‘I know.’ And she did. Nothing could come between them and that was the only thing that mattered, the thing she had to hang on to. Whatever happened in the future, she had Jed.
PART THREE
When Opportunity Comes Knocking
1943
Chapter Ten
‘The tide’s turning, you know.’ Mrs Burns nodded her head at Cora as she spoke. ‘You mark my words, the tide’s turning and not before time. Them blighters being beaten at Stalingrad has taught old Hitler a lesson. He’s not as invincible as he likes to make out.’
‘I hope so, oh, I hope so.’ All the news the year before had been a catalogue of disaster, but since the war’s greatest battle had come to an end the month before at the end of January and the German siege of Stalingrad had collapsed into abject defeat for the enemy, everyone’s spirits had lifted a little.
‘You think what’s happened in the last few weeks. The Red Army’s started to drive the Nazis out of the Soviet Union and they won’t stop, you know. The Russians can be as ruthless as the Germans when they want to be, history tells you that. And the Yanks are doing their bit all over. Them coming into the war was the beginning of the end for the Nazis, and Japan’ll live to regret catching a tiger by the tail. Evil so-an’-sos, them Japanese. Every bit as bad as Hitler’s crew if you ask me.’
The two of them were attending to the business of washing out everything that had been in contact with the milk now the morning milking was over. It was still early and the stars were shining outside the huge cowshed, but inside, the cows were chomping on their milking-time breakfast and the storm lanterns provided a soft light. Mrs Burns had sent Maria and Maud and the two little ones back to the farmhouse to set the table for breakfast and check the porridge she’d left simmering on the range, and as Cora glanced at the farmer’s wife she marvelled, and not for the first time, at the camaraderie that had grown between herself and Mrs Burns since she had left school the previous summer after turning fifteen in May. As the end of the school term had approached she had been in turmoil at the prospect of being alone at the farm without her sisters and Maud once the summer was over, but then Mrs Burns had taken her aside one day.
‘You’ve turned fifteen now,’ the farmer’s wife had said quietly, ‘and likely you’ll be wondering how things’ll pan out once you’ve left school? I could do with you working alongside me, Cora. You’re a good worker and the two of us together could get through more than double the work, and I mean the two of us together, all right? Side by side. I’ll keep an eye on you.’
Cora had stared at the older woman. For months now Farmer Burns had taken to silently watching her whenever he could. He would stop whatever he was doing and just stare, without saying a word, not bothering to hide what he was thinking. Sometimes his hand would work at the bulge in his crotch if his wife wasn’t around, other times he would stand, legs apart and with a small sneer twisting his thick lips. Cora had known he meant it to be intimidating and she braved it out by totally ignoring him, but inside he made her shrink. Much as she hated to admit it, she was every bit as terrified of him as her sisters and Maud. She hadn’t realized Mrs Burns had noticed his tactics though.
She could have pretended she didn’t know what Mrs Burns meant or merely acknowledged her meaning with a nod, but something made her go a step further and she had said, ‘He frightens me, Mrs Burns. I try not to show it but he does.’
Mrs Burns had blinked and then let out a long, slow breath. Her voice had been softer than Cora had ever heard it when she’d said, ‘Like I said, lass, you’ll be with me all the time. I can’t undo what’s been done, I know that, but I can and will make sure it doesn’t happen again.’ She had hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘I’ve been putting off telling you this and it’s best you don’t tell Maud, but the home wrote some time ago to say Enid had her baby, a little girl, but – but there were complications. Enid – Well, Enid passed away two days later. I’m sorry, lass.’ Cora’s hand had gone to her mouth but she hadn’t been able to reply. After a few moments Mrs Burns didn’t commiserate with her but said below her breath, ‘A woman’s conscience can be a terrible thing, Cora. Especially when it’s awakened too late.’
She had walked off then, leaving Cora staring after her, but from the first day after the summer holidays when the others had gone back to school, Mrs Burns had kept her word. Gradually Cora had relaxed and a kind of tentative understanding had grown between them.
