‘We’ve taken a bashing, and now London. When will it end? I just want my life back,’ Susie said.
‘I’ll telephone Mummy later. She’s got family on the outside of the city. We have work to do until then, and I’m ready for a cuppa,’ Dottie said and filled the kettle. Placing it on the stove, she turned to Elenor.
‘I’ll dig a ditch to run off from the top pasture. When the rain comes it will flood the bottom plots. If we dig out it won’t be such a deluge.’
Elenor looked at her and had so much admiration for the girl with such a privileged background. She had no airs or graces and her ideas were always actioned by Dottie herself. She doubted Dottie knew what the word shirk meant. All three looked forward to the arrival of another girl from the Land Army due that month, but for now the news of heavy bombing and deaths in London occupied their thoughts.
She stretched and yawned. Planes had disturbed their sleep and they’d sat inside the shelter. It was cramped now all three of them used it, and Elenor had ordered an Anderson one to be set up beside the chicken coop.
It took two days to dig out Dottie’s ditch and she proved to be a hard taskmaster. Elenor had handed over the project to Dottie and bore the blisters to prove she’d done her bit. Each day the news reported more about the enemy targeting the country, and she found it hard to find cheer in daily duties, but Dottie’s enthusiasm chivvied her along. The girl never showed signs of wear and tear, nor did she let the war dampen her love of life.
A tap on the parlour window one morning distracted her from her book-keeping. Elenor opened the window to Susie’s uncle.
‘Telegram. And one from the Ag ministry. Sorry,’ he said.
‘Thanks Jim.’
‘Hope the news isn’t too dreadful.’
‘At least the telegram is from you and not the lad with the “we regret to inform” ones,’ Elenor said. ‘This one from the agricultural lot will be worse. More rules and regs, for sure.’
Opening the buff envelope Elenor read the few words from Victoria.
George killed. London. No funeral to attend. Rose coping well. Will write soon. Victoria.
Shocked, Elenor read the words again. She’d often wished George out of her life but never dead. Poor Victoria. Poor Rose.
‘Well, if that’s the good news …’ Elenor muttered as she tore open the brown envelope. She was relieved to see it was notification telling her that the second Land Army girl would not join them until the New Year. However, Dorothy Saunders would remain at Tre Lodhen indefinitely and the department would review the situation in January.
‘Pah, she’s ten girls rolled into one. You’d have to fight me for my Dottie,’ Elenor said out loud and Seth’s ears perked up. He lifted one eye.
‘And you can go back to sleep,’ she snapped at him.
Elenor scribbled a note alongside the telegram on the kitchen table informing Susie she’d gone to call Victoria and offer her condolences. Ruffling Seth’s ears Elenor felt mean for snapping at him.
‘Sorry lad. It’s not your fault.’
The moment she pulled on her coat, Seth jumped and yelped his way around the kitchen.
‘Calm down, you can come, but no pulling me off my bike.’
The peddling down to the village took longer than normal. Seth had a tendency to pull to the hedge each time he heard a rustle. Elenor let him off the lead for a short run and once bored with chasing the bike, he chased a rabbit. By the time she’d reached the telephone box she’d decided he was best left on the farm and to never put herself through the trauma again. She tied him to the bicycle frame and left him to battle out his escape while she rang Coventry.
Agnes answered, and Elenor could hear music in the background.
‘Is that Rose playing, Agnes?’
‘Yes, her mother has told her to play it every day in her father’s memory. It’s bloomin’ morbid I can tell you.’
Elenor tutted her disapproval.
‘Is Victoria there, Agnes?’
‘She’s not back until tomorrow. Muttered something about family calling and left first thing.’
‘Again? Is she ever home? Agnes, is she coping? Rose is not suffering too much?’ Elenor asked.
Distracted by the dog barking outside, Elenor missed something Agnes said.
‘Sorry, repeat that.’
‘The child is happier when she’s alone with her music. Can’t say I blame her, that Victoria is a cold fish.’
‘Right, yes, well I am sure under the circumstances, Agnes,’ Elenor said.
