by Sandy Taylor
I couldn’t help wondering what her beloved Albert did. Nothing probably.
‘And in case you’re wondering, my Albert’s in charge. You mind what he says, see, you do what he tells you to do.’
Just at that moment the golden boy walked into the kitchen. He scraped his muddy boots on an iron thing that stood just inside the door. Then he sat down at the end of the table and rolled up his sleeves, exposing fat, hairy arms. His mother set a plateful of food in front of him and ruffled his filthy hair.
‘What about school?’ I asked.
Mrs Hacker stared at me with her mean little eyes. ‘You’re too old for school,’ she snapped.
‘I’m talking about Olive.’
‘There won’t be no school,’ said Albert.
‘She has to go to school,’ I said, glaring at him.
‘Does she now?’ he said, sneering at me.
‘Yes, she does.’
‘Well, if you’re willing to walk ten miles there and ten miles back every day then by all means take her.’
‘Don’t you have transport of some kind?’
‘Not for that, we don’t.’
‘I have to go to school,’ said Olive in a quiet little voice. ‘I have to learn me lessons.’
‘Tough,’ said Albert, wiping the bread around his plate and stuffing the food in his mouth.
I stared at him in disgust as the egg yolk dripped down his chin.
‘Look,’ said Mrs Hacker. ‘This is a working farm and I can’t spare Albert to go gallivanting round the countryside’ – she nodded in the general direction of Olive – ‘just so that she can learn her lessons. Albert never went to school and it never did him any harm.’
Jimmy made a face at me and Albert cuffed him round the head.
‘What you making faces about, yer little runt?’ he snarled.
Jimmy ignored him and got up from the table. He put his plate in the sink and said, ‘I’ll show you around if you like.’
I was glad to get out of the kitchen and away from these awful people, and anyway, I needed some fresh air – the egg had made me feel sick in my stomach. We put on our coats and our wet, muddy shoes and followed Jimmy outside.
‘I’ll do for him one day,’ said Jimmy, walking across the yard.
‘I’ll help you,’ I said.
‘And I will,’ said Olive. ‘I’ll help you an all.’
‘Thanks, Olive,’ said Jimmy, smiling down at her.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said.
It had stopped raining but it was cold. Even if it had been a warm day I think I would still have felt cold.
We walked across to an old barn and went inside, Jimmy shutting the door behind us.
I counted five cows in the stalls, big black-and-white creatures. I had only ever seen cows from a distance; I hadn’t realised until now how big they were.
‘These are my friends, Olive,’ said Jimmy, stroking the broad back of one of them. ‘Come closer and say hello, she won’t hurt you.’
Olive didn’t move. ‘They’re bloody big,’ she said, eyeing them up.
‘But they’re very gentle. This is Martha – she has lovely brown eyes, just like you.’
Olive edged closer.
‘She likes you,’ said Jimmy, ‘look at the way she’s staring at you.’
‘That might be because she wants to bite me hand off.’
Jimmy laughed. ‘Now why do you think she’d want to do that?’
‘Cos she’s a bloody big cow,’ said Olive. ‘The tallyman’s horse nearly bit me hand off once. I reckon animals can be a bit tricky.’
‘You’ll get to like them,’ said Jimmy.
‘I’m not sure we’re going to be staying around long enough to get to like em,’ I said.
‘You’ll be okay if you keep yer head down.’
‘Unfortunately I have a habit of not keepin me head down and so has Olive. We’re from the East End, where no one keeps their head down – it’s a survival thing.’
‘I hope you stay, it’s nice to have someone to talk to for a change.’
‘Well, I can’t promise anything,’ I said, ‘but I suppose we’ll have to give it a try.’
‘Good,’ he said, smiling.
I watched him gently stroke Martha’s ears. ‘Where are you from, Jimmy?’
‘I’m from Cardiff.’
‘But that’s not far away, is it?’
‘Not really.’
‘Why don’t you go back, then? I mean, it’s bound to be better than here, isn’t it?’
