A Spoonful of Sugar

by Brenda Ashford

  Her face flickered with concern.

  “A date with Henry the farmhand?” She frowned. “You will be careful, won’t you?”

  But I wasn’t listening. I was too busy trying to put on my only pair of nylon stockings without laddering them. By the time I was ready in a pretty red dress, I felt quite the catch.

  Henry whistled when he came to collect me. “Brenda, you look beautiful,” he said.

  Then we were off, whizzing through the countryside on the local bus.

  When you’re having so much fun, an hour can feel like a minute.

  It was nothing fancy. Just a scone, jam, and a cup of tea, but by the end my head was whirling and my mind was racing. Henry had such a way with words and made me feel like the most interesting person alive.

  He had big ambitions for his father’s farm and wanted to make something of himself.

  “I’d love my own family you know, Brenda,” he said, holding my hand over the table. “I’d like to fill that farmhouse with children.”

  His eyes shone with sincerity as he stared right at me.

  It was all too much, just too much. Unspeakable joy flooded through me. Little Cranford was the best place to be in the whole world right now. I felt my heart would burst with happiness.

  We hopped on the bus and held hands all the way home to Little Cranford.

  Outside Granville House we paused.

  “Well …” I said, shifting nervously.

  “Well …” Henry smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Sorry it wasn’t dinner. When the war’s over I’ll take you out to a proper fancy restaurant.”

  Suddenly, he edged closer and I felt a hot flush snake up my chest.

  “How does the old proverb go? Enough is as good as a feast,” I blustered. “I …”

  But then I found I couldn’t speak. Henry’s lips were on mine, his hands tenderly clutching my face.

  Oh my …

  I kept my eyes squeezed shut the whole while, for fear that if I opened them I might somehow break this magic spell. Henry tasted of cherry jam and smelled of autumn leaves. Never was a kiss so sweet.

  As we separated, I was aware of lots of little faces watching me from the upstairs nursery window. Noses were pressed excitedly to the glass. I smiled to myself. Little folk love it when they spot adults getting up to what they consider “naughty business.” Then another thought occurred to me. Had her ladyship seen us? And if so, what, I wondered, would she make of it? A little uneasy feeling nagged, but I pushed it to one side. What business was it of hers whom I was seeing?

  Henry and I parted with more promises to meet up soon, and I floated inside and up to my room in a delicious haze. So this was what love felt like? This was what all the fuss was about? It was a revelation.

  By coincidence my walk with the children the next morning took us by way of Henry’s father’s farm, and there was Henry, working in the fields.

  I stood and watched admiringly as he stacked hay bales onto the back of a tractor and trailer. They must have weighed a ton, but he tossed them about as if they were as light as baby lambs.

  His face broke out like a sunbeam when he saw me.

  “Think you can sneak out later?” he asked, leaning over the wooden fence that separated us.

  I felt the energy pulse between us and I couldn’t help but giggle.

  Her ladyship might not approve, but I’d had it with her interfering ways; and for the first time since I’d clung to the side of a fire escape at boarding school, my sense of adventure kicked in.

  Now was my shot at romance! Why should the girls back in Appleton have all the fun? Suddenly, I yearned for a life outside the nursery.

  Before I had a chance to change my mind, I opened my mouth.

  “Yes,” I whispered impetuously. “But where?”

  There was nowhere to go. I could hardly sneak him in the house under her ladyship’s nose, that would never do, but we couldn’t stay outside either. The nights were drawing in and it was perishing cold and dark in the fields after sundown.

  “We’ll think of something,” he said, removing a stray hair from above my eye.

  As his hand brushed my face I felt a tingle run the length of my spine.

  “Till later then,” he said, grinning.

  On the way home I puzzled over my new dilemma. I wanted to see Henry again desperately, but how? The countryside in wartime England wasn’t exactly set up for romantic liaisons, and I really didn’t fancy puckering up in a soggy ditch.