She had heard the undertone of disapproval in Agnes’ voice, and her concerns for Rose deepened.
‘Tell Victoria when she’s home that I’m going to come back for Rose’s birthday in November as a surprise. I’ll ring again next week. Thank you for helping, Agnes, it is appreciated.’
The last few notes of a piano tune tinkled out as Agnes replaced the handset. Rose spent too many days alone with Agnes, and Elenor needed to speak about it to Victoria.
Seth expressed his joy that she’d joined him once again, and she untied him from the frame. With one sharp tug he managed to release himself from her grip and headed off in the wrong direction.
‘Come back you rascal. Seth!’
Elenor peddled as fast as she could along the bumpy lane. She could hear Seth barking in the distance accompanied by several male voices. A soldier marched ahead of a group of men flanked by more soldiers either side and at the rear. Seth wove his way amongst their marching legs and one man gave him a swift kick with his boot and the dog yelped.
‘Hey, there’s no need to kick him.’ Elenor dismounted and rushed to Seth whining in the ditch.
‘Apologies ma’am. They’ve got no manners.’ The soldier at the rear marched by and called out his apology. Elenor watched them head the way she’d just ridden.
‘Well, Seth. You managed to upset a group of absconders by the looks of things and got a shock for your efforts. Maybe now you’ll stay to heel.’
Not wanting to risk him running after the men again, she tied him to the handlebars and wheeled the bike home. When she opened her gate, she was about to release him when one of her men finishing for the day walked towards her.
‘You seen them cheeky beggars? Marched right over the top field towards White Cross. Good job I haven’t turned it over yet.’ He pointed to the trail of men she’d encountered.
‘Who, Jack? The soldiers?’
‘Yeah, them and their prisoners. Germans.’
Elenor forgave him for his indelicate spit on the ground.
‘Prisoners of war already? Near Summercourt, how worrying.’
‘You’ll be safe, Miss. They are well secured. Only out to help dig a ditch at the bottom of the village. Making them work for their keep while our lads fight for us.’
‘Seth here tried to take the shoe from one of them. I thought they were ours. Scared runaways,’ she said.
Jack bent down and stroked Seth’s back.
‘Well done lad. Next time take a chunk for my Jimmy.’
Elenor pulled her lips tight. The man had lost his son at the same time James and Walter had been killed.
She touched his shoulder, words were unnecessary. They walked their separate ways, and Elenor had no doubt they both carried the same thought. Roll on the end of the war. She was due to turn twenty at the end of the month, and some days wondered she whether her mind and body realised she was still a young woman.
Chapter 32
‘I’m sorry but keeping quiet about your birthday has annoyed me,’ Susie said as she stood with her hands on her hips. ‘Goodness knows how many more any of us will ever have, and you want to hush up the ones you can have?’
Ignoring her friend’s rant, Elenor continued to pat the butter into equal slabs. Susie had started her barrage of ticking off when her uncle had dropped off the post. A late card from Rose had arrived and without thinking, Elenor stood it on the mantelpiece.
‘I am busy and don’t celebrate birthdays, Sus
ie. It was last week and is now in the past.’
‘But it is …’
Elenor put her finger to her lips and leaned over to Susie.
‘Shhh. No more.’
‘But you are not twenty every day of the week,’ Susie said, her words rushed before Elenor could shush her again.
‘I am. Every day for another year,’ Elenor said and went back to the butter.
‘Oh, very clever.’
‘Who’s clever?’ Dottie said with a yawn as she walked into the kitchen.
‘Did you know it was Elenor’s birthday last week?’ Susie demanded.
‘Tea?’ said Elenor to Dottie and held out the teapot.
‘Belated wishes,’ Dottie said and smothered another yawn before pouring herself a drink from the pot.
‘Belated wishes? Is that all you can say? The woman was twenty and told no one,’ Susie said, her voice raised a notch louder.
‘Shh, my head hurts. How much crab-apple cider did you give me last night?’ Dottie said and looked accusingly at Elenor.
