by June Tate
‘I wish I had, darling. But, honestly, it can’t be that much longer. As Brad got dressed, Rusty pulled on a dressing gown, then walked him to the door.
He held her close and ran his fingers through her hair. ‘My redhead,’ he whispered as he kissed her. ‘Take care of yourself,’ he told her. ‘I’ll write as often as I can, but during wartime mail delivery is uncertain, so if you don’t hear for some time, don’t worry. I’ll be coming back for you, make no mistake!’
‘You’d better, or I’ll damned well come looking for you!’
He smiled at her. ‘I love a woman with spirit.’
She stood at the window and watched him drive away. ‘Don’t you bloody well get yourself killed!’ she said, then she went into the kitchen and made herself a coffee, her heart heavy, knowing it could be a very long time before they saw each other again.
Twenty-One
The following day, the two women moved into Jenny’s old house. There was still a couple of weeks to go on the flat rental, but they both felt they needed to keep busy, knowing their men were due to leave these shores the following day. Neither of the women spoke of this as they moved all their belongings into the house at Chilworth.
Jenny showed Rusty to her bedroom, which was sizeable and at the back of the house, overlooking the garden.
The redhead was thrilled when she saw it. She rushed over to the window and looked out. ‘Jenny, this is so beautiful, and the bedroom is so comfortable. I’ll feel like a queen here.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Jenny said. ‘I have to go and unpack myself.’
Adam had dismissed the housekeeper and the nurse just before he returned to his unit, so the house was clean and tidy, but in their bedroom Jenny felt saddened when she saw some of his clothes carefully draped over a chair. Poor Adam, she thought as she put them away, his world had changed, and she wondered how he would cope when eventually he came home for good, to an empty house and a wife who no longer wanted him.
She realized that she could no longer sleep in this room, the room where she’d spent so many years with him, so she moved her things into the bedroom that she and Chad had shared. There she felt more at ease. This room at least held nothing but good memories, memories that she knew would sustain her in the days and months to come. Thank God Rusty had agreed to move in with her, because she felt that she couldn’t have stayed here alone.
When they’d unpacked, Jenny showed Rusty over the house, then they walked around the garden, looking at what needed doing and discussing how they would organize their day. Jenny would be able to drop Rusty at work every morning before she went to her own office, and then they could meet up to come home together.
Sitting together in the kitchen, Rusty looked around. ‘You must really love Chad to give all this up,’ she remarked.
Jenny dismissed her sentiment. ‘This is just bricks and mortar. If I was happy with Adam, then it would be different, but with Chad, I’d happily sleep outside in the open air on a blanket, because I’d be content. Here with Adam, and the life I would have to continue to live, the house would be like a prison.’ She smiled softly. ‘Chad tells me I am someone special, and with him I feel as if I am. He’s an extraordinary man, and I consider myself a very lucky woman.’
Rusty nodded. ‘How both our lives have changed! Do you sometimes worry that you’ll wake one morning to find it all a dream?’
‘No, but I do wonder how long I could have gone on married to Adam. My life changed when Adam left – before I met Chad. Even without meeting him, I wanted out of my marriage, and that was a concern because I didn’t know how I would manage. Now I don’t have that worry. How about you?’
‘My only concern is if Brad and I ever row, will he bring up my past? If he did, that could destroy us.’
‘He made his decision when he came here for you, Rusty. He was an unhappy man without you. I know, because Chad told me.’
Neither of them brought up the possibility that either of the men might never return but would end up as a casualty of the war . . . or worse. That was the stuff of nightmares, and neither of them wanted to think about those consequences.
Whilst the women were getting settled in, their men had moved out of the Southampton base. Brad and his men had joined up with the 82nd Airborne division and were to be dropped at Groesbeek, near Nijmegen. Neither man had jumped before, and so they had taken a crash course with some others. ‘Remember to bend those knees as you land,’ was the voice ringing in their ears as they climbed into the aircraft taking the troops to the drop zone.
