Letters to Alice

by Rosie James

  Much love, Alice. Sam.

  PS. When do you expect to be demobbed from the farm? Have you been given a date yet? S.

  Chapter Twenty

  Clifton, 30th June, 1945

  My dear Alice

  I am so, so pleased to be able to tell you that I’m back home – home to Clifton at last! Of course, I have had the most wonderful time with my family in Wales – they have been wonderfully good to me and have looked after me so well. I have felt very safe, and very lucky to be up there with them.

  But of course, quite naturally, home is where I wish to be, and to look after my dear husband who has had to fend for himself for much of the time. Thank God he came to no harm during any of the bombing, and was able to continue at the Infirmary, throughout the war, with little interruption to his work. But he has not had me there to talk to in the evenings, to talk things over with, and I know he has missed that, as I most certainly have.

  Both sets of twins, too, have been well protected at their colleges – but they will be very pleased that the Clifton house is soon to be open for business as usual – with dear Betty back in harness. We are going to fetch her next week, and bring her home. In one of her letters she told me that her cousin’s granddaughter – Cynthia – is already a wonderful cook – (obviously inherited!) and that she and Betty have been spending quite a lot of time together in the kitchen. With, I am quite sure, Betty showing her a trick or two!

  I know, also, that you are safe and well, and, I imagine, soon able to return to your job in Bristol. How different it will feel for you after everything you have had to do on the farm! But I have been aware from your letters that you have been very happy there – and that has made me happy, too, Alice.

  The only member of my family who continues to give me some concern is darling Sam. I have heard so little from him, really – and have had to be satisfied with an occasional visit and being told that he is all right, and working hard all the time. Though I dare say he also finds the opportunity to go out and enjoy himself now and then! I do hope so. But as the professor pointed out to me, the career Sam has chosen demands total dedication – there is so much he has to learn, to achieve – so I must forgive him if my eldest son puts that first, mustn’t I? Still, I shall make jolly sure that there is going to be a get-together for us all in Clifton very soon, and that Sam is there as well.

  Do keep me informed of everything going on in your life, Alice…either write me one of your lovely letters, or ring me here at the house.

  Best love, Alice, as always. Helena.

  Alice folded the letter, replaced it in the envelope, and slipped it into her case. It was good of Helena to write – the first letter for some time – and it was good to hear that all appeared to be well with the Carmichael family.

  Alice wandered over to the window and stared out, her eyes clouding as she remembered them all in Clifton… David and John were twenty-three now, and Rose and Margaret twenty years old…it was unbelievable how the time had gone. They were all grown up, and hoping to pursue careers in the medical profession as well, so Alice believed. She wasn’t sure of any details.

  And Sam? Samuel? Sam? Her Sam? No…no! Not her Sam, Alice thought, gritting her teeth. He was Millicent’s Sam!

  And don’t worry, Helena. Sam does manage to “enjoy himself now and then”. I saw it for myself…

  And as far as Helena’s get-together was concerned, Alice knew she would not be going, would not be able to face it. Much as she would love to see them all again, she would not be able to bear seeing Sam and Millicent together…with Millicent, by this time, probably flashing her engagement ring around. Well, when that invitation arrived, Alice knew she would not be accepting it. Definitely not. She would find some excuse or other – and that wouldn’t be difficult, wherever she happened to be. She might still be here – their demob hadn’t been issued yet – or she could be back in Totterdown looking after Gloria. Helena would understand that. Helena would expect her to put that first.

  Alice turned away from the window and went resolutely towards the door. She had been on the early milking shift with Eve, and was waiting to be told what the next job was. But first, she’d go down and have a mug of coffee – hopefully with Mabel. Mabel loved any excuse for a chat.

  ‘I cannot believe,’ Fay said, as she sat on her bed pulling up her breeches, ‘that this time next week we shall all be virtually unemployed.’ She stood up and yanked the trousers in place around her waist, glancing across at the others. ‘So next Saturday night, shall we go into Bristol together and celebrate?’