‘Half a glass. You poured the rest,’ Elenor said and laughed. ‘It helped you sleep, didn’t it?’
‘Yes, yes. You proved a point. I can’t stay awake after a drink.’
‘Every time you have more than a quarter of a glass you snore for England,’ Elenor said.
Dottie gave a playful scoff and put her hands to her head. ‘Ouch. Still, it was a good drop of cider.’
Susie stomped around the room.
‘I need a brandy with you two as housemates. Well, don’t say I didn’t try and give you a happy birthday,’ she said and stared at the other two who now sat watching her over the lips of their teacups.
‘Finished?’ Elenor asked. ‘We didn’t forget yours, so that’s the most important thing. Can we please move onto something more proactive, such as who is going to drive the tractor now it is fixed?’
Dottie jumped from her seat and knocked her cup flying across the table.
‘Sorry. Sorry,’ she said as she grabbed a cloth and mopped up the spillage. ‘It’s fixed?’
‘Yippee dee,’ said Susie with sarcasm.
‘All done. Ron, the soldier from the POW camp, worked on it on his day off. Trundles around a treat. Plough is cleaned and fixed. Providing the weather is on our side, we will get another field turned over ready for the fertiliser. Next year’s harvest will be easier and cheaper,’ Elenor said.
‘Do I exist? Am I in the room?’ Susie said and waved her arms around like a bird.
Elenor made a great play of looking around.
‘Did somebody speak?’
The instant the words fell from her mouth she knew what would follow. True to her style, Dottie hee-hawed her two-toned bray, and both Elenor and Susie burst out laughing.
‘Is it really only six-thirty?’ Susie said as she looked to the clock on the mantle.
‘Yes. And I’ve had to listen to you since five. Your punishment is when you’ve finished around here, at eight o’clock you can take the butter into the village, and fetch back flour and sugar. Use my ration book. I’ll let you make me a birthday cake. Happy? Oh, and post a letter for me, please,’ Elenor said. ‘I’ll bring it through when I’ve written it.’
‘It’s something, I suppose,’ Susie said.
‘Oh, Susie, don’t sulk. Come and ride on the tractor later,’ Dottie said.
‘With you at the wheel? Thanks, I’ll pass.’
Elenor left the pair throwing each other cheerful banter. Each morning was much brighter with them in her home.
At the desk she looked out over the hills as she composed her words. A soft drizzle fell from a scattering of clouds. She watched them roll by as she made up her mind whether to write the letter she’d composed inside her head during breakfast. She’d decided to write to Jackson’s grandfather. His address was on the letters to George, and she doubted Victoria would have informed him of George’s death. She also needed to face the past. There were days when it slid into her world without notice and caught her unawares. Today she wanted to take a step forward with her connection with Jackson’s grandfather. His kindness shown to her had given her courage and once again she’d draw on that courage with him in mind.
Miss Elenor Ruth Cardew,
Tre Lodhen,
Summercourt,
Cornwall,
England.
7th October 1940
Dear Squadron Leader Fleming,
I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health. A lot has happened since we last met, and sadly, one of those is the death of your pen-friend George Sherbourne.
I am reassured both his wife Victoria, and daughter Rose, are well and coping with the sad news. As I understand it, he was caught in the London Blitz. I will return to see them in late November, for Rose’s birthday. They will remain in the Coventry house until Victoria decides otherwise, due to the fact I no longer live there as you will notice from my address on this letter.
My brothers were killed abroad, and I am now the sole survivor of my family and have inherited the farm. My brothers left it in a dreadful state. My life is different to the new one I’d formed in Coventry. A special place in my heart is set for that city, and I can still recall the day we entered the department store together, but I can never recall it without a giggle or a smile.
It is time for me to start my busy day as Farmer Cardew and don my country bumpkin clothing. No selecting fine clothes for me nowadays.