And they worked well together, Cora thought now, as the two of them left the barn and walked towards the farmhouse for their breakfast of porridge, toast, and eggs with home-cured bacon. Whether it was in the dairy or in the house or attending to the cows. The herd took up a lot of time now they were indoors for the worst of the winter. The cleaning out every morning with shovel and brush and a wheelbarrow to cart the old manured bedding to the midden was warm work, as was supplying the constant meals Mrs Burns fed ‘her girls’ as she called them. An individual ration of corn into each cow’s manger before milking in the morning, followed by oat straw during the cleaning out, and then later turnips – cut into small pieces through the root-chopper. After Cora and Mrs Burns had their own lunch it was back to the cowshed to feed a few hundredweight of potatoes mixed with a little corn followed by hay to ‘the girls’, after which the cows settled down to chew the cud and gossip until the evening milking and another meal of turnips and corn, followed by hay to see them through the night. But in spite of the hard work and the smell and the occasional cow like Primrose that could prove awkward, Cora was finding she enjoyed working with the animals more than anything else. She now knew the cows all by name, and the anticipatory joy in their big brown eyes and excited puffing and scrambling when they knew a meal was on its way was reward enough for the hard labour.
She’d said as much to Jed and he was thrilled she was taking to a farming life so well and soaking up all that would be expected of her as a farmer’s wife through Mrs Burns’s instruction. Jed’s parents had been devastated the previous summer when his two brothers had been among the heavy Allied casualties in the assault on Hitler’s Fortress Europe in Dieppe. Jed was now the sole heir to take over the farm which had been in his family for generations.
He had finally persuaded her to let him introduce her as his girlfriend to his parents one Sunday afternoon just before Christmas, insisting that it was ridiculous they continue as they were just because she didn’t want Farmer Burns finding out about their relationship. She had told Mrs Burns the day before the visit and the farmer’s wife had been non-committal but not discouraging, merely nodding and then continuing with the job the pair of them were doing in the dairy. The next afternoon Jed had met her and her sisters and Maud and they had all gone for tea at Appletree Farm. Wilfred and Horace had been there and Jed’s mother had made them very welcome, insisting that they must make Sunday afternoon tea a weekly habit.
As Cora and Mrs Burns entered the kitchen they found the farmer already seated and eating, the four girls sitting in a row as they too ate their porridge. It was noticeable that in spite of the length of the kitchen table, all four were squeezed close at the opposite end to the farmer.
Rachel Burns said nothing to her husband as she and Cora sat down after filling their bowls from the huge black pot on the range. She rarely spoke to him if she could help it, neither did she look at him unless necessity demanded it. When she had received the letter from the home a while ago, and told him that Enid had died and the baby had been adopted by a childless couple, he had stared at her unblinking. ‘So?’ he’d said eventually.
‘Is that all you can say?’ In spite of what she knew he was, she had expected some reaction. Remorse would have been too much to hope for, but a glimmer of shame or regret or guilt? But there had been nothing; she could have just informed him of the state of the weather. In fact, being a farmer, he would have taken more notice of that. ‘She’s dead. Enid’s dead.’
His eyes had narrowed. ‘What do you want me to say? T
he girl was a little whore. With her background what more could you expect?’
‘I don’t believe Enid was bad, just the opposite, in fact.’
‘I don’t give a monkey’s cuss what you believe.’
‘No, I know that.’
They had glared at each other for some moments before he had stomped away, and as she’d stared after him she’d felt sick and guilt-ridden at her part in causing Enid’s demise. She remembered a sermon she’d once heard when she was a young lass in the village, long before Bernard Burns had come across her path. The vicar had been preaching about sin and the fires of hell and a lot of it had gone straight over her head, but he’d finished by saying something that had made sense to her in its simplicity. ‘“The most effective way for sin to abound is for good men and women to do nothing when they encounter it and look the other way.”’
