by Katie Flynn
Tess sighed and looked up at the string rack above her head, upon which rested her small rucksack. She had packed a pair of slacks, a couple of shirts, some underwear and her pyjamas, but hoped she would be able to borrow wellington boots and oilskins if the weather turned nasty, which, remembering her last visit to the farm, she knew was all too possible, even in summertime.
The train jerked and Tess recognised that they were drawing near the end of their journey. She glanced around the compartment: a couple of soldiers, a woman with three children who had begun the journey noisily but had fallen asleep as the day wore on and an airman, who had irritated Tess earlier by constantly twirling his moustache. But now, as the train jerked to a halt and a porter shouted ‘All change! Norwich Thorpe; all change!’ the airman stood up and reached her rucksack down, handing it to her with a little grin. Then he picked up his own attaché case and gestured to her to go before him into the corridor and join the queue to leave the train.
‘Thanks very much,’ Tess said, smiling at him. ‘I don’t suppose you could help me to put it on my back, could you? Only I may be catching the bus . . .’
‘No sooner said than done,’ the officer said gallantly, taking the rucksack back and arranging it between Tess’s shoulder blades. ‘Comfy? Good girl. Now, if you were in the services during the war . . .’
Tess laughed. ‘I was in nappies during the war,’ she said. ‘Well, perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration, but I truly wasn’t old enough to join any of the services, though if I had it would have been the WAAF.’
‘Aye, you’re right there, the Waafs were a grand bunch,’ the airman agreed. He jumped down on to the platform and held out his hands, taking hers and swinging her down from the train. ‘If you are going in the same direction as myself we might share a taxi—’ he began, but Tess interrupted.
‘Thanks, but I think I’m being met,’ she said just as a tall young man, his sandy hair slicked to his head, approached them. ‘Ah, here comes my friend now.’
‘Ah, so I see; then I’d best be off,’ the airman said, sketching a salute; not that Tess noticed: she was staring too hard at Jonty.
‘Whatever have you done to yourself?’ she asked. ‘Is it Brylcreem on your hair? Because if so it makes you look like a lounge lizard, and I don’t like it.’ She spoke with all her usual frankness, then clapped a hand to her mouth and said through her fingers, ‘Oh, dear, if Gran heard me making personal remarks she’d give me what for.’
‘What for?’ Jonty said, grinning. ‘And it’s water, not Brylcreem.’ Tess thought the flash of his white teeth in his tanned face made him look even more attractive, but of course it would never do to say so; instead she jerked a thumb at the railway official waiting to clip tickets.
‘Shall we go? We’ve timed it quite nicely; if I remember rightly there’s a number seven leaving in twenty minutes, which will give us plenty of time to reach the stop and join the queue.’
Jonty took her hand and pulled her towards him, planting a chaste kiss on the side of her face and knocking her neat little hat to one side. Tess righted it as they queued for the barrier and scowled at her companion. ‘Less of that soppy stuff!’ she said sternly. ‘Else I shan’t sit next to you when we get aboard the bus.’ As she spoke she tucked her clipped ticket back into her handbag.
‘Who said anything about catching a bus?’ Jonty said as they headed towards the row of parked cars. When he reached the Ford he unlocked the passenger door and swung it open, turning to Tess. ‘Your carriage awaits, madam,’ he said rather grandly, though he spoiled the impression he was trying to make by adding: ‘and take that perishin’ rucksack off and chuck it on the back seat, otherwise you’ll likely go through the windscreen the first time I put the brakes on.’
Tess complied, then slid into the front passenger seat as Jonty walked round the car and unlocked the driver’s door to get behind the wheel. ‘Well? What do you think of the Bells’ new addition? I wanted to call her Priscilla, after the very first cow I milked, but Ma insisted it should be Bluebell because of the colour, so we don’t bother much with names: it’s either the Morris or the Ford.’
‘Oh, you’ve still got the Morris then?’ Tess remarked as they emerged on to the main road and Jonty turned the car’s nose in the direction of home. ‘I half expected Mr Bell to pop out and get into the driving seat when you opened the door. I know he used to get very ratty with you when you drove the old bull-nose up to the harvest field, with the harvest tea in your mam’s big basket.’
