Edie pocketed the card and followed Patricia and her grandson from the room. Prudence was in the hall, waiting for them to finish.
‘Is everything above board then, Patty?’ she asked.
‘It would seem so.’
‘Oh dear. Well, never mind, perhaps next time.’
‘What about you, Prue?’ Patricia asked, ignoring that comment. ‘Are you happy with Miss Cartwright?’
Patricia cast a glance at Edie, and Edie thought she noticed a tiny twinkle in her eye. ‘Yes, I believe I am.’
‘Good, then we’re all happy, aren’t we?’ Patricia said with a tight, cheerless smile. She pushed open the front door. ‘Prue, I’ll be here on Sunday at a quarter past eleven to bring you James and Agnes.’
‘What? No! Patty, I told you I wouldn’t –’
‘I’ll be here with them on Sunday,’ Patricia repeated firmly. ‘If you try to fight this, Prudence, I will take it to a higher authority. I wouldn’t be surprised if you then found the whole place requisitioned.’
‘They couldn’t do that,’ Prue said in a low voice.
‘They certainly could. Quite allowable under the Emergency Powers Act. For your sake, I’d advise you to keep your head down and do your duty.’ With that, she snatched up Edgar’s hand and swept out.
‘Insufferable woman,’ Prue muttered. ‘I wonder how her husband stands her. If I were him, I’d have asked the Almighty for a stray lightning bolt in her direction years ago.’
‘Everything all right, Mrs Hewitt?’ Edie asked.
‘Oh, do call me Prue,’ she said absently, pushing distracted fingers into her hair. ‘Evacuees, here. Children! Whatever am I supposed to do with two children at my time of life?’
‘I can help.’
Prue blinked. ‘You? What are you going to do, plant them?’
Edie laughed. ‘Only if they really misbehave. No, I’m a schoolmistress. That is to say, I was – my school closed when the bombings began.’ She rested a hand on Prue’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. Between us we can deal with this.’
Chapter 11
That evening was the pleasantest Edie had spent at Applefield Manor so far. She soon polished off the Lancashire hotpot Tilly heated for her dinner, then while Prudence and Jack kept to their bedrooms, the girls settled themselves in the sitting room.
Edie hadn’t liked to sit in there before in spite of Prue’s invitation, with the sheets everywhere making it look as though it was waiting to be decorated, but this evening the room had been made quite homely. The sheets were gone, the furniture polished and floor swept, and a blazing fire roared in the hearth.
‘I hope you didn’t do this,’ she said to Tilly, eyeing her friend’s swollen tummy. She couldn’t imagine trying to sweep out a grate while being roughly the size of a small house.
Tilly shook her head. ‘I never lifted a finger. Prue did it all.’
‘Not for my benefit, I hope.’
‘Perhaps. She hardly ever cleans in here unless Bertie’s due to visit.’ She turned on the Philips radio and started fiddling with the tuning knob. ‘Well, shall we have the Forces Programme or the Home Service?’
‘Oh, either,’ Edie said as she took out her knitting. ‘You can choose.’
‘Let’s have Belinda Lou, Lady Investigator on the Forces Programme then. I hardly ever listen to the Home Service if I can help it. It’s so bloody worthy, don’t you think? All those organ recitals.’
Edie didn’t answer, being overtaken by a sudden fit of coughing.
‘Are you all right?’ Tilly asked, sounding concerned. ‘You seem to have these coughing episodes quite often.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Edie said breathlessly. ‘Just hay fever.’
‘Are you sure? I get hay fever too but it never makes me cough like that.’
‘Yes, but you’ve lived in the countryside all your life. My constitution’s still adjusting.’
Tilly didn’t look convinced. ‘That’s really all it is? It sounds very bad, Edie.’
Edie glanced over her shoulder to check the door was closed.
‘If I tell you, do you promise you won’t say anything to Prue or Jack?’ she said in a low voice.
‘Anything about what?’
‘My lungs … they’re fine, for the most part. Not so bad they stop me doing my work or anything. But they’re not … strong. Not as strong as most other people’s.’
‘Why not?’
‘I had consumption as a little girl and it left some permanent damage.’