  I was still deep in thought by the time we returned to Granville House.

  Mr. Worboys gave me a cheery wave when he saw me.

  “What’s up with you, Nurse Brenda?” he asked. “You look as if you have the cares of the world on your shoulders.”

  I hesitated.

  “I’ve met someone,” I said. “His name is—”

  “Henry,” he interrupted. “I knows that.”

  You couldn’t really keep anything secret in the countryside.

  “Problem is, Mr. Worboys, we’ve nowhere to meet.” I sighed. “I couldn’t bear the thought of only seeing him on my half day off. Besides, by the time we’ve got anywhere it’s time to come home again.”

  Mr. Worboys stared at me and scratched his head. He paused, as if he were about to say something he shouldn’t.

  “Well then, Nurse Brenda,” he said eventually. “Her ladyship’ll string me up if she hears this, so keep it under your hat like, but it is unlucky that you young folk have nowhere to meet.

  “Tonight I’ll leave his lordship’s Daimler unlocked and you can meet in there. Our secret, all right?”

  And with that, his lovely craggy face broke out into an enormous grin.

  I could have kissed him there and then. “Oh, thank you,” I said. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “It’s all right, Nurse Brenda.” He chuckled. “I can see as how you’re keen on him.”

  Later, when my charges were safely tucked up in their beds, there was a small knock on the back door. I scurried downstairs.

  Henry was waiting, with a twinkle in his eye.

  “His lordship’s car,” I hissed. “Follow me.”

  Click. The door was unlocked, just as promised.

  Once inside, I suddenly felt a bit scared and I realized my heart was pounding. The car smelled of leather and grown-ups. This was his lordship’s car. What if her ladyship were to throw open the garage door? She’d be in a fearful rage if she knew we were in here.

  “Relax,” said Henry confidently, making himself comfy on the backseat. “She’ll never come in here.”

  The leather seat creaked as he drew me close and we started to kiss in the dark. My legs began to tremble. Suddenly, I felt terribly out of my depth. I hoped Henry wouldn’t get the wrong impression from our tryst in his lordship’s motor. I was a virgin and I intended to stay that way for the time being.

  A live-for-the-moment attitude might have seized the rest of Britain—with people having illicit affairs left, right, and center—but I had no intention of giving my virginity up on the backseat of a Daimler.

  I didn’t know exactly how women got pregnant, but I knew the consequences of it. This may sound highly unlikely in 2013, but it really is impossible to overstate how stunningly innocent and naive I was in 1942. I’d been taught no sex education at school; my mother had never told me anything; and I was surrounded by children as innocent and naive as I. Sex was indeed something of a mystery to me, but I feared the implications of it no end.

  To have a baby out of wedlock would have caused a major scandal.

  Fortunately, Henry was the perfect gentleman and didn’t try anything. But we kissed that evening, oh how we kissed. It felt like hours. We smooched for so long I thought my lips might drop off. He kissed me with such tenderness I could have stayed in his arms all night. Nowhere felt more comfortable, safe, or warm.

  “I’m falling in love with you, Brenda Ashford,” he breathed in my ear.

  Love and longing stirred
deep inside me. I felt like a heroine in a Hollywood film.

  “I … I …”

  Just then a shrill whistle pierced the night air outside the garage doors.

  “Mr. Worboys,” I gasped, springing out of Henry’s arms. “He said he’d whistle at half past ten.”

  Feeling like Cinderella, I kissed Henry one last time and leaped out of the car.

  The next morning I could barely wipe the smile off my face. My poor lips felt bruised but my heart was alive. My joy must have been infectious as the children were as giddy as spring lambs. We played catch and ball games and even Gretel seemed to come out of her shell and joined in.

  While I played childish games in the sunshine, I was blissfully unaware that my handsome farmhand was playing his own darker and more dangerous game. But ignorance, as they say, is bliss, and over the next six months the love between Henry and I deepened.

  He played me like a fiddle and I fell for him hook, line, and sinker.

