by Anne Bennett
‘One thing about this Land Army,’ Joy said, as they started on the fence, ‘is that it’s harder work than I imagined, though the food is good and gives you energy. But it does mean we’ve had the chance to do lots of things we’ve never done before.’
‘Yeah,’ Meg agreed. ‘We would never have had these experiences without the war – and yet it seems to be wrong to feel pleased about something so horrible.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Joy said. ‘And even though some people are calling it “The Bore War”, saying nothing’s happening, we know about the ships sunk and the sailors losing their lives trying to bring food and other supplies in. Anyway, I suppose we need to get on. I’d like this finished by the time Will gets back.’
‘Don’t think you need worry too much,’ Meg said. ‘Enid said that Will might be some time, that it’s a fair distance.’
‘Well, anywhere’s a fair distance, the pace Dobbin goes at,’ Joy pointed out, and Meg, laughing, had to agree.
Enid was right. It was afternoon before Dobbin came clopping down the lane, pulling behind him a cart laden down with thick branches The girls unloaded it all before unshackling the cart and dealing with the horse, while Will ate the dinner Enid had kept back for him.
After Will had eaten, they tackled the wood together, Will chopping the branches down with an axe and the girls using a two-handled saw to turn them into manageable logs. The air was icy, with a keen, biting wind, and yet the sweat ran from them and though their hands were blistered, at the end of it, the woodshed was full.
That night Meg was writing letters to go with the Christmas cards she had bought in Penkridge the Saturday before. There were not that many of them to send: one each to her dad and Terry, her aunt Susan and Nicholas, her uncle Robert and Aunt Rosie, one to May, and an especially nice one for Stephen. She hadn’t felt right contacting her American relations, because when she wrote to tell them that her father and Doris were getting married, though nothing was said, their responses were stiff with disapproval.
Meg never felt able to write again, and though she was sorry to lose the link with her mother, she was glad in one way, because they would think it odd if she were writing that she didn’t mention the children, especially as previously her letters had been full of them and especially the cute things Ruth said and did.
That night, as they undressed Joy said. ‘One thing bothers me, if you don’t want to tell your dad what’s being going on, what the devil do you write to him about?’
‘Here,’ Meg said. ‘The sort of things we do and that.’
‘Doesn’t he find it odd that you never mention your brothers and sisters?’
‘Don’t think so. He doesn’t say so,’ Meg said. ‘He asked at first if I’d seen them, but when I said that I hadn’t that much time off, he sort of accepted it.’
‘And what do you write to lover boy about?’ Joy said with a grin.
‘If you mean Stephen, I will say that it’s none of your business,’ Meg grinned back.
‘He writes reams to you.’
Joy was right, he did. She felt she was really getting to know him well, and she was telling him some of her innermost thoughts too. But she wasn’t sharing the details with her friend. There were some things not for sharing.
It was a pleasure to go into kitchen those days in December, the spicy smells rising in the air as Enid prepared for the festive season. The cake had been made weeks before and Enid had said ruefully she couldn’t get the fruit she had put in the Christmas cake other years because it just wasn’t in the shops, so she had added lots of diced carrot for sweetness. But she had poked lots of holes on it and poured sherry over it at regular intervals. The smell of it was so pungent and alcoholic that Meg reckoned she could eat by the spoonful.
Enid’s sister, Lily, was coming for Christmas, as her evacuees had gone home, Enid told the girls as she called them in for a stir of the pudding on Christmas Eve.
Meg wasn’t surprised. ‘They must be some of the last to leave,’ she said. ‘Just lately, every Saturday in Penkridge, there seem to be fewer and fewer evacuees running about.’
‘Are Lily’s coming back after Christmas?’ Joy asked.
‘Lily thinks not,’ Enid said. ‘Really she said they all hankered after Liverpool and missed their mother and their friends and their lives really, I suppose. I’m a bit sorry they left because they helped Lily come out of her shell and be a bit more sociable. Anyway I’m glad she is here for Christmas.’
