‘He’s going to ask me to marry him when he comes home. Can you imagine?’ Betty jumped up and down on the spot in her excitement, and Flora was struck by how like Daisy she seemed. By just how young she was.
‘That is the most wonderful news!’
Betty linked an arm through Flora’s and together they walked towards the house, past the chooks and Marjorie the cow and the weeping peppercorn tree and the bench seat that Charles had made for Flora the year before.
‘Are you excited about being a bride?’ Flora asked.
‘Of course, who wouldn’t be? I’m not exactly supposed to know but when I was home, his mother, Mrs Doherty, obviously she’s Mrs Doherty! She showed me his letters, and he’d told her everything. His whole plan! But, oh dear, I forgot to say. This all happened when I was home on leave, when Michael’s brother, Patrick, was killed. Oh Flora, it was just awful. Gwen’s Reggie, then Patrick not long after. It was very hard. And I think that’s why Mrs Doherty was so excited by Michael’s news and told me everything. She needed to feel some happiness, you see?’
‘I understand,’ Flora answered.
‘For her to know that there would be some happiness at the end of all of this? That I’m madly in love with Michael and he’s madly in love with me? That was what she needed to keep going. And I did, too.’
Flora understood implicitly that gritty determination to hang on to the idea of a better future, so Betty’s words didn’t sound naive or unrealistic. They sounded like a way to survive.
Charles shut the boot of the Dodge and the sound caught Flora’s attention. He looked up suddenly, straightened his shoulders. Had he sensed her gaze on him? He lifted his hat from his head and ruffled his hair, jamming his hat back down firmly. And smiled. Her heart leapt against her ribs. Madly in love. Was that what she was, too? A low tingle sparked in her belly. She hadn’t been able to sleep after Charles had left her room the night before, too exhilarated about making love with him—with anyone—for the first time. She’d never felt a naked man’s body before, the smoothness of his skin, the fine hair on his chest and stomach, the weight, the desire. In a sense, nothing had changed for them. They were both in a kind of limbo brought on by the war and their roles in it. But everything was different. They were both aware that they’d opened a door that could now never be closed.
The war had changed almost every single thing about Flora’s life and who she was. It had liberated her from her expectations about what a woman should desire for herself and for her own life. She might not jump up and down on the spot now or declare it so publicly as Betty had, but she loved Charles in a way she had never thought possible. It was deep within her, this knowing. It was in the way she breathed, in the way she trembled when he looked at her, in the way she softened at the tender way he held her hand, and in her visceral reactions to the way he spoke to the women in his life, his daughters and his mother. How could she not love a man who understood her obligations to her brothers? It was in a look, a smile, in the spaces between the words in his letters to her and in his expression now that they were reunited.
‘Two Rivers seems a lovely place.’ Betty sighed and leant in to Flora’s shoulder. ‘I can’t believe there’s a cow. Please don’t tell Mr Nettlefold but I hate chooks. We don’t have to do anything with them, do we?’
‘They’re Mrs Nettlefold’s responsibility, you’ll be relieved to know. And yes, it is a beautiful place. This is my third summer here and I’ve never been anywhere so quiet and peaceful. Sometimes I swear it’s so still you can hear your own thoughts racing around in your head.’
‘I don’t know if that’s a good thing. I have way too many for any sensible girl,’ Betty laughed. ‘You know, I always thought I was a city girl, a Sydney girl, especially. But I think that after all this time away, the country has got under my skin somehow.’
Flora understood more than Betty knew. They were quiet for a moment, watching Charles manage the suitcases, one in each hand, another under one arm.
By Charles’s side was another young woman. Caught up in her chatter with Betty, Flora had almost forgotten that two Land Army girls were arriving that day.
‘What’s your friend’s name?’ Flora asked. They watched as the young woman held a hand on her hat and tipped her head up to the sky, scanning from east to west, from north to south. Flora wondered if she might be searching for birds. She was tall and slender, with straight blonde hair sitting on the collar of her Land Army shirt.
