The Kew Gardens Girls

by Posy Lovell

They woke early with the sun nudging them into the morning as it rose above the trees. Ivy blinked and sat up. They’d slept intertwined, with Ivy’s full skirt draped over them like a blanket. Now she pulled it up to hide her bare chest as she watched Jim sleep. The morning dew had dampened his hair and settled on his eyelashes and he looked peaceful.

  She bent down and kissed his cheek and he opened his eyes.

  “Morning,” he murmured.

  She nuzzled into him for a second, savoring his smell and the feel of his skin against hers.

  “We need to go,” she said.

  “I’ll be first in the queue at the recruitment office,” Jim said, looking up at the sun. She could tell he was trying to guess what time it was and she loved him for his love of nature.

  “Are you absolutely sure about this?” Ivy said.

  He nodded. “It’s the only way.”

  Ivy felt tears threatening again, so she swallowed. She had to be as brave as Jim was being.

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  He shook his head. “I need to do this on my own.”

  “What will you tell your parents?”

  “That it’s the right thing to do. They won’t be cross. My dad’s talking about enlisting himself. He’s only forty, so he’s young enough.”

  “They’ll worry.”

  He shrugged. “Not as much as they would if I was in prison.”

  Ivy shivered and felt around for her slip. She found it, slightly damp with the dew, and stood up to pull it on, feeling Jim’s eyes on her as she did.

  “Do you think he’s all right? Reg, I mean.”

  “I hope so.” Jim found his shirt and started getting dressed, too. “But even if he is, he’s bound to be angry. If he reports me, there could be trouble. It’s best if I’m out the way.”

  Ivy nodded. “Is this it, then? This is good-bye?”

  She finished fastening her dress and looked at Jim. She thought her heart might burst with pride and fear and love and happiness and dread all at once.

  Jim kissed her.

  “It’s not good-bye forever,” he said. “It’s just good-bye for now.”

  “Good-bye for now,” she echoed quietly.

  Jim sat down on the grass again to put his boots on. “I’m going to miss this place. The flowers and the trees. I’ll not get to see how those new apple trees work out.”

  “Not this year,” Ivy said. “But the apple trees will still be here when you get back.”

  “Draw them for me,” he said. “When you do your diary, draw some extra pictures for me.”

  “I will.”

  They kissed again and, hand in hand, they started to walk toward the gates.

  “Will you say good-bye to Mac for me?” Jim asked. “He’s been so good.”

  Ivy’s eyes prickled with tears again as she thought about how much Mac would miss Jim.

  “What shall I tell him? He’s bound to ask why you’ve gone so suddenly.”

  Jim shrugged.

  “Tell him some of the lads from my street enlisted and it made sense for me to go at the same time?” he suggested. “He’ll understand.”

  “And Louisa?”

  “Tell Louisa the truth.”

  “She’ll blame herself.”

  Jim sighed. “I know, but she mustn’t. It was just bad luck, that’s all. And it wasn’t her fault Reg turned up, nor her fault that he attacked her. Any bloke walking by would have done the same.”

  Ivy wasn’t sure that was true. Not all blokes were as brave and kind as her Jim. But she nodded anyway.

  “What about Bernie?”

  “Do what you can for him, won’t you?”

  “Course.”

  “Get Louisa to help you. She’ll find a way to keep him from the Front, I’m sure of it.”

  They’d reached the gate. Ivy’s tears were falling fast now, and she couldn’t have stopped them even if she tried.

  “Please don’t go,” she said. She clasped the front of his shirt and sobbed into the fabric. “I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t go.”

  They stayed like that for a while, arms round each other, both crying as they said their good-byes and kissed and laughed and cried some more. Until eventually, they couldn’t put it off any longer.

  “I love you, Ivy Adams,” Jim said. “Stay safe.”

  “Come home to me, Jim,” she said. “Come home soon.”

  They kissed once more and Jim gave her a jaunty salute.

  “Look after the plants for me. Good-bye.”

  He walked off down the street, past the tree where Reg had fallen, toward the railway station.

  “Good-bye,” Ivy whispered. “Good-bye, my love.”

  Chapter 17

  Louisa was expecting Ivy to arrive on her doorstep at some point, but she didn’t expect her to turn up quite so early, nor in quite such a state.

  She heard the quiet knock on her door as she was boiling her kettle to make tea. She’d spent a sleepless night going over and over everything that happened the night before in her head. Confronting Reg, Reg attacking her, and then Jim punching Reg all seemed like an awful nightmare. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Reg’s sweaty red face looming over hers. Her nose was swollen and she had a large bruise on her cheekbone that stopped her getting comfortable, and in the end she gave up on sleep altogether.

  When the knock on the door came, she opened it cautiously, worried that it could be Reg. But there was Ivy, sobbing her heart out, and still knocking quietly in case Louisa was asleep because she didn’t want to wake her.

  Louisa opened her arms to her friend and Ivy collapsed into her embrace, crying so heavily that she couldn’t speak. Louisa led her inside, sat her down on the settee, and let her sob until, eventually, Ivy’s weeping became less intense and her breathing less ragged.

