Rosemerryn

by Rosemerryn (retail) (epub)

  ‘Come on,’ Alfie mouthed impatiently.

  Vicki spat on her small hand and put it on his and he clasped his fingers round it tightly and shook it hard. It hurt but she bravely made no fuss. Alfie tossed her hand aside, and on an afterthought muttered cautiously, ‘That doesn’t mean that I want to marry you when we grow up, mind.’

  ‘Course not.’ Vicki shook her golden hair indignantly. ‘I’m not going to marry anyone. I’m going to go to agri-something college. My daddy wants me to and so do I and I’m going to have the biggest farm in the world.’

  ‘I’m going to be a test pilot,’ Alfie boasted, puffing out his scrawny chest. ‘If you get big enough fields then I’ll come and land in them.’

  ‘Wizard!’ she shouted, copying a word from Celeste.

  Alfie had been scanning Rosemerryn’s fields as he’d spoken. ‘Whose tent is that up in that field? A holidaymaker’s?’

  ‘No, that belongs to Pawley who works for my dad.’

  ‘The man with half a face? I’ve heard about ’e in the village. I’d like to meet ’im.’

  Half an hour ago Pawley had driven the tractor into the yard and was fitting a part to it that Spencer had ordered. Before Alfie demanded they talk to the disfigured farmhand, Vicki suggested they take a look at Brindle and led the way to the paddock. They sat on the wall and stroked the old mare when she trotted up to them.

  ‘What’s she then?’ Vicki asked, to get the first word in before Alfie’s adventurous nature took over.

  He looked at her. ‘A horse, stupid. I’d have thought even you’d have known that.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s stupid. Is she a spy or something? That’s what I meant.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Alfie combed Brindle’s rough grey mane with his fingers and thought about it. ‘She’s Rainbow, the steed of Richard the Lionheart and the bravest horse in the Crusades.’

  ‘What’s the Crusades?’

  ‘They were holy wars in the olden days. You’ll learn about it at school when you’re as old as me.’

  ‘You are clever to remember all those brave tales, Alfie.’

  ‘Of course I am. Can I ride the horse?’

  ‘Better not. I’m only allowed to ride her when there’s a grown-up around.’

  Alfie was off the wall in a trice, tearing a button off his shirt. ‘Let’s go and find one then.’ He helped Vicki down, none too carefully, and earth and ferns marked her dress.

  On the way through the yard, Alfie looked inside the barn, shippen and outhouses, all the while spouting more adventures and making up colourful stories. Vicki was very impressed by him and thought him much more fun to play with than Benjy. When they came across Pawley, who was bending over the tractor engine, Alfie ran up to him. Vicki hung back.

  ‘Can I have a ride, mister, when you’ve finished doin’ that?’ Alfie blurted out in his usual cheeky energetic manner.

  Pawley turned his head slightly and Alfie strained to get a good look at his face. ‘I’ll have to think about it, boy. Who are you?’

  ‘Alfie Uren, only me proper name’s Alfie Roscrow really. It’s a good little tractor. You fixin’ that awful noise it was makin’ just now?’

  ‘I’m doing my best, Alfie,’ Pawley said, busy with a wrench.

  Alfie stood beside the farmhand and stuck his nose under the bonnet. ‘Mmmm, it’s got a lot of bits and pieces, ain’t it? I’m goin’ to be a pilot when I grow up and I want to learn all about aeroplane engines.’

  ‘Good for you.’ Pawley sounded friendly. He always did, Vicki reflected, and with Alfie there she plucked up the courage to move in close to him.

  ‘Hello, Vicki,’ Pawley said, peeping down at her. ‘You here too?’

  ‘Hello, Pawley. We aren’t getting in your way, are we?’

  ‘No, not at all. Anyway, I’ve nearly finished here. The engine should be as right as rain then.’

  ‘You’re clever,’ she said, making ready to duck her eyes but wanting to impress Alfie into believing Pawley was a special friend of hers. Hoping to make up for her behaviour with Benjy towards him, she added, ‘Daddy could never get it to go properly.’

  Pawley was finished and he wiped his tools carefully on a rag. Then slowly, as if he was reluctant to face the children, he straightened up and turned about.

  ‘Wow! What a beauty of a scar!’ Alfie exclaimed, quick as a flash. ‘Did you get it in the war? Were you a fighter pilot, Pawley? Did your crate get shot down over enemy territory?’

