Charlie stood up, his youthful idealism incensed by his brother’s offhand attitude. ‘Don’t you care? There’s plenty as say our bombers can win this war in a matter of months. It’s not a joking matter. If we don’t do something Hitler could walk all over us. And all you can think of is food in your belly. There could be people dying out there, in Europe.’ He waved a hand vaguely over the idyllic view and then brought it down to slap the hunk of bread and cheese from Dan’s hand and send it rolling downhill, bouncing over the crags and scree into Riggingdale below.
There was a short, shocked silence. Charlie was the quiet one, not easily roused to anger.
‘I’ve already registered as doing work of "national importance", if you want to know,’ Dan told him, getting slowly to his feet. ‘I’m a farmer, not a fighter, and I’ll not be bossed about by a young whippersnapper like you.’
‘All right, folks, that’s enough,’ Kath said, not moving an inch from her supine position on the heather but bringing all eyes upon her nonetheless by the authority in her tone. ‘Today has been declared a holiday so the rules are, no squabbling and no talk of war. Have we any cider left, Sal?’
‘Plenty.’ Sally Ann reached for a flagon, relieved to see Dan and Charlie sit down again, some distance from each other, but looking faintly ashamed of themselves.
‘I think Meg and I will take a short walk,’ said Jack. ‘If no one has any objection?’
It seemed nobody had, so hand in hand they strolled away, and kept walking until they’d put several hundred yards between themselves and the others.
Only Kath watched them go.
The roebucks were the only active creatures on this hot August day. As the rutting season progressed their sleek red bodies were constantly on the move, often breaking into wild love chases as they protected their territory and searched for a mate. Trees and bushes were often damaged by the thrusting antlers as an animal deposited its scent around the boundaries of its kingdom. But let a huntsman kill the guilty stag and a host of young predatory bucks would flow into the territory, worsening the problem. Landowning bucks respected boundaries. If only men would, Meg thought, recalling her father’s constant greed for more land.
She and Jack lay on the crisp, parched grass, staring up into a sky ribbed by soft cloud as white as snowy paw prints across the blue heavens. It was so hot even the birds were silent.
‘We must have taken in our best crop ever this year,’ she said. ‘I hope the kale and potatoes are as good.’ She let her eyes close so that the sun shone hotly through the lids.
Jack rolled over and tweaked her nose. ‘Why do we always have to talk about the farm? I’m sure there are better things we could be doing.’ He started to lift her skirt.
‘Be careful, someone will see.’ Meg artfully removed herself from his probing hands.
‘No, they’re miles away, I made sure of that.’ He started to kiss her and for a long while talk was unnecessary and unwanted.
She always felt so alive in Jack’s arms, so needed. She felt as if their love had made her grow as a woman in some mysterious way and he was now so much a part of her she would have trusted him with her life. The harshness of Joe’s taunts couldn’t touch her. Even Dan treated her with more respect.
‘What you were saying earlier, about not wanting to leave here. Did you mean it?’
Meg looked at him sharply but he kept his face turned away and a small kernel of fear ripened inside her. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I know you’ve taken it into your head to help me farm at Broombank. But what if I didn’t want to? Would it matter to you, if you had to give up the idea of living there?’
Meg stared at him for a long moment as a small pain started somewhere deep within and began, quite slowly, to grow and spread right across her chest. ‘Are you serious?’ She was amazed her voice could sound so steady.
‘You know I’ve never been as keen as you on farming. Would you mind if we didn’t?’
Meg had known well enough but had always hoped he would come round to it, so had pushed any reservations to the back of her mind. But if she had to give up her dream of being a sheep farmer, would it really matter, so long as she had Jack? There were other things in life besides sheep. He would surely be worth the sacrifice. But it was less easy to say so, out loud, than she could possibly have imagined. ‘I - I don’t know. To do what?’
Jack slipped his hands under his head and a faraway look came into his violet eyes as he stared up into the bright sky. ‘I’ve always had a fancy to travel. America, Australia, somewhere far away and exciting.’
