by Alex Brown
‘But, I guess she followed her heart eventually, by signing up to join the FANY. It was a nursing corps from what I know …’ April said vaguely, casting her mind back to a trip to the Imperial War Museum several years ago.
‘Yes. Winnie was a very headstrong girl. And once she set her mind to something she was quite determined, and fearless … you know, she told me once that she went to visit a bomb site! In Brighton. With some big wigs from the army!’ Aunt Edie’s eyes widened. ‘And saw a mountain of rubble where a cinema once stood,’ she added covertly, lowering her voice and leaning into April, as if all these years later, things that happened in wartime must still be kept secret. Loose lips and all that!
‘Really?’ April marvelled, making another note. It was incredible how her aunt’s memory came and went like this.
‘Yes. But how could she have? Winnie was in the Land Army at the time, working in the fields, and I was just a young girl, so I may have been mistaken. Not very likely is it?’ Edie chuckled as she took a sip of her second snowball. And then, ‘I better not have too many of these, or who knows what I’ll end up thinking actually happened?’ And both women laughed, as they finished their drinks, thoroughly content in each other’s company.
As bedtime approached, Edie turned to April.
‘I’m getting on a bit you know, dear.’ She paused, and April glanced at the red patterned carpet, smiling politely and wondered if she would make it into her nineties and, if so, how would she feel? Would she have the energy for tea dances and consider herself to be merely ‘getting on a bit’? She really hoped so … And suddenly, the attraction of wearing an organza ballgown on a Tuesday afternoon seemed very appealing indeed. ‘So I really must find out what happened to Winnie before it’s too late …’ Edie continued, all the while patting the back of April’s hand as she drained the last of her second snowball, and then tottered off to bed.
Midnight, and April was still sitting up in bed and reading through all of Winnie’s letters to Edie, written in violet-blue ink on cream-lined Basildon Bond notepaper with matching envelopes. Unable to wait a moment longer, she had found the biscuit tin and got stuck in right away, and now the bed was strewn with envelopes and a selection of photos.
April picked up another letter, written while Winnie was in the Land Army.
Dearest sister Edie,
I do hope you are keeping well.
The weather here was wretched today, windy rain and dreary skies, which didn’t bother me, yet the city girls kicked up the most dreadful hullabaloo. They’re not used to it you see, certainly not being outside in the fields. But they’re a good bunch on the whole and I think you’d rather like them. Rita is a card, and keeps us amused with the most shocking jokes, quite blue at times, but she’s a cockney from Whitechapel in the East End of London, and far more worldly than the rest of us girls.
One of the other girls, Doreen, had never seen sheep before! Isn’t that extraordinary – and tell Father he wouldn’t care for Maud, as it took her the best part of half an hour to pick two crates of apples!
How are Mum and Dad? Do give them my love, dear girl, and say I’m keeping Robert and Sidney safe in my thoughts.
See you in two weeks’ time.
Your sister Winnie x
PS – if you want to wear my dresses then that is OK. But not the blue, floral tea dress as I shall want to bring that back with me next time I’m home on leave. I’ve been invited to a dance in Brighton at the end of the month, which I’m awfully excited about. There are going to be boys from the base there. Rita says she will ask one to dance with me, if it appears that I’m to be a wallflower. She’s very forward …
Ahh, April took a sip of her tea and felt quite emotional as she read the words of her twenty-year-old great aunt Winnie. The innocence and optimism of a dance to look forward to – a chink of light in the dark days of war. And the old-fashioned, formal dialogue, it really was like stepping back in time. But no mention of a man, and by the sounds of it, Winnie wasn’t a worldly-wise type of girl whatsoever, certainly not if she thought asking a man to dance was forward. Mind you, it was very different then, which was why Winnie having anything to do with a married man would have been highly scandalous.
April shuffled through the letters and picked up another one sent from the FANY training base … April paused to check her pad. Yes, she had made a note: in one of the earlier letters, Winnie had said the Oxfordshire countryside was very similar to Tindledale. She took another sip of her tea and got comfy against the headboard of the bed to read the next letter. Dated 1942, it was far more formal.
