Yours: An Emotional and Gripping WWII Family Saga (The Promises Between Us Trilogy Book 1)

by Angela Christina Archer

  It wasn’t long before Ethel and Annie came back downstairs. With their hair tucked in towels and wearing a change of clothes, they smelled a little better, and they sat down across from us as Bea served supper.

  “So, are any of you married?” Ethel asked.

  We all shook our heads.

  “Both of us are.”

  “Bea mentioned that and that they were in the Army. Do you know where they are stationed?” Isabella picked up her fork, digging it into the pile of mash. She paused before eating it, though, as she waited for their answers.

  “My husband is in the Navy.” Ethel brushed her hand against her chest. “And Annie’s husband is in the Air Force.”

  “He’s a pilot,” Annie added, plunging her own utensil into her food. She didn’t wait to take a bite. “I’m not sure where he is right now.”

  “And how long have you been land girls?” Claire asked.

  “I joined about eight months ago. When Fred left for training.” Annie finished chewing her bite, then took a sip of water from her glass.

  “And I arrived, what,” Ethel turned toward Annie, “Two months after you?”

  “I think about then. It was just before Doris and Winifred left.”

  Bea dumped the last of the mash onto a final plate and set the pot in the sink before sitting at the table with us in the chair on the end. After setting her plate down, she licked her thumb as though food had gotten on it.

  “Why did they leave?” I asked.

  Bea glanced at Ethel and Annie and they both ducked their chins, focusing on their dinners.

  “They moved on to other farms,” she said. “Some girls do that from time to time when one farm isn’t a good fit, or they prefer certain work.”

  “As in?”

  “Some farms have more pigs than others, or some farms have only cattle.”

  “So, they desired to be around more pigs and cows?” Isabella cocked one of her eyebrows, pausing just before she took a bite of tinned meat. Her mouth gaped open.

  “Something like that.” Bea glanced at Ethel and Annie again before continuing to eat her own supper. Although I—and surely Claire and Isabella—had more questions about the other girls, the look on Bea’s face said not to ask anymore and the subject was off limits.

  The three of us made eye contact but said nothing else, and the whole table finished in silence, and nothing but the sounds of the utensils clanking against the dishes.

  It wasn’t until after we’d all finished that Bea uttered another word. “I’ll clean up tonight. You girls have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, so it might be best for you to all turn in early for the evening. Wake up is at five in the morning, and I’ll have breakfast ready about ten after, so I expect you all down here by then.”

  “Yes, Bea,” Ethel said, placing her dish in the sink.

  “Oh, and if you want any letters to go out in tomorrow’s post, I need them bright and early.”

  “We should probably write our parents,” Claire nudged Isabella, “to let them know we made it safely to Stubton.”

  “Good idea.”

  My stomach twisted with a twinge of guilt. I should write to the Davenports, letting them know I arrived and I’m safe. While I didn’t wish to read any letter that would surely come back my way, it wouldn’t be right of me not to let them know.

  At least this one time.

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, and even mentally wrote and crossed out several paragraphs on my way up the stairs. As we reached the bedroom, and after I changed my clothes and snuggled down into the bed, I at least had an opening line.

  Dear Eleanor and Robert,

  I just wanted you to know I have safely made it to Halifax Farms. It’s in the small town of Stubton, and oh how it reminds me of home. I never thought I would want to work on a farm again; the chores always seem a little daunting when thought of, really. However, I have to admit that I look forward to them in the morning, with a sense of contentment, as though I’m home again, even if I’m not.

  I also wanted to apologize for just leaving this morning in the manner in which I did. It was wrong of me and I will forever feel guilty after all the wonderful things you did for me when I was so far away from my own parents. Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt either of you.

  Well, I suppose I should go now. I have to be up at five o’clock in the morning and I’m not sure I will even be able to pry myself out of bed with how exhausted I am at the moment. At least I know when I lay my head on the pillow, sleep won’t be hard to find.

  I hope to hear from you soon, and I will also write again—if you wish for me to.

  Write to you again soon.

  Sincerely,

  Amelia

  SIXTEEN

  Amelia - October 1940

  The next morning came earlier than I thought it would, as did every other morning after that. Soon, weeks passed and it was nearing the middle of October. We worked until every inch of our bodies hurt, overwhelmed with soreness, we would fall into bed, asleep within seconds, and would curse the morning wake up call. So tired from the harvest and tending to the animals, we had yet to visit the pub in town or use our time off for anything other than sleep. A habit Isabella had grown to loath, while I enjoyed it.

  Work meant a distraction from everything I’d been through in the last couple of months, and it also meant a freedom I didn’t know I wanted or needed—a sentiment Eleanor agreed with in one of our many letters back and forth in the last several weeks. Not to mention, the wages weren’t bad either. Each week I would collect my earnings, tucking away nearly all of it in a pouch, hoping when the war and my time as a land girl were over, I would have a pretty good chunk of money saved.

