by Rosie James
‘In Totterdown,’ Alice said, ‘quite near the office where I work. It would be very convenient for me, just a two-minute walk.’ She looked away for a moment. She didn’t want Helena to think that she wanted to get out of the Clifton house, but now was the time to say what had been on Alice’s mind for a long time.
‘I am nineteen years old, and I’ve been thinking things over for a while,’ she said slowly, ‘and it really is time that I stood on my own two feet. I cannot expect to live with you and the professor for the rest of my life…and my mother would certainly expect me to work things out for myself by now.’ She swallowed. ‘Thanks to you, I can earn myself a good living.’ She didn’t touch on the considerable sum she had in the bank, the salary which Helena had put by for her future. ‘And the lady – Mrs. Gloria Hammond – seems very nice. Her husband was killed in the Great War. She told me about it when I went to see her,’ Alice added.
Helena smiled. Alice had always been a brave little soul, and it was typical of her that she had begun to plan out her life like this. ‘Well, as you say, it would be a very convenient address for you, if that is what you want, Alice,’ she said, ‘but don’t ever feel that we want you to go, will you?’ She paused. ‘Samuel would never forgive us if we made you think that.’
Alice raised her eyebrows a trifle wearily. That was all very well, but it didn’t matter much what Sam thought about any more. He certainly wouldn’t be thinking about her, and she had given up hope of ever really seeing much of him again. Their letters were becoming spasmodic, and when he wrote it was mainly about his life in London and how busy everyone was. And much, much worse, in one of his letters he’d mentioned that his cousin Millicent was also now hoping to be a doctor, and was in the middle of a six-month training course at the same hospital as him. And that they were spending off-duty time together, and that he was showing her around London. That was all Alice had needed to convince her that, finally, the die was cast. Sam would eventually ask his cousin to marry him – which would please his mother no end, exactly what Helena wanted, because they were the perfect couple in every possible way, similar backgrounds, similar upbringings…it would be a family full-circle wedding. When Alice had met Sam’s cousin and had seen them together in the summer holidays, five years ago, they had seemed so close, so affectionate, teasing each other, laughing at each other, laughing at the same things…and once or twice he’d put his arm around her waist, and pulled her towards him – which he’d never done to Alice…well, not quite like that. Being a bit close when he’d taught her to dance was different…that had been a practical necessity as she’d been learning the steps.
But what he had done during those long summer weeks, was something else…which Alice knew he certainly had not done to Millicent.
Sam had slipped a letter under her bedroom door, marked Private & Confidential.
Dear Alice
As you know, two days ago I went back to school for a very brief visit. It was a final meeting for most of the leavers – it always happens, apparently – and during the evening my tutor took me aside to inform me that I have not only passed all the exams, but that I was this year’s top scholar.
I can tell you, I nearly fell off the chair! Because I had actually had some serious doubts about one or two of the papers. They were so hard and complicated.
Of course the official results will be in the post tomorrow – for me – and my parents – to see in black and white. But I wanted to tell you straightaway, because you had a hand in it! With your special hot line to God, you managed to bag a miracle for me! I shall always be grateful for your support, Alice.
But please be surprised when you’re told about it! I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I just thought you deserved to know the good news first!
Kindest – and grateful – good wishes.
Sam.
But now, Millicent had him all to herself.
For Alice, the final curtain had fallen. Sam’s life and hers were a million, million poles apart – always had been – and nothing was ever going to change that.
September 1941
By the time the little Morris trundled its way back along the lane to the farmhouse it was gone 8.30 – and Roger knew that his father would have been looking at his watch every five minutes. Roger had said that he expected to be back an hour earlier.
By the time they had all got out, Mabel was already standing at the door, her face wreathed in smiles.
‘Well, there you are, my luvvers! ’Ad a good day? Kettle’s on.’
Inside, Walter Foulkes was sitting at the table, his face straight, as usual. He looked up at his son. ‘So – did you manage to get that part for the tractor?’ he demanded, hoping for a reply in the negative.
‘Of course I did, Dad – I told you there wouldn’t be a problem,’ Roger said easily. ‘So I thought I’d spend an hour or two in the shed tomorrow morning to fix it – and to give the old bag of bones a bit of an overhaul at the same time.’