Dear Edie,
The weather here is certainly changeable. Much like the food, today it was chicken and dumplings for lunch, yesterday cold ham and potato, but I mustn’t grumble.
I’m learning so very much, and keeping well. Do tell Mum and Dad I’m continuing to keep Robert and Sidney safe in my thoughts …
Hold on. April sat upright and put down her mug on the bedside cabinet. She checked the date. 1942. But Sidney was killed in 1941! That’s what Edie had said … with crystal-clear clarity! It was the week before Christmas. April grabbed her pad again and flipped through the pages.
Sidney – December 1941.
It was right there. Circled several times. Surely Winnie would have been told that her brother hadn’t made it? April thought it very strange indeed. Mulling it all over, wondering if Aunt Edie had got the year wrong perhaps – that would explain the discrepancy – April looked inside the envelope again, as if it might contain some kind of clue. But nothing. She looked at the front with the Orchard Cottage address on. And the postmark. And her pulse quickened further.
London?
But that wasn’t right. April sifted through all of the envelopes spread out across the old-fashioned eiderdown on her bed, checking each one. Perhaps this letter had got muddled up and then put back inside the wrong envelope. But after reading through every letter again, April couldn’t find any mention at all of Winnie ever being in London … so how come this letter had been posted from there? It just didn’t make any sense.
Even more determined to unravel the truth of what happened to her great aunt Winnie, April gathered up all the letters and photos, put them back in the biscuit tin and turned off the lamp and lay in the dark, silent countryside night letting all the information she had collated so far swirl around inside her head. Maybe her unconscious mind would work out the truth as she drifted off to sleep.
Aweek later, and with Pete’s help, April had already transformed the garden, having planted Gray’s roses in a perfect spot near a particularly flourishing apple tree over in the meadow section packed with wild flowers. It had been Edie’s idea; in another one of her lucid moments she had said that now a part of Gray would always be here at Orchard Cottage. And April liked the thought of that. It was interesting too, how since being here in Tindledale, April’s feelings had started to change – she felt more relaxed and far less panicky whenever Gray entered her thoughts. And she had enjoyed the best sleep in years here. The stillness and calm at night were a stark contrast to the traffic and hollering in the streets of Basingstoke. She had woken up every morning feeling refreshed and raring to go without a whiff of that god-awful gear change thing on remembering that Gray wasn’t here any more. But now she woke up already armed with this knowledge and was grateful to no longer have such a cruel reminder to contend with.
April had also sorted out the leaky septic tank and Pete was here today, busy putting a small fence around it so that nobody else would have the displeasure of inadvertently wandering through the boggy patch that was still lingering.
‘You could get the waste removal boys down with the truck and motorised suction hose to suck it all up if you like?’ Pete offered, taking a break from hammering the last fence post into the ground.
‘Good idea, does it cost very much?’ April asked.
‘Nah, not too bad,’ he started, pushing his hair away from his face with his forearm. He was a good bloke, thought
April, only young, early thirties or so, and had really helped her out and she was well aware that he wasn’t charging her the full going rate for the work that he was doing. April had tried to insist, but he’d said he wouldn’t dream of it, and besides, he was happy to help out … Old Edie had let him and his mates play in the orchards as kids, had even brought pitchers of cold apple juice out to them in the summer, so it was the least he could do. ‘But it stinks to high heaven when they switch the motor on.’ Pete pulled a face as he swigged some water from a bottle that he kept in the back pocket of his heavy-duty farmer jeans.
‘Ahh, in that case, maybe it’s best to let sleeping muck lie,’ April said, eyeing the patch of grass inside the fence.
‘Sure, and it’ll disappear over time in any case now that we’ve cleared the drain of all those dead leaves …’ Pete assured. ‘I’ll put the garden hose over it too to help it on its way.’
They both turned on hearing footsteps.
‘Hiya.’ It was Molly, laden with food, as always. ‘Here, had one left over, pulled pork, apple and cider. I know how partial Edie is to one of my pies,’ she beamed, handing April a cloth-covered pie dish.
