Edie's Home for Orphans

by Gracie Taylor

  ‘How much leave have you got?’ Edie asked.

  ‘Six whole days, isn’t it wonderful? And I’m giving them all to you, darling. I’ve taken a room at the YWCA hostel in Kirkton. You’ll never guess what else too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Go on, guess.’

  Edie laughed. ‘Sue, you know I’m frightful at guessing games. Tell me.’

  ‘Alfie’s coming,’ Susan said, beaming. ‘This Friday: he’s coming here for the weekend before he goes to Mum and Dad. He’s going to stay at the pub in your village.’

  ‘Oh, wonderful!’ Edie said, clapping her hands. ‘It’ll be just like old times. We can take a picnic down to the lake, oh, and I’ll show you the woods where the deer are, and the lambs on the farm I delivered myself, and we can –’

  Susan laughed. ‘All right, darling, calm down. One thing at a time.’ She put down her teacup and helped herself to a thin finger of bread and butter. ‘So, any new beaus I should know about? I notice you’ve been very quiet on the subject in your letters.’

  ‘I … no. I don’t think so.’

  ‘What, don’t you know?’

  Edie paused, feeling awkward. She hadn’t wanted to say anything in her letters about Sam and the kiss that never was. She knew she could tell her friend anything, but what she felt for Sam … Edie didn’t know what she felt, but she knew it wasn’t some girlish flirtation to gossip and giggle about. It was more important than that. Except these last couple of weeks, she’d wondered if it was anything at all … if she might not have imagined the almost-kiss, the lingering looks; everything.

  ‘There was someone who I thought might be keen on me,’ she admitted.

  ‘Who? Not that handsome flight lieutenant?’

  ‘No.’ Edie bowed her head. ‘Rob’s … gone, Sue. His Spit was shot down over the Channel three weeks ago.’

  ‘Oh. I am sorry to hear that.’

  They were silent for a moment. Both women knew boys who hadn’t come home – old friends, cousins, suitors – but no matter how often it happened, loss and grief never could become commonplace.

  ‘So who is he, this new man of yours?’ Susan said at last. ‘The gardener? He’s good-looking, isn’t he?’

  Edie laughed. ‘Jack? Don’t be daft, he’s old enough to be my dad. Besides –’ She stopped herself. ‘No, it’s not him. It’s … it’s Sam.’

  Susan frowned. ‘What, that grumpy farmer? I thought you hated him.’

  ‘I didn’t hate him. I did believe he … well, I made a wrong judgement about him early on in our acquaintance. I seem to have made a hobby out of jumping to conclusions ever since I arrived here.’

  ‘What happened, Ede?’

  ‘We’d been getting closer, working on the farm. I’d say we’d become friends. Then a few weeks ago he asked if I’d go to the pictures with him.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said no, quite abruptly. I thought I had reason to, then – I thought he was involved with someone else and just wanted to have a bit of fun with me. I was wrong though. Then he brought the doctor over to deliver the baby, and while he was here, we … almost kissed. Outside, in the moonlight.’

  ‘That sounds suspiciously romantic,’ Susan said. ‘Why almost? Did you stop it?’

  ‘No, we were interrupted. Since then, there’s been nothing. I’m starting to wonder if I imagined the whole thing.’

  ‘You mean he hasn’t tried to make another date with you?’

  Edie shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen much of him since that night. He always used to pick me to work with him on the farm, but now he chooses one of the others, every time. I don’t know if he’s angry with me or if I misread the whole situation.’

  ‘Hmm. He sounds like the type of man who enjoys stringing girls along to me.’

  ‘I … don’t know. I wouldn’t have thought so, but …’ She sighed. ‘I feel a complete fool, Sue. Really, I’m such a clueless schoolgirl when it comes to these things. I wish I had you here to advise me.’

  ‘Sam’s the fool if he can’t see what’s right under his nose. The best girl in the whole world, that’s all.’ She turned to cast an approving look over Edie. ‘You look wonderful, my darling. Positively blooming with health. Do you cough much these days?’