Jimmy leaned his head against Martha. ‘I’ve got nothing to go back to, Nell.’
‘What about yer mum and dad?’ asked Olive.
‘Never had a mum and dad.’
‘What, never?’ I said.
Jimmy shook his head.
‘How did ya get borned then?’ said Olive, looking puzzled.
‘I haven’t got a clue, Olive. I think that perhaps I just arrived one day in a spaceship.’
‘Imagine that!’ said Olive, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.
‘You’re an orphan then?’ I said gently.
‘That’s me,’ he said, grinning.
‘Oliver Twist was an orphan,’ said Olive. ‘An he done all right in the end. He didn’t do too good in the beginnin and the middle bit was iffy, but he did all right in the end, didn’t he, Nell?’
‘Is this Oliver bloke a friend of yours then?’
‘Don’t be daft, Jimmy, he’s in a book what me teacher at school read to us,’ giggled Olive.
‘And this Oliver turned out all right in the end, you say?’
‘Yeah, the upshot was that he actually belonged to some posh people. Didn’t he, Nell?’
I smiled and nodded. I loved listening to Olive gabbling on as if she hadn’t landed in the worst place in the world.
‘An he lived happily ever after.’
‘Maybe that’s what’s gonna happen to me.’
‘You have to live with a mean old man called Fagin first.’
‘Well, that can’t be much worse than livin with a mean old woman called Hacker.’
‘I think it’s really sad that you’re an orphan,’ said Olive.
‘Oh, you don’t have to feel sorry for me, being an orphan suits me fine. I’m a free spirit and I’ll make me own luck.’
‘You’d like my friend Lottie then,’ I said, ‘cos she’s a free spirit an all.’
‘Best way to be,’ he said. ‘This place might be a dump but it suits me for now and when it stops suiting me, I’ll find myself a good stout stick and a spotted hankie and go and explore the world.’
‘I like you,’ said Olive suddenly.
‘And I like you an all,’ said Jimmy.
Hearing Olive say that she liked Jimmy was enough for me to decide to stay for a while.
Chapter Seventeen
I suppose that you can get used to most things and we soon got used to the farm. As long as we saw to the animals, Mrs Hacker pretty much left us alone and that suited us fine. Olive loved helping Jimmy and grew to love the cows, but the pigs were her favourites; she spent ages talking to them.
‘What are their names?’ she asked one day, when we were throwing slops into the trough.
‘They haven’t got names, Olive,’ said Jimmy.
‘Everyone should have a name,’ Olive insisted. ‘The cows have got names.’
‘The cows are different.’
‘Why? Why are the cows different?’
‘All I’m saying is it’s best not to get too attached to them. That’s why I never named them.’
Jimmy looked at me and raised his eyebrows; I knew what he was talking about.
‘The pigs might not hang around, Olive,’ I said.
‘Where are they going then?’
‘Look, Olive, people have pets, don’t they? Like cats and dogs,’ said Jimmy.
‘Old Mr Roberts has got a dog and he’s a bugger.’
‘Well, Olive, farm animals aren’t pets.’
‘What are they then?’
This was a nightmare. How could I tell a little girl that the pigs were for eating?
‘There are some things, Olive, that it’s best to just accept.’
‘Like the Holy Trinity?’
‘Got it in one.’
‘I’m gonna name em anyway.’
‘Suit yerself, love,’ I said, smiling at her.
‘I’m gonna.’
Jimmy tried to show me how to milk the cows but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t get the hang of it. Martha didn’t like me; she stamped her feet and kept turning round to glare at me with her big brown eyes. Jimmy laughed at my efforts. He was a natural, though. He spoke to them lovingly, as if they were real people instead of animals, all the time gently squeezing their udders. Me and Olive watched in wonder as warm white milk poured into the bucket.
‘What’s that coming out of her titty?’ asked Olive.
‘It’s milk,’ said Jimmy.