  “I don’t think I will ever get the hang of this.” Isabella sat near the back of the cow on her milking stool. She stared at the pink udders with her face twisted in disgust.

  “It’s really not that hard. I don’t know why you can’t seem to get it,” I said.

  “It didn’t take me long to get the hang of it.” Claire chuckled under her breath as she reached for her own cow’s udders and began pinching and squeezing. Milk shot down in the bucket, making a long ping sound with every squirt.

  Abandoning my cow, I moved back around Isabella, bending down to show her once more how to hold the teat and roll it between her thumb and forefinger in just the way that made the milk come out.

  “Now, you try.”

  Try she did, only instead of the milk squirting down into the pail, her finger slipped, and it squirted her in the face. She screamed and flung her arms backward. Her movement caused her to lose her balance, and she fell off the stool, landing on her rump with a thud. Her foot hit the stool, knocking it over. The wooden leg hit the cow’s leg, goosing the bovine who let out a wailed moo and hopped over to the side. The cow looked at Isabella and I as she swished her tail.

  “Maybe milking shouldn’t be one of your chores,” I said.

  “I tried to tell you,” Isabella jumped to her feet, brushing the dirt from her rear and then her hands. “But no one wanted to listen to me.”

  “It’s either milk the cows or tend to the pigs,” Ethel said, peeking around her cow as she sat on her stool. “And deal with Angus.” She laughed.

  Isabella growled and bent over, grabbing the stool. She set it back upright and sat down, positioning the bucket once more under the udders.

  “You had the motion right,” I reminded her. “You just need to not flick it toward you with your hand.”

  She tried again, this time hitting the bucket. It was by no means the perfect way to milk a cow, but it worked enough for her to continue while I left her to milk my own.

  With all of our buckets full—well, Isabella’s half full—we finally finished, and I handed over my pail to Annie before I headed back to untie the cow and lead her out of the milking barn and to the pasture. She threw her head a couple of times and her ears twisted toward and away from me as she listened to the surrounding sound
s.

  “Come on, Daisy. Come on.”

  After we both walked through the pasture gate, I undid her halter, watching as she continued on, and pausing as she put her head down to rip up a chunk of grass. While she chewed that bite and then took two more, Ethel came out to the pasture, leading another cow. She patted her bovine on the neck as she let her go beside mine.

  “Isabella has never done farm chores before, has she?” she asked.

  “What gave you that idea?” I laughed.

  “I suppose I would take inexperienced over Doris and Winifred any day.” She rested her hands on the fence as we both gazed out over the pasture. In the weeks I’d been on the farm, I’d grown rather fond of Ethel. She reminded me of Evelyn, and I clung to her—perhaps more than I should. Whether I sat beside her during supper or sat near on the couch while we read at night, or stayed up late with her while we chatted over tea and puzzles or books we would read, then swap and have long discussions that would last for days and drive the others crazy. It didn’t matter. I enjoyed her company and sometimes liked it more than Isabella’s and Claire’s.

  “May I ask you what happened with them?” It was the first time I’d ever broached the subject since our first night on the farm, and while I didn’t know if she’d answer me, I hoped she would.

  Ethel sucked in a deep breath and clicked her tongue a few times, hesitating as she ducked her chin for a moment then gazed back out at the cows. “I don’t know if Bea would like to hear of me talking about it.” She leaned into me, lowering her voice to a whisper. “If you haven’t noticed, Bea doesn’t care much for gossip.”

  “Yes, I realize her contempt for it.”

  “But I suppose I could tell you a little. If you promise not to say anything. I mean, you could tell your friends, if you think they can keep their mouths shut.”

  “At times I think they can. We’ve all got secrets.” I laughed, but catching Ethel’s sideways glance, I quieted down and cleared my throat. “If I think them capable of saying anything, I won’t tell them.”

  “I know Bea made it sound like they left together, but they didn’t. Winifred left first, about a month after I arrived. She had an affair with Lord Gillingham.”

  I gasped and, along with the air, took in a fair amount of my own spit. Choking for a moment before I started a coughing fit. Ethel whacked me on the back a few times.

  “Are you all right?”

  My eyes watered as I nodded, and I coughed several more times before my lungs calmed down.

  “Like an affair, affair?”

  Ethel nodded. “Yeah, like an affair, affair. Bea caught them in the barn, rolling around in the hay with nothing but a few blades of dried grass in their hair.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “Well, Bea called her down from the loft and told her to meet her in the farmhouse. It wasn’t until then that Bea discovered it wasn’t just an affair that Winifred was hiding.”

  “What else was she hiding?”

  “She was about four months pregnant. She hid it under her uniform. Kept it a secret from all of us. It was a scandal that would have destroyed the entire estate. Lord Gillingham, with a bastard son or daughter . . . it just would have been awful.”

  “Sounds as though she loved him, though. How did they convince her to leave?”