‘Consumption!’
‘Yes.’ Edie put away her handkerchief and massaged her throat, which felt sandpaper-sore after this latest fit. ‘That’s why I ended up in the Land Army. I wanted to join the Wrens but they wouldn’t have me. My doctor thought work in the countryside might do me good.’
‘Edie, whyever didn’t you say anything?’
‘I was afraid,’ Edie said quietly. ‘Afraid they wouldn’t want me here, or at the farm. I really want to help the war effort, and if this is all I can do … You won’t tell on me, will you?’
‘Not if you don’t want me to. But, sweetheart, you mustn’t push yourself too hard, really you mustn’t. You’ll make yourself ill.’
‘I’ll be fine, honestly. Just don’t tell Prue, please.’
‘I promise.’
‘Thank you.’
Tilly scrutinised her. ‘You said when you arrived that you were one more lost cause to add to the others here. Is that why?’
Edie flushed. ‘Oh. No. Well, partially. I suppose I’m not so much lost as alone.’
‘No family?’ Tilly said softly.
‘Only the aunt who raised me, and she had me left on her hands – she never wanted me, although she was always kind in her stern way. I don’t think she really understood children.’
‘And your parents …’
‘Dead. My mother died having me, and my father …’ She swallowed. ‘When I was six. Consumption.’
‘Like you had?’
‘Yes. He … I suppose it was in the air,’ Edie muttered.
‘No brothers and sisters?’
‘No. I sometimes feel like my friends Susan and Alfie are the only family I ever had.’
Tilly reached out to squeeze her hand. ‘Well, you’ve got us now. We are like a family at Applefield Manor, in a funny sort of way.’
Edie smiled. ‘Thanks. I’m not sure Prue feels the same though. It’s obvious she’d rather not have me here – in fact I heard her say as much to your aunt.’
‘Oh, she’ll warm up. She’s always suspicious of strangers, but once she thaws you’ll be surprised by her. She is growing fond of you, I can tell.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘I do. She can probably sense you belong here,’ Tilly said, smiling. ‘I told you: we’re all lost souls in one way or another here, even that perishing crow of Jack’s. It’s why we fit together so well.’ She laughed. ‘Sometimes I feel this is more like a sanctuary for refugees than a country house.’
The girls spent a happy hour and a half in front of the fire, Edie knitting a pair of socks and Tilly sewing a baby blanket from scraps of old clothes. At half past eight, Tilly prepared to take herself to bed.
‘Not to sound too much like your mother, but you really ought to do the same,’ she told Edie. ‘It’s an early start for you at the farm.’
‘I won’t be long. I just want to listen to the news.’
‘All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Tilly smiled as she picked up the bits and pieces of her blanket. ‘I’m glad you came, Edie. It’s pleasant to have young company in the evening. I don’t see any of my old friends here since … well, you know.’
‘I’ve enjoyed it too,’ Edie said, returning her smile.
‘So, same time again tomorrow?’
Edie was about to agree when she remembered she already had plans.
‘I can’t, sorry,’ she said with a grimace. ‘I said I’d go to a dance at the Land Girls’ hostel. I’d rather not,
but Vinnie insisted.’
‘Oh. Well, you ought to. It sounds like fun.’
‘I wish you could come too.’
Tilly laughed, laying a hand on her belly. ‘I’m not really at my waltzing weight at the moment. No, you go, have a good time. Have a dance and a drink for me, and a kiss if he’s worth it.’
‘Thanks, Tilly. Goodnight.’
Edie was glad of some time to herself so she could read Alfie’s letter. As soon as Tilly had gone upstairs, she took it out.
Like all of Alfie’s communications, it was energetic, jolly and borderline illegible. Edie was used to his scrawl by now, however, and didn’t find it too hard to decipher.
Hullo Edie! How’s my best girl? it began. Did you plough your first field yet? I hope you’ve not been turning all those young farmers’ heads in your uniform or I’ll be horribly broken-hearted and waste away to nothing before I’ve even seen any action. And how guilty will you feel then?