‘I’m glad, too,’ Joy said. ‘I do like her … Oh, but the smell of that cake is tantalising me.’
‘Well, the top goes on tomorrow,’ Enid said. ‘If rationing comes in it might be among the last cakes I’ll make – certainly one of the last I’ll ice. I’ll have to be careful with my sugar so had to make mock marzipan from haricot beans and ground rice, so I hope it tastes all right.’
‘Haricot beans and ground rice!’ both girls chorused, grinning.
‘Yes, and a bit of sugar and marg,’ Enid said. ‘It was a tip on Kitchen Front – you know – that comes after the eight o’clock news on the wireless. There was no marzipan to be had, not for love nor money, so it was that or nothing, I hope it doesn’t taste too bad.’
‘We can take it off if it’s awful,’ Joy said.
‘Doubt we’ll notice if it’s got icing on top as well,’ Meg said.
‘Well that’s it, you see,’ Enid said. ‘I haven’t got enough sugar for proper royal icing. I’ll just put a skimmed layer over.’
‘Stop talking about the icing,’ Joy said. ‘It’s the cake that matters.’
Enid laughed. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Will is waiting on you and you have the pudding well stirred anyway. Just make sure you have made your wishes.’
Meg made her wish, and both Joy and Enid knew what she would wish for. For all the good it will do, Meg thought to herself as she made her way to the byre. I am no longer a child believing in miracles.
Despite the fact that there would still be cows to milk on Christmas Day, they all elected to go to Midnight Mass, even Joy. There had been a flurry of snow early on, but it was dry when they climbed into Will’s cart, the stars twinkling in the inky black sky, though there was no moon visible. It was incredibly cold, and Meg and Joy were glad of their thick overcoats, which kept the life in them on the short journey to Penkridge.
Meg loved Midnight Mass at Christmas. It always seemed such a marvellous, almost magical time. As they approached the church porch, she heard the organist playing carols softly, the age-old traditional tunes that had been sung for generations. And then she opened the door and stepped into the church. Dark green holly with its bright red berries, interlaced with trailing ivy, festooned the walls. Two large vases filled with white Christmas roses stood either side of the altar, and to one side of them was the crib surrounded by winter primroses; the other side of them stood the large tree with the star on top, bedecked with candles.
Even the priest looked impressive, his white satin vestments decorated with gold embroidery, which sparkled in the light of the flickering candles. He was attended by four small boys dressed in red under sparkling white surplices.
Then the peace that had begun to steal over Meg fled instantly as, just two rows in front of her, she saw Kate Carmichael and Richard Flatterly. Meg turned and would have moved to another pew, but everyone had followed her in and they wouldn’t be able to leave without making a commotion, so she knew she had to stay put.
However, instead of attending to the Mass, she again went over every word that Flatterly had said to her in Birmingham. She knew he had effectively blackened her name with Kate, and she had felt so bitterly ashamed of what she must think of her that she had avoided her every Sunday since. On the rare occasion they had come close to one another, Kate had made it abundantly clear she wanted no friendship with Meg, and if she acknowledged her at all it was with just a slight incline of the head.
This had been incredibly hurtful to Meg at first, and she couldn�
�t understand why Kate could believe such lies from Flatterly so easily. But though he made her skin crawl, she imagined he could be very persuasive if he chose; Kate would also want to believe him because she cared for him – Meg noted that they held hands when they stood up.
She had almost decided not to take communion to avoid passing them when she returned to her seat, but she knew not to take communion on Christmas Day would totally shock Will and Enid and she had no desire to do that. And so she filed out with the others. Though she kept her head lowered as she returned to her seat, she felt Richard’s eyes boring into her.
She was glad when the Mass was over and that Will – aware of the little time they’d have in bed – didn’t linger. Dobbin clopped his way through the still night at quite a brisk pace for him.
‘I think the cold’s getting to Dobbin too,’ Enid said.
‘Yeah,’ Will agreed. ‘Probably fantasising about a relatively warm stable and a feed of hay.’
