Edie dropped her eyes. The truth was, she was a little afraid of him – or at least, afraid of being alone with him for long spells. While she didn’t give any credence to Davy’s fanciful theory that Sam might be some sort of undercover Nazi agent, she couldn’t help dwelling on Barbara’s enigmatic comment earlier. What did she mean when she’d said he kept his hands to himself – for the most part? Had he made advances to one of the other women? Was he likely to try anything with her? Edie knew she was nothing to write home about – certainly not compared to the pretty, curvaceous Barbara – but Sam did seem keen on keeping her by his side. And men weren’t always particular when it came to casual affairs, were they?
She thought of Tilly, and the married lover who hadn’t cared a jot about the situation he was leaving her in. No, men weren’t particular – so long as they got what they wanted.
‘Of course not,’ she said, trying to sound like she meant it. ‘I’m just worried about looking an idiot.’
‘I’ll be gentle with you,’ Sam said, with a grin that did nothing to alleviate her fears. ‘Come on, let’s get ourselves some fodder.’
Edie needn’t have worried. It would be untrue to say Sam was the perfect gentleman while they worked alongside each other all through that cold, drizzly afternoon, since he continued just as abrupt and unchivalrous as ever, but he certainly seemed to have little interest in her as anything other than a hard and obedient worker.
Edie got to witness her first few births too, watching as Sam eased each lamb from its mother with front legs outstretched like a woolly little diver. Again, she was struck by the tenderness he displayed when caring for the animals.
At the end of a long, exhausting but satisfying day, Edie felt reassured that she was safe enough with Sam Nicholson, whatever liberties he might have taken with the other girls on the farm. Obviously she just wasn’t his cup of tea, which suited her perfectly. She didn’t have enough vanity about her appeal to the opposite sex for it to wound her much.
What was more, she felt that her willingness to work, her eagerness to perform whatever task was set for her, had earned Sam’s professional admiration. Unlike his amorous interest, his respect as a farmer was something she valued more than she cared to admit.
‘You did well today, London,’ Sam said as she reclaimed her bicycle and prepared to heave her aching limbs back home. ‘Well done.’
She beamed, her cheeks flushed with pride. ‘Thank you.’
He gave a gruff nod, dropping his eyes as if her evident pleasure at the compliment embarrassed him. ‘Aye, well, I’ll see you in the morning then. Bright and early, don’t forget. I’m expecting you to make up for the time you missed today.’
‘Fine,’ Edie said, although she’d already worked more than her allotted hours.
As she prepared to mount her bike, she spotted something in the distance. Something small, black …
‘Mr Nicholson –’
‘Sam, for God’s sake. I can’t abide being Mr Nicholson, it makes me sound like a schoolmaster.’
‘Look,’ she said, pointing. ‘Over there. I think it’s a lamb. And … oh gracious. It’s not moving.’
He looked to where she was pointing and frowned. ‘You’re right. Look sharp then.’
She left the bicycle and followed as Sam ran to where the lamb was lying motionless.
The farmer was faster than her, strong enough to vault the stiles without climbing them, so it took Edie a minute or two longer to reach the new lamb. When she got there Sam was already kneeling beside it, looking it over with concerned eyes.
‘Is it –’ She stopped to cough, but managed to recover herself. ‘Is it dead?’
The tiny lamb was lying full length, eyes shut.
‘Not yet,’ Sam muttered, running his hand gently over its body. Its little chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly. ‘Cold as death though, and breathing’s very shallow. Where’s the mother wandered off to? These girls weren’t due yet.’
Edie looked around her. ‘This field … we found another lamb near here. Vinnie thought the mother was being too rough with him so we took them to the infirmary.’
Sam had picked the lamb up and was rubbing it between his hands, trying to impart some warmth. ‘Just the one lamb?’
‘We thought so, but … could it have been a twin? This one might’ve been hidden by something.’
‘Hmm. Very likely. Vinnie should know better than to not check the area.’ He picked up the motionless lamb and got to his feet. ‘You’d better go home. I’ll take care of this.’