‘Just because it’s far away from Westmorland, doesn’t make it exciting,’ Meg retorted, so abruptly he turned to look at her in surprise.
‘There’s nothing so very wonderful happening here.’
Meg was silent again as she considered the matter, then a thought occurred to her. ‘Australia might be all right. They have a lot of sheep there too.’
‘Sheep again.’ He pulled her close against him, making her squeal with delight, and when he kissed her he robbed her body of every vestige of breath, making her head fizz with emotion. ‘Say you’ll come with me to the ends of the earth, if I ask it. Go on, say it.’
The mellow atmosphere of the late afternoon, with the sun slipping slowly down the sky, the soft breeze upon her flushed skin and the warmth of Jack’s body beside hers, made her feel romantic and generous.
After the slightest pause she obeyed. ‘I’ll come with you to the ends of the earth, if you ask it.’
Jack was anxious to have the matter settled between them. The way Kath had been looking at him lately had made him increasingly nervous. He spoke next with a show of idle innocence. ‘We could talk about your birthday instead, which is why we’re here, if I’m not mistaken?’
Meg peeped at him from beneath her lids and her heart warmed to see his lazy smile. So he hadn’t forgotten.
‘Close your eyes again,’ he ordered, and when she mildly protested, he got up and started to walk away from her in long loping strides down the hill. ‘Okay, if you don’t want it.’
She was forced to scramble to her feet and run after him. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t go. You can give it to me now.’ She lunged for him, laughing, missed the first time then caught at his shirt with her hand and they were both falling and rolling over and over through a tangle of tall bracken, locked together. His mouth clamped tight to hers and desire flooded through her as it always did at his touch.
Then with her eyes tightly closed he was putting something into her hands and her fingers moved wonderingly, almost reverently, over the small square shape she held. Her heart leaped into her throat and for a moment she dare not open her eyes, dare not open the tiny leather box just in case it was not what she wanted it to be. For she knew she could never bear the disappointment if it was no more than an ordinary ring. He would see it in her face. She couldn’t hide it this time, as she had at Christmas.
But she need not have worried. The tiny sapphire winked brightly in the summer sun and even as she hesitated, Jack lifted it out and slipped it on to the third finger of her left hand.
‘It was my mother’s.’
All she could do was look at him, aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘Hey. I thought you’d be happy.’
‘Oh, I am, I am.’ Meg threw her arms about his neck, crying with delight, and then he was kissing away each tear.
It was the hardest thing she had ever done not to let him make love to her there and then but as she explained so carefully to him, it would be a pity to get carried away by the romance of the moment and make a mistake, when they’d come this far.
‘Best to wait,’ she insisted.
‘Isn’t the ring proof enough I mean to wed you?’ Jack asked, frustration warring with his pride in catching such a lovely bride. ‘If you loved me, you wouldn’t wait.’ He slipped a hand over her dress to caress her breast. Meg pushed it gently away and kissed him lingeringly.
‘Bribery won’t work, Jack Lawson. You know I love you. But I can’t relax, I can’t just -let it happen - not until we’re married. Then it will seem right. Try to understand.’
‘I don’t understand at all. It didn’t worry you in the barn that time. You’re mine already, really, so what’s the problem?’ His arms came around her again and she wriggled out of them.
‘You know why it happened then. It was a mistake. It being Christmas and me not being used to sherry. Be patient, sweetheart, and kiss me. We don’t have to talk to Father now. We can just tell him, make the announcement that we are to be man and wife.’
‘You’re a cruel, hard woman, Meg Turner.’ But Jack knew when he was beaten and had to content himself with kisses. Meg kept her dress buttons very firmly fastened.
Later, with the sun staining the edges of clouds magenta and rose, they ran hand in hand down the hillside. She couldn’t wait to show her ring to Kath and tell her the joyous news, tell her how Jack had made her the happiest woman alive.
Kath’s lovely face went very pale when Meg proudly showed her the ring. She seemed quite lost for words.
‘You never thought he’d do it, did you?’