‘Don’t blame him,’ Joy laughed. ‘But I’ll pass on the hay, if you don’t mind. I’d rather have some of that delicious-looking broth I saw Enid making today.’
‘Me too,’ Meg put in.
‘Put new heart into you, that will,’ Enid said. ‘I knew we would all be hungry, not eating before – and you had nothing either, Joy.’
Joy shrugged. ‘Seemed mean of me to eat when you couldn’t.’
‘Well, we’ll soon have something inside us,’ Enid said. ‘It’s just to heat up. I usually do something like this if we go to Midnight Mass. A body needs something that sticks to the ribs in this weather, I think.’
Meg was hungry – starving, in fact – and so was Joy, but neither girl was used to late nights any more and Meg felt almost too tired to eat, though even the smell of the broth put in front of her was so flavoursome it made her feel almost light-headed.
‘Force yourself,’ Will said, seeing Meg’s eyes closing in spite of herself. ‘You’ll not sleep well on an empty stomach and I don’t want you passing out on the floor of the byre in the morning.’
Meg knew what Will said made sense and she half roused herself. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she said.
‘And so will I,’ Joy said. ‘Just at the moment, though, I feel I could sleep on a clothes line.’
Even Meg slept too deeply that night to dream, but still the alarm seemed to go off remarkably early and she stumbled around the room getting dressed, disorientated and clumsy. The two weary girls met Will in the byre. He looked as fit as a fiddle and he laughed, but gently, at the girls’ tired faces.
‘Doesn’t it bother you what time you go to bed?’ Meg asked him.
‘Not once in a while it doesn’t,’ Will said. ‘I have been doing this for so long now that my body clock wakes me up the same time whatever hour I go to bed. ’Course, wouldn’t like to do it for a long time or anything. Best thing is to get these cows sorted and back in the fields and the byre cleaned as quick as we can because breakfast will revive your spirits.’
After breakfast, as Will drove the horse and cart into Penkridge to fetch Lily, the girls released the dogs from the barn and fed them, let out the chickens and scattered corn for them while they collected the eggs, encouraged the sow and piglets into their enclosure and poured swill into the shallow bath. When they eventually returned to the house, Enid had tidied away all the dishes from breakfast and was well on with preparing the Christmas dinner.
She refused all offers of help, saying she thought the girls had done enough, and so they went up to their room to fetch the presents they had bought. As Will was having his after-dinner smoke using a rackety old pipe that was falling to pieces, they’d bought him a new one. And then Enid said how he loved a cigar at Christmas, so they’d bought him a box of those too, and chocolates and a fluffy blue cardigan for Enid. They bought chocolates for Lily, too, not wanting to leave her out, but not knowing her well enough to get her something more personal.
Will, Enid and Lily were all stunned by the girls’ generosity, though both Will and Enid said they shouldn’t have spent their hard-earned money.
‘You let us keep a goodly portion of what you give us in wages,’ Meg said. ‘More than most land girls are getting – and you treat us like one of the family.’
‘Yeah,’ Joy said. ‘This is just a mark of our appreciation.’
‘What considerate girls you are,’ Lily said. ‘Must say, I didn’t know if it was that good an idea when Will said he’d applied for Land Army girls, but I’ve been proved wrong.’
‘Oh, most of the village thought that way at first,’ Enid said. ‘And maybe some were a bit rough and ready, but from what I hear they are all prepared to work, and that’s what it all boils down to in the end – not the way they speak, or their table manners.’
‘You’re right, of course.’ Lily said. ‘I mean, look at the children I had, that I had to be nearly shamed into taking in, for all I had the room, and I got real fond of them, even the mischievous boys. I’m sure I would have made some hand of them if I’d had them longer.’
‘You think they have gone for good, then?’
Lily nodded. ‘Pretty certain they won’t be back. It’s a bit of a pointless exercise coming to places of safety like Penkridge for a few months when it was as safe in their own home towns. And then the children and the mothers get fed up being separated so the children go back home. But I bet the bombs are going to fall on the cities in the end.’