  ‘I’m game,’ Eve said, brushing her hair vigorously, and Alice smiled at her. Evie had changed from the rather shy, introverted little thing she’d been when they’d arrived, into a confident – and obviously very happy – girl. She had blossomed, and it could almost be described as a transformation. Alice wondered whether she, too, had changed in some way, since working on the farm. It was always difficult to judge yourself.

  And Fay? Fay was still the outgoing, devil-may-care individual who had plonked herself next to her on the back seat of that bus. The bus that would take them all to a completely new way of life.

  ‘The really funny thing is,’ Fay said, ‘is that Foulksie’s asked us to dig those bloody potatoes again. Just like we did the very first time we were here…our very first job. Don’t you remember?’

  How could they forget! ‘But what’s funny about it?’ Eve said. ‘We’ve done it lots of times since then.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Fay said, ‘ but…it’s almost exactly to the day, four years ago, mid-August.’ She grinned. ‘It’s like – “this is where we came in” between the continuous programme at the pictures! Geddit?’

  ‘Well, I vote we “go slow”,’ Alice said, as she tidied her bed. ‘And leave some of the wretched things for the regulars to dig next week. It’ll be good practice for them.’ She stood back. ‘D’you know, of all the stuff we’ve had to do, digging potatoes has to be my least favourite. I shall view a chip or a roast potato in a completely different light from now on, thinking of the poor beggar who’s probably still got back ache.’

  On the 5th of July, a general election had brought a serious defeat for Winston Churchill’s National Government, bringing the Labour Party to power, headed by Clement Attlee. Many said this was a dreadful betrayal of Churchill – their beloved saviour – while others said that he had been a war monger – and that now we needed a peace monger. So Churchill had to go. But six years later he would be back, leading the Conservative Party.

  And almost exactly a month after the general election – on the 6th and 9th of August, 1945 – the war really was brought to an end. A very dramatic, and horrifying end.

  Two Japanese cities – Hiroshima and Nagasaki – had been bombed and burned almost to extinction by an American bomber setting off from England. The atomic bomb. The most lethal and destructive weapon ever devised. The conflict in the east had still been raging, with no sign of the Japanese ever surrendering, causing terrible loss of life on both sides. News of the allied attack, and the dropping of the bomb, filtered through to the general population after the event had taken place, and it would be several weeks before Pathé News showed scenes in the cinema from the two cities…scenes so unbelievably dreadful that they would never be totally erased from the minds of those who saw them. Man’s inhumanity to man personified – yet what had been the choice? Intransigence had had to be met with a decision to avoid any more suffering for the armies on both sides, and to hasten the longed-for repatriation of prisoners who had been starved, ill-treated, and cruelly tortured by a race for whom normal treatment of fellow human beings had rarely been on the agenda.

  After the war, it would have been thought inconceivable that, in the foreseeable future, Japanese cars, and much other technical merchandise, would be seen on the streets and in the homes of the British population.

  It had been agreed that the girls would leave the farm for the last time on Saturday – two days from n
ow – and it wasn’t a secret that no one – not even Farmer Foulkes – was looking forward to it. Well, even though he’d been reluctant to employ townies on his land four years ago, he could not deny that they’d done well – better than he’d have imagined. A bit shaky at first, of course, but it hadn’t taken them long to fit in. He’d never been used to women on the farm – apart from Mabel – and she didn’t really count, because she’d always been a farm girl. Had been born on a farm, knew how everything worked. Understood animals. Not like these three. Alice and Fay and Eve, who’d turned up out of the blue wearing dainty clothes and strappy things on their feet, and obviously used to spending a lot of time in front of mirrors. The prospect of them being here for the duration of the war had filled him with distaste, but it had all worked out. And as far as he knew, they were never ill, seemed to be fit as fiddles, all the time. Never fainting about the place and asking for time off. No…the farmer couldn’t deny that he was going to miss having them around…well, for one thing, it had seemed to make Mabel so happy. The war had done her a good turn, if no one else.