  “Ivy, my love, what’s happened?” she said, handing her a mug of very sugary tea.

  “Jim’s enlisted,” she said. She wrapped her fingers round the mug and held it close. “He’s gone.”

  Louisa was shocked. That wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. “Enlisted? But he’s only seventeen.”

  “He was worried he’d get into trouble for hitting Reg. He thought he’d killed him.” She looked up at Louisa and her anxious expression made Louisa’s heart contract with love for her young friend. “Did he kill him?”

  “No, he didn’t kill him. Reg is strong as an ox, the old bugger. He’d had too much to drink and he knocked himself out, that’s all.”

  Ivy started to cry again, tears rolling down her puffy cheeks. “So Jim didn’t need to go?”

  Louisa made a face. “Reg remembered him. He was ranting about a young lad with muddy boots who’d hit him. It’s possible someone would put two and two together. Though I told the constable who came that Reg had fallen over and he was talking nonsense.”

  Ivy put her head in her hands. “Jim said he’d be enlisted soon anyway and it made sense for him to go. And I know that it does, but it hurts so much, Louisa.”

  Louisa gathered her into her arms again. “I know,” she said. “I know it hurts.”

  Ivy looked up at her, worry in her eyes. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Reg attacked you.”

  Louisa shrugged. “Not for the first time.”

  Ivy gently reached up and touched the bruise on Louisa’s cheek. “He did this.”

  “He’s done worse and he’d have done it again, if Jim hadn’t been there.”

  Ivy looked proud. “What happened, Louisa? When we went into the Gardens we heard voices and footsteps. Did people come to help?”

  Louisa nodded. “I shouted for help and a group of men who’d been in the pub came over. I told them my husband had fallen and they went to find a policeman. By
the time they had found one, Mac had got there and he was wonderful. I managed to pull him aside and explain who Reg was and what had happened. He had a word with the constable when he arrived and said Reg was violent and shouldn’t be allowed near me.”

  “Lovely Mac,” said Ivy. “Did they listen to him?”

  Louisa nodded. “The constable looked at my cheek, and he asked very kindly if I was telling the truth when I said Reg had fallen. I said—honestly—that he’d hit me. And they took him away. I asked if they could send him back to Kent and they said they would.”

  “So he’s gone,” Ivy said.

  “He is, I hope.”

  “What if he comes back?”

  “I’ve written to my brother, telling him what happened and asking him to keep an eye on Reg back home. He’ll get the other men in the village involved, too. Seems Reg has been causing trouble all over.”

  “I’m glad he’s gone.”

  “But Jim’s gone, too.”

  Ivy lifted her chin, looking like she was trying to summon every ounce of courage she possessed.

  “It was the right thing for him to do,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry, Ivy.”

  “It’s not your fault. Not one scrap of this is your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Reg’s and sounds like he’s in trouble as it is.”

  Louisa looked at Ivy in awe. She was truly a wonderful person. Wise beyond her years.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She took Ivy’s hand.

  “I am going to make amends for all the stupid things I’ve done. I’m going to help Bernie, and I’ll help you, too.”

  “We’ve all done stupid things in our time. And I don’t need no help.”

  “Will Jim write?”

  Ivy nodded.

  “I can help you read his letters. And help you write replies.”

  “Maybe,” said Ivy. She looked a bit unsure. “I might have another idea, though.”

  “Really?”

  “Tell you later.” She gave Louisa a watery smile. “Bernie needs you, though. What can we do to help him?”

  “I met a woman called Caro at a Suffragette meeting, who told me about an organization called the League of Peace,” Louisa said. She filled Ivy in on how she hoped there might be a way for Bernie to stay.

  “You could come to the meeting?” Louisa said, but Ivy shook her head.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’ve got Federation stuff to do. With so many men being called up, we’re busier than ever before. Sylvia’s rushed off her feet.”

  “You’re a good woman, Ivy Adams,” Louisa said. “Always thinking of others.”

  A shadow crossed Ivy’s face. “Not always,” she said.

  * * *

  Without Jim at Kew, there was more work to do, so the days passed swiftly, much to Louisa’s relief. She was eager to get to the meeting of the League of Peace and get started on her quest to help Bernie. But there was no denying things were harder at the Gardens. Mac had even started talking about finding some more female gardeners to add to their team—something Louisa would never have imagined him doing this time last year, when he was still grumpy and unwilling to trust them with any important jobs. They were no longer stuck on the herbaceous border or the rock garden—now they did everything the men had done. And they did it all well, too, Louisa thought proudly.

  Mac, meanwhile, was fussing round his “girls” like a mother hen, checking they were all right every five minutes.

  “Heard from Jim?” he kept asking Ivy.

  “He’s not been gone a week yet,” she pointed out. “He’ll write when he can.”

  Louisa watched Ivy for signs that she was worrying about keeping in touch with her beau while he was abroad, but she seemed calm. Maybe Bernie was going to help her? She itched to ask him, but Ivy said it was best she was the only one who knew where he was. Just in case.

  Mac was worried about Louisa, too.

  “He’s definitely back in Kent, is he?”