  I wasn’t the only one taken in. Mr. Worboys, bless him, left the car unlocked for us most nights and I used every spare second to meet Henry down in the fields or on my half Sundays off. There was no Baptist church around for miles, so I didn’t even have to feel guilty about spending that time with my suitor.

  When you are in love life seems to come alive in a wonderful way, colors seem brighter, smells more vivid, the landscape more beautiful. The year 1942 would go down in history: the year I fell in love for the first time.

  Henry respected me as well as loved me, I could tell. He never put a scrap of pressure on me in the back of the Daimler and he even invited me to his farm for Sunday afternoon tea with his parents.

  Sunday afternoon tea was a big deal for farming folk. They’d got their best china out and even laid the table with a clean white tablecloth. Plates groaned with homemade drop scones and thick slabs of bread with beef dripping. Tea was freshly brewed and poured from an enormous brown pot. The kitchen was flooded with warmth, light, and the smell of baking.

  Conversation mainly centered around the farm and when this “old” war would come to an end.

  But I didn’t care. Henry and I exchanged secret smiles over the scones. He was including me in his family, which could only mean one thing.

  My goodness, I was nervous. So scared in fact I’m sure my teacup rattled every time I picked it up. My tummy was churning, too, so I could barely eat a nibble of my cake. His parents were lovely people though, and when we left we made promises to meet again soon.

  In turn, on my next weekend off, I took Henry home.

  My parents had moved by now from Bookham to north of the Thames to St. Albans in Hertfordshire.

  Mother was in a frenzy of excitement.

  “Brenda’s bringing home a gentleman to meet the family.” She’d smiled when I told her.

  But when Henry met her and Father, a funny thing happened.

  They never said as much, as they are far too polite, but I could tell they didn’t like him. Just subtle little things that Henry would never have picked up on, but something told me they didn’t warm to him.

  When Henry talked confidently of his ambitions for the future, Father’s smile never quite reached his eyes and Mother was polite, too polite.

  I ignored their cool reserve though; they would warm to him eventually. Henry was the best thing since sliced bread as far as I was concerned.

  Back in Little Cranford, news of our romance had spread on the bush telegraph.

  I was just folding the children’s clothes away in their chest of drawers one morning when Mrs. Worboys came in. I could tell by the way her mouth was twitching that she had something to say.

  “I’ve been speaking to her ladyship, Brenda,” she began.

  My heart sank.

  “S-she, that is to say, we,” she stuttered. “We’re worried about you. You are being, well, careful aren’t you? Her ladyship doesn’t really approve of your relationship.”

  I bristled. How dare she? She wasn’t to know that Henry and I hadn’t consummated our relationship and I was as pure as the driven snow, but in any case, what business of hers was it who I was seeing or what I was doing? I wasn’t her servant.

  “You both must think me very naive,” I snapped. “Of course I am careful.”

  “I’m sure, Brenda,” she soothed. “It’s just that you know nothing of life.”

  She was right, but I wasn’t about to tell her that when it came to sex and birth control, I did indeed know nothing. As I said, we didn’t learn about the birds and the bees at school and Mother taught me virtually nothing. The only time I remember her broaching the subject of sex was when she sat me down to tell me that she used to douche with hot water as a contraceptive. The pill wouldn’t be available for nearly another twenty years, so back then, that was all that was really available to her.

  But even during this conversation, I still didn’t really manage to understand anything about what really went on. I had a vague sense that babies came about as the result of some sort of physical intimacy, and I knew that such a thing was permissible only within marriage—I had, after all, met plenty of illegitimate babies and their poor mothers. But I was extremely innocent. I supposed her ladyship had guessed as much.

  After that the tension in the nursery grew.

  I made a point of being as professional as they come, I was a Norland nurse, after all; but when she came into the room, the air between us was icy and the conversation stilted. I suppose she must have resented her lack of control over me. I wasn’t one of her minions she could order about at will.

