When Edie had washed, changed into her civvies and made her way downstairs, Tilly was arranging slices of seed cake on a pretty floral plate.
‘Tilly, if you tell me some of that is for me, I’ll love you forever,’ Edie said.
‘I’m afraid not.’ Tilly pulled a face. ‘The Wicked Witch of the West is paying a visit. I’ve been ordered to provide tea, cake and any winged monkeys we happen to have hiding in the pantry.’
Edie laughed. ‘Who is it? A friend of Mrs Hewitt’s?’
‘It’s my Aunt Patricia. She and Prue have been friends for years, so naturally they can’t stand one another.’
‘The aunt who won’t speak to you?’
‘Yes, my dad’s sister,’ Tilly said, grimacing. ‘She’s the most frightful snob.’
‘Don’t you see her at all?’
‘Rarely. I think she’d quite like to pretend I didn’t exist, except I’m a little too visible around here for her to get away with it. So she sends me a few bob once a month and calls that doing her duty. I’m a terrific embarrassment to someone in her position.’
‘What is her position?’
‘Professional busybody. She’s married to our vicar, as well as being chairwoman of the Women’s Institute and a WVS organiser. Aunt Patricia volunteers for every good cause going, just so long as she knows people can see her doing it.’ Tilly glanced up to take in her friend’s appearance. ‘Edie, my love, you look all in.’
Edie groaned as she eased herself stiffly into a chair. ‘It’s been a long day.’
Tilly slipped one of the slices of seed cake on to a plate and handed it to her. ‘There you go. I’ll fetch you something more substantial when I’ve seen to milady’s tea.’
‘Tilly, you’re an angel,’ Edie said, falling on the cake with relish. ‘I mean it, you’re an actual heaven-sent angel.’
The door opened and Mrs Hewitt peered in. ‘Are the refreshments ready, Matilda?’
‘Yes, all here,’ Tilly said, adding the plate of seed cake to a tray bearing a silver teapot with matching strainer and two delicate china cups. ‘I’ll bring it in to you.’
‘No need for that, you’re not a parlourmaid. I can take it.’
Tilly gave a wry smile. ‘You mean Aunt would prefer not to see me. Well, the feeling’s mutual.’
‘Yes, I thought it might be.’ Mrs Hewitt glanced at Edie as she took the tray. ‘Mrs Featherstone does want to see you though, Edith. It’s part of her work for the Women’s Voluntary Service to see how you’re settling in, apparently.’
‘She wants to see me now?’ Edie said, hastily brushing illicit seed cake crumbs from her mouth.
‘No, no, have your cup of tea first. She knows you’ve only just come home, and she’s perfectly capable of waiting for half an hour. Just come along to the library when you’re ready.’ She picked up the tea tray. ‘And don’t worry, I won’t let her pick on you.’
Chapter 10
‘You see, she’s not such a mean old stick,’ Tilly said when Prudence had disappeared.
‘After Sam Nicholson, she seems positively delightful,’ Edie muttered.
Tilly made a pot of tea and took a seat while she waited for it to brew. ‘You don’t like him?’
‘I’m … not sure. At first I couldn’t stand him – rude man! But after we’d worked together for a couple of days …’
Tilly smiled softly. ‘Yes, he has got a certain charm.’
Edie snorted. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. He’s hardly Ty Power.’ She followed the ribbons of steam coming from the teapot’s spout. ‘Tilly, do you think I’m a prig?’
Tilly laughed. ‘Where did that question come from?’
‘Do you though?’
‘Of course not. I might say you seem like something of an innocent, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of, Edie.’ She smiled. ‘So Sam called you a prig, did he? The cheeky sod.’
‘Yes. But I called him an arse so I suppose that makes it even.’
‘You never did!’
‘I did, I promise you. I even surprised myself.’
She laughed. ‘Edie Cartwright, you little minx.’
‘Did you like working for him?’
‘I did. And what’s more I liked him as a man, once I got to know him,’ Tilly said. ‘Although at first I thought he was rude and ill-bred, just like you did. I got the shock of my life when I found out he had a good heart underneath.’
‘He is very gentle with the animals,’ Edie said, absently picking at the crumbs of her devoured seed cake.