Edie didn’t like the ominous sound of those words.
‘You don’t mean you’ll … you’re not going to kill it?’ she whispered.
‘Good God, you really think I’m a brute, don’t you? No, of course I’m not going to kill it.’ He glanced at the lamb. ‘But it’ll be dead by morning, all the same.’
‘You’ll try though? You’ll try to save it?’
‘This is the problem with employing women,’ he muttered. ‘Too soft-hearted to get the work done.’ He gave her a stern look. ‘London, this is a mutton flock. Most of these animals are destined for the butcher’s block. You do understand that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but …’ Edie cast a helpless look at the lamb. ‘It’s so small.’
‘I’ll do what I can for it. Just don’t start blubbering on me if it’s bad news tomorrow.’ He strode off towards the farmhouse with the lamb dangling from one fist.
Chapter 9
It was early Friday evening and Prue was on her knees, scrubbing the marble fireplace in the dining room.
She hadn’t been able to forget Edith’s expression when she’d shown her around the house on her arrival – the distaste in the child’s eyes when she’d caught sight of the dustsheets and grubby furniture – and somewhere in her soul, Prue had felt ashamed.
Yes, it was true that she didn’t keep the house as smart as she had when dear Albert was alive. It seemed foolish, that was all, spending time scrubbing every room when they used only a handful between the three of them. Matilda attended to the kitchen, cooking and laundry, Jack saw to the gardens, and Prue made sure the hallway, bathroom, occupied bedrooms and the library, where she received her few visitors, were fit to be seen.
But it did no harm to give the old place a spring clean once in a while, she’d told herself, and this morning she had rolled up her sleeves and made a start.
Prue had spent the morning dusting and polishing the sitting room, where she’d also moved the wireless set, so the two girls could make it a common room of sorts if they wished. They seemed to like each other’s company, and it was good for Matilda to have a friend her own age. If the new girl was to be staying, of course. Prue still hadn’t made up her mind on that point, although Jack had given a strong report of her first two weeks’ work. But of course the old fool warmed to anybody who was kind to that mangy bird of his, Prue reflected with a fond smile.
After she’d finished in the sitting room, she had moved on to the dining room. She thought that perhaps they might use it this Sunday after church, now they were four, and have a proper roast dinner – or as close as one could come to a full dinner these days, at any rate. Matilda was clever with the rations though, and she could make a small joint go a long way.
Yes, Prue believed she would like that: a Sunday dinner just like they used to have. It had been a long time since the family had sat down together at the table – not since Bertie had last been home on leave. Perhaps they could invite those two Italians from Samuel Nicholson’s farm too. The pair of them had often come in for a spot of tea in the kitchen when dropping off eggs, but they’d never been invited for a meal. God knew it couldn’t be easy for them, poor souls, far away in a foreign land. Prue hoped that if her Bertie was ever a prisoner, someone would show him the same kindness.
Prue smiled at herself. The family, had she called them before? Well, she supposed they were a family of sorts. A mismatched bunch, but they suited one another: her,
and Jack, and Bertie, and Matilda. They understood each other, and they liked each other’s company. Prue never had felt it necessary to make the distinction between mistress and servant at Applefield Manor.
If only she could keep it to just the four of them – or the five of them, when the bairn arrived. But the war would encroach on her life, no matter how hard Prue tried to shut it out. Bertie was gone and instead there was Edith, almost as if heaven had intended her to take his place. As if he might not be coming back. The thought made Prue shudder.
‘Superstitious old biddy,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Don’t be such an ass, Prudence Hewitt.’
Jack and Matilda seemed to have taken to her – Edith – but there was something about the girl that unsettled Prue. The way she’d looked at the house, making Prue feel she was failing in her duty to it. All her talk of reviving the village treat, and doing their bit for the war, giving rise to an unwelcome spike of guilt that needled Prue in the belly. Prue didn’t like change, and she certainly didn’t want any young bits bringing it here to Applefield Manor. All she wanted was her Bertie home again, and the war to be over so life could go back to how it had been before.
She cursed when the bell for the front door rang out. Had Edith forgotten her key? She went to answer it.