  ‘No, Alfie,’ Pawley answered patiently. ‘I was a footslogger, in the infantry, and I copped this at Dunkirk.’

  ‘Wow, you were some bloody brave. What happened? A mine? Huge piece of shrapnel? Where did you land? Did many of your mates get killed?’

  Alfie was the first child who hadn’t run away from Pawley in horror or shouted abuse at him. Pawley light-heartedly chided him about his language and told him some of his story. ‘The boat bringing me back to Blighty was shelled and sunk. I lost my younger brother, Ernie, and as far as I know most of my mates. I was unconscious for days.’

  As the boy continued to ply Pawley with questions about his war experiences, the revulsion and fear Vicki had felt slipped away and she listened as keenly as Alfie who was now sitting up on the tractor seat, pretending he was driving a tank.

  When Pawley looked at her fully, she blinked. Then she smiled, and although Pawley couldn’t smile back she knew he was pleased. She asked him a question, something she’d always wondered about him.

  ‘Where do you come from, Pawley?’

  ‘Well, Vicki, I was born in Perranporth but lived for most of my life in Shortlanesend, a little village not far from Truro. After the war I travelled around with my tent and found my way onto Bodmin Moor where I’ve preferred to stay since.’

  ‘Have you got a family?’

  ‘No one close. I’m all alone in the world really.’

  ‘That’s sad. Well, you’ve got us now.’

  Laura had come out into the yard with a mug of tea for Pawley. When she heard what Vicki said she felt a lump rise in her throat. Pawley looked uncertainly at Vicki for some moments. Vicki moved closer to him. After a few seconds’ hesitation he held out his big hand to her. Vicki put her hand in his then gave him a hug. Laura thought she would burst into tears, she was so moved. There seemed to be no moisture in Pawley’s one good eye but he rubbed at it with the back of his hand. Alfie carried on mowing down a hundred thousand Jerries, completely oblivious of the poignant scene being played out before his eyes.

  The children went indoors long enough to consume a glass of lemonade and a fairy cake, then seeing Laura eyeing the dirt on Vicki’s dress Alfie dragged her outside again before she was made to change. In his opinion Mrs Jeffries was beautiful and very nice, but rather prim. He asked Vicki if they could explore some of the fields together and he gradually edged them towards Pawley’s tent.

  Spencer trotted into the yard on Splendour. He had been looking over his herd of cattle grazing on the common ground. He was delighted when Laura told him that Pawley had got the tractor working in perfect order, then he stayed in the kitchen with the women. Once or twice they looked at him curiously. It wasn’t like Spencer to hang about listening to girl talk. He usually made an excuse and disappeared into the yard. He was on his fourth mug of tea when Laura said she had some washing to bring in off the line.

  ‘You look rather pale, Celeste,’ he said, gazing down into his mug. ‘You could do with some fresh air.’

  Celeste glared at him indignantly. ‘I was rather thinking that I looked like I was blooming. I’ll come with you, Laura, and leave Mr Uncomplimentary to himself.’ Outside, she asked Laura, ‘What’s up with him?’

  ‘I haven’t got a clue,’ Laura replied.

  The moment they had left the kitchen, Spencer sprang up and peeped out of a window until he saw they were safely in the garden. Then he picked up Celeste’s handbag and searched inside it.

  As the children roamed through the fields, Alfie
opened the gates – one of them being a drawbridge to a sorceror’s castle, another to a wicked ogre’s – and was careful to close them again properly when Vicki explained importantly that he must, in case livestock was in the fields.

  Other times they scrambled over hedges – dangerously high cliffs – Alfie helping Vicki up and down although she could easily do it on her own. ‘The trouble with girls,’ he said scathingly, ‘is you wear dresses. You should have got your mother to let you wear trousers or shorts.’ Vicki’s dress was liberally covered in grass stains and a bramble had pulled down the hem. ‘Watch out for that dragon!’ Vicki saw a slowworm slink away under a stone.

  They jumped down into the top field where a narrow stream tinkled its way down and where Pawley had pitched his tent. It was a small white affair, gone a dirty grey with age and exposure, but it looked strong and sturdy. A fireplace was set up outside and some interesting-looking things lay about the vicinity.

  ‘Right, let’s go and have a look in the tent,’ Alfie said, scanning it from the bottom of the field as though he was looking through binoculars.