  Now, the girls went to the door to go downstairs for their breakfast, and Alice said, ‘What you said just now, about us being unemployed next week, Fay…I thought you’d been back to Woolworths the last time we were in Bristol, and asked about your job?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Fay said, closing the bedroom door behind her, ‘but the manager was out and the geezer I asked didn’t know much about it. But I don’t care. I’ve got enough money to tide me over, and I’ve had two offers of a bed until I find something else, and anyway, like I said, I’m getting out of retail…going to apply for something at the Council House…maybe even look at some adverts in the London area.’ She paused for a second. ‘I’d love to work in London…there’s so much going on, you could feel it when we were there…’ She glanced down at Eve. ‘Your job’s safe enough, isn’t it, Evie? They must be longing to have you back at that music shop to cheer them all up with your sing-alongs.’

  Eve smiled. ‘Probably,’ she said. ‘But anyway, it wasn’t a full-time job and my parents have to come first, of course. If they still need me,’ she added. ‘I shall just have to wait and see.’

  ‘What about you, Alice?’ Fay said, as they went across to the range to fill their porridge bowls. ‘Your job’s OK at that estate agent’s place, isn’t it?’

  Alice nodded, biting her lip. She’d looked in at the office earlier in the year and had been made a great fuss of by the manager, Rex Meredith – who she’d been out with a couple of times in the early days…he’d asked her to go to the cinema with him, and almost at once he had put his arm around her, had held her hand as they walked along in an annoyingly possessive way. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him – he was nice enough, and quite good-looking, but when he’d interviewed her she hadn’t thought for a second that it would be anything more than a business arrangement between them. She hadn’t looked at him like that at all. Well, she never looked at any man like that… Anyway, office relationships could make things awkward, she’d thought at the time, even though there were just the four of them there – a young girl learning a clerk’s duties, and a lad who used to work the print machine, run errands, and make the tea. Her own job had quickly become much less that of a secretary, and more a salesperson – someone who interviewed prospective buyers and sellers and took them to view various houses on the books. She had really liked doing that, and she’d been good at it, successful at bringing things to completion without a lot of unnecessary delay. Rex had liked that. The numbers looked good for his branch office…pleasing the bigger fish in London.

  ‘You’ve got a real way with people, Alice,’ he had whispered, kissing her ear during one of the romantic bits in the film they were watching, ‘you know just what to say and do without seeming to add any pressure. That’s quite a gift. And another gift is your way with words,’ he’d added. ‘You make the descriptions and specifications all sound so appealing…make them worth a second glance. I haven’t got that knack.’

  Now, as her thoughts ran on, Alice wondered how things were going to be between them when she got back. A little shiver ran through her. She hoped he’d have forgotten that they’d been out – it was four years ago, after all – and hoped even more that he’d found someone else’s ear to nibble in the meantime.

  Friday night. Their last night. Their last supper at Home Farm, and Mabel had been determined that it would be one of her best.

  As they all sat down at the table, the girls could see that tonight there were even starters – little rolls of smoked salmon on fingers of home-made brown bread, and embellished with dainty squirls of creamed horse radish…followed by roast pork and roast chicken, with fresh vegetables picked from Mabel’s garden that morning, and tiny Yorkshire puddings floating in a bowl of the richest gravy this side of heaven’s gate. And afterwards, apple pie and custard – naturally – but tonight there was trifle! A large, crystal bowl of cherry trifle laced with so much alcohol, it made your eyes water, covered with thick cream and decorated with cherries and grated chocolate. And a huge plate of various cheeses, all accompanied by several bottles of good wine – which Roger had already uncorked, and was now pouring into the tall glasses placed in front of each table setting.

  The girls had decided that they would keep the event as nostalgia-free as possible…they didn’t want to upset Mabel, who they knew very well had enjoyed having them at the farm, and they knew that she was going to miss them, terribly. But they’d also decided that after the meal had been eaten, they were going to give the family some presents, as a big thank you for everything. It could have turned out so much worse for them, for everyone, if the Foulkeses had been different, if things had been different.