All continues well here, except that it’s devilish hot but you can’t complain about that, I suppose. The locals have to put up with it all year round, poor souls, but then they’re used to it. I’m as brown as a sparrow: you won’t recognise me, Ede.
Sergeant Major is as much of a you-know-what as ever. Young Bixenby had a run-in with him last week after a heavy night on the beer. We were drilling in the morning and of course he had an almighty hangover and couldn’t keep in step. Tried to give out he had sunstroke but SM’s no fool. Anyhow, I suppose SM could’ve had Bix on a fizzer but he managed to dodge the glasshouse and get away with extra kitchen duty, which I think was fair at the end of the day. Oh, and Sue’s in love again, of course. It’s no use asking her about it because she’ll deny it to the hilt, but he’s an ack-ack gunner called Clarence. Told her that as the man of the family I absolutely forbade her to walk out with a Clarence, which of course only made her all the more determined to do it. Be sure and tease her about it properly, Ede: that’s your duty to me, you know. Love you as ever and counting the days till I see you. Save me a kiss, remember.
Your favourite sweetheart, Alfie.
Edie smiled as she read it. Alfie’s letters were always the same, just a whirlwind of fun and nonsense. It was safe to say that her friend was the complete opposite of the sort of stoical, taciturn people she’d met here – Sam Nicholson and his ilk.
She never understood above half of Alfie’s letters, which rushed with dizzying speed from one thing to the next and were always scattered liberally with military slang, but she wouldn’t have them any other way. He wrote so much like himself, it felt like he was here with her. She hoped there’d be a letter from Susan soon too, with more information about her latest beau. Although Gunner Clarence might already be yesterday’s news – Alfie’s letters were always weeks behind his sister’s, and Sue went through boyfriends at a rate of knots.
The door opened, and Edie hastily tucked the letter away.
‘Oh,’ Prue said. ‘I’m sorry. I thought everyone had gone to their rooms.’
‘I was just waiting for the news bulletin.’
‘Then I’ll join you. I don’t listen very often – I have a gramophone in my room – but I do like to hear the news before bed.’ Prue glanced at the wireless. ‘Is this the Forces Programme?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I never listen to it myself. The programming always strikes me as rather frivolous,’ Prue said as she sat down. ‘Still, I expect it’s morale-boosting for the troops. Bertie tells me he enjoys the comedians.’
‘Would you like me to retune it?’
‘No, no, leave it as it is. There isn’t long until nine o’clock.’ She looked at Edie’s knitting. ‘Continue what you were doing, please. Don’t mind me.’
Edie picked up her needles, feeling awkward.
‘What are you making?’ Prue asked.
‘Socks for soldiers,’ Edie said, smiling. ‘Or for one soldier in particular. My friend Alfie.’ She looked at the sock on her needles. ‘I wish I’d known when I began that he’d be posted to Africa. I don’t suppose he’ll be needing woolly socks for a long while.’
‘But he’ll be very grateful to have them when he comes home on leave, I’m sure,’ Prue said. ‘Rather a shock to the system, the English weather after all that heat, I’d have thought.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’
‘So are you and this Alfie …’
‘Just good friends.’
‘Ah.’
Edie put her knitting down again. ‘Mrs Hewitt – Prue.’
‘Yes?’ The woman looked wary, as if she was half afraid of what Edie might be about to say.
‘I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing earlier. Your … discussion with Mrs Featherstone.’
Prue had shrunk back in her chair now, crossing her arms over her chest as if to place a barrier between them.
‘You had no right to listen to that.’
‘I didn’t intend to eavesdrop. I just felt awkward, walking in on an argument.’
‘Well, then why bring it up?’ Prue said, frowning. ‘It seems to me that you struggle with knowing when to hold your tongue, Edith.’
‘Perhaps. Nevertheless, I wanted to say …’ Edie took a deep breath. ‘I just wanted to say that it was jolly decent of you, defending Tilly when her aunt called her those horrid names. I wouldn’t have the nerve to stand up to her that way.’
‘Oh.’ Prue didn’t seem to know what to say to that, but she uncrossed her arms.