‘Animals he likes. It’s people he’s not so keen on.’
‘You mean apart from the POWs. He was very chummy with them, please-ing and thankyou-ing and calling them by their proper names. The boy who works there thinks he’s a fifth columnist.’
‘Sam? What rubbish.’
‘I can see why people might gossip though. Do you know why he isn’t in uniform?’
Tilly shrugged. ‘Farming’s a reserved occupation. They wouldn’t let him join up even if he wanted to.’
‘Unless he hired a manager to run Larkstone in his place.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose he could do that,’ she admitted. ‘He’d have to trust whoever it was to run it properly and not cheat him though. That’s a lot to ask.’
‘Tilly … Barbara, one of the other Land Girls, made a comment yesterday. About Sam. I hoped you might be able to tell me what she meant.’
‘So Vinnie and Barb are still there, are they?’ Tilly said. ‘You don’t want to listen to those two, Edie. They’re nice girls but they could gossip for England.’
‘But gossip has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it? Barbara said … she said Sam only kept his hands to himself for the most part. And then Vinnie made this joke about tups which I didn’t understand at the time, but that’s a breeding ram, isn’t it? I think she was talking about Sam. Do you suppose he might have … you know, interfered with one of them?’
‘Ignore them, love. It’s just tittle-tattle. In small villages, you can’t escape it.’
‘Yes, but surely it must –’
‘He didn’t try anything with you, I suppose?’
‘Well, no, he didn’t, but –’
‘There you are then.’ Tilly stood up. ‘Tea’s mashed. I’ll pour us a cup.’
Edie watched Tilly strain the tea, wondering why she seemed so anxious to change the subject. What was all this mystery for? And why did no one want to tell her what was going on?
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ Tilly said, pulling Edie out of her musings. ‘A letter arrived for you.’
She took a green military envelope from her apron pocket, and Edie smiled at the spidery writing on the front.
‘It’s from my soldier friend, Alfie,’ she said as she took it. ‘He must’ve planned for it to arrive soon after I did. I expect he thought I’d be homesick. Thoughtful boy.’
‘Your sweetheart?’
‘No, an old friend. I’ve known him and his sister Susan since we were knee-high.’
Tilly raised an eyebrow. ‘The green envelopes are only used for especially private communications though, aren’t they?’
Edie shook her head, smiling. ‘Now, there’s no use making that face. I told you, it’s nothing like that. At least, not if you don’t count the fifty or so proposals over the years.’
‘Proposals!’
‘Oh, not real ones. We’re like family, Alfie and Susan and I. He just enjoys teasing me, that’s all.’
‘If you say so,’ Tilly said, placing a cup of tea in front of her.
‘That reminds me.’ Edie tucked the letter away to read by herself later. ‘I had something to give you too: did you find it? You were in bed when I came home last night so I left it on the slab in the pantry.’
‘The goat’s cheese? I wondered where that had appeared from. Where did you get it?’
‘One of the prisoners at the farm gave it to me for you – Luca, the younger one. He said he’d traded for it at their camp.’
‘The fool,�
� Tilly said, smiling. ‘He’ll be going without his cigarettes now.’
‘He said it would be good for you and the baby. And he says you’re to eat it all up and not share a bite: doctor’s orders.’
‘He is a dear. Be sure to thank him for me, won’t you?’
‘I will.’
‘How did you like him? I thought he was rather a sweetheart.’
Edie sighed. ‘Honestly? I don’t know what to think about him, or Marco either. I was turning it over in my head all last night.’
Tilly frowned. ‘You mean because they’re foreigners?’
‘No,’ Edie said in a low voice. ‘Because … because they’re the enemy, aren’t they? Luca was talking yesterday about how frightening it felt to be in the skies, and I did feel for him, but …’ She looked up at Tilly. ‘Till, if you’d lived through the Blitz … people were dying every day, people I knew. They still are, back in London – I don’t know what I’ll find when I go home. Who’ll be dead and who’ll be alive, which buildings will still be standing. In Pimlico, where I lived, you could go down into the shelter and come out to find half your street missing. Your neighbours homeless, or killed … you lived your life in constant terror that you might be next. The people who did that were Luca’s comrades and allies. As nice as he seems, it’s not an easy thing for me to just put to one side.’