‘Ooh, thank you. But you must let me do something in return this time,’ April said, taking the pie.
‘OK. You’re on.’ Molly glanced at Pete. ‘How about a nice cup of tea and a chat, if Pete can spare you for a bit?’ she chuckled. ‘My boys are doing my head in, so it would be nice to have some “me time”, without one or all of them yelling “Muuuuuum” at me continuously.’ Molly rolled her eyes, despite it being quite obvious that she absolutely adored her boys.
‘Sure,’ Pete grinned, nodding. ‘As long as you bring me out a mug of tea and a couple of biscuits to dunk in.’
‘Coming right up,’ April smiled, and the two women walked around the fence and into the cottage via the back door.
After setting the pie on the kitchen table, April put the kettle on and turned to ask Molly how she was, and also to see if she knew anything about the horses.
‘Ahh, yes they actually have names. Darby and Joan. And they belong to Old Edie,’ Molly said, settling down in a chair at the table. ‘She inadvertently adopted them a number of years ago. From what I can remember, they were abandoned in the orchard several years back, when the recession first bit and the upkeep costs of looking after ponies were most likely deemed a luxury that their previous owners couldn’t afford.’
‘Gosh, I had no idea,’ April said, popping a tea bag into each of the mugs.
‘Yes, your aunt told me all about it during one of her telephone calls to the shop. Apparently, an apology note was left pinned to the wooden stile. Edie discovered it one morning, alongside a huge hole in the far corner of the orchard’s perimeter fencing where two panels had been removed to let the horses in, but then hastily abandoned flat on the grass when the previous owners had seemingly left in a hurry. It’s a wonder the horses didn’t wander back out into the lane!’
‘It sure is.’
‘It’s become quite a problem over the years, in and around Tindledale and the surrounding villages, with horses being left in fields during the night.’ Molly shook her head. ‘Here, call the vet.’ She grabbed her bag and rummaged around before pulling out an old dog-eared business card. ‘He’s very good and he’ll come out right away to take a look at Darby and Joan. This afternoon most likely, if you explain …’ Molly handed April the card.
‘Thanks Molly, I’ll do that right after we’ve drunk our tea.’
‘Good. And what are you up to tomorrow?’
‘Sorting out more of the garden and pottering around the cottage, why?’
‘I thought I’d take you over to Hettie’s House of Haberdashery and introduce you to Hettie to see if she can shed any more light on Winnie’s disappearance. I’ve become quite intrigued myself now,’ she laughed.
*
Later, having waved goodbye to Pete, April was going to drive up to the village to pick up something nice for her and Edie’s pudding that evening, to have after Molly’s pie – a couple of cakes from Kitty’s Spotted Pig café perhaps – but just as she opened the door of the Beetle, she heard footsteps on the gravel behind her.
‘Hope you’re not breaking in to steal that car!’ It was Harvey, with a carrier bag in one hand, a muddy black Labrador on a length of rope in the other and a big grin on his face.
‘Ha-ha, very funny!’ April laughed. ‘Can I help you with anything or are you just passing by?’ she asked, reaching into her handbag on the car seat to retrieve her sunglasses. The hot July sun was dazzling today.
‘I come bearing gifts,’ he said, walking towards her. Harvey handed her the carrier bag. ‘Early season plums from my fruit farm. Lovely, big, juicy plums!’ April took the bag and looked inside. They sure were ‘lovely, big, juicy plums’ … but was Harvey flirting? It seemed like it! April felt her cheeks flush and was grateful to have the Labrador as a distraction. She gave his shiny black head an enthusiastic stroke, managing to avoid the mud, and he repaid the gesture with an affectionate nuzzle against the side of her jeans.
‘Thank you,’ she said, lifting the carrier bag up a little awkwardly. It was a long time since she had been flirted with and she wasn’t entirely sure how it made her feel … But before she could analyse further, Harvey moved in close. Close enough for April to catch a whiff of his lemony-fresh scent.
‘Fancy a drink with me in the village pub – the Duck & Puddle – one evening? Or dinner. We could have dinner at the new Indian restaurant …’
Wow! Now April knew for certain that he was flirting. Well, he sure didn’t waste any time. She took a small step backwards.