‘Give me a rodeo any time, even with a mad old steer!’ Chad remarked as he lowered himself to the floor beside Brad.
‘I’ve never ridden in a rodeo, but I’ve been to plenty, and to be honest, I’ll take the jump!’ was Brad’s retort.
Operation Market Garden was under way. The objective was to take and hold three bridges. One at Eindhoven, one at Nijmegen and the other at Arnhem. British, American and Polish forces would all take part, hoping that with their might, and that of the allies already on the ground, their task would be completed.
The red light came on in the interior of the plane, and every man got to their feet and shuffled forward, clipped the line of their parachutes to the overhead apparatus – and waited. When the light changed to green, men tumbled out of the aircraft, one after another. Chad went just before Brad and he heard Chad let out a loud whoop.
‘Crazy cowboy!’ he muttered as his parachute opened and tugged at his shoulders.
As the troops landed and stowed their chutes, it appeared chaotic for a while until the men gathered and eventually found their companies with the road to Nijmegen stretched ahead of them. The plan was to scout out the town and reconnoitre the two bridges to be taken from the Germans and held. But the enemy was well established, and the troops were driven back time after time.
As the company took cover in any building they could find, the men took a break whilst the officers in charge talked with headquarters about their next move.
Chad pushed his helmet to the back of his head and lit a cigarette. He offered one to Brad, who took it gratefully. ‘Thanks. Jeez, I’m glad that’s over for a bit.’
Chad agreed. ‘That was hairy, man! Any minute I expected a bullet to take me out.’
‘I didn’t have time to worry. We should have some extra might when the next drop arrives tomorrow and the gliders with the Poles come in. We need more firepower.’
‘We need more everything!’ Chad looked around. ‘Did we lose many men?’
‘A few, and if things don’t improve, we’ll lose a few more.’
‘You’re a bundle of laughs, Captain Jackson!’
‘You have no idea the responsibility on my shoulders. I promised Jenny I’d bring you safely home.’
‘You make damned sure you do, you hear? Oops, we’re off again.’
The men rose to their feet and gathered to make yet another attempt on the bridge.
‘Come on, cowboy, you stick to me like glue.’
‘I’m right behind you, Brad, so for Christ’s sake keep your head down!’
The two women settled down at the house in Chilworth fairly quickly, neither encroaching on each other’s privacy, yet coming together for meals and sharing the housework. Rusty knew nothing about gardening so was quickly shown the difference between a plant and a weed as she helped Jenny look after the outside.
As the days progressed, Jenny, now once more a resident at her old stomping ground, was surprised to find she was the centre of attention from several of the housewives in the area, who had learned about her friendship with the young GI. When they gathered together to plan a Winter Fête, with all the proceeds to go to the serving troops, this became very apparent.
After much discussion and planning, they broke for coffee, and two of the women wandered over to her.
‘I suppose you’re torn between the British and American troops when it comes to collecting funds and gifts for their well-being?’
>
Jenny frowned and looked puzzled. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, Jenny, we all know about you and the American horse whisperer.’
The second woman quickly interceded. ‘Not that I blame you, darling, he’s frightfully good-looking.’
The first woman was not so forgiving. ‘I think it’s disgusting! These Yanks come over here, they’re overpaid and oversexed and women lose their heads – all for what?’
Jenny’s hackles rose. ‘You seem to be very well informed, Fiona – you tell me!’
The woman flushed. ‘Very well, I will. Your husband is fighting for his country, and you are gallivanting around with another man – an American, at that. I think that’s quite disgusting!’
‘You can think what you like, Fiona, but frankly, what I do or don’t do is none of your damned business, and I would appreciate you remembering that.’
‘Well, I never did!’
‘No, you probably never have, which is a great pity, it may have done you the world of good!’ And she walked away, leaving the woman looking outraged.