‘And I know you don’t want evacuees intruding into your home, any more than you really wanted me, but I think it will be a very kind act to let them stay here and to … to keep them safe and everything. I’ll help with them all I can and you’ll hardly know they’re here, I promise.’
‘You certainly set a lot of store by your opinions, young lady.’
‘When I know I’m right I do, yes,’ Edie said stoutly. ‘If you knew what it was like to sleep in a shelter every night and hear the bombs falling around you, wondering if your house would still be there when you came out, if your friends would still be alive … Prue, if you only knew that, I don’t think you could ever send them away. The poor little souls must be terrified, every day. You won’t send them away, will you?’
Prue was silent for a long moment. Then she stood and turned up the volume on the wireless.
‘Hush now,’ she said. ‘The news is starting.’
‘They’re here, the bastards! They’ve come for us!’
The shout rang through the air, jerking Edie from her dreams. She sat up with a jolt.
Was there a raid? The shelter … she had to …
Slowly her sleep-addled brain caught up. No. Not London. She was at Applefield Manor, and the voice she’d heard wasn’t an ARP warden alerting her to another air raid but one of her fellow residents.
It was a male voice she’d heard – Jack Graham’s voice. Edie could hear the furious stomp of his bare feet outside in the hallway. What in heaven’s name was going on?
‘Wagstaff!’ the voice shouted. ‘For Christ’s sake, lad, get down!’
Edie shivered, pulling the bedclothes up around her.
If she hadn’t known there was only one man in the house, she never would have matched the voice with Applefield Manor’s stolid, gentle gardener. This voice was cracked and shrill, filled with raw terror. It made the hair on the back of Edie’s neck stand on end.
For a moment she considered burying her face in her quilt and hoping it would all go away. Jack Graham was a powerful man, and if his mind had become unhinged after some sort of night terror …
Then she berated herself for her cowardice. Hadn’t she slept in the shelter every night with the sound of bombs falling around her? Come face to face with the Luftwaffe? There might be danger, and Tilly and Prue would need her help.
Edie’s dressing gown was lying over the chair. She pulled it on over her nightdress, squared her shoulders and went to find out what the commotion was.
When
she opened the door she immediately took a step back, gasping at the scene that met her.
Jack was in his pyjamas, backed against the wall with one of the plates that usually lived in the hall dresser raised above his head like a weapon. Edie couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake. His eyes were open – engorged, wild and restless – but they seemed to look straight through her. Jack looked as he had that first morning she’d worked on the estate, when he’d turned eyes on her that for a split second had flashed with pure terror.
‘I said, get down!’ he screamed. ‘They’ll blow your damn brains out, you young fool!’
He wasn’t talking to Edie. His head had jerked to his left, as if someone invisible was standing beside him.
Tilly appeared at the door of her room and, seeing her friend, she darted to her side. Edie reached for her hand.
‘Edie, what the hell’s going on?’
‘I think Jack’s sleepwalking,’ Edie whispered. ‘He’s been raving like a madman, talking to someone called Wagstaff.’
‘God help us, not again,’ Tilly muttered.
Edie blinked. ‘What, has this happened before?’
‘Every once in a while, he … It’s not usually as severe as this. He has nightmares. About the last war. He was sent home with shellshock after he lost most of his section at the Somme.’
‘You mean his wits are touched?’
‘He’s as sane as you or me, for the most part. But sometimes … well, sometimes there’s an incident like this.’ Tilly pressed her hand. ‘He saw horrors, Edie. Men – friends – blown to bits in front of him.’
‘Good God,’ Edie whispered. ‘The poor man.’
Jack’s eyes darted from side to side. Then he hurled his plate at the wall, where it smashed to smithereens. Tilly and Edie shrank back into the doorway of her room.
‘What should we do?’ Edie whispered. ‘They say it’s dangerous to wake a sleepwalker, don’t they?’
‘We need to get Prue. She’ll know what to do for him.’
Jack had thrown himself flat on his face now. He was holding his elbows over his ears, shuddering, muttering through choked sobs. It was a heart-rending sight, that giant of a man crying like a frightened child. Edie cast a worried look along the hallway.
Edie's Home for Orphans Page 10