And that’s what she’d done, she thought, as Bernard disappeared into one of the barns. Knowingly and intentionally. But she hadn’t thought the child would die, never had she imagined that. She had stood with her hands knotted against her thin chest praying for forgiveness to a God she wasn’t sure she believed in. That was another thing Bernard had done in the early days of their marriage, crushed the simple, childlike faith she’d once had by the things he had subjected her to.
But that day something had changed in her, Rachel thought now. She’d carry Enid with her to her grave but she wouldn’t let him molest little Maud or the other girls; she’d fight him herself to prevent that. But it wasn’t Maud he wanted, she knew that. By Cora standing up to him the way she had, she’d made him twice as dangerous where she was concerned.
As though in confirmation of her thoughts, Bernard said, ‘Heard some interesting gossip at the market yesterday.’
It was unusual for him to speak at the table; normally he shovelled his food down and demanded more with a grunt or a growl, and it brought her eyes sharply to his face. ‘Oh, aye?’
‘Aye.’ He pushed his empty bowl away, his signal that he was ready for his eggs and bacon, and belched long and loudly.
Rachel got up, aware that though the four younger girls were sitting in terrified immobility, Cora was continuing to eat her porridge. There were many little ways that Cora stood her ground with his bullying tactics, refusing to let him see that she was intimidated, and whilst she inwardly applauded the girl’s nerve it made Rachel fear for her still more. She hadn’t expected to become fond of any of the evacuees; she had never particularly wanted children herself and since finding out what Bernard was she’d been glad she hadn’t fallen for a bairn in those first two or three years of their marriage when they’d still slept together. However, over the last months since Cora had left school she’d found she enjoyed the girl’s company very much and her life was richer because of it. If she had had a daughter, she would have wanted her to be exactly like Cora, a lass she could have been proud of.
Rachel dished up Bernard’s eggs and bacon and brought the plate to the table along with the stack of toast she’d left keeping warm on the range, but as she placed the plate in front of him and went to turn away he caught hold of her wrist.
‘Did you know?’ he said, his voice coming from deep down in his broad chest. ‘Have you been a party to it?’
‘Know what?’ She tried to jerk her wrist free but he was having none of it.
‘About her playing the whore with Croft’s youngest lad.’ He gestured with his head at Cora who raised her eyes to stare at him, her face white but expressionless.
‘If you mean did I know that Cora and the others go to tea there on a Sunday afternoon, then aye, I did. And I gather Cora and Jed are fond of each other. He’s a nice lad, respectful.’
Bernard flung her hand away from him with a snort of disgust. ‘Nice lad!’ He sent a venomous glare at Cora before looking at Rachel again. ‘There’s no such thing as a nice lad, not at his age. They’re all after one thing and he knew he was all right with her. Laid on your back for him already, have you,’ he growled, his gaze swinging back to Cora. ‘You dirty little—’
Cora was barely aware that she had hurled her bowl at him until it hit him square in the face, sending him rocking back on his chair with a roar of fury and pain. She was up and facing him as porridge and blood from his bleeding nose ran down his face, Rachel hanging on to his arm as he attempted to shake her off and dive at Cora. Terrified by what she’d been driven to do but full of fury at the injustice of what she was being accused of, she didn’t move, not until Rachel screamed at her, ‘Get upstairs, all of you, get upstairs,’ and then it was only Maria and Maud pushing and pulling at her that freed her locked limbs.
Rachel’s strength as she held her husband back verged on superhuman and was born of the certainty that if she let go of his arm murder would ensue. It wasn’t until after the door had banged behind the children and she heard their footsteps on the stairs to the attics and then the door to their room shutting that she dared relinquish her hold, and by then she was panting and sweating. As he felt her grip lessen Bernard pushed his wife so violently that she staggered back and would have fallen but for landing against the wall. Winded and bruised, she stared at his livid face as he swore at her, calling her every name under the sun before sinking back onto his chair, a handkerchief to his face. ‘She’s broken it, she’s broken me damn nose.’
Rachel straightened, her shoulder blades throbbing. ‘What did you expect, talking to her like that? She’s not like the rest of them, she’s got some spirit.’
