Finally Jimmy let the gramophone alone and whispered something to his sister.
‘Jimmy says the spring’s snapped, that’s why the motor ain’t turning,’ Aggie told them with the brazen self-confidence that no amount of hard treatment had been able to rob her of. ‘You’ll need to send off for a new one. No need to get a man in though, my brother can do it. Just give him a screwdriver, that’s all.’
Jack glanced at Prue, eyebrows lifting. ‘Well. We’ve got a junior Thomas Edison in our midst, Cheggy.’
‘However did your brother learn so much about machinery?’ Prue asked.
Aggie shrugged. ‘Dunno, he just seems to know it. Gonna be a ginner when he’s big, ain’t you, Jim?’
The boy nodded enthusiastically.
Prue frowned. ‘Ginner?’
‘Engineer, I think.’ Jack turned to Aggie. ‘Don’t he talk, your brother?’
‘Nah.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Sometimes he will. Only not to just anyone, and not when he’s scared.’
Jack smiled at Jimmy. ‘Then we’ll have to make sure he stops being scared quick sharp. You want to see something good, son?’
Jimmy cast an uncertain look at his sister.
‘Depends what the something good is,’ she said, with the wariness of one not accustomed to being given treats.
‘You’ll like it,’ Jack said. ‘Here, follow me.’
That Jimmy’s vocal cords could work well enough was confirmed when Pepper swooped down over his head and he gave a shriek of delight.
‘It’s a bird!’ Aggie said, clapping her hands as she watched Pepper settle on Jack’s shoulder. ‘Hey, I seen pigeons sit on people like that sometimes. Is it your bird, Mister?’
‘She’s her own bird, but she’s tame,’ Jack told her. ‘Pepper’s her name. She can talk too.’
Aggie shook her head. ‘You can’t kid us. Only birds can talk are parrots. That’s a crow, that.’
‘This crow can talk. Listen.’ Jack bribed Pepper with a seed from his pocket. ‘Say hello, Pep.’
‘Hello!’ she cawed.
Aggie’s eyes widened. ‘Blimey! Is she magic?’
‘Not magic. Just very clever.’
‘Nah, I don’t believe it. It’s you doing it, ain’t it? Like one of them geezers with the dummies. Ventricolists.’
‘Hello!’ Pepper said again, in an affronted tone that suggested she resented this accusation of chicanery. As Jack was drinking from his pint pot, this seemed to satisfy Aggie.
‘I s’pose she really can do it then,’ she said in a hushed voice.
‘Would you like to stroke her, Aggie?’
Aggie’s eyes lit up. ‘Blimey, wouldn’t I! Yes please, Mister.’
He bent his huge frame slightly and Aggie stood on tiptoes to run her hand over Pepper’s feathers. The bird let out a soft caw.
‘I like animals,’ Aggie said. ‘More than I like people, anyhow. People are only rotten to you, but animals are just your friend without any bother.’
‘I think that depends on which people you know,’ Jack said. ‘Would you like to stroke her, son?’
Jimmy nodded vigorously, and Jack looked at Prue lingering in the doorframe. His odd pet frightened her, with its bright little eyes that seemed to know as much as a person’s, and she always kept her distance when she had to come in here. Unlike Aggie and Jack, she wasn’t a born animal-lover. She felt towards them the way she felt towards children: she charitably wished them well, but she was never quite sure what she was supposed to do with them.
‘This little one will need a lift, I think, Cheg,’ Jack said.
She shook her head. ‘Oh no, Jack, I …’
‘Come on. He won’t weigh much, skinny little thing he is.’
Jimmy was looking at her, arms half raised, bashfulness forgotten in his anxiousness to get up to the bird. After a moment’s hesitation, Prue lifted him up by his hips so he could run a finger over Pepper’s head. He giggled with delight as the crow inclined her beak towards him.
‘I thought you two might like to feed her sometimes,’ Jack said as Prue put him down again.
Aggie stared at him. ‘Really, can we?’
‘Of course. I can see she likes you both already.’ He smiled at Prue. ‘Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs Hewitt?’