‘Oh, that’s all a thing of the past,’ Jonty said airily, although Tess was amused to see that he crossed his fingers as he spoke. ‘Dad’s on the verge of agreeing that if I take on the repayments for the Ford, I can consider it more or less mine. The truth is, Tess, that fond though I am of my old man I have to admit – just between ourselves, mind – that he’s a lousy driver. In fact, I believe he’s a good deal happier driving the Morris than he is behind the wheel of the Ford. And since he seldom gets out of second gear, hardly ever depresses the clutch and considers the windscreen wipers an invention of the devil, put on the windscreen merely to confuse him when he indicates right or left, I feel he’s better sticking to the old car which is much less complex.’ As he spoke they reached the derestriction sign and Jonty began to increase his speed, until they were spinning along the turnpike at fifty miles an hour.
Tess took the opportunity, because he was concentrating on his driving, to steal a look at his profile. He was not handsome, she decided regretfully, but he had a very nice sort of face, and now that his hair had begun to dry it was springing back into its usual clumpy, sandy locks. Taking stock, she noted the freckles, which ran in a band across his nose and cheeks, his determined cleft chin and the greenish-hazel eyes now fixed steadily on the road ahead. She let her glance slip to the strong column of his neck, tanned by the summer sun, and his broad shoulders and chest, which tapered to a narrow waist and long legs. She was just thinking that he had not only grown a lot but had greatly improved when he shot her an amused sideways glance.
‘Know me again?’ he asked. He pulled a face. ‘That’s not fair; the driver has to keep his eyes on the road no matter how much he’d rather take a good look at his passenger.’
Tess laughed. ‘Well, judging by the speed you’re doing we’ll be back at Bell Farm in no time, and then you can stare at me all you like. Only I don’t believe I’ve changed at all.’
Jonty slowed the car as they approached a sugar beet lorry, then indicated and pulled out, speeding up again. As he pulled in front of the lorry, Tess chuckled. ‘Oh, Jonty, doesn’t it remind you of days gone by? When your dad was driving, for instance, we would have stayed behind that lorry in the hope that it would lose a couple of beet as it turned off to head for the Cantley factory, because every pig born adores sugar beet. But now we’re responsible citizens, I reckon, and wouldn’t dream of nicking a spilt beet when the driver hasn’t netted his load.’
Jonty laughed. ‘You devil, Tess! You saw me looking in the rear-view mirror as we passed the turning. But the driver took it slow, so I guess if you want to give the pigs a treat you’ll have to pick up windfalls in the orchard; they’re mortal fond of Beauty of Bath, which are the earliest variety we grow. Now, what do you want to do for the next few weeks?’
‘Two weeks, you mean,’ Tess said quickly. ‘I did tell you I’d have to go back after two weeks. I’m sure I told you in one of my letters that as soon as Miss Foulks told the landlord she was retiring and giving up the shop, he decided it would be far easier to let as one unit, shop and flat together. He’s given us a month to find new accommodation, but it’s going to be hard because rents are continually going up and decent housing is hard to find within our price range. If we could live on the Wirral, or even in the suburbs, it might be easier, but as it is I need to be near my school and Gran has to be close to the bakery . . .’
‘Hey, what’s wrong with public transport? It’s what folk in the country have to use all the time,
unless they’re lucky enough to own a car,’ Jonty pointed out. ‘Why shouldn’t you live in the country and catch a bus every morning? It’s what us ordinary people have to do!’
‘Oh, ha ha, very funny,’ Tess said. ‘Three days a week, and sometimes four, Gran bakes bread; her shifts start at two in the morning, and believe me, there are very few buses or trams running through the night. I admit it would be all right for me – living further away, I mean – but it wouldn’t do for Gran. Once or twice, when I’ve seen how tired she is after a night shift, I’ve suggested that she ask her boss to let her do days only, but she gets paid double time, possibly more, for night work so it just isn’t on.’