‘I’ll “spirit” her all right. An’ you, stopping me getting to her, what’s the matter with you? You’re me wife, dammit.’
‘Don’t pretend that means anything.’
He cursed again, moving the handkerchief away from his face and staring at the blood before saying, ‘Get me a bowl of warm water.’
She did as she was told, moving his plate and placing the bowl in front of him with a flannel in the water and a towel at the side of it. His nose was so swollen she couldn’t tell if it was broken or not but she wouldn’t be surprised, she thought, and not without some satisfaction. She watched him as he dabbed at his face before drying it with the towel and shoving the bowl away so that the pink water slopped all over the table. She picked it up without a word, using the towel to mop up before she said, ‘I’ll make another pot of tea. Do you want your breakfast?’
He glared at her and by answer stood to his feet, sending his chair flying with the backs of his knees so it skittered across the flags and then fell over. ‘I’ll see my day with that one, you see if I don’t.’
‘You won’t lay a finger on her, nor none of the other bairns either, else I’m straight to the police and I don’t mean your crooked pals, them that turn a blind eye to anything as long as you keep ’em supplied with this and that. I mean it, Bernard. Anything happens to any of them bairns and I’ll see you sent down the line for it.’
He stared at her now as if he was stupefied and in truth she was as amazed as him at her temerity. But she meant it, every word. At first she thought he was going to hit her but he didn’t; he stood swaying slightly backwards and forwards as if he was drunk and the silence became filled with their mutual hate.
It was in that moment that Rachel realized she had always been frightened of Bernard Burns; even before they had got married and whilst they had been courting and he had been very circumspect and proper, never trying anything more than a kiss goodnight, she had been scared of him, and after their wedding night . . . But the fear was gone. Quite gone. She could hardly believe it, but she knew if he came at her now she would fight him tooth and claw and with anything that came to hand.
Whether her face betrayed her she didn’t know, but instead of his usual foul ranting he wetted his lips, then dug his teeth into the flesh of the lower one, the action seeming to drag his head down and his shoulders with it so he looked like old Silas, the bull, before he charged. Still uncertain of what he was going to do, it was his turn to surprise her when he said, ‘I d
on’t want us to fall out over that little slut, now then. Nothing’s been the same since she came, you have to admit that. We used to rub along all right together, didn’t we? We had a good goin’ on, you’ve never wanted for owt.’
Knowing that the balance of power had shifted somewhat with her threat to go to the police, she was further emboldened to say, ‘I agree nothing’s been the same since Cora and her sisters came to the farm and it’s all to the good in my opinion. As for us “rubbing along” as you put it, we’ve never done that. Your mind’s a cesspit, that’s the truth of it, and likely always has been. That little lass has got herself a lad, a nice lad who respects her and is good to her, but you can’t understand that, can you, not being the way you are. And I tell you, you do anything to spoil things for her and I’ll follow through on what I say. I’ve kept my mouth shut about you cooking the books and all your dodgy dealings for years, but there’s them in high places who wouldn’t take too kindly to your cheating and double-dealing, not now it comes under the heading of the black market.’
He was glaring at her again, anger turning his face and neck a turkey red, as red as the blood staining the collar of his shirt. His lips moved and he mouthed words that were soundless before he ground out, ‘I should have known better than to take a bit of scum from the village as me wife. Sure as hell you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. But I tell you now, if I go down you’ll be right alongside me so think on that. I’d swear on oath you were party to it all.’
‘I don’t doubt it would be a case of your word against mine, Bernard, but there’s not a court in the country who wouldn’t believe an ill-used but faithful wife against a husband who has little bairns for his own pleasure.’
Now his glare was maniacal, and with his teeth grinding and his eyes bloodshot he looked as though he was about to murder her. Somehow she stood her ground and glared back without wavering. It wasn’t until he swung round, spitting an oath, and walked out of the kitchen into the driving snow that was falling outside that she allowed herself to slump down on a chair, her legs finally giving out.
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