  But despite the oppressive influence of her ladyship, this was an exciting time. I adored my charges, I was in love, and Britain was an exciting place to be.

  In May 1943 I took stock of my life. I had been in Little Cranford for fourteen months now and I was starting to get itchy feet. I loved my charges and Henry dearly, but life under the scrutiny of her ladyship was exhausting. I didn’t want to end up like poor old Mr. Webb, a whipping boy for an elderly aristocrat who couldn’t let the ways of the old world go.

  The evacuees were settled and happy now. My work here was done. There were children who needed me more elsewhere and adventures just waiting to be had.

  I confided in Henry on my next half day off.

  “You must go,” he urged. “We will be together when this war has ended.”

  He smiled and pulled me into his arms.

  As I nestled into his jumper I felt a pang of regret. He was so caring, so thoughtful. Was I doing the right thing?

  “Besides,” he added, “you can come back and visit, can’t you.”

  He was right. It wasn’t the end of us. Just me and her ladyship.

  Once I’d made the decision, I felt euphoric. I told her ladyship at the earliest opportunity in her quarters.

  “I very much appreciate the opportunity, but it is time for me to move on,” I said as politely as I could. “I’ve heard a day nursery near my parents’ house needs help, so I shall be joining them.”

  Her slate-gray eyes narrowed as she stared at me long and hard without moving a muscle.

  Outside I could hear the dailies scurrying about, polishing the floors and bagging up the laundry. They lived in fear of a dressing-down from her and doubtless would be moving as fast as they could in case she opened the door.

  Well, you can’t intimidate me now. I’m not your servant.

  “As you will, Nurse Ashford,” she said finally.

  Walking out of her room I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

  I was free.

  It was sad saying good-bye to my charges and dear old Mr. Worboys, but as ever I resolved to look forward not back.

  “Place won’t be the same without you,” Mr. Worboys said with a smile as he drove me to the station one last time. “No more assignations in the back of the Daimler. Right boring it’ll be,” he grumbled. “The little ’un’s will miss you, too.”

  “Thank you,” I said, planting a gentle
kiss on his cheek. “I’ll never forget your kindness.”

  Back at home I missed Henry desperately and, as I had a little break before starting at my next job, I returned by train shortly after to see him.

  We had arranged that I would stay with Susan in her spare room, but Henry would collect me from the station.

  I simply could not wait to see him. We could hold hands in the street and not feel like we were having to sneak about behind her ladyship’s back.

  Alighting from the train I nervously played with my hair as I waited for Henry’s old farm truck to come rattling round the corner.

  I smiled as I imagined the sweet kiss he would give me and his cocksure smile. Perhaps we could even go to the village hop again if it were on.

  I pulled my coat around me and checked my watch. Strange. He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. He must have been caught up with some business on the farm. No matter. I’d walk to Susan’s. The fresh air would do me good.

  By the time I reached her cottage, my cheeks must have been glowing as red as an apple.

  “Let me in, then,” I puffed, as Susan opened the door. “It’s perishing out here and I’ve had to walk from the station. Henry must have been delayed.”

  As soon as I saw her face, I knew something was wrong. She was wearing that same angst-ridden expression Mother had the day she told me little Benjy had been given away for adoption.

  Oh no. Please not more bad news.

  “Sit down, Brenda,” she said softly, pulling up a chair by the fire.

  Without taking off my coat I sat down heavily and pulled it round me as if for protection.

  “Is he all right?” I blurted. “Has he been called up? Has something happened?”

  “He’s fine, Brenda,” she said. “It’s nothing like that.”

  Poor Susan. Her gentle, soft face was stricken. Whatever the news was, she didn’t want to be the one to break it.

  “It’s just that, well, there’s no easy way to say this. He’s been cheating on you.”

  I froze.

  “What do you mean?” I gasped.

  “He’s been seeing a girl two villages along,” she said sadly. “I’m so sorry, Brenda. I know how you felt for him.”