Betty came in close to whisper. ‘Her name’s Lily Hogarth. She’s from Adelaide and that’s about all I got out of her. She was very quiet in the car. I didn’t even know we were on the same train until I was on the platform and Mr Nettlefold turned up to meet us. She seems, I don’t know. Lost.’
Betty stepped up inside the house as if she’d visited it a hundred times before, but the other young woman, Lily, was apprehensive. She was quite thin. Her shoulders drooped, and there was a distant look in her tired eyes.
‘Lily?’ Flora asked.
The young woman turned to her. ‘Yes?”
Flora wanted to stop everything and throw her arms around this sad girl. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you to your room. Mine is just here off the back lobby. The bathroom is over there and your room is off the hallway this way.’ Flora led the way. ‘Mr Nettlefold’s two daughters have moved in to their grandmother’s room so you’ll both be in theirs. Here we are.’
The two single beds had been freshly made with clean sheets and the curtains were open wide, brightening the room. The view from the window was filled with vines.
Charles had followed and set their suitcases down just inside the door.
‘We’re very pleased to have you here at Two Rivers, Mrs Hogarth and …’
‘Miss Brower,’ Flora added.
‘Please, call me Betty.’
‘Betty.’ Charles gave her a polite smile of thanks before tipping his hat. ‘Flor—Miss Atkins— here knows the lay of the land. If there’s anything you need, please ask me, Miss Atkins, of course, or my mother, Mrs Nettlefold. She’s in Mildura with the girls and I’ll be going to pick them up shortly.’
‘Thank you, Mr Nettlefold,’ Betty said with a cheery smile. She took off her Land Army hat and patted down her black hair. ‘It’s nice to be in a family home, I have to say.’ She looked around at the plain space. Cream coloured walls. Two beds. A dresser. ‘And it’ll be a fine change to share with one girl instead of being in quarters of twenty.’
‘I know the feeling,’ Flora said with a smile. ‘You won’t know yourself to have such peace and quiet.’
‘I hope you find it comfortable,’ Charles said and turned to go.
Lily followed Betty’s lead and removed her hat, setting it on the bed nearest the window. The gesture revealed the loveliest blonde hair, cut short and stylishly, and pale blue eyes the colour of an early summer morning.
‘Do you mind if I …?’ she asked quietly, glancing from Flora to Betty.
Betty stepped forward. ‘Of course not. I’m perfectly happy to sleep here.’ She turned and sat. When she leant back, pressing her hands into the mattress, she asked, ‘What’s the family like, Flora?’
Flora sat beside Betty. Across the room, Lily seemed to be moving in slow motion, her face pale, her eyes glazed.
‘Mrs Nettlefold is very kind and her food is delicious. Charles’s girls—I mean, Mr Nettlefold’s two girls—Violet and Daisy, are the sweetest little things. Violet is smart and a little reserved but when she gets to know you, she’s darling. And Daisy is a little livewire. Wait until you meet them.’
Betty jabbed Flora in the side with her elbow. ‘Did you say Charles?’
‘That’s his name,’ Flora replied.
‘I’ll pretend you’re not blushing, Flora.’
‘It’s not …’ What was it? Not anything she could talk about just yet. ‘I’ve grown to know the whole family. Who would have thought the war would go on so long?’
‘I’ll be twenty soon, in February. It does s
eem hard to believe.’
‘Where have you come from, Betty?’ Flora asked.
‘Batlow in New South Wales. I picked all kinds of vegetables. It was hard to get back in the swing after four weeks’ holiday back in Sydney, I’ll have to admit. It was so wonderful to spend time with my parents again but … you know? I thought it would be heaven being back in my old bed with all the creature comforts. But I missed the freedom of being in the Land Army. Does that sound strange?’
‘Not in the slightest, actually,’ Flora said. ‘I’m a Melbourne girl, born and bred. But I’ve grown to love these big skies and the quiet of the mornings out here. Just me and the magpies warbling overhead.’
‘I promised myself I’ll stay until Michael comes home and that’s what I’m going to do.’
Flora’s expression softened. ‘I have a brother serving abroad. Frank.’
‘Which division?’ Betty’s face lit up.