  ‘No, it wouldn’t be right, it’s Pawley’s home.’ Vicki wasn’t frightened of Pawley any more but she was concerned about trespassing in his home.

  ‘Don’t be a sissy!’ Alfie said scornfully. ‘We won’t take anything from it, just have a quick look inside it. We’ll pretend it’s an enemy camp.’

  Alfie pulled off his shoes and socks, stuffed the socks inside his shoes, tied the shoelaces together and slung the pair round his neck. ‘Come on, we’ll wade upstream but we’ll have to be very careful if we don’t want our blocks shot off.’

  Not wanting to be a sissy, Vicki took off her sandals and thought Alfie most gallant when he stuffed them in his pockets for her. He led the way, treading over the shifting stones on the bed of the stream. Vicki followed, crouched low like her leader. Suddenly Alfie stuck out his arm and pulled her down over the stream’s edge. Taken by surprise, Vicki screamed and he clapped his dirty wet hand over her mouth.

  ‘Shush! Do you want to get us killed?’

  Wrenching his hand away she yelped, ‘What did you do that for?’

  He was looking through his ‘binoculars’. ‘I thought I saw Goering. He gets around everywhere, you know.’

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Vicki asked, entering the spirit of the game.

  ‘He was pointing a machine-gun at us. Come on, I think it’s safe to go now.’ Alfie stood up straight and one of Vicki’s sandals fell out of his pocket into the stream.

  ‘Oh, Alfie, my mummy will be cross with me.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be so soft,’ he retorted unrepentantly, shaking water out of the sandal and stuffing it back in his pocket.

  Vicki screamed a moment later when he smeared a handful of black mud over her face.

  ‘Shut up, it’s for camouflage,’ he explained before she could protest. ‘We’ve got to ’ave camouflage. And before you grumble about your mother, we can wash it off before we go back for tea.’

  With black faces, necks and arms, the ‘Allied forces’ crept up courageously on Goering’s camp. The leader had declared his plan. They would follow the stream all the way up to the top of the field then crawl along at the bottom of the stone wall on their bellies and launch their attack at the back of the camp.

  A wide ditch ran the entire length of the wall. In one place there was a pool of clear, still water surrounded by purple moor grass and the leader was temporarily distracted from the assault.

  ‘What have you stopped for?’ Vicki whispered, getting up from her belly.

  ‘There’s heaps of water bugs and plankton in here, and look, baby frogs.’

  The children lay still and watched the wildlife and tadpoles swimming about. Alfie stirred the weeds and water boatmen, recognisable by their habit of swimming upside down, used their long spread-out legs to swim about rapidly.

  ‘Mind they don’t bite you,’ Vicki said. ‘My Uncle Ince got bitten by one once and he said it was very painful.’

  ‘I know,’ Alfie spouted; there was nothing this little girl could tell him he didn’t already know. ‘After all, ’tis the poison they use to paralyse and kill their victims with. See that? That’s a leatherjacket, the larva of a daddy-longlegs.’

  Vicki brushed a fly away from her face and, not to be outdone, pointed at the water. ‘And that silvery creature is a water spider.’

  Alfie looked at her with pursed lips. Then he did another of his sudden stunts and she found herself pushed down flat on her back. ‘Keep your head down. There’s a bandit at three o’clock.’

  Knowing the jargon used when an enemy bomber was spotted during the war, Vicki looked up. There was no aeroplane in sight in the white-clouded blue sky, but just over her head a creature with a bright blue segment on its abdomen flew gracefully past. Her father had once said its blue matched the colour of her eyes. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she said.

  ‘It’s only a dragonfly,’ Alfie returned sharply, greatly irritated that his second-in-command could be so soppy.

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ Vicki stuck out her tongue, hurt by his caustic tone. ‘It’s a damselfly. Dragonflies are much bigger.’

  With a rude grunt Alfie took out his slingshot which he’d wedged in the back of his waistband. ‘Come on, we’ve got Germans to get rid of.’

  A shadow fell over them and the children scrambled to their feet. Pawley looked from one to the other. ‘Well, you two’ve got yourselves into a fine mucky mess. You’d better come with me and clean yourselves up a bit before you have your tea, which incidentally can’t be too far off.’

  Alfie was disappointed he couldn’t attack the enemy camp but he was pleased to get a lawful chance to look inside Pawley’s tent and he detected a delicious smell. ‘Mmmm, what’s cooking?’