Prue never could resist that grin of his. It belonged too much to the boy he’d once been; to the boy he still was, in his heart. What a marvel he was with the children! No wonder Bertie had always adored him.
‘Yes,’ she said, smiling too. ‘I think we’ve all made some new friends today.’
Chapter 20
Over the next month, Edie settled into the routine of life as a Land Girl. Her body no longer hurt in every joint as she grew accustomed to manual work, and she rarely felt the tight pain in her chest that had been so constant a feature of her life in London. She even gained some weight, thanks largely to Tilly’s cooking, and although she still didn’t exactly have what you might call curves, she knew with all modesty that her looks were greatly improved. Boys stopped to look at her now when she visited the shops in Kirkton. Sometimes they even tried to make dates with her. She hadn’t accepted any, but the attention was doing wonders for her confidence.
‘Why, Edie, my dear, you’re practically buxom,’ Prue told her one evening over dinner. ‘With that pinkness in your cheeks, you’re a true English rose. I doubt your friends in London will know you.’
Edie had flushed with pleasure, noting how her landlady had chosen to use the shorter form of her name – the name her friends used.
The two women had grown closer since Aggie and Jimmy had joined the household. They seemed naturally to gravitate towards Edie, and Prue appeared grateful for the care the younger woman took of them: reading to them, playing with them, listening to their stories – or rather Aggie’s stories, since Jimmy still refused to speak.
The boy seemed contented enough, though. Both he and his sister were blossoming under the kind treatment they’d received at Applefield Manor after a lifetime of hard knocks. Jimmy had formed a particularly close bond with Jack – Uncle Jack, as he had quickly become – who had endeared himself with piggy-back rides, games and tireless good humour. It was when he returned from a trip into town with the parts for the boy to build his own radio set, however, that he made a friend for life. Jimmy had thrown himself at Jack for a hug that Edie would swear had brought a tear to the grizzled ex-soldier’s eye.
He really was a wonder with machines. Edie had gaped to see Jimmy deftly assemble the radio set, and he had fitted a new spring into Prue’s old gramophone with the dexterity of a master craftsman. Aggie, meanwhile, had lost much of her defensive hardness, and spent long periods in the stables trying to teach Pepper new words.
Jack was such a natural father that Edie wondered why he’d never had a family of his own. Perhaps his experiences in the war had made it difficult for him to settle down.
Or perhaps there was something else. Edie couldn’t help noticing the way his gaze followed Prue, with something in his eyes that spoke of more than brotherly affection. A certain wistfulness; even yearning …
Yes, the children had settled in well, but Edie did wish Prue would spend more time with them. While her reserve towards Edie had slowly melted, she just couldn’t seem to show the same warmth to the two evacuees. She was kind to them, of course, going out of her way to ensure they had everything they needed; even giving up her own rations on occasion so the malnourished little souls could have a portion more. But she was always so stilted and formal in their company: awkwardly catechising them on what they’d learned at school or reminding them to wash some part of their anatomy like a staid Victorian governess. The children, likewise, regarded their landlady with a wary detachment, showing no desire to be in her presence unless they absolutely had to be.
By the time the apple blossom was starting to bud, the ground Edie and Jack had been clearing was ready for potato-planting, and the new lambs
at Larkstone Farm were buxom and bouncy. Edie loved helping Jack on the estate, but it was her days working on the farm that she lived for.
Sam was still fond of keeping her by his side, and like Prue he had thawed considerably. These days he smiled, joked and talked: a far cry from the curmudgeonly farmer Edie had met on her first day. Over the weeks he taught her how to drive the farm’s Fordson Thames truck, to repair the drystone walls that bordered his fields and deal with difficult births – Edie’s slender arms and small hands were greatly prized by the farmer for groping around inside the sheep to get their infants in the right position for birthing. And despite Vinnie and Barbara’s fears he never so much as flirted with her, let alone laid a hand on her. Edie would have thought of him as a friend, if it weren’t for her lingering worry about Tilly.