‘Hmm, then I quite see you have a problem,’ Jonty said, having given the subject some thought. ‘No chance of your gran getting a job well away from the city, something not connected with the bakery, I mean? After all, there are other jobs. Which reminds me, since you say you must go home after a mere two weeks in Norfolk, I take it you’ve a job lined up?’ As he spoke he was turning off the tarmac road and entering the rough little lane which led up to the farm, and he had to slow his speed considerably, for the hot summer had left the lane with huge iron-hard ruts and ridges which the morning’s rain had turned into a skating rink.
‘Well, not exactly, but I’m being considered for holiday relief in a factory nursery, so I need to get back for the interview,’ Tess explained. ‘Don’t think I wouldn’t rather stay on at Bell Farm, but the truth is I can’t do it. Also, someone has to search for accommodation. Gran does her best when she isn’t actually working and Albert – Mr Payne, the tobacconist – is a tower of strength, but so far neither of them have turned up what we need.’
Jonty nodded thoughtfully as he swung into the farmyard, coming neatly to a halt right outside the back door. ‘I see. I take it you’ve given up all thoughts of this ice cream parlour? If not, couldn’t you sell ices from the hat shop and keep the flat?’
Tess shook her head sadly. ‘No can do; if we took on the hat shop we’d have to go for Change of Use, and anyway it isn’t really big enough. Uncle Albert’s daughter Janine runs a soda fountain in the United States and told her dad ages ago just what he’d need. The floor space would have to be twice the size of the hat shop and the equipment . . . well, it’s out of the question at present. Just a dream, in fact.’
Jonty cut the engine and came round to open Tess’s door and help her out on to the cobbles. ‘Right, I see your problem. In you go!’ he said cheerfully. ‘Ma and Pa will both be in the kitchen, waiting to welcome you. I’ll bring your rucksack.’
Jonty had been astonished when he had seen an elegant young lady accompanied by a member of the Royal Air Force descending from the train. In the sensible part of his mind he knew that this elegant young woman with the short cap of golden-brown hair must be his Tess – he still thought of her as his Tess – but if she thought that he had changed, he told himself as he drew the car to a halt outside the back door, then she had changed every bit as much. Until she had opened her mouth and commented so rudely upon his hairstyle, he had felt quite frightened of her, so different, so sophisticated, had she seemed. But then he had realised that his old pal hadn’t changed at all, merely shrugged grown-upness over the funny little Tess he knew, so all he had to do was grow accustomed to the new look. Even thinking the words new look made him glance at Tess’s clothing as he followed her into the farmhouse. She wore a neat little navy straw hat – the one he had knocked askew when greeting her – and a blue cotton dress with a long full skirt, cinched at her narrow waist with a navy blue elasticated belt, and on her feet she wore high-heeled white sandals.
Jonty opened his mouth to tell her that she’d best go up to her room and change at once, otherwise, sure as check, she would find herself ruining her best clothes before anyone but the Bell family had seen them, but then he closed it again. His parents were exclaiming, shaking Tess’s hand over and over, introducing her to Harry and Daniel, the farmhands she had never met, whilst Adam hovered, anxious to add his greetings with all the rest.
Presently the workers left and Mrs Bell poured out cups of tea and offered slices of fruit cake, and once seated round the kitchen table Mr and Mrs Bell were able to ask Tess what she thought of the Ford Prefect, and to add that she must admire the many changes which she would discover when Jonty showed her round.
‘I dare say you’ll guess we told the boy to let you know all that go on here,’ Mrs Bell said, giving her son a reproachful look. ‘But he int no hand with a pen and likely he forgot all the important things. Still an’ all, you’re here yourself now, and when Jonty bring you in for your supper you can tell us what you think.’
‘I’m sure you’ve worked marvels. Jonty did his best, but I’m afraid many of the things he mentioned didn’t mean much to me,’ Tess explained. ‘He said you’re in a group of farmers who share things like combine harvesters, and you’re in a pig club, so when you slaughter one of the baconers you take it in turns to keep half the carcass and send half to the government.’ She glanced round the room as though looking for spies, and added in a hushed tone: ‘Only I bet you and the other members of the pig club have thought of a way to keep a good deal more than half of every fifth pig, or whatever it is.’ Jonty saw that his own guilty smile was echoed on his parents’ faces and reached over to dig Tess in the ribs.