‘I know how you must feel.’ Tilly sat down again with her cup of tea. ‘But this isn’t Cowboys and Indians, where the heroes are all brave and selfless and the villains are after our scalps. Hitler, Mussolini, all of them – evil, evil men, but we can’t judge every person who fights for them that way. It isn’t that simple.’
‘But when those people have killed British men, maybe even someone you knew –’
‘And Luca and Marco felt the same way about us, no doubt,’ Tilly said quietly. ‘People do their duty as they see it, whichever side they fight for. Women have to say goodbye to their men in Germany and Italy, just as we do, and weep for them when we kill them.’ Edie was surprised to see there were tears in Tilly’s eyes. ‘Marco and Luca have lost people too.’
‘Have they?’
‘Hasn’t everyone nowadays?’ Tilly reached across the table to take Edie’s hand. ‘Edie, Luca Bianchi was shot down over France with four other men. They were above high ground and couldn’t gain enough height to bail out. It was six hours before he was eventually captured by Allied troops. Six hours. All that time, he was trapped in the wreckage with the corpses of his friends – the only survivor.’
‘My God!’
‘It’s easy to forget that war brings grief to us all, allies and enemies alike.’ Tilly stood up. ‘You’d better go to the library. I’ll warm you a bowl of hotpot for when you’re done.’
The door to Applefield Manor’s library was ajar, and Edie could hear raised voices coming from behind it. She hesitated outside, wondering whether she ought to interrupt what sounded like a blazing argument.
‘I tell you, Patricia, I won’t have it!’ she could hear Prudence Hewitt saying. ‘I’ve done my bit. I let them take my boy, didn’t I?’
‘Your “boy” is a grown man. It wasn’t as though you had a choice in the matter,’ another female voice observed.
Edie peeped around the door. Prudence was wearing a filthy checked apron, as if she’d been surprised in the middle of cleaning. She was on her feet while her tweedy friend, who in profile looked not dissimilar to an eagle, was sitting calmly in an armchair. A pale little boy watched them from a corner, his eyes round. Edie recognised the woman from church on Sunday, sitting stiffly erect in the front pew with the same little boy at her side.
‘I supply half of this village with food from my gardens,’ Prudence said. Edie couldn’t help noticing how much broader her Cumberland accent sounded when she was too provoked to take that calculated care over her vowel sounds. ‘I even offered accommodation to the Land Girl so we could increase our production, although Lord knows I never wanted her here. What more do you want from me?’
‘I want you to do what people with far fewer resources than you have readily agreed to do. We’re trying to get a quart into a pint pot, the nation over, evacuating children out of the blitzed cities, Prue. With all these empty rooms at your disposal, I wonder you can be so selfish.’
‘Selfish! How dare you.’ Prudence gave a hard laugh. ‘Yes, you’re selfless enough when the eyes of everyone are on you, aren’t you, Patty? But not when the cause is a little closer to home. You should be ashamed to see your niece going into service just to keep a roof above her head.’
‘I don’t know why you took the little trollop in. You’ll open this place up to any young hussy with no one but herself to blame for getting into trouble, yet you’d rather see innocent children bombed than offer them a home, wouldn’t you?’
‘You will not refer to Matilda that way in my presence,’ Prudence said stiffly. ‘I’m warning you, Patricia. Any more of that language and you can leave my house.’
‘You mind your business and I’ll mind mine, Prudence Hewitt,’ Patricia said in a low voice. ‘But I expect you to take in those two evacuees or, old friend or not, I won’t hesitate to –’
Clearing her throat, Edie gave a light knock on the door. There was silence for a moment, then she heard Prudence call, ‘Come in!’
She entered, fixing her face into a bright smile that she hoped would hide the fact she’d overheard their argument. ‘Um, good evening. You wanted to see me, Mrs Hewitt?’
‘Edith.’ Prudence looked flustered. ‘This is Mrs Featherstone from the WVS. She came to see how you were settling.’