Jenny stayed to the end of the meeting, as she had promised to help and felt duty bound to do so, but she was aware during the rest of the time there that several of the women were talking about her . . . and now she knew why. Fiona Haskins, a leading light among the local women, had been made to look a fool and she didn’t like it! She was now hell bent on revenge.
One of the women on the committee was Ethel Brown, the farmer’s wife, a thoroughly down-to-earth woman. At the end of the meeting she walked over to Jenny, and taking her aside, she had a quiet word with her.
‘Don’t you take any notice of those busybodies with too much time on their hands! We all have but one life to live, and I know how things can happen to change it beyond all reasoning.’ She then proceeded to tell her about her young friend Sarah and Gunter, the German prisoner of war.
Jenny listened with interest. She was used to hearing all kinds of stories at work from the women who would be sailing after the war to the States as GI brides, but this, with Gunter being German, had a different twist. ‘How kind of you to take her in when she was pregnant,’ Jenny said.
‘What else could I do, Mrs Procter? He is a good man, and they’re in love. That made the difference. He wants to marry her, it wasn’t just a fling, but now I do have a problem.’
Seeing the worried expression on the woman’s face, Jenny asked: ‘What is it?’
‘My son is coming home. He’s been wounded, and now he hates the Germans, hasn’t a good word to say about them, which is understandable. How do you think he’ll feel about Sarah and her baby, fathered by a German? I don’t know what to do.’
‘Let’s go and have a cup of tea somewhere and talk about this. Perhaps between us we can come up with an answer.’
A week later, Sarah and her baby moved into the house in Chilworth. When Sarah was made aware of Ethel Brown’s predicament, she was only too pleased to fit in with any plans that would house her and the baby and give her a living.
Jenny had met Sarah at the farm soon after her chat with Ethel Brown and, liking the girl, had put a proposition to her: ‘I need someone to keep the house clean. Rusty and I are out all day, so keeping the house and garden up to scratch takes up so much time – time that we really do not have. Everything is getting out of hand, and we’ll never catch up. Are you interested in a live-in job for you and of course your baby?’
Sarah was delighted and had agreed immediately – and Rusty had insisted that as Jenny wouldn’t let her pay any rent, she would pay half of Sarah’s wage.
Once Sarah had settled in and worked out a routine, she wrote to Gunter explaining what had happened and telling him it was perfectly all right for him to write to her at this new address.
The baby in the house added a new dimension for Rusty and Jenny, and they both made a fuss of Hans when they were home, so Sarah had plenty of willing hands to help mother her child.
As Rusty said, ‘I need to practice because Brad wants a family once we get married.’
They were all content in their way, which didn’t sit well with Fiona Haskins. She had discovered Rusty’s past and the fact that the young girl who was now living in and working for Jenny Procter had a child and was not yet married. The sanctimonious busybody began a campaign against them all.
Twenty-Two
It was Rusty who was the first to realize that something was going on. She was working on the haberdashery counter at Edwin Jones. It was a busy morning, but out of the corner of her eye, as she served several customers, she was aware that she seemed to be a subject of interest to two women. They were pretending to inspect the reels of cotton, but they seemed more interested in her. They watched her, then chatted to each other as they did so. It became somewhat unnerving, and eventually she walked over to them.
‘Good morning, ladies, can I help you?’
Her direct approach threw them for a moment, and they scrambled to buy some elastic and cotton, following her to the counter with their goods. Whilst they waited for her to package their buys, one of them addressed her.
‘Excuse me, miss, but aren’t you staying with Mrs Procter?’ one asked.
‘Yes, I am.’ Rusty looked somewhat puzzled.
The two women looked at each other with satisfied expressions. The taller of the two smirked and said, ‘Chilworth is a bit out of your league, isn’t it?’
Warning bells sounded loudly in Rusty’s mind. She’d been around long enough to sense a predator, and this woman in particular was out to attack. ‘I’m afraid I don’t follow your line of questioning, madam.’