‘Frank’s in the 2/11th Field Regiment, 8th Division.’
‘Michael’s in the 2/23rd Field Battalion, the 9th.’
The three women were quiet. Flora and Betty exchanged glances and looked across the room. Lily sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast.
‘We’re very pleased to have you here too, Lily.’
She looked up. ‘I was still at school when Hitler invaded Poland.’
‘Oh, Lily,’ Flora said. Lily’s tears made her want to cry too.
‘My husband’s abroad, too. That’s why I joined the Land Army.’
‘There’s something we all have in common, then,’ Flora said, and a familiar motherly instinct swelled inside her. ‘We’re all doing our duty. While Frank is away and all our boys are still fighting, I vowed to do the jobs they can’t.’
‘I thought the Land Army would be fun,’ Betty grinned. ‘A lark. If only I’d known. It’s been the hardest work I’ve ever done, but I don’t think I can ever go back to Woolworths. My days as a shopgirl are over, I reckon. If only we were paid the same as the boys doing the same labouring work, I might have been able to save some money for after the war and my married life. But once you’ve bought a few stamps and a movie ticket or two and a magazine, not to mention the train fare out here and a woman’s essentials, there’s not much left.’
‘So, Lily,’ Flora prodded gently. ‘You’re from Adelaide?’
Lily nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘How long have you been in the Land Army?’
‘Two years. My first post was in December ’42, just before Christmas. I picked cherries in the Adelaide Hills. I’ve just come from there actually. I almost forgot.’ She moved in slow motion to her suitcase, laid it flat and rescued a cardboard box from within the rumpled layers of her overalls.
‘Norton Summit cherries.’ She flipped open the lid and Flora and Betty were met with shining orbs of fruit that were begging to be tasted.
Betty sighed. ‘I love cherries.’
Lily’s mouth curved in the slightest smile. ‘Taste one. Or two.’
Betty selected one, picked off the stem and popped it in her mouth. The sweet juices dribbled from the soft flesh and she moaned. Flora followed and immediately understood the reaction.
‘I picked them with my own hands.’
‘Which clearly makes them all the more delicious,’ Flora added with a smile.
‘We should probably save some for the Nettlefolds, don’t you think?’
‘Definitely,’ said Flora as she scooped up another.
‘Absolutely,’ added Betty, grabbing two up in her hand.
Flora was heartened by the smile on sad Lily’s face. She hoped her time at Two Rivers would encourage it to appear all the more.
‘I know that Mrs Nettlefold has made scones for you both. Are you hungry?’
‘How do you think they’re settling in?’
Two days later, Flora and Charles were working on the far side of the block. The fruit there was ripe and ready. Charles didn’t say it, but Flora guessed he’d separated them for a reason. So they could be alone to talk, to touch each other when they wanted, to enjoy the feeling that there were only two of them under that azure sky.
‘Quite well, I think. Betty’s a bundle of energy, as you well know having heard her at the table.’ Flora tucked her hands into the pockets of her overalls. They were the same pair she’d had two years earlier when she’d taken the secateurs to them. She let herself enjoy the fact that Charles looked at her legs every single morning when she turned up to breakfast bright and early. It gave her a swagger in her step she’d never had before, although, if she was honest, it wasn’t the only thing giving her a swagger.
‘She’s quite the chatterbox, young Betty, isn’t she? There’s some competition for Daisy at last.’ Charles tipped back his hat, shifting his weight, his shoulder brushing Flora’s. Since they’d made love that first time, since they’d opened the floodgates to each other, he took every opportunity to touch her in some way. When they were standing alone together like this. When they passed buckets of grapes to each other. He snuck a kiss if they were at the drying sheds working alone. And this far away from his girls and his mother and Lily and Betty, Flora studied him; the way his body moved, his smile, the bunching of the muscles in his forearms and his calves above his thick socks and elastic-sided boots.
He kissed her, long and soft. ‘I like that I can do that whenever I want.’
‘So do I,’ she replied. She looked into the distance, where she could see the two young women picking, their straw hats disappearing in the leafy vines as they bent and stood to search for bunches of grapes among the leaves.