  “My brother wrote to say he’s letting him sleep in the barn in return for some help around the farm. They’re so short-staffed because all the farmhands have been called up, so even a drunken layabout like Reg is better than nothing. And Reg knows when he’s on to a good thing. I can’t see him coming back here.” She lowered her voice. “I can’t help thinking a spell in the trenches would do him the world of good. Sober him up. Make him realize there’s others have it much worse than him. But legally we’re still married, so for now, he’s off the hook.”

  Mac nodded. “Seems unfair that Jim’s off fighting when a waste of space like Reg stays behind. And as for Bernie . . . Well, I still feel bad about that.”

  Louisa felt a flush of guilt. “Don’t feel bad,” she said. “And don’t ask any questions. But Bernie’s all right for now. And I’m making it my business to sort something out for him. I’ll tell you when it’s all done.”

  Mac’s astonished expression stayed with her all the way into town on the train and made her chuckle when she thought of it.

  The League of Peace met in a large, drafty church hall in Mayfair. It was just like all the Suffragette meetings Louisa had been to over the years except with one striking difference—men were there. In fact, there were more men than women.

  Feeling self-conscious and nervous, Louisa skulked into the hall and searched out Caro. She found her talking to a couple of men toward the back of the room. One was short and plump with a large mustache and a loud, hooting laugh, and the other was tall with reddish hair and bright blue eyes that had sadness in them.

  “Caro,” Louisa said, approaching the group.

  “Louisa, I’m so pleased you could make it.” Caro kissed Louisa on the cheek. Lou had to bend down because Caro was so small.

  “We’re going to get started in a minute or two. Today we’re talking about how we can help the Red Cross.”

  “Lovely,” said Louisa, though she knew all about the Red Cross and it didn’t seem remotely useful for Bernie’s predicament.

  “Gents, this is my friend Louisa Taylor,” Caro said. “We met at a WSPU meeting.”

  The men both murmured approvingly, much to Louisa’s surprise. She’d not met a lot of men who supported women’s suffrage.

  “Louisa, this is Hector Burbage.” She gestured to the man with the mustache and he grinned at Louisa.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Taylor.”

  “Please call me Louisa.”

  “Hector.”

  “And Teddy Armitage.”

  The tall man shook Louisa’s hand and smiled at her. She noticed that while his smile was genuine, it didn’t quite melt away the sadness in his eyes. Then she realized she’d been holding his hand for a second or two too long and pulled her fingers away, flustered and flushing.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Armitage.”

  His lips curled upward, ever so slightly. “Likewise.”

  “What brings you to the League of Peace?” Hector asked. He showed Louisa to a row of wooden chairs and she sat down. He sat next to her, with Mr. Armitage on his other side. Caro was one of the people hosting the meeting, so she’d gone up to the front of the room to get things started.

  “I’m hoping to find out how I can help a friend,” she said. “He’s a conscientious objector, but I’m not sure what we need to do to make it all official.”

  “Teddy’s your man for all that,” said Hector. He nudged Mr. Armitage in the ribs. “You’re the man for that, Ted.”

  Mr. Armitage—Teddy—looked alarmed. “The man for what?”

  “Louisa here wants to know about conscientious objectors.”

  Teddy looked at Louisa across Hector’s rotund belly.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I have a friend. He’s a Quaker and he doesn’t want . . .”

  At the front of the
room a man stood up and clapped his hands for attention and the buzz of conversation in the audience stopped.

  “Let’s speak afterward,” Teddy said to Louisa in an undertone. He looked straight at her and she felt that mix of flustered and flushed again. “I can help.”

  Louisa felt fidgety and impatient throughout the meeting, which was interesting but not as useful to Bernie as she’d hoped. When the speakers finished talking, and people started to move, she caught Teddy, who’d stood up and was putting on his hat.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Armitage,” she said. “Could I have a word about conscientious objectors?”

  He turned to her and smiled that same funny sad smile. She felt a pull toward him—curiosity and concern mixed with something else.

  “Of course,” he said. “Are you in a hurry?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Shall we take ourselves across to the park and enjoy the evening?”

  “That sounds lovely, Mr. Armitage.”

  He looked at her with interest and smiled again. “Call me Teddy,” he said.

  Louisa nodded in agreement and together they left the hall. Teddy led the way through the side streets of Mayfair and out on to Park Lane, without speaking. They crossed over the road and went into Hyde Park. It was quiet at this time of the evening, but there was still warmth in the air and it was nice to be outside, away from the stuffy meeting hall.

  “Shall we walk or sit?” Teddy asked.

  “Walk.”

  Together they began strolling along the wide path that skirted the park.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Louisa took a breath. “My friend is a pacifist—a Quaker,” she said. “He doesn’t want to fight, but someone reported him and he’s hiding away because he’s scared he’ll be enlisted.”

  Teddy nodded. “Good,” he said. “Go on.”

  “He used to be a teacher, which would have meant he didn’t have to enlist, but now he’s a gardener.”

  “He won’t go back to teaching?”

  Louisa shook her head. “We’ve tried to convince him, but he had a bad experience and even talking about it makes him come across as peculiar.”

  Teddy thought for a while. “Would you let me make some inquiries for you? Ask around. There might be something I can do.”