‘Hmmm,’ Walter said reluctantly, though he’d never argue with his son – about anything. Roger was just too valuable. But it would have satisfied the farmer’s rather mean nature if the bloke in Bristol hadn’t had the part after all. So that he could grumble that the Morris should never have left the farm for the day. Instead, he turned his attention to the girls, who had taken their places at the table to enjoy Mabel’s pot of tea.
‘Now then, you three,’ he said shortly, ‘it’s about time you did some milkin’. My wife has plenty of other stuff to do.’ He turned to Mabel. ‘Show them the ropes tomorrer mornin’. And once they’ve got the ’ang of it, they can take it in turns after that.’
‘Yes, yes, Walt,’ Mabel said, smiling, ‘whatever you say…thy will be done!’ she added sarkily – at which remark Fay raised her eyes and exchanged a glance with Alice. Thy will be done, be blowed…
‘There’s nothin’ to milkin’ the cows, luvvers,’ Mabel said reassuringly. ‘Just takes a bit of practice, that’s all. I’ll show you.’ She put her hands on her hips and gave her husband a long look. ‘An’ there’s no need for you to do the early shift, either. You’ll be tired after your day out. You can come on the afternoon one, and I’ll show you then. In the mornin’ you go on up the fields with Rog, as usual – there’s still plenty to do up there – an’ check all the water troughs, by the way…an’ the eggs are ready for cratin’ up – so the milkin’’ll be your last job for tomorrer.’ When Mabel took control of things, the farmer knew better than to interfere.
Eve sighed briefly at the thought of milking the cows. But they had already done so much which had been completely alien to them, it shouldn’t be too difficult a job should it, she thought? Of course, everyone had some idea of how it was done, but still, squeezing those…things…didn’t it hurt the poor cow? Didn’t it make them sore? Eve shivered at the thought. It must be horrible somebody pulling and yanking at them hard enough to get the milk out. Still – she’d watch Alice and Fay, let them do it first.
Suddenly, remembering something, she bent down to pick up one of the bags she’d brought back with her, rummaging around until she found what she was looking for. Then –
‘Oh – Mr. Foulkes,’ she said, ‘I’ve brought you something from home.’ She handed him a large, round tin and he leaned forward to take it from her.
‘Wha’s this, then?’ he said reluctantly, squinting to see what the label said.
‘It’s something which my parents have discovered has helped their arthritis tremendously,’ Eve said. ‘You rub it in gently, night and morning…especially at night, so that it has time to really get into the joints. Apparently they swear by it – make sure they’re never without a good supply.’
‘Well isn’t that kind!’ Mabel exclaimed. ‘Fancy you thinking to bring some back for Walter!’
There was silence from the farmer for a few seconds as he continued examining the tin, then he tried to open it – without success – and Eve leaned in towards him again.
&nb
sp; ‘Here – let me,’ she said, ‘these things are always difficult until they’ve been opened a few times.’ Then she twisted hard until the lid came off and the smell of liniment filled the air.
‘Cripes!’ the farmer yelped, yanking his head back as if he’d been stung. ‘S’nuff to knock yer block off!’
Mabel tutted. ‘Rub some in, now, Walter, and don’t be childish…that smell shows you the stuff means business! Go on – do as yer told!’ She was not going to let her husband be ungrateful. It was lovely of Eve to have thought about him at all.
And for a few seconds there was complete silence as the farmer smoothed and rubbed the ointment into his swollen fists and fingers, the whole gathering watching with interest. Presently, he looked up at Eve.
‘Well…thank ye…very much for this,’ he said, his voice unusually quiet. ‘Are you sure yer parents could spare it?’
Eve smiled happily. ‘Oh, don’t worry about them,’ she said, ‘they always buy everything in bulk…there were four tins of this on the bathroom shelf and they said I was very welcome to bring one back for you.’ She paused. ‘I told them you often had sore hands and they said how horrible it must be for you, you know, with your job. Said they didn’t know how you coped.’
Fay yawned suddenly, and stood up. ‘Well, I for one am ready to hit the hay,’ she said. She turned to Roger. ‘Thanks again, Roger, for taking us home…far better than struggling with public transport – if there’d been any!’