‘Oh,’ she said when she opened it. Her lips hardened. ‘Patricia.’
A tall, sharp-featured woman in a tweed twinset was on the doorstep, with a watery-eyed boy of about six clinging to her skirts.
‘Prue.’ Patricia took in her appearance, her bare arms mottled with ash. ‘My dear, you look like a charlady. Whatever have you been doing?’
‘Deep sea fishing, of course,’ Prue said, wiping dirty hands on her apron. Patricia looked puzzled, and Prue willed herself not to smile. ‘I’ve been cleaning out the dining room grate, Patty. Do come in.’
‘Why not have Matilda do that?’ Patricia asked as she followed Prue to the library. ‘I don’t see the point in having servants if you’re going to do all their work for them. It’s like keeping a dog only to bark yourself.’
Patricia paused, as if she expected to be congratulated on what she obviously thought was a highly pithy and original observation, but Prue just indicated two leather armchairs placed either side of a coffee table.
‘Matilda has her work and I have mine,’ she said shortly when they were both seated. ‘She is also in a rather delicate condition, in case you’ve forgotten. I won’t have her risking her own health and the baby’s by taking on more than she can manage.’
Patricia turned to the little boy.
‘Edgar, there are some lovely picture books of birds and animals on the shelf over there,’ she said, pointing out a mahogany bookcase. ‘I’m sure Mrs Hewitt won’t mind if you take a look at them.’
‘Hmm,’ Prue muttered. ‘Hands, Edgar.’
The boy submitted them for inspection without a whimper. Satisfied they were clean, Prue nodded and Edgar wandered away to look at the books.
‘Prue, you behave like a common drudge,’ Patricia continued in a lower voice. ‘You really ought to hire a maid if your current staff are unable to cope. It’s not fitting for the lady of the house to clean for herself like some sort of … topsy-turvy Cinderella.’
‘And what would I do all day while this Mrs Mopp sticks her nose in where it isn’t wanted?’ Prue demanded. ‘Settle myself on the chaise longue with a pug and a boxful of chocolates until I’d bored myself into an early grave? No thank you.’
‘But in your position …’
Prue flicked a hand. ‘Oh, pooh to my position, Patricia Featherstone. Don’t forget it was my mother’s job to keep this house for over a decade. If she could manage, so can I.’
Patricia flinched. ‘I wonder you can talk of it so coolly.’
‘Why shouldn’t I? I’m not ashamed of where I came from, despite the best efforts of people in this village to make me feel I ought to be.’ Prue patted her hair, which was coming free from its bun. ‘Now is this a social call? If it is I’ll fetch us some tea.’
‘Partially,’ Patricia said, sitting up straighter. ‘But I am also here in my WVS capacity. I’ve been assigned the job of checking on local Land Girls in private billets. Where is –’ She stopped to consult a piece of paper. ‘Where is Edith? Did she arrive as expected?’
‘Yes, she arrived last Monday. She’s at work at the moment, over at Larkstone.’
Patricia frowned. ‘Is she now? Mr Nicholson must have her working well over her allotted hours.’
‘In lambing season everyone works over their hours, Patricia. You ought to know that.’
‘Hmm. I suppose they do. Well, how is she settling in? Does she seem … happy and all that?’ Patricia asked, fumbling for a suitable word.
‘It’s not really for me to say. I suspect I’d be rather homesick if I were in her place, but she’s confided nothing to me. She and Matilda seem to have become firm friends, however.’ Prue regarded Patricia with one eye narrowed. ‘Perhaps you might like to see her while you’re here.’
‘Yes, that was my intention. I don’t suppose it will be too long until she returns from work.’
‘Not Edith, Patty. Matilda. She is your niece.’
Patricia drew herself up. ‘You know my views on that. Matilda receives an allowance from Andrew and me, and I’m happy to send clothes for the baby or anything else she might need. I’m a Christian, after all.’ She cast a look at Edgar. ‘But I can’t have her near my grandson.’