That Tilly and Sam had what he’d referred to as ‘an understanding’ was obvious. Edie kept her eyes open, and she noticed the letters that passed between the two of them. She also noticed the visits Tilly occasionally paid to the farmhouse, always on the pretext of making some deal relating to game. And yet there didn’t seem to be any romance between them: just a sort of jolly amiability that didn’t fit their situation at all.
Edie couldn’t work it out. Was Tilly in love with Sam? Was he in love with her? And whatever the feelings on both sides were, if Sam was responsible for Tilly’s situation, why on earth didn’t he do the decent thing and marry her? That he might be the sort to seduce and run was something Edie found hard to believe of him, and yet … what else could it be? A hundred times she’d been on the brink of asking Tilly about it, but she always stopped herself. Tilly would confide in her if she wanted to, and Edie shouldn’t risk upsetting her friend just to satisfy her own curiosity.
It was about five weeks after his fight with Luca that Davy appeared back at Larkstone Farm. There was no warning; no fanfare. One of the Land Girls from the hostel had been helping with the lambing in Davy’s place. Then one morning she was gone and there was Davy, in the farmhouse with the other workers as if he’d never left, with Sam barking out jobs for them in his usual way. The boy looked chastened since the last time Edie had seen him, some of the fight knocked out of him, and she noticed his arm was hanging limply at his side as if he’d been hurt.
‘Don’t say anything,’ Vinnie whispered to Edie as she cast a puzzled look in Davy’s direction. ‘Failed his medical.’
It was the end of the day before Edie was able to get Vinnie and Barbara alone to find out more details.
‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘I thought Sam was dead set against taking him back on.’
Barbara shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as ours. All we know is, Davy was turned down for the army and next day Sam offered him a job. Not his old one either.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Davy was casual labour before,’ Vinnie said. ‘He was only supposed to be here for lambing. Now Sam’s taken him on permanently, with lodging too. Davy’s bedding down in one of the outbuildings Sam’s fitted up.’
Edie could hardly believe it. What on earth could have brought about such a dramatic change of heart?
‘What happened to Davy’s arm?’ she asked.
‘He won’t say, but I’ve got an idea,’ Vinnie muttered darkly. ‘That father of his. I suppose he wasn’t too impressed at Davy failing to get into the army.’
‘Why should Sam care about that?’
‘Who knows?’ Barbara said with a shrug. ‘Still, it was damned decent of him.’
Edie was working with Davy and Luca in the infirmary around two weeks later when it happened.
She’d been worrying all morning that Davy might be about to dash all his newly realised good fortune in the same way as he’d thrown his job away before. He’d been casting ominous looks at Luca all the time they’d been working. The prisoner was whistling some pretty Italian tune as they cleaned out the pens. Eventually, Davy jumped to his feet.
‘Davy, don’t!’ Edie whispered. ‘You’ll get yourself sacked again. Just let him alone.’
But the boy ignored her and strode determinedly towards Luca. Edie winced, convinced he was about to lunge at the man, but instead Davy stopped short and thrust his hands into his pockets.
‘What’s your camp like?’ he demanded.
‘Hm?’ Luca looked up from his work. ‘Our camp?’
‘Aye, what’s it like? Do they feed you proper and that?’
‘We have no complaints,’ Luca said, looking surprised. ‘We have food to eat and pastimes to keep us occupied, and the guards are not unkind.’
‘So they don’t bray you or owt like that then?’
Luca looked helplessly at Edie. ‘Bray? I do not know this word, I think.’
‘He means, do they beat you?’ Edie translated.
‘Oh. No, certainly not. That would be against the law, Davy.’
Davy looked sceptical. ‘What, thumping prisoners is against the law?’
‘Yes, the Geneva Convention forbids it. Military prisoners must be humanely treated, or governments risk revenge attacks against their own men in enemy camps.’
Davy appeared to consider this.
‘So … if we’re nice to you, then the wo– the Italian guards will be nice to our soldiers?’ he said in a hesitant voice.
‘Exactly right.’
‘That’s really the law?’