  ‘Hardly at all, now. Dr Grant was right: it’s done me the world of good being out in the open air.’

  ‘Oh, bless you. In that case I’m glad you had to take the Land Army over the Wrens.’ Sue finished her tea. ‘Do you think you might go back home this year?’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Yes. Haven’t you been listening to the wireless? The raids have really eased up these past few weeks.’

  ‘Only because of the bad weather. The Luftwaffe will be back once the skies clear; they always are.’

  ‘That’s what the powers that be are telling us, but at work people are whispering that the Blitz might finally be done with. A major I’m friendly with thinks old Adolf is saving his bombers for the Ruskies now. Alice told me in her last letter that she and Joan are planning to go back to London in autumn if it seems like the worst is over.’ Alice and Joan Wilson were old schoolfriends, sisters who had evacuated to relatives in the countryside.

  Edie shook her head. ‘I can’t go back, can I? Not to sound too much like Lord Kitchener about it, but the Land Army needs me. Besides, what is there for me in London now? You and Alfie aren’t there, or Aunt Caroline. She’s actually talking about selling the house in Pimlico and retiring to the Cotswolds permanently.’

  ‘Would you go with her?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. Not unless I had to.’ Edie gazed out of the window, watching the swallows swoop and dive against the glorious backdrop of the fells. ‘I have been thinking lately … I’d like to stay. Not just while the war’s on. Forever.’

  Susan blinked. ‘Stay here? It’s the middle of nowhere, Ede.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why I like it,’ Edie said with a half-smile. ‘I feel I belong here, Sue. The air agrees with me wonderfully: I’ve never been happier, or healthier. I adore my work, and since the evacuees came to live here, and the animals … I really feel like I have a purpose now. That at Applefield Manor, I’m part of something important.’

  ‘Well, perhaps, but –’

  ‘I dreamed of being a Wren because I wanted to make a difference to the course of the war – to save lives. The Land Army felt like a disappointing substitute at the time. But since coming to Applefield – planning the fete, taking care of the children and animals, working on the farm – I’ve realised that making a difference in lots of small ways is just as important as the big stuff. At any rate, it is to those you’re able to help.’

  Susan was staring at her. ‘You’d really leave London for good?’

  ‘Yes, I believe I would.’

  ‘What about when the war ends though? There won’t be a Land Army then, or farm work. Not for women.’

  ‘No.’ Edie was silent for a moment. ‘I suppose not.’

  Susan was regarding her curiously, as if seeing her for the first time.

  ‘What?’ Edie said, smiling.

  ‘Nothing.’ Susan shook her head. ‘You just seem so … different, Ede. I mean, still the same lovely you, always trying to save everyone, but sort of grown-up and confident. What happened to you?’

  ‘Applefield did, I think. Don’t you approve?’

  ‘No, I do.’ Susan patted her hand. ‘In fact, my little butterfly, I’d say it’s been the making of you.’

  Chapter 32

  It was a warm, fragrant Thursday evening at Larkstone Farm, the air rich with the scents of summer. Edie was stretched out under a tree with her hands pillowed behind her head, enjoying the feel of the sunshine on her skin.

  There was no one else there. Edie had been on her own for most of the afternoon, clearing away the heather and gorse that, if left unchecked, had a tendency to encroach on the farmland from the surrounding fells. She had actually finished work half an hour ago, b
ut the farm was peaceful and pleasant and she was in no hurry to leave. Days felt long since the Government had introduced double summertime earlier that month, and although there were the same number of hours in a day as there always had been, they seemed to pass more slowly, somehow.

  Little Wilf the pet lamb had settled at her side. Edie reached out lazily to tickle his ears. There was no sound but the soft bleating of the animals and the sleepy buzz of insects in the hawthorn blossoms and clover that perfumed the air.

  Still, it was time she thought about stirring herself. She was due to meet Susan at the Golden Fleece in Applefield for a bite of supper in a little while.