‘If you knew the number of forms we all have to fill in regarding a pig’s life from the moment it’s born until its death you wouldn’t say such a cruel thing,’ he said, whilst his father muttered beneath his breath what Jonty knew to be agreement.
‘She’ve hit the mark, wouldn’t you say, Mother?’ Mr Bell said. ‘Pigs be contrary critters, and a bottle-fed piglet ain’t no wuss nor one what feeds from the old sow.’ He got to his feet. ‘Now if you’re going to see round the farm before that grow dark you’d best get out of them fancy clothes, young Tess. Mother have left your old dungarees on your bed and I reckon you’ve not growed much, not like our Jonty here what have shot up like Jack’s beanstalk. I trust Jonty have told you that you ain’t here to work – the honest truth is, my woman, we don’t need you now we’ve got the fellers back – but we still think you’ll likely want to do a few little tasks – feedin’ the poultry, mebbe bringin’ the horses back from the meadow – so it’s best you wear the overalls when you int goin’ out somewhere with your young man.’
Jonty laughed. ‘Best remember we’re just pals,’ he told his father reprovingly, following Tess as she began to mount the stairs. ‘I know you don’t like people thinking that you’re my girlfriend, Tess, but there’s no need to worry. I’ve been taking Melissa Richmond to the local hops in the village hall – her pa’s got a big farm over Mulbarton way, so the parents approve. By the way, what’s happened about that boy, Snowy something or other? You’ve not mentioned him in any of your letters for ages, so far as I can recall.’
They had reached the landing at the top of the stairs and Tess turned towards him with what Jonty thought was a rather hesitant smile. ‘Oh, Snowy and I are good friends,’ she said airily. ‘But, I’ve heard no word of this Miss Richmond until this very day. I take it she’s your girlfriend?’
Jonty shrugged. ‘One of many,’ he said casually. ‘You can’t imagine a handsome fellow like myself would lack admirers? There’s many a girl would scratch Melissa’s eyes out for a chance to get near me.’
Tess giggled and opened her bedroom door, and then, as Jonty passed her on the way to his, she swung her haversack with deadly accuracy, catching him a smart blow on the bottom.
Jonty spun round, intent on revenge, only to find the bedroom door slammed in his face while a mocking voice said: ‘Too late. You’ve got to get up very early in the morning to catch me napping, Jonty Bell.’
‘Just you wait, that’s all,’ Jonty said. He opened his own door, went inside and raised his voice. ‘See you in the kitchen in five minutes!’
Albert Payne and Edie Williams were seated at the kitchen table of t
he flat above the milliner’s shop when they heard the letter box on the ground floor rattle. They had been eating breakfast – porridge and toast – and drinking tea, but at the sound Albert got to his feet, wiped his mouth and set off across the kitchen. ‘I’ll go,’ he said rather unnecessarily. ‘I expect there’ll be one for you from Tess; that girl’s a wonder! She’s written to you just about every day since she left. I’m hopeful of getting one from Janine sometime soon, because in my last letter to her I asked if anything was wrong since she’d not written for six months, but then she’s an awfully poor correspondent, so I can’t say I’m particularly worried.’
‘Right you are,’ Edie said cheerfully. ‘I’ll be making us both a carryout. I’m really looking forward to the trip, but for the sake of the decencies we’d best get aboard the coach separately.’
Albert, with his hand on the doorknob, turned and smiled at her, his eyes twinkling over the top of his spectacles. ‘If the folk on the bus could see us sharing our breakfast they’d think the worst,’ he observed. ‘Come to that, so would young Tess. But whilst the cat’s away the mice will play; not that we have been playing, or not in a naughty sense at any rate.’
Edie smiled back. ‘You’ve been the perfect gentleman, as always, Albert,’ she assured him. ‘And we’d never have thought of you coming up here for breakfast if that coach trip last week hadn’t started so perishin’ early. But there you are, we’ve established a tradition and a very nice tradition it is too. In fact, I think we’ll keep it up even after Tess gets home.’