Food rationing is hard for many, but we are blessed here on the farm. I’ve cultivated two acres of apple and pear trees and four acres of various crops. Flax and wheat yields have increased since I took over, something of which I am rather proud. Nothing is wasted. The pigs have never been happier. We had a good feast on strawberries, but sadly, they only last a couple of weeks. I have strict regulations to follow and pride myself in helping to keep people fed. My workforce is mainly made up of women, but we gathered the harvest well enough. Sadly, we’ve experienced heavy bombing here too, and several farms have experienced hayrick fires which spread to precious crops. I live in fear of such an event here on my home, but to date, am one of the lucky ones. Enough about me. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
My very best wishes,
E R Cardew.
Elenor licked the envelope and pondered over sending the letter. Finally, convinced Victoria would not have written to him she handed the letter to Susie before she changed her mind.
‘Canada?’ Susie said looking at the address.
‘Yes, it is a friend of the family. I realised he might not have heard about George – they were pen-pals. Time to head out. Ready Dottie? See you teatime, Susie,’ Elenor called out before closing the door to start another day of land clearing.
‘… and that’s how I came to understand the study of …’ Elenor stopped talking to Dottie when she pushed open the back door and saw Susie, her mother, Tom and the rest of the staff waving and smiling at her.
‘Surprise!’
‘What is going on?’ Elenor said and looked back at Dottie.
‘No point in asking me, but I do see cake, so it’s nothing dreadful.’
‘It’s your birthday treat. Go and wash, change then come down to eat,’ Susie said and guided Elenor to the far end of the room by her shoulders.
‘You couldn’t resist it, could you?’ Elenor laughed.
As she washed she could hear the chink of crockery and laughter. After a hard day on the field she wanted to rest, but the kindness of her friends gave her energy to last a few more hours. She scuttled past the table which was laden with food and returned dressed in a skirt and blouse.
‘Twit twoo,’ Susie said, and the rest of the guests followed suit.
‘Stop it. I just thought if you’d made an effort, so would I. What’s for tea? I’m starving.’
‘Have a cuppa on Tom. He gave over an extra spoonful for the pot. You get the first of the strong brew.’ Susie handed Elenor a cup of dark brown tea.
&n
bsp; ‘Ooh, I’d almost forgotten what colour a good cup carried. Thank you, Tom. It’s generous of you.’
‘Mum made the cake and it has a rose flavouring. The rest of us pitched in for the rest. Happy birthday!’ Susie said.
‘It is appreciated, Susie. Very kind of you all, thank you.’
‘You spoil everyone else, it is about time we returned the gift. Tuck in.’
Elenor enjoyed a plate of sandwiches, and encouraged to cut her cake, took a bite of the first slice.
‘Oh my. This is the best sponge I’ve eaten in years.’
Elenor took another bite and chewed it for a while, then licked her lips.
She turned to her friends in the room.
‘Thank you all. I didn’t think I’d enjoy celebrating a birthday again, but I have, thanks to you. Dottie, I have brandy and cider for those who’d enjoy a drop.’
‘Really? You are doing that to me after last night?’
‘Just don’t have more than a sip and we might be able to enjoy your company for a while longer.’
Laughter rang around and Elenor counted her blessings as she helped herself to another slice of cake.
The evening moved onto a singalong to Tom’s harmonica and ended with Dottie falling asleep snoring louder than the music.
Elenor and Susie tiptoed around her as they cleared up after the last of the guests had left. As Elenor climbed the step-stool to put away the best of the dishes the ground vibrated.
‘What on earth?’ she said and climbed down.
‘Jerry planes. Flying low,’ Susie said and continued to wash the dishes.
‘How can you tell they’re the enemy planes?’ Elenor asked and climbed back onto the steps.
‘They drone and whine in a different way. A bit like Dottie asleep,’ Susie said and giggled.
‘She’s a laugh a minute that one. Pass me the last,’ Elenor said and leaned down for the plates. Just as she did another group of planes threatened to vibrate her from the steps.
‘That’s it for the night – for us anyway. I hope Dottie isn’t the only one to get sleep. See you in the morning, and thanks again Susie.’
The Secret Orphan Page 19