‘I’m worried about Lily. She’s still so very sad. I haven’t dared ask her why but I think I might. She looks like she needs someone to talk to.’
‘That might not be you, Flora. She has Betty.’
‘They didn’t know each other until two days ago. They’re strangers, really. Although I suppose I’m a stranger to her too.’
‘Betty has a friend serving?’
‘Yes, Michael’s in the army. She’s going to marry him.’ Flora glanced at Charles and she knew there was doubt etched in her face. How could anyone know anything these days what was for certain and what could disappear in the blink of an eye, in the sight of a gun, in a bomb or a bullet?
‘And what about Lily’s husband?’
‘David’s his name. To tell the truth, I’m surprised she’s in the Land Army at all. She seems quite well-to-do. I wondered if she was British at first but no, she’s from Adelaide. Born and bred. In all the places I’ve been, I haven’t met any posh girls working in the Land Army. I’ve watched them plenty of times watching us do all the hard work while riding past on their ponies in their fancy riding clothes.’
‘True?’ Charles furrowed his brow.
‘True.’ Flora sighed. ‘I’ll see if I get the chance to talk to Lily. I forget how young they are, how much of life they’ve yet to experience.’
Charles scuffed the dirt with a boot. ‘Maybe they’ve experienced too much, Flora.’
Flora reached for Charles’s hand. He gave it a squeeze and then went back to work.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lily
After a long, hot day, Lily was in bed before the sun had fully set. She had waited her turn at the bathroom to wash, ignored her lank and sweaty hair, half-eaten a dinner of cold meat and salad, and then politely said her goodnights.
From across the hallway she could hear music playing on the wireless and the squeals of the two little Nettlefold girls. They must have been playing a game of some kind. Lily thought of the fun she’d had with Kit in all the places they’d worked together and never would again. Six months before, Kit had married a potato farmer in Naracoorte and the last Lily had heard, she was expecting. Lily thought of her sister, too, of the times Susan had let her win at checkers, giving her the chance to feel triumphant and smart. She missed her so dreadfully. Her idol, her guide, her role model, had been away so long now. Susan, of all people, would und
erstand about David. Was everyone Lily loved to be torn from her?
She pulled the bedsheet up to her neck and turned away from the window. She didn’t want to wait for the stars tonight, couldn’t look at the sky. The warm evening breeze made the curtains dance and her mind drifted back to 1942, to the Palais Royal, to before her war, when she’d worn her pale pink chiffon shoestring-strapped gown and danced with David. The night he’d told her he was signing up. The night after that, they’d gone back to his apartment and made love for the first time.
Lily curled in on herself, wrapped herself up in a ball under the soft sheets. She craved her husband, ached for the memory of him. The few days they’d spent as lovers and as husband and wife were as elusive in her mind as last night’s dreams. His hands on her body, his mouth on hers, the tender ache of her first time. But it was all so far away now, as if it had been a story she’d read in a book, the words floating on the page, not close enough to hold on to and remember clearly.
What did David’s voice sound like? How had he said her name? Lily. Lily. She reached for the memory of it but it wouldn’t come. He’d teased her when she’d tried to learn tennis. He’d whispered poetry to her. He’d cried in her arms on their final night together.
Why couldn’t she feel him any more? Why couldn’t she remember his voice? She’d chosen to come to Mildura to be close to him, to the last place he’d stood on Australian soil, to the place where he’d learnt to fly the plane he was piloting when he’d gone missing. She needed to find a piece of him somewhere in this wide brown land, to breathe the same air as he had.
But he wasn’t here. Was he anywhere? Was he ground into dust and mud in a foreign field? Was he alive somewhere on the Continent, trapped with no chance of escape? She wondered if she would feel it in her heart the moment he died. Would it be possible, over such a distance, to know the exact moment? He could have been dead for months and she wouldn’t know, because surely missing meant dead, didn’t it?
‘Lily?’ Betty had slipped between the sheets of her own bed across the room. Had Lily been asleep? She hadn’t noticed Betty come in.
The Land Girls Page 31