‘Yes. Thank you, Prudence,’ Patricia said coldly. She directed an appraising look at Edie. ‘Sit down, dear. I’m sure Mrs Hewitt won’t object to leaving us alone for a moment.’
Prudence frowned. ‘Is that necessary?’
‘I think Edith will feel more comfortable discussing her living arrangements without you present.’
‘Hmm.’ Prudence cast a look at Edie. ‘Ten minutes. And don’t you bully her, Patricia.’
Edie took the seat opposite Patricia, feeling self-conscious. The atmosphere hung in the air like lead. Patricia kept her eyes fixed on Prudence until she’d left the room, closing the door behind her.
‘Pay her no mind, my dear,’ she said, flashing a smile that didn’t extend to her eyes. ‘I’m here to check your needs are being attended to, that’s all. Prudence seems to think I’m planning to have you for my dinner.’ She trilled a laugh, a tinkling sound that didn’t suit her eagle face at all.
‘What do you want to know?’ Edie asked.
‘You will be visited by the local Land Army representative in due course, who will make a full welfare report, but in the meantime I’ve been asked to ensure you have everything you require.’ Patricia took out a notebook and pencil. ‘Is your room comfortable?’
‘Yes, very,’ Edie said, feeling defensive on Mrs Hewitt’s behalf. ‘Much nicer than at home. I spent nearly every night there in the shelter.’
Patricia frowned. ‘Every night? How odd.’
Edie stifled a wave of annoyance. ‘Not if you wanted to stay attached to your limbs, Mrs Featherstone. The Luftwaffe have been very keen on trying to separate us from them these past six months.’
Patricia looked up from her notepad to give Edie a hard stare. ‘There’s no need for irony, young lady. I’m well aware of what’s been happening. We have our problems here too, you know.’
Such as what, Edie wondered? Not being able to get fresh onions for ready money? Having to take your meat ration in corned beef? She bit her tongue before she made a comment she’d regret.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s been a difficult time for us in the capital.’
‘I’m sure,’ Patricia said with an uninterested air. ‘Now, your food. Are you being adequately provisioned?’
‘Yes, I’ve been very well fed. Your niece is a tremendous cook.’
‘Hm.’ Patricia looked embarrassed at the men
tion of Tilly. ‘You haven’t been asked to assist with the household chores, I hope? Other Land Girls have complained of being put upon in that way. You have your own daily work to do; you oughtn’t to be expected to cook and clean on top of that.’
‘I haven’t, but I’d be happy to pitch in.’
Patricia turned to a new page of her notebook. ‘How are you finding your work?’
‘Hard, but I enjoy it. Sam – that is, Mr Nicholson – seems a firm but fair employer.’
‘Yes, well, the least said about that young man, the better,’ Patricia said, pursing her lips as if she were sucking on something sour. ‘Besides, dear, I really meant your work here on the estate.’
‘I enjoy that too. Mr Graham ensures I perform a range of tasks so it isn’t all hard physical labour, and Mrs Hewitt is exacting when it comes to making sure I don’t do any more than my allotted hours. I’m very satisfied with my situation both here and at Larkstone.’
‘You must be lonely, with no girls your own age to talk to.’
‘Oh, but I have. Your niece and I have become good friends.’
The invisible lemon in Patricia’s mouth seemed to grow even sharper. ‘Hm. Yes.’
Edie wondered why Patricia should be more interested in her work on the estate than at the farm. Oughtn’t she to monitor her working conditions in both locations, make sure she wasn’t being exploited by either of her employers? Edie couldn’t help feeling this was more about catching out Prudence than it was about her welfare.
‘So no complaints at all?’ Patricia asked hopefully. ‘I promise grievances will be attended to with the utmost delicacy.’
Edie shook her head. ‘Not one. I’m very happy here.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear it,’ Patricia said, although she sounded disappointed. She put her notepad away and stood up. ‘Edgar, here.’
The little boy trotted obediently to her side in a way that reminded Edie of Sam calling for his sheepdog, Sadie.
‘If there’s anything you need, you can telephone me at the vicarage.’ Patricia took a card from her pocket and held it out. ‘Here is my number, and the address should you need it.’
‘Thank you.’
Edie's Home for Orphans Page 9