  ‘Sausages,’ Pawley answered, leading the way to his home. ‘The missus gave them to me. I like to cook and eat out of doors.’

  ‘Got enough for us?’ Alfie cheeped.

  Vicki dug him in the back. ‘Mind your manners, Alfie.’

  Pawley couldn’t smile but he could laugh and he laughed heartily. ‘My, if you aren’t the cheekiest little toerag I’ve ever come across. You can have half a sausage each or the missus will be a touch mazed with me if you don’t eat the nice tea she’ll put on for you.’

  As the sausages sizzled and browned, Pawley showed the children his home. There was a camp bed, sleeping bag and two blankets. Lamps were strung up safely and a dark suit and a couple of shirts hung from coathangers. A small table with foldaway legs held some of Pawley’s few possessions. He showed them the photograph of his parents and although he admitted to having service medals he refused to show them to them.

  The half-sausage they were allowed was delicious and ravenously consumed, then Pawley suggested they ought to be getting back. They thanked him and waved goodbye from the bottom of the field.

  ‘He’s a nice man,’ Vicki declared, wondering why she had ever been afraid of Pawley.

  ‘A nice bloke,’ Alfie confirmed, rubbing a very dirty hand over his tummy at the memory of the delicious sausage. ‘You’re a lucky maid,’ he said a trifle wistfully, comparing their lives for a moment. Then he was bawling at the top of his voice, ‘Race you back!’ And he tore off like a hare.

  ‘You’re bound to win,’ Vicki puffed out, trying to keep up with him. ‘Your legs are longer than mine.’

  They were running through the paddock when Alfie tripped and went sprawling over the rough grass and thistles. When Vicki reached him she roared with laughter to see he had fallen on a heap of horse droppings. Alfie got up and picked up two handfuls of the mess.

  ‘I hate to see neat and tidy and clean little girls,’ he threatened playfully.

  Vicki ran on, screaming in fun. Alfie grabbed her and she shrieked and giggled as he ran his dirty hands up and down her arms and down the front of her dress, adding to the mess she was already in. Her hair in disarray, dress ripped and wet, every visible bit of sk
in splashed or dirty, blood here and there from scratches she’d received, Vicki thought she had never had so much fun in her life. She thought Alfie was brave and clever and told him so.

  ‘Yah,’ he muttered bashfully, wiping his hands on his trousers. ‘I’ve got brains I haven’t used yet.’

  ‘Vicki! Alfie! It’s teatime!’ Laura’s voice echoed.

  Despite their recent sustenance, the children were ravenously hungry. They raced on again, slowing down only to pick their way carefully over the cobbled yard in their bare feet.

  They entered the kitchen together and at the sight of them Spencer dropped the sugar bowl he was carrying to the table and stared at them with his mouth wide open. Laura heard the crash, witnessed sugar spraying over the lino then seeing her husband’s shocked face whirled round to view her daughter and guest. Her hands flew to her face.

  ‘Vicki! Alfie! However did you get into such a filthy state?’

  Celeste grinned mischievously from her seat at the table, much amused by Laura’s horror. ‘Well, I’m pleased to see that you two have obviously had an absolutely marvellous time.’

  Chapter 24

  That night the Tremewan Arms was packed early with villagers wanting to say goodbye to Celeste and wish her well. Even Ada Prisk climbed down off her usual moral pedestal and popped in for an hour. Bert Miller brought along his accordion and, fortified with the occasional glass of beer, stood beside the bar and played anything that was requested.

  ‘Is Joy here?’ Ada asked him darkly when he paused after a rendering of ‘Roll Out the Barrel’ to which many of the party-goers had sung along. She looked at him fiercely through the waves of cigarette and pipe smoke.

  ‘She’s about somewhere,’ Bert answered amiably, sipping his beer. ‘Over talking to Mrs Tamblyn, I believe.’

  ‘Talking to her son, more like,’ Ada muttered, peering through the crush of people. Her shrewd eyes located Joy, but although the Tamblyns were there, she was disappointed to find Joy chatting innocently to a group of women.

  Glad that Bert had not heard the old woman and eager to avoid possible trouble, Pat Penhaligon steered Ada out of the public bar and into the snug where the food tables were laid out. Ada went willingly, certain that she was being singled out for something important or confidential. Pat made a big show of asking her what she thought about the refreshments. Ada said they were all right, she supposed, and set about rearranging all the plates and trays. Pat sneaked out and left her to it.