‘Milk comes in bottles, don’t it?’
‘No, Olive, milk comes from cows,’ I said, smiling.
Olive screwed up her face. ‘That’s not milk, it’s wee. I ain’t drinking that!’
‘I think you and me need a chat, Olive.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m gonna name them pigs now.’ And she ran out of the barn.
‘She’s a gutsy little thing, isn’t she?’ said Jimmy, grinning.
I nodded. ‘Always has been.’
‘I’d like to have had a brother or a sister – you’re lucky to have her.’
‘I’ve got two brothers as well. They stayed in London with me mum.’
‘You must miss them.’
‘I do.’
‘You’ll see them again.’
‘Who did you live with in Cardiff, Jimmy?’
‘I lived in an orphanage.’
‘Was it okay?’
‘Well, it was better than here.’
‘Will you go back there after the war?’
‘They chuck you out when you’re fifteen and I’m sixteen now, old enough to take care of myself.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘I dunno, maybe I’ll go to London and seek me fortune.’
‘What’s left of it,’ I said.
‘How old are you, Nell?’
‘I’m almost fifteen.’
‘You’re tall for your age.’
‘I get that from my dad.’
Jimmy picked up the bucket and we started walking back to the house.
‘What did you do with my locket?’ I said.
‘I buried it up in the field under the old oak tree. Don’t worry, I put it in a tin so it will be good as new when we dig it up. It’s important to you, isn’t it?’
‘My mum gave it to me before we left Bermondsey so yes, it’s very important.’
‘Well, it’s safe where it is, so you’ve got no need to fret. I’ll show you where it’s buried if you like.’
‘Thanks, Jimmy,’ I said, smiling at him.
‘You’re very welcome, Nell.’
* * *
Days on the farm were long: we were up before six helping Jimmy with the animals. By the evening Olive could barely stay awake long enough to eat her dinner. Once I’d taken her up to bed and read a bit of Anne of Green Gables, me and Jimmy spent the evenings together. At first I had worried about leaving Olive on her own but with Mrs Hacker downstairs I felt that she would be safe. Albert’s bedroom was off the kitchen so he would have no excuse to go upstairs.
The more I got to know this sweet, gentle boy the more I grew to like him. Neither of us wanted to spend time with the Hackers, so on those cold winter evenings we’d sit in the barn. We talked about everything. I told him about Bermondsey and Rannly Court, my mum and Tony and Freddie. I told him about my best friend Angela and the bombed-out house that we loved to spend time in. I told him about the River Thames rolling past the back of the flats and my daddy who used to be a docker.
‘Is he away at the war?’
I was silent.
‘He’s not dead, is he?’ he asked gently.
‘Missing,’ I said. ‘But Mum’s sure that he’s alive. She was supposed to join us here but she wants to stay where she is for when he comes back.’
‘You have to have hope, Nell.’
‘Most of the time I do,’ I said, ‘but sometimes I think I might never see him again.’
Jimmy smiled at me. ‘Let’s hope he comes back then, eh?’
I nodded. ‘Let’s hope.’
‘This war can’t last forever, Nell, and then you can go home and I can travel the world.’
‘And what are you going to do when you’ve done that?’
‘I’m going to buy a farm, a dairy farm, and I’m going to specialise in Friesians – they’re the best milking cows. I’ll own acres of fresh green pasture where the cows can roam free, not like this dump.’
‘You like cows, don’t you?’
‘They’re the most gentle creatures. I took to em right away – I like em better than most people I’ve met. I guess they’re the reason I stay here. How about you, Nell? What do you want to do?’
‘Go back home, I suppose, and work in the sugar factory.’
‘Is it nice there?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I’ve never really thought about whether it’s nice or not, it’s just somewhere to work.’
‘I could never be shut up in a factory all day,’ said Jimmy. ‘I think I’d go mad and I couldn’t work for anyone else either.’
‘I hope you get your farm, Jimmy,’ I said.