‘Well, the way I see it is, they have to,’ Will said. ‘We are at war with a barbaric nation. I don’t think they’ve learned anything from the last lot, and we know their capabilities in the air. Don’t think we’re going to get away scot-free.’
‘I don’t either,’ Joy said. ‘But why have they done nothing yet?’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Will. ‘I think the bombs will start falling soon enough.’
‘But today is Christmas Day,’ Enid said. ‘So for this one day, no more talk of war.’ And then turning to the girls she announced, ‘I have got a wee present each for you two as well.’
Neither girls had expected that, and they went bright pink when Enid presented them with sheepskin slippers. ‘Noticed you didn’t have any,’ she said. ‘And these stone-flagged floors are too cold just for stockinged feet.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ Meg said. ‘We didn’t really go a bundle on slippers at home, except for the younger ones, because there never seemed the money, but my feet have often felt cold here when I have taken my boots off, so I’m very grateful.’
‘So am I,’ Joy said. ‘And they are by far and away the nicest slippers I have ever had.’
‘I have something for you too,’ Will said gruffly, and he handed each girl an envelope inside which was a five-pound note. He lifted his hand to still their protests. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Each week we pay you less than the boys because that was the wage I was told to give you, and also, out of that you have to pay something for your keep, so this money is by way of a little bonus.’
‘But it’s too much,’ Meg protested.
‘Not at all,’ said Will. ‘You said you gave us things as a mark of appreciation; well, this is to show how much you are appreciated.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Joy said. ‘I mean, thank you, of course, but …’
Meg could say nothing, not without crying; Enid saw her eyes glittering with tears and said with mock severity, ‘I shall know what to say if you don’t take your places at the table this minute. I have a dinner spoiling.’
They sat not far from a range piled high with logs the girls had sawn. The bird Will was carving was one that had been running around the yard the day before; along with it they ate potatoes and the swede and carrots that they had lifted from the ground. Even the flagon of cider that Will brought in from the barn was made from the apples they had picked, and Enid produced what was left in the sherry bottle after dousing the cake, in case they would prefer it. Meg wasn’t keen on the sherry, though she drank the small glass Enid poured, feeling
it was impolite to refuse, and then refilled her glass with water from the jug at the table – or Adam’s ale, as Will called it.
The meal was delicious and they all did justice to it. Afterwards there was the pudding they had stirred, for which Enid had made white sauce.
‘Oh, that was just luscious,’ Joy said as she finished the pudding, ‘and I am ever so full now.’
‘And me,’ Meg said. ‘Point was, I didn’t think I wanted any pudding at all, and yet when you brought it out steaming to the table, my mouth started to water.’
‘Enid is a very good cook,’ Lily said. ‘She was always better than me.’
‘I wasn’t, Lily,’ Enid protested. ‘I just had more practice, that’s all.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s it really,’ Lily said. ‘I didn’t usually bother much for myself but I had to get a grip on myself when I had youngsters to feed.’
‘Will you miss them if they don’t come back?’
‘D’you know, I think I will,’ Lily said. ‘But cooking for them made me appreciate good food and that was a truly delicious meal, Enid.’
‘It was indeed,’ Will said. ‘Thank you, Enid. Now if you ladies don’t mind, I would like to sit by the range and smoke one of my new cigars.’
No one had any objections, and as Will settled himself, the woman began tidying away. By the time it was all done, washed, dried, put away, and the kitchen to rights again, Will was fast asleep. Meg wasn’t surprised and confessed she was fair jiggered herself. ‘Midnight Mass is lovely,’ she said. ‘But when you have to get up early to milk cows or whatever, it makes a body very tired on Christmas Day, especially if you are not used to keeping late hours.’
‘Well, I wasn’t at Midnight Mass,’ Lily said. ‘And had a lie-in till I went to Mass at nine, so why don’t you three sit and rest yourselves now and I’ll make us a cup of tea?’
‘Just the job,’ said Enid, sitting down at the table with a sigh of relief. ‘You may as well cut into the cake when you are at it.’