  Back in Edie’s part of London, public houses were the preserve of working men: places she would never have dreamed of setting foot. Things were different here though. Along with St Mark’s Church, the pub was at the heart of village life in Applefield, and it wasn’t unusual to see people from all backgrounds spending their leisure hours there: ladies and couples retreating to the snug while gentlemen played darts in the public bar. Edie had been on a few occasions with Vinnie and Barbara. Strangely enough, though, news of her visits to the Fleece never seemed to make it into her letters to her aunt.

  It was payday and, as she was stony broke, she needed to collect her money from Sam or she wouldn’t be able to treat Sue to the meal as she wanted to. With an effort, she pushed herself to her feet and bade Wilf goodbye until the next day.

  Alfie was arriving tomorrow too. Edie couldn’t wait to show her friends all the beauty spots of the area. Sam had agreed to grant her a holiday on Saturday morning: the three of them would have the whole weekend to explore. Perhaps they might take the children out to the lake, and little Coco –

  The farmhouse came into focus, and Edie noticed Sam mounting the old bicycle he kept for his own occasional visits to the pub. Had he forgotten he still needed to pay her?

  ‘Sam, wait!’ she called, but whether because of his bad ear or because he was too far away, he didn’t hear her.

  ‘Bugger it!’ she muttered: a phrase new to her vocabulary, and one which she’d taken to using far too often since starting work at the farm. She ran the rest of the way to the farmhouse, swung one leg over her own bike and started pedalling furiously after Sam.

  Ten minutes later, Edie still hadn’t managed to catch him up. Clearly she couldn’t compete with those long, muscular legs, and was panting some distance behind as she followed the Sam-shaped speck.

  He hadn’t taken the road that led to Applefield Manor, or headed in the direction of the village. Where on earth could he be going? It couldn’t be anywhere too far away or he’d surely have taken the truck.

  He’d soon sailed past the shell of the old Land Girls’ hostel on the Kirkton road. After half a mile he took a sharp right down the track that led to Carnmere Reservoir.

  What in heaven’s name could he be going to the reservoir for: an evening dip? Dearly hoping Sam would stop when he got there – and that she wasn’t about to find him preparing to dive naked into the water – Edie swung her bike down the track.

  When she reached the bottom, she dismounted and propped her bike against a tree, panting heavily.

  She knew Sam must be around somewhere. She could see his bike, lying on its side at the water’s edge. Edie shielded her eyes from the sun and peered into the distance, soon spotting Sam sitting on the grass with his back against a tree trunk as he gazed pensively over the water.

  ‘London,’ he said when she’d approached him, lifting his eyebrows. ‘What the devil are you doing here? Did you follow me?’

  She was silent for a moment while she got her breath back.

  ‘I’m trying to get paid so I can take my friend to the pub,’ she panted. ‘It’s Thursday, Sam. You owe me sixteen bob.’

  He grimaced. ‘Oh hell. Sorry, I forgot. Why didn’t you call in for it before you left?’

  ‘Because I didn’t leave. I stayed a bit later than usual, clearing that bracken.’ She followed his gaze to the water. ‘What are you doing all the way out here?’

  He smiled, a little sadly. ‘Being a sentimental old bugger, mostly. I don’t know if it’s your influence or Luca’s but I do find I’m more prone to it these days.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ He patted the grass beside him. ‘Here, sit down a minute. You’re making me nervous hovering about like that.’

  She hesitated. ‘I need to meet my friend in an hour.’

  ‘And it’s half an hour’s ride back to Applefield so you can afford to get your breath back first.’ He took a note from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Here’s ten bob. All I’ve got on me, I’m afraid. We can settle the difference tomorrow.’

  ‘Well … I suppose there’s time to sit down.’ She pocketed the money and sat by him, feeling awkward.

  They were silent for a while, watching the dragonflies dip and scoot over the water. It was a secluded little place, as beautiful as any lake, for all that it had been fashioned by Man and not nature. The water shone a sparkling blue-green, surrounded by a ring of pine trees that made it feel quite cut off from the rest of the world.

  ‘I’m told you’ve got quite a zoo at your place now,’ Sam said after a little while. ‘What was the latest addition? Canaries?’

