had appeared in the paper. Lily had snipped it out and placed it between the pages of her diary, which she carried with her everywhere.

  Lily had been relieved to already be at Norton Summit in the week before Christmas and there had been plenty of work to do to distract all the Land Army girls from being away from home.

  ‘Cherries wait for no man when they’re ripe for picking,’ Mr George reminded them. ‘Not even Father Christmas himself. We’ve had a late start to the season because of the cool spring so we have to keep cracking on. I don’t want to be the one to tell all the ladies of Adelaide that there aren’t enough cherries at the markets for their Christmas tables.’

  The girls had worked on Christmas Eve but had a free day on the twenty-fifth. Mr Playford generously provided a delicious lunch of roast chicken with all the trimmings, hot Christmas pudding with pouring custard and as many fresh cherries as the girls could eat. Being away from home at such a family time somehow made Lily’s meagre contribution to the war effort feel important. Her sorrow for the absence of her loved ones was a way for her to share in the honourable pride of their sacrifice. She hoped Susan might by now have received the Christmas cake she and Davina had baked back in November. It had been rather a sad and sorry thing—with no eggs, and lard instead of butter—but once they’d added the sugar and raisins, sultanas and currants and baked it, it looked slightly more appetising. Together they’d packed it into the Willow soldier’s cake tin ready to be shipped off.