‘Oh, I, um …’ she paused, taken aback. She fiddled with her hair, feeling so out of practice. And a little bit guilty to be honest. What would Gray think? Just because he was no longer physically here … April still felt his presence all around her, and she still loved him. Was still in love with him. And Nancy and Freddie, come to think of it, what would they think if their late dad’s wife went out for a … what was Harvey even offering? A dinner date? April smiled and certainly felt flattered, but had no idea if she wanted to go for a drink or have dinner with Harvey or not, so settled on ‘I’m not sure’ as an answer. But Harvey wasn’t fazed in the slightest.
‘Well, have a think about it, and let me know when you are sure! No strings. You’re a great-looking woman and I’d be a fool not to get my offer in first. Unless Pete’s already beaten me to it?’ Harvey eyed her curiously before turning his attentions on the dog as he nudged April’s hand, wanting another stroke. ‘Looks like Oscar has taken a fancy to you too …’ He laughed.
‘Oh, no! Pete is doing …’ April paused, ‘it’s nothing like that …’ She gave Oscar another stroke and then fiddled with the carrier bag feeling even more flattered now as Pete was quite a bit younger than her. She imagined he had his pick of the young, single women for miles around, although Deedee had seemed very coquettish when she had spoken about him, so perhaps Pete did have a thing for older women …
‘Hmm! I saw he was here tidying up Old Edie’s garden.’
‘Um, yes, that’s right,’ April said, quickly focusing her thoughts back on the conversation.
‘Has he sorted out the orchards yet?’
‘No, just the garden. And the nettles and hedges in the lane.’ April hadn’t wanted to take advantage of Pete’s generosity (he was already doing the work at a discount as a favour to Deedee) and she figured access down the lane to the cottage and the garden was the priority. The orchards could wait.
‘Well, I can get the orchards tidied up for you. No problem.’ Harvey nodded and smiled, making his eyes crinkle at the corners again and his messy, blond hair flop over his forehead. April thought that he was actually quite attractive, in an earthy, fruity fruit-farmer kind of way, and she hadn’t really paid much attention to his physical features during their first encounter. Not really her type. But then she wasn’t totally sure what her type was
any more.
‘Er, thank you!’ April willed her cheeks to stop flushing, she could feel the blood pulsing in them now, which was ridiculous she knew, but she certainly hadn’t been expecting this when she decided to visit her aunt in the sleepy little village of Tindledale. To be asked out on a date! Besides, it felt far too soon to even be contemplating meeting someone new.
‘So, where are you off to?’ Harvey asked, quite casually, as if it was an everyday occurrence for him to ask women out on dates … on second thoughts, April had an inkling that it probably was. Or maybe that’s just how it was out here in the countryside, people cut to the chase, didn’t bother with Internet dating and all that malarkey. Nancy would be pleased if she came to visit, as she was always bemoaning the perils of Match and Tinder and suchlike, or grumbling that the men she met at her Northern Soul nights were more interested in the music and their scooters than getting an actual girlfriend. April turned back towards the car to hide her grin. She had to admit, she was flattered by Harvey’s audacity.
‘Just up to the village – to the café. And then I’ve got the vet coming this afternoon …’ she replied, keen to chat about something other than her potential date with the audacious Harvey.
‘The vet? What for?’ But before April could explain, Harvey carried on talking. ‘You wanna watch old Patrick … sure knows how to charge, he does! And a home visit?’ Harvey shook his head and drew in a long sharp breath to indicate that this afternoon could prove very costly indeed. April’s heart sank – she had already paid out rather more than she had envisaged on getting the garden and the lane sorted out. Her modest funds were dwindling rapidly.
‘Oh, it’s not Patrick. It’s a new vet … Molly said he’s very good. And he looks after the horses at the military base on the other side of Market Briar. The dogs too!’ April replied brightly, wanting to remain upbeat.
‘Ahh, yes I know. But he still works for Patrick. There’s only one vet practice around here … What’s he coming for? Edie doesn’t have any pets, does she?’