‘I have to make my fortune first, Nell, but I will, I’ll make my fortune.’
‘I don’t doubt that for one second, Jimmy,’ I said, smiling at him.
* * *
Winter gave way to spring and life became easier. For a start we weren’t freezing cold and wet all the time. As long as we saw to the animals and kept out of Albert’s way, things weren’t too bad. I wrote letters to Mum and Lottie. I told Lottie all about the farm and grumpy Mrs Hacker and horrible Albert and the lousy food. I also told her about Jimmy and how nice he was and how much I liked him. I didn’t tell Mum how awful the place was because I didn’t want her worrying. Instead I told her how Olive loved chatting to the pigs and stroking the big gentle cows, so I didn’t exactly lie to her, I just made it sound a lot better than it was.
Once Olive was asleep, Jimmy and I would sometimes walk into Tyford, a small village that boasted a post office and a pub. It was a five-mile walk there and back but it was great to leave Hackers farm for a few hours and I didn’t trust Albert to post my letters.
It was lovely to see the spring flowers growing wild in the fields and hedgerows. The grassy banks were ablaze with bright yellow daffodils and purple and yellow crocuses. It reminded me of the fields and lanes around Glengaryth. Hackers farm was a bit like Bermondsey; nothing seemed to grow there. In fact it was a wonder me and Olive grew, but surprisingly we did; in fact we had never been so healthy.
Jimmy and I walked across fields and climbed over wooden stiles. We’d sit quietly on the old stone bridge that spanned the little stream with our legs dangling over the side, watching the water flowing beneath us. I didn’t care that we didn’t talk much – it didn’t matter somehow. I just liked being close to him. One day as we were walking back to the farm Jimmy held my hand, just like that, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. I didn’t say anything but my heart missed a beat and I’m sure my face went red. His hand felt rough and strong in mine and it made me feel safe and cared for. I had never experienced feelings like this before and it was all a bit confusing. If Lottie had been here we would have spent hours talking about it and that would have been fun – she would have had something very wise to say or she might have quoted something her dad had said – but in a way I was glad she wasn’t. I liked keeping these new feelings to myself; I liked lying in bed at night beside a sleeping Olive and going over it all in my mind. It
was my secret and I hugged it close to my heart.
The post box was at the end of the track next to the gate. Olive and I used to run down there every morning to see if there were any letters for us. One day there was a letter from Lottie. It was easy to recognise her handwriting – it was very loopy and she dotted her ‘i’s with complete circles. I put it in my pocket and didn’t read it until the end of the day, when I could be on my own.
After work I walked to the top of the hill and sat down on the grass. The farm looked a bit better from up here. The early evening sun was still warm and I suddenly realised that, despite being away from my family and living in this dump of a place, I was happy. I took the letter out of my pocket and started to read.
* * *
Dear Nell,
Hackers farm sounds utterly bloody awful. I do hope you are keeping your chin up and not letting it get you down. I’m glad that you have a good friend in Jimmy and that Olive is enjoying the animals.
I’m leaving Glengaryth, Nell. My mother is collecting me at the weekend. It turns out that we are going to stay with some acting friends of my father’s who live in Cornwall. They have a cottage by the sea and it sounds idyllic. I shall be glad to be near the sea again. I don’t know how long we are going to stay there, maybe till the war has ended but I’m not sure. In many ways I shall be sad to leave. I know I will be sad to leave Gerraint but I am looking forward to seeing my mother.
We mustn’t lose touch with each other, Nell, because I really value our friendship. I have never had a proper friend. I always thought it didn’t matter and that I was quite happy on my own, but meeting you has made me realise what fun it is to have someone special to talk to and to share things with.
I shall think of you when I see the sea again and hope that one day you will come to Brighton and we can stand at the edge of the ocean together.
Take care, my darling friend, give Olive a big hug from me and know that I shall be missing you until we meet again. I shall send my address as soon as I know it. Please keep writing.
With love always,
Your good friend Lottie Lovejoy
xxx