  Roger was in a funny mood tonight, and Fay wondered if he’d already been up the Wheatsheaf for a pint or two. He seemed over-cheerful, cracking daft jokes and teasing Eve about the colour of her hair – calling her “Ginge” – which he’d never done before – and telling Alice that tonight he wanted to get her tipsy. But Fay knew that he was uptight – despite his ruggedness, he was a sensitive, thoughtful bloke, and she guessed that it wasn’t only about them leaving (he’d said that enough times) but about his own life, now. She remembered their conversations…about him wanting to try something different for a change, get away from the womb-like atmosphere surrounding the farm and the village. Meet new people. Have new experiences. Fay sighed as she helped herself to the roast potatoes. This war hadn’t only dropped bombs onto cities, it had dropped bombs into people’s lives, had changed them, their attitudes, their expectations regarding more personal matters…

  It would later become known that straight after the war, thousands of people sought to divorce their partners – at a numbers level not reached again until the 1960s.

  After the meal was finished, the present-giving took the Foulkes family completely by surprise as they unwrapped their parcels. The girls had saved their clothes coupons for quite some time – well, being mostly in uniform, they hadn’t been buying much for themselves during the war – and had bought chunky jumpers (not identical) for Walter and Roger, and a pale green twin-set for Mabel, which Fay’s gran had knitted. (Gran’s knitting prowess was known throughout Knowle West – she’d even had her picture in the Bristol Evening Post, surrounded by little bed jackets she’d made for the babies at the children’s hospital.) There was also brandy and cigars for the men, and a tin of another potent liniment for the farmer, which Eve’s parents had said was even more effective than the first, and a bottle of Coty perfume for Mabel which Fay had managed to find.

  And when Mabel unwrapped it, and held it to her nose, she had to quickly dry away the tears which had been threatening. She had never been given any perfume before.

  ‘Well…I dunno, my luvvers…’ she began, and Alice broke in quickly.

  ‘We hope you like the smell of that, Mrs. Foulkes – there wasn’t very much choice, but…’

  Mabel clutched the bottl
e to her ample bosom. ‘I love the smell,’ she said emphatically. ‘I shall keep it for best…you know, for special times…and it’ll remind me of all of this…of all of you…’

  The farmer spoke up. ‘’Ere, well, tis very good of y’all to…give us this,’ he said, staring down at the presents on the table. ‘An’ this stuff, too,’ he said, picking up the ointment. ‘It’ll come in very ’andy…s’matter a fact last lot’s nearly gone.’

  Eve leaned over. ‘Shall I open it for you – would you like to try it, Mr. Foulkes?’ she said. ‘My father swears that it really does the trick…’

  Walter backed away hurriedly, remembering the last time, when he hadn’t been able to open his eyes properly for half an hour afterwards…

  The following morning, Roger loaded the girls’ cases into the back of the van, and Walter and Mabel stood by the farmhouse door, ready to wave them off.

  ‘Now…y’all be sure’n come to see us if yer down this way,’ Walter said, not looking them in the eye, and without labouring the point Alice, Fay and Eve assured him that they would keep in touch.

  ‘Thanks very much for letting Roger take us back, Mr. Foulkes,’ Alice said, and he brushed off the comment.

  ‘’S’allroigt – now, get on – an’ don’t hold ’im back, mind, ’cus he’s got work to do ’ere.’ But the farmer’s eyes twinkled as he spoke. He did have kind eyes – when you thought about it.

  Mabel couldn’t find the words to say very much, but she hugged each of the girls tightly – smelling strongly of the Coty perfume she’d dabbed on the front of her apron.

  And soon they were off. With Home Farm receding quickly into the distance as Roger put his foot down.

  Upstairs in her room in Gloria’s house, Alice slowly unpacked her case and hung up her clothes. It was going to seem strange, going to bed alone – and have the use of a proper bathroom after making do for the last four years. She smiled inwardly as she thought about it all. It was really amazing how something which had seemed so difficult and inconvenient could mutate into normality, and become perfectly acceptable. And actually enjoyable…