  “That’s just the thing of it. She left of her own accord after what happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “Doris’s husband was in His Majesty’s Army, fighting on the front lines. One afternoon, Doris received word her husband was killed in action. She went into a fit of despair. It was days and days before she even got out of bed. Then, one night, Bea and Winifred were arguing about her not leaving. When the secret spilled out about the affair and the baby, Doris flew into a fit of rage.”

  “Over what?”

  “That a woman could betray another woman in such a manner, sleeping with a husband. She ran at Winifred, and the two started clawing at each other. It was near the top of the stairs and somehow in the chaos, Winifred fell down the entire flight. She lost the baby three days later. I don’t know if it was the fact someone caught them or because she lost the baby, but Lord Gillingham stopped all communication with her. He wanted nothing to do with her, and she left quietly one night. All she left behind was a note for him. Which he threw in the fire without even opening.”

  “So, what happened with Doris?”

  “Because of her husband’s death, and now the responsibility of a baby’s death from her own hand, she went insane, and they locked her up in an asylum. She’s still there, and I believe will be there for the rest of her life.”

  “I don’t know if I would have even guessed that was the story behind those two.”

  “I know. It is shocking. I heard them fighting and came out of my room right before Winifred tumbled down the stairs. It was awful. Completely awful.”

  “I couldn’t imagine losing a child or being responsible for another woman losing a child. Although . . .” I bit my lip for a moment. “I also couldn’t imagine myself being with another woman’s husband. Not to judge, however . . . well, it’s just . . . mean to do to another woman.”

  “Oh, I agree. I don’t want to even think there are women in this world who would go after my Cornell. However, I used to see the letters Winifred would write to Lord Gillingham, and I would see the ones he would write to her. I believe, in some odd way, they truly loved each other. Lord and Lady Gillingham have always had a . . . difficult marriage, or at least that is what Mr. Barnes told Bea. I believe their parents arranged their marriage and they never have really shared any love for another one. It was all out of duty.”

  “That would be a tough life to live.”

  “It would. I know I couldn’t live a life with a man I didn’t love, or even one I cared for, but he wasn’t the right one I was meant to be with.”

  “The right one?”

  “You know, the one you are destined to be with, which sometimes is not the one you think you should be with.” She turned around and leaned her back against the fence. “Before I found Cornell, I was dating a man who I thought I could marry. Oh, he was a nice man, young, handsome, had a job that would allow him to take care of a family. I cared for him, but there was always something that just felt a little odd between us. I wanted a family right away, and he wanted to travel. He always said children can come when we are older and wanted to settle down for all the responsibility that comes along with them. It was almost as though he saw them as a job and not a blessing.” She shrugged her shoulders. “In the end we just wanted different things.”

  I thought of the conversation Eleanor and I shared in my bedroom the night before I left for Stubton, and how she asked about whether or not Henry would come with me to London while I studied or found a job at a newspaper. My answer had been no, but it wasn’t until now I realized how much that no meant to him and to me and to us.

  We would have never worked.

  Or at least I now doubted we would have.

  “Come on, you two!” a voice shouted behind us. We both turned as Annie waved us back to the barn and Isabella and Claire headed out of it, dragging their cows behind them to put them away.

  “I had to help her finish the bucket,” Claire said, pointing at Isabella as they passed us. Isabella rolled her eyes and blew at the lock of hair that had fallen in her face. A thick layer of sweat beaded along her forehead.

  Ethel snickered, watching them walk by, and she reached for my arm, hooking it in hers as we made our way back to the barn.

  With the cows milked, we moved on to collecting all the eggs from the henhouse. While I dug into the different boxes of straw and feathers, searching for all the eggs I could find, Ethel held the egg crate and counted each one I added to it.

  “I miss eating these every morning.” I asked, lifting a big brown egg from the depths of the straw, and examining it.

  “Me too.”

  “Mrs. Davenport would make scrambled e
ggs with our weekly rations. She added special herbs to them . . . I swear, I still crave them. Sometimes she would use hers to make pancakes to serve, too. It was the one meal I looked forward to all week.”

  “I have so many cravings. I miss a lot of things. Mostly my husband, but certain foods are a close second.” She laughed as she adjusted the crate in her hands. “I got a letter from him the other day. He should come home for leave soon. I can’t wait to see him.”

  “That will be nice for you two.”

  “With the harvest done, too, there is a better chance for me to take a few days off so I can spend time with him. It’s been eighteen months since I’ve last seen him.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “It is.”

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Two years. We got married about six months before the war started. We knew he would have to go off to fight, so we tried for a baby right away. I guess it wasn’t in God’s plans though.”

  I bent down to the lower boxes, plucking two more eggs from them. “You still have plenty of time. You both are young.”

  “Is it wrong to hope I don’t get pregnant now? I mean, when he comes home on leave. Pregnant women can’t be land girls, and I don’t think I could go back to our home alone with nothing to do.” Her eyebrows furrowed together, and her eyes misted with tears.