‘Certainly. You can make enquiries for yourself if you don’t wish to take my word.’ Luca regarded him. ‘Why do you ask me this, Davy?’
He scuffed his foot against the straw-covered flagstones. ‘Just wondering.’
‘Your brother is a prisoner. Is that correct?’ Luca said gently.
Davy nodded. ‘In Italy.’
‘And you are worried the guards there might hurt him?’
‘I thought it might be like them concentration camps. I heard about them.’
‘I promise you, there is no need to worry. Prisoners of war do not live in luxury, but they are treated well. Your brother is safe and will come home to you, healthy and happy, when the war is over.’
The following Thursday, Edie watched with interest as once again Davy edged closer to Luca.
‘Luca.’
The Italian looked up. ‘Hello, Davy. Can I do something for you?’
‘I got a letter. From our Geordie, in that camp I said about.’
‘What does he say?’
‘Don’t know. I only know a few of the words, and they don’t make sense without the rest.’ He looked puzzled. ‘How’d he learn to write so fast? He never could before.’
‘Do you have the letter?’ Luca asked. ‘Perhaps I might read it for you.’
Davy hesitated, then nodded. He took a grubby envelope from his pocket and handed it to Luca.
Luca skimmed the paper.
‘Your brother is very well, Davy,’ he said. ‘He tells that he speaks his letter to a guard he has become friends with, Captain Massaro, who writes it down for him.’
‘Can you read it me?’
‘Very well.’ Luca held the letter up in front of him. ‘“Davy, please do not worry, I’m safe and all that”,’ he read, the words sounding strange in his Italian accent. ‘“What an ass to get myself captured! Sorry to give you a fright. The other prisoners here are good lads, mostly English and Scots, and the Italians are decent once you understand them. Food’s not like we’re used to at home but there’s enough of it to keep us from going hungry. The Red Cross send us parcels too – fags, chocolate, kippers, tins of Ovaltine and such. We’d rather the Ovaltine was beer but we mustn’t complain! We’ve got a wireless, a snooker table, and books too – no good to me, of course, but one of the guards, Captain Massaro, has been teaching me my letters. I might actually come home less of a dunce than when I shipped out! In the day we do work or exercise, so time passes quickly. The captain is a good man and is kind enough to write this for me. Hope you can get someone to read it to you. He says he will put the address for you to reply to, if you can get someon
e to write out your letters. Love always, your big brother Geordie.”’
‘So one of the guards wrote for him?’ Davy said.
‘So it seems.’
‘Why?’
‘As a favour to a friend, I imagine.’ Luca handed him back the letter. ‘If you would like me to do the same, I am very happy.’
Davy blinked. ‘You’d write to Geordie for me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why?’
Luca smiled. ‘Let us call it a favour to a friend.’
Davy stared at the ground, his cheeks bright red, as if trying to make up his mind about something.
‘I’m sorry I blacked your eye, Luca,’ he eventually blurted out.
‘Davy, I have already forgotten it.’
Edie and Sam were working together one Friday afternoon, repairing a boundary wall that had been damaged, when Sam spotted Davy and Luca chummily sharing a cigarette some distance away.
‘Heyup,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘What’s all this?’
Edie smiled. ‘Didn’t you know? They’re great friends now. Luca’s been helping Davy write to his brother over in Italy.’
‘Has he indeed? Wonders never cease,’ Sam said. ‘That’s what happens when you remove him from his father’s influence. He starts to discover what human beings are.’
‘Sam …’
He rolled his eyes. ‘I know that tone, London. Am I wrong or are you about to poke your little button nose into my affairs again?’
‘I’m curious, that’s all. About Davy. He turned up back here like nothing had happened and you never said a word about it.’
‘When do I ever?’ he muttered as he selected a suitably sized stone.
‘But there must be a reason you gave him his job back. You seemed dead set against it.’
Edie felt no embarrassment, now, in asking Sam questions. He was used to her curiosity, and although he often harumphed in his grumpy way, she knew that was just his way of teasing her.
‘Discovering his father had half broken his arm is reason enough, isn’t it?’ he said.
Edie's Home for Orphans Page 18