‘No,’ Kath agreed. ‘I never thought he would. Congratulations.’
‘It was a surprise, for my birthday,’ Meg repeated proudly, holding up her hand to admire her precious ring.
‘It’s certainly that.’
‘Isn’t it lovely?’
‘Oh, love,’ said Sally Ann, hugging her. ‘I’m so pleased for you. We could have had a double wedding if he hadn’t been such a slow clod.’
‘Steady but sure, that’s me,’ said Jack.
‘As steady as a rogue fox,’ retorted Kath dryly and flushed as she caught Meg’s raised eyebrows, awash suddenly with unaccustomed guilt. Then she put her arms around her friend and hugged her, as Sally Ann had done. ‘Make sure he treats you well, love. You deserve to be happy.’
‘You’re crying,’ murmured Meg softly. ‘Oh, Kath. It won’t make any difference, to us I mean. We’ll still be friends,’ she said, misconstruing. ‘For ever and ever, remember?’
Later that afternoon when they got back to Ashlea and Meg and Sal went inside to brew fresh tea, Kath turned eyes more stormy than tearful upon Jack.
‘Why didn’t you tell her, you lout?’
Never had he looked more handsome, more desirable, and she hated him for it. One corner of his wide mouth was lifting in that beguiling way he had. She saw a glint of sharp white teeth and the pit of her stomach swelled and ached with a need so strong it unnerved her. Deep blue eyes looked frankly into hers, understanding her absolutely.
`Don’t be a poor loser, Katherine Ellis. You know it’s only my body you covet.’
`Damn you! I’d like to...’
‘That’s better. I prefer the mad Ellis to the guilty one.’
‘You’ve played us both for fools. She’ll discover that one day, then what?’
‘Are you going to tell her?’ He was careful not to show his unease. He didn’t want his plans spoiled by a spurned female who was feeling a bit piqued.
‘Do you think I would?’
‘Who’s played with whom, anyroad? I didn’t see you protesting.’
‘I didn’t think you were interested in marriage with anyone. Why Meg? She’s sweet. She’s good. Too good for you.’
‘Meg’s okay, and she’s got guts.’
‘More than you deserve. Why marry her? You’ll only make her miserable.’
‘Perhaps I love her.’
Kath gave a scornful laugh. ‘You love her tits.’
‘Yours are pretty good too,’ he said calmly, letting his eyes rove frankly over her body.
It was the last straw. Eyes blazing, Kath grasped the fabric of her lemon silk print frock that had cost her an arm and a leg at Kendal Milne’s in Manchester, and ripped it apart. Her breasts gleamed with a pale beauty in the sparkling sun, dark nipples peaking with the hard fury of her need. ‘Go on, check them out, just in case you’ve got them mixed up and chosen the wrong ones. I’d hate you to make a mistake at this late stage.’
For a long, terrible moment they glared at each other then Meg’s voice called from the kitchen door, asking if they wanted the tea out there. Kath gave a little sob, pulled the wrecked fabric about herself and, turning swiftly, ran blindly away.
Chapter Nine
Poland had been invaded, Hitler had signed an agreement with the Soviet Union thus securing his eastern defences, and Britain was to fight for liberty and justice. King George VI told everyone as much on that fateful Sunday evening, 3 September. He said that by speaking to them on the wireless it was as if ‘I were able to cross your threshold and speak to you myself’. Words of comfort and resolution, helping to ease the fear. Meg and Sally Ann, sitting listening alone at Ashlea, burst into tears and sang a patriotic song, all at the same time.
The tension that had been determinedly kept back all summer now expressed itself in action. Black-out curtains were made, windows taped, sandbags packed the walls of the local hospitals, beloved motor cars were offered to help move any wounded and people queued to volunteer for service or waited half fearful, half excited, for their call-up.
And everyone fearfully scanned the skies for sight of the first German bombers.
Having no cellar, nor access to a shelter of any kind, all Meg and Sally Ann could do was check that the window shutters worked and cut out black paper to stick round the edge of the glass to cover any possible chinks of light.