‘My pleasure,’ Roger said – and meant it. He hadn’t enjoyed himself like it for years! Wandering around the Bristol streets with three pretty women in tow was some experience, all right! And he’d enjoyed the envious glances from other men, especially when they’d gone into the Llandoger, and into another pub he didn’t know but which Fay had introduced them to. And then they’d sat at a cosy table in the lounge bar of the Royal Hotel and had been served sandwiches and coffee. It had been another world for Roger…he hadn’t done anything like it for years – if ever. And he’d felt just great, all the time, making sure that everyone knew that he was the girls’ escort for the evening, as he took an arm now and then when crossing a street, or pulling them towards him protectively when a particularly noisy gaggle of people threatened to bump into them.
Now, as the three girls went towards the kitchen door, the farmer got to his feet, still manipulating his fingers.
‘Now…’ang on…don’t you go worryin’ about the milkin’,’ he said gruffly. ‘Mabel’s been doin’ it for yers and yers an she’ll show you ’ow it’s done. There ain’t nothin’ to it – you’ll be fine.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You’re good girls. You d’catch on quick.’
The room seemed to spin around and nearly fly out of the window after that little speech. And Mabel’s face was a picture of surprise – and quiet pleasure. As the girls went upstairs Fay whispered –
‘What on earth was in that tin, Evie? Whatever it was, it certainly did something for our farmer! I thought he was going to kiss us goodnight!’
The following afternoon at 4.30, the three girls presented themselves at the milking parlour. It was funny, Eve thought, that a long, rather grubby-looking shed with cow stalls should be described as a parlour, but that’s what Mabel had called it. Roger was at the far end, already milking, and Mabel pulled a small stool next to the cow and sat down on it. She looked up at the girls.
‘Now then, we always keep things nice and peaceful,’ she said, ‘because that ’elps the milk to come down quicker…cows are big beasts, I know that, but they’re gentle creatures really, and need to be treated gently. Especially when they’re bein’ milked.’
‘Don’t they ever kick out?’ Fay enquired. Those brown legs and hind quarters seemed uncomfortably close to Mabel’s face.
‘Oh, very seldom,’ Mabel said mildly. ‘I’ve had one or two bruises, but that’s unusual, and it’s always when something’s upset the cow. So we keep things nice and quiet.’ She turned her attention to the animal.
‘Now then, my darlin’,’ she cooed, ‘let’s get you started, shall we…’
And for the next few minutes the girls watched as she gently washed the beast’s udders.
‘What are you doing that with?’ Alice asked.
‘This is pre-milking disinfectant,’ Mabel explained, ‘to make sure everythin’s clean and tidy, see. Then…in about half a minute, we wipe each teat clean and dry. Like this…geddit?’
The girls nodded, watching slightly warily.
‘Now, the next bit is you wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base of the teat, like this…see? That captures the milk in the teat. Hold it quite tight for a few seconds, then you loosen your grip a bit and start to gently squeeze to release the milk…do it .firmly, and get a bit of rhythm goin’…and be confident, so that the cow knows who’s in charge. An’ just keep goin’ until she’s given you all she has to offer.’
‘How do you know when that point is reached?’ Fay asked, and Mabel laughed.
‘Well, because she’ll run dry, luvver! And don’t worry about hurtin’ her. It’s a relief to the cow to let her milk out.’
‘Doesn’t milking eventually make the cows very sore?’ Eve asked earnestly.
‘Oh no, luvver,’ Mabel said, glancing up at her. ‘But a’course, we’re always on the look-out for any infection, anythin’ going on that’s uncomfortable for them. Mastitis can be a real nuisance sometimes, an’ we’re always on the look-out for it. See, it’s in our interests to see that the animals are well looked after, and happy.’
Alice looked down at Mabel, her eyes softening. She was the kindest person you could ever wish to meet…treating her animals and birds like children.
‘Now then – which of you is gonna have the first go?’ Mabel said, getting up from the stool.