‘Mercy’s sake, Patty. Illegitimacy isn’t a disease, you know. It isn’t catching.’ Prue followed Patricia’s gaze to Edgar, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking through Bertie’s childhood copy of Princess Mary’s Gift Book. ‘Besides, she wouldn’t be the first young woman who’d been caught the wrong side of what’s considered right, would she?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Patricia hissed. ‘Edgar was six weeks early. I told you that.’
‘Or your Martha’s wedding was six weeks late,’ Prue muttered.
‘At least Thomas is a respectable man, a man who knows his duty. If Matilda hadn’t given herself to that – that person …’ Patricia spat the word as if it was the vilest insult she could summon. ‘Assuming he even is the father, of course,’ she observed with a sneer. ‘I suspect there may be more than one candidate for that particular honour. It’s a disgrace how the younger generation are using the war as an excuse for all sorts of wanton behaviour.’
Prue scoffed. ‘You know, Patricia, for a Christian woman you pick a great deal of specks out of a great deal of other people’s eyes.’
‘Prudence, you’d better be careful how you –’
They were interrupted by the sound of the front door being opened, and weary steps trudging upstairs.
‘The girl,’ Prue said in an undertone. ‘Let her change her clothes and have a rest before you start haranguing her, Patty. I’ll go fetch us some tea and we’ll try to keep civil tongues in our heads for half an hour, shall we?’
When Edie reached her room, she struggled out of her soaked woollen socks and filthy breeches and fell back on the bed in just her jersey and knickers, groaning.
Today had been her second day on the farm. She’d started out feeding the ewes in the bale pens with Vinnie and Barbara, but in the afternoon Sam had commandeered her services again. This time he’d really seemed to be testing her, and she had actually delivered two tiny lambs with her own hands.
It was a business that benefited from a high tolerance for pain, as you felt around inside the sheep trying to work out which limb belonged to which lamb so you could help guide them out. Each birthing contraction pressed your arm painfully between the sheep’s insides and the huddle of lamb. But when the ewe finally saw her baby and let out a low, laughing bleat of joy … Edie was convinced there was no more satisfying job in the world. And now, at the end of her second day as a sheep farmer’s assistant, she felt happy, exhausted, and like her body had been run over by a tank.
Sh
e’d been relieved to learn that the tiny lamb she’d discovered on her first day was still clinging to life, although Sam had told her it was far from being out of danger. It had been left alone too long for the mother to know it as hers, which meant it would have to be bottle-fed, but it was in a poor way.
Edie supposed she should have sought out Mrs Hewitt and let her know she was home, but she was covered in dirt and smelled like a combination of sheep excrement and wet border collie. She couldn’t possibly present herself to another human being in this state.
The eiderdown quilt felt very welcoming after her long day. Edie pulled it over her face and breathed it in. She could just fall asleep now, if she wasn’t so jolly hungry.
The bathroom was three doors along. After lying still for a moment to give her sore limbs a rest, Edie eased herself painfully to her feet, wrapped her dressing gown around her and made her way there.
Edie’s mother and her mother’s older sister, Caroline, had grown up in a comfortable middle-class family in the Cotswolds, but Edie’s spinster aunt hadn’t been a wealthy woman in later life and the two of them had lived in genteel but straitened conditions in Pimlico. The two-up-two-down terraced house Edie and Aunt Caroline had occupied boasted few modern conveniences, so the sight of an indoor bath – and what was more, an indoor lavvie – had filled Edie with a sense of wonder the first time she’d ventured into Applefield Manor’s bathroom. Imagine just being able to turn on the taps and watch the tub fill with steaming water, whenever you felt like it! At home it took forever to heat enough water on the cooker to half-fill their old tin bath.
Edie sighed as she examined the olive-green tub. A hot bath would be wonderful, but even at Applefield Manor there was a war on and baths were restricted to one a week. Unfortunately Edie had already used up her allowance.
Instead she approached the sink. There was a bar of red toilet soap and a bottle of Yardley’s Lavender Water above it, and she had her own flannel and sponge. She could clean up here before seeking out Tilly in the kitchen in the hope of some food.
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