  ‘No, a rabbit. Jimmy found a little one with an injured back leg on his way home from school yesterday and brought it home to nurse – a white one, not wild. I suppose it escaped and was attacked by a fox or something. Jack’s making a hutch for it today.’

  ‘How did you end up with them all? I never thought I’d see old Mother Hewitt with a house full of kiddies and animals.’

  ‘Oh, Prue’s a big softy really. She can’t resist helping something when it’s …’ Edie laughed softly. ‘… when it’s a lost cause.’

  ‘And neither can you.’

  ‘No.’ She didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed on the water as the sound of buzzing insects and birdsong lulled her senses. ‘My friend Susan always teases me about that. She says I’m addicted to trying to save things.’

  ‘She’s right.’

  He put a finger under her chin and turned her face towards his. Edie looked at him, feeling as if she was in a sort of trance. Sam seemed different in the golden evening sunlight. Softer, but sort of intense, his eyes darting over her face. It felt dreamlike … and … and he was holding her now, wasn’t he? His large arms had enfolded her body, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that they should. Edie felt she should probably tell him to let her go, but she didn’t. She didn’t want him to, so why should she?

  She was wearing her watch around her neck, as she always did. Sam hooked the chain with one finger and drew out the ornate silver timepiece on the end.

  ‘You touch this when you’re upset,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me why.’

  ‘You noticed that?’

  ‘I notice a lot of things.’

  She took it from him and pressed the catch to open it.

  ‘It was my mother’s,’ she said quietly. ‘She died having me so I never knew her. One of my last memories of my dad was him giving this to me. He said that as long as I wore it, they’d both be with me.’

  ‘How did he die?’

  She swallowed. ‘Consumption. When I was six.’

  ‘That’s rotten luck, London. I’m sorry.’

  ‘The worst thing was he … that it was my fault.’ She wasn’t sure why she was telling him all this, but now she’d begun, she felt as though she wouldn’t be able to stop until the whole story had come spilling out.

  ‘Your fault? I don’t see how.’ He frowned. ‘You told me you couldn’t join the Wrens because you’d been sickly as a child, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I was five when I got it. Dad took it from me.’

  ‘You know that wasn’t really your fault, don’t you? That’s just how those lung illnesses work.’

  ‘No, Sam, you don’t understand.’ She turned her head away sharply, feelin
g tears prick her eyes. ‘It was my fault. Not just because he caught it from me. He … he made a bargain.’

  Edie could still hear him, her father, offering payment for his little girl’s life. It was one of her earliest, most excruciatingly painful memories.

  They’d been in Brighton. Daddy had packed the two of them off there for a seaside holiday, only it hadn’t been much fun. Little Edie just couldn’t understand why they’d gone all the way to the seaside only for her to be told she couldn’t go to the beach or play with the other children, but that she had to stay inside until her silly old cough got better. She’d had coughs lots of times, but all that usually happened was that she got made to take nasty-tasting medicine by Dr Grant. She didn’t know why this time Daddy looked so white and afraid; why he’d suddenly announced they were going to Brighton as if it was the most important thing in the world.

  One day Edie had sneaked out of bed to the parlour of the hotel they were staying in and climbed up on the window seat, pulling the curtains to behind her. From there she could watch the other children playing on the seafront, and dream about the time when she would be well enough to join them.

  Edie started when she heard the door open. She shrank back, knowing she would get into trouble if Daddy found out she had crept out of bed.

  ‘Damn it, Dick, I’ve not slept in weeks. I can’t lose both of them.’ The voice she could hear cracked with a sob. ‘What sort of God would take the very things a man lives for, and yet insist he keeps on living?’

  Edie knew her father’s voice immediately: those deep, broad North Country vowels that had never softened in all the years he’d lived in London. She loved to hear them; to pick his tones out of a crowd. But she didn’t like the way he sounded to her then – afraid; frantic.

  ‘Now, Seth, calm yourself,’ came a soothing voice. It was Dr Grant, Daddy’s friend, who sometimes came to visit from London to see if her cough was better yet. Edie peeped through the curtain and watched her father sink brokenly into a chair.