‘What will it be like, war?’
Sally Ann shook her head, carrot hair sticking out at odd angles from being raked by anguished fingers. ‘Heaven knows, but I’m glad I have you, Meg, and I’m not here all alone. Will Dan have to go?’
‘Shouldn’t think so. Farming is an important occupation in wartime. People still have to have food. But what about us? What do we women do? I feel we should have some purpose beyond making black-out curtains.’
‘I suppose we look after the men. As we always do.’
Meg looked suddenly fierce. ‘There’s got to be more to it than that. Maybe I’ll ride my bike into Kendal and ask around.’
‘Joe won’t like that.’
‘Blow him.’
‘Well, don’t forget your gas mask.’
Meg put it on and they both burst into a fit of giggles. ‘I think the stink of the rubber would knock me out if I had to wear it for more than a minute.’
But Joe wouldn’t hear of her going into Kendal. ‘We still have work to do, girl. War or no war.’
Life at Ashlea continued as normal, and, in a way, Meg hoped that would long remain so. She couldn’t bear to think of the alternative.
But only days later, everything changed.
Charlie was the first. He came and told her he’d volunteered. Meg’s heart dropped like a stone as she stared into her young brother’s face, alive with idealistic fervour and suppressed excitement.
‘How could you? You’re only just turned eighteen. And you don’t have to enlist, not as a farmer.’
He came and sat opposite her, took her hands between his. ‘I’m not a farmer, Meg. Never was. Dad’s the farmer, and our Dan. They wouldn’t necessarily let me stay here, anyway. But you know, you’ve always known, that I want to fly. The RAF recruitment officer says I’m just the sort of chap they’re looking for.’
‘Yes, of course he does.’ She snatched her hands away, too upset to keep the bitterness from her voice. She knew only that Charlie was going off into unknown danger and she was filled with a terrible fear. ‘Silly young fools who haven’t the first idea what they’re letting themselves in for, that’s what they’re looking for.’
A bright stain of scarlet ran beneath his pale skin. ‘Don’t call me a fool, Meg, I’m not that. I’m doing my bit, in the only way I know.’
‘But a flyer. Do you know how dangerous that would be?’
He stood up quickly and turned away, impatient with her
inability to understand. Picking up his jacket, he made one last attempt. ‘Goering says he will blacken our skies with his bombers. And I say, just you try, mate, and see what you get. We’ll shoot every one of your damned planes down.’
‘Oh, Charlie.’ She knew they were naïve words, bravely offered, and folded her arms about him as she had so often done when he was small and had fallen and hurt himself. She hugged him as tightly as she could, wanting to keep him safe, keep him with her as if he were still a child and she could protect him for always.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks and he was hugging her now, assuring her everything would be all right, when they both knew he could offer no such assurance. Then Meg was packing sandwiches and clean underwear, issuing foolish instructions about keeping warm and taking care, and he was climbing into the old Ford van and Dan was driving him away into the unknown.
But there was worse in store.
It had started as a perfectly ordinary morning with the washing blowing on the line, Sal and she preparing vegetables for dinner and Joe taking a break with a mug of tea by the kitchen range. Then Jack stood in the kitchen doorway, the first time he had come voluntarily to her house. His dark hair brushed the door lintel where the lucky horse shoe was nailed to keep out evil spirits. He looked at Meg and she knew. He was leaving too.
‘I’m going into the Navy.’ His voice was quiet, unlike his usual confident self. And there, in the bag he dropped by the table, was the proof that she was about to lose him. Sally Ann put down the potato knife she was using and quietly left the kitchen, dragging a complaining Joe with her.
Meg lifted her chin and bravely faced the man she loved. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t.
‘Must you go right away? It’s all happening too quickly. It’s only yesterday that Charlie left.’ She thought of the new blue dress upstairs in her closet waiting for her honeymoon, her mother’s wedding dress waiting to be worn again, but he was nodding, not quite meeting her eyes.
‘I don’t want to be put into some Army unit. It’s the sea for me. Always has been a fancy of mine.’
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