The woman glared at her. ‘I would have thought Canal Walk would be more suitable for you!’
Rusty froze. Canal Walk was where she used to do her business when she was on the game. She stared straight at the woman and dearly longed to swipe the sly grin off her face. She wrapped the goods that had been bought, handed out the change, then she said very quietly, but with a note of steel in her voice, ‘Here you are, madam, thank you very much. Carry them carefully, because I would be loath to have to shove the bag down your throat for casting aspersions on my character!’
The woman looked shocked. This certainly was not the reaction she had been expecting, and for a moment she was speechless.
‘Thank you, good morning,’ Rusty said and moved away to see to another customer. But behind her she could hear the two women’s outrage as they eventually reacted to her remarks, although this time they kept their voices to a whisper as they walked away.
Rusty told Jenny all about this strange encounter as they drove home at the end of the day.
‘What were they like?’ Jenny asked. ‘Describe them to me.’ She listened and pursed her lips in anger. ‘Did the taller one have a plummy accent?’
‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Rusty, ‘and so condescending. She obviously forgets she has to go to the lavatory like we all do! I wanted to thump her, Jenny, honestly, I don’t know how I kept my hands to myself.’
With a chuckle Jenny said, ‘Oh Rusty, my dear, I’ve been wanting to do that for years. That obviously was Fiona Haskins. We have crossed swords many times, but we did so very recently. She dared to remark on my affair with Chad. She’s a sanctimonious old bitch!’
‘But a dangerous one, Jenny, make no mistake about that. She’s out to make trouble. She’s found out about my past somehow, and she knows about Chad. No doubt before long she’ll learn that Sarah has a bastard child fathered by a German. The bloody woman will have a field day! Are there many occasions when the two of you have to be together?’
‘We are on several committees. In fact she chairs two of them. Make no mistake, this woman has a great deal of sway in this community.’
Rusty sat and thought for a moment. ‘What’s the worst she could do to you?’
‘Destroy my reputation, what’s left of it. After I told Adam I wanted a divorce and why, I went about openly with Chad, but she could get me ostracized by the various commi
ttees, which would be a pity as I do feel I make a major contribution.’
‘But that won’t kill you, will it?’
‘No, but I would be really annoyed if that was to happen, all because of a spiteful woman who thinks she’s better than she is!’
Rusty began to smile. ‘Listen, no one is guilt free. Everyone has a guilty pleasure – we just have to find out which one is hers!’
Jenny started giggling. ‘Fiona Haskins with a guilty pleasure! Are you sure she’d even know what one was?’
‘Trust me! In my business I’ve learned so much about people, and it’s usually the last one you would suspect who is the worst. Fiona fits that bill to perfection. We just need to keep digging!’
The opportunity came sooner than either woman could have wished for. The following Sunday morning, Fiona Haskins was opening her house for a coffee morning, for charity. And when Rusty saw the advertisement in the local post-office window, she pointed it out to Jenny. ‘Here we are. Old frosty face is having a do, and we need to attend.’
‘Are you serious?’ Jenny looked appalled.
‘I’m deadly serious! We have to face the enemy and try and find out how well armed they are and search out their weak position. Oh my God! You can tell I’ve spent too long with the military can’t you?’ and she doubled up laughing.
‘Are you prepared for whatever she throws at us? She won’t be able to help herself, she’ll have to have a dig at me. She wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity.’
Rusty stood tall and defiant. ‘I can match her any time, and so can you. Come on, Jenny, let’s strike a blow for freedom.’
‘Yes, let’s! The old trout will be surprised when we walk in.’
So it was on the following Sunday morning that Jenny and Rusty walked up the drive to Fiona Haskins house and entered the open front door, following the arrows pointing to the room holding the coffee morning. It was very crowded.
‘She’s got a good turnout,’ Rusty remarked.
‘The Chilworth residents are very good when it comes to worthy causes,’ Jenny told her, ‘no matter who is holding the event.’