‘I will,’ Alice said promptly – well, she always believed in grabbing the bull by the horns in a tricky situation, and she was going to do the same with this more benevolent creature! And to her utter amazement – and relief – she found that almost at once she could get the milk squirting out in a repetitive stream. It flowed into the bucket beneath, and Mabel laughed out loud.
‘There! I told you there’s nothin’ to it…well done, Alice!’
The others followed suit with more or less the same success, and Mabel stood back watching them.
‘Well – Walter said you catch on quick, didn’t ’ee?’ she said.
Presently, as Roger brought in the last of the herd from outside to be milked, Mabel turned to the girls, wiping her hands on the huge apron she had wrapped around her for the task.
‘Now – I think that’s enough for you for today’ – they’d each milked two cows – ‘Rog’ll do the rest, and then it’ll nearly be time for our meal. You must all be starvin’!’
Presently, upstairs in their room, the girls got out of their uniforms and into the clothes they’d brought back with them – mostly jumpers and skirts and fresh cardigans and a jacket or two – plus some scarves. Alice had packed a favourite navy twin set – which she always wore with pearls – to go with a check skirt, and Eve had brought a simple, brown woollen dress. Fay had included a smart pair of trousers in her bag – black and white pinstripe. She held them up for the others to admire.
‘Saw these advertised in a magazine a couple of years ago,’ she said, holding them against her for a second. ‘They’re a good shape on the hips.’ She folded them and put them away on one of the shelves in the cupboard. ‘You can forget skirts,’ she added firmly. ‘Women are going to be wearing fashionable trousers from now on, I’m sure of it,’ she said. ‘Because they’re smart – and comfortable. And when you bend down there’s no chance of some twerp staring up your legs to see your knickers.’ She shut the cupboard door with a bang. ‘Well, at least we’ve all got something different to wear to the Welcome Home concert on Saturday,’ she said, ‘You never know, there might be some dishy officer-types anxious to buy us drinks.’
As they got ready, Alice couldn
’t help thinking how quickly this dimly-lit room had become so comfortable, so acceptable to them all. Lighting their candles each evening had become part of their routine because they all agreed that it helped them wind down from the day. Even the beds didn’t seem so hard any more –though this was probably because they were always so tired when they’d finished work.
As they took turns at the wash basin, Fay said – glancing over at Eve – ‘I thought it was very kind of your parents to send back that liniment for Walter Foulkes. He was really pleased, you could tell.’ Well, she wanted to say something nice about Eve’s parents, because it had seemed so heartless that they hadn’t been at home to greet her on Sunday. Evie had looked so crestfallen as she’d stood there alone, waving the others off, because Roger had said they should get going.
Eve looked back at Fay and smiled. ‘They were pleased to do it, Fay,’ she said, ‘they were pleased to share their latest find in the medicine department. There’s nothing they like better than talking about remedies and ailments – theirs or anyone else’s.’ She paused before going on. Then – ‘And the reason they hadn’t been at home when I arrived was because the woman next door had collapsed, and they’d had to sit with her until her son arrived.’ Eve hadn’t mentioned that before.
‘Ah well, that’s a simple explanation,’ Fay said. ‘And how did you find your parents? Managing to survive without you?’
‘As a matter of fact, they seem to be managing very well indeed,’ Eve said slowly. And after a moment’s pause, she added, ‘Apparently my dad always gets the morning tea while my mother uses the bathroom, then she gets the breakfast while he’s washing. It’s obvious that they seem to have worked out a little routine between them, sharing the housework, and the shopping, and guess what? Dad takes his turn at cooking! In fact, it was he who prepared the lunch for the three of us! He’d made some batter, and dipped slices of Spam into it, then fried them. It was really nice – and we had it with baked beans. And he’d made the rice pudding, too. I couldn’t believe he’d done everything! He told me that there wasn’t a moment to spare in the day! He couldn’t ever remember being so busy – and one night, they even forgot to take their pills.’ Eve bent down for a second to take something from her case, then looked back at the others. ‘I’m beginning to think that they’re happier without me,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean they don’t love me or anything,’ she added hastily, ‘but maybe…maybe…I’ve been a bit too helpful for too long, making them feel – inadequate in some way. Now that there’s no one to wait on their every need, they seem to be enjoying doing it all themselves.’