And then, just like that, the dream was gone: snatched from under his nose by this boy soldier who’d stolen his Edie’s heart.
He could hardly blame her. Young girls wanted romance, didn’t they? Dashing acts of heroism, passionate speeches, moonlight serenades; all that Clark Gable business. They didn’t want scruffy farmers with the smell of a hard day’s work on them, mumbling some unromantic nonsense about a bit of company. Christ, he hadn’t even had a ring to give her! Why hadn’t he done things properly? He’d promised himself he was going to wait until he had everything ready before he spoke up. Not that it really mattered, when he was obviously too late.
Sam unlocked the cashbox where he kept the farm kitty. He took out a small box, flicked it open and sighed. The gold of the ring looked tarnished now; the diamond that had seemed so lustrous in the jeweller’s cabinet, cheap and dull.
He hastily put it away when a knock sounded at the door.
‘Come in!’ he called out.
Young Davy entered, dressed in the khaki denims of his Home Guard uniform.
‘Sam, I’m going to parade now,’ he said. ‘Need any errands running while I’m in town?’
‘No, we’re fine. But thanks for offering, lad.’
‘Is it all right if I borrow the truck?’
‘Can’t you take the bike?’ Sam asked. ‘We need to be watching our coupons.’
‘It won’t use much petrol. You can take it out of my wages.’
‘Why so keen to drive tonight?’
Davy flushed. ‘Well … it’s just that I’m going to the pictures with Ivy Constance afterwards. Can’t take her home on the back of a bike, can I?’
Sam smiled. ‘Ah, I see. Go on then.’
‘You OK, are you, boss? You look a bit funny.’
‘I’m all right.’ Sam roused himself and pulled his gaze from the cashbox. ‘What’re you up to tonight then?’
‘Lieutenant Bradley’s giving us a talk on aircraft recognition.’ Davy scuffed at the floor with a sort of bashful pride. ‘He says I might be NCO material once I’ve learned to read.’
‘Luca’s making progress with your lessons, is he?’
‘Aye, does his best. I’ve a long way to go but he says he won’t give up on me.’
‘Well, keep working hard and you’ll be a lance-corporal before you know it. Ta-ra then.’
‘You sure you won’t come with me, Sam? The platoon could do with young blood.’
‘Nay, they won’t want me there playing at soldiers,’ Sam muttered. ‘You know what high regard folk round here hold me in. I don’t suppose they keep places open for cowards and traitors, do they?’
Davy scowled. ‘But you’re not those things, any more than I am. Why don’t you tell them you couldn’t join the regular army? I hate people saying that stuff about you now I know.’
‘They’d only find something else to gripe about. Hating me’s too popular a pastime in Applefield for them to just give it up.’
Davy shot him a crafty look. ‘I reckon Miss Cartwright would like it if you joined the Home Guard.’
‘All right, son, don’t push your luck. Just because you’ve got a girl now, it doesn’t make you an expert on women,’ Sam said, smiling. ‘Go on, go enjoy your parade. If Hitler invades while you’re out, I’ll hold him off.’
They were interrupted by loud barks from outside, and the sound of yells and scuffling.
‘What the hell is that?’ Sam jumped to his feet, and they both ran out.
Two small boys were engaged in a fight in front of the farmhouse door, which Sam saw immediately had been chalked with the familiar word ‘coward’. Another lad, slightly younger, was standing to one side, holding his arm as if it had been hurt. A tiny dog tugged at the trousers of one of the scuffling boys, growling.
‘Right, pack it in!’ Sam shouted.
Davy strode into the fray and pulled the fighting boys apart. Both wriggled fiercely, trying to get free with no success, until one hit on the bright idea of sinking his teeth into Davy’s arm. Davy yelped, and the boy used his advantage to make a break for freedom. Sam tried to tackle him, but the child dodged and was soon running away over the fields.
‘Leave him,’ Sam said as Davy prepared to give chase. ‘I know who he is: Jenny Armstrong’s boy. We can have words with him later. Get these two into the house and let’s see if we can get a story out of them.’
‘It weren’t our fault,’ the bigger boy said when Davy had pushed them roughly inside the farmhouse.
‘Now why do I find that hard to believe?’ Sam said. ‘So you’re the little buggers who’ve been vandalising my place, are you? Davy, go into the village and fetch a policeman.’
‘No! Don’t,’ the smaller boy whispered. ‘We didn’t do nothing, Mister, promise. Charlie Armstrong done it. He’s always sneaking up here to write on stuff, we hear him showing off about it at school.’
Sam frowned. ‘That accent’s not local. Where’ve you come from, lad?’
The child glanced at the other boy, who shook his head.
‘Nowhere,’ he muttered.
‘I’ve seen you two before.’ Sam turned to the older boy, the one wearing clothes he looked to have long since grown out of. ‘You’re Prue Hewitt’s kids. The evacuees. Take that cap off.’
Aggie hesitated, then removed the hat she was wearing to let her pigtails tumble free.
‘Jimmy’s tellin’ the truth. We didn’t do nothing,’ she said, sticking out her chin. ‘We just come to hide a letter somewhere for Edie.’
‘Edie? What for?’
‘Because if we leave it at home and she finds it, she’ll know we’re gone and come after us. But if we leave it here, she won’t see it till tomorrow morning when she comes to work.’
‘I see. Very clever.’
‘Charlie were already writing on the door when we got here, we had nothin’ to do with it. Then he hurt Jim’s arm, so I had to thump him to teach him a lesson.’ Aggie cocked her head. ‘Why’s Charlie always call you a coward, Mister? Are you one?’
‘I don’t believe so. No more than anybody else.’
‘He calls our Jim that too, ’cause he’s quiet and he don’t like to fight.’
‘Well, I think your definition of cowardice depends on your definition of bravery. Charlie probably believes a brave man is one who never feels afraid. I believe it’s one who feels afraid but keeps his head and does what he needs to do anyway.’ Sam glanced at Jimmy. ‘But a boy who hurts those smaller than him, and who’s happy to call a man names behind his back but runs off when confronted, certainly has no right to throw accusations of cowardice at anyone else. You tell him that if he comes near you again, Jimmy.’
Jimmy nodded, smiling for the first time since Sam had caught the pair of them.
‘Now tell me why you were writing to Edie,’ he said, sensing they were starting to relax.
‘We’re running away,’ Jimmy blurted out, before immediately covering his mouth with his hands.
‘Running away!’
‘Um, Sam,’ Davy said in a low voice.
‘Aye, go on, son,’ Sam said. ‘You don’t want to be late for parade.’
Davy opened the door to leave. Sam followed him out.
‘Call in at Applefield Manor, speak to the old lady,’ he muttered. ‘Tell her we’ve got her kiddies here. I’ll get the whole story out of them. Reckon I’ll have them talked out of it by the time she comes to fetch them.’
Davy nodded and headed for the truck. Sam went back into the farmhouse, closing the door behind him.
‘Now then, does one of you want to tell me why you’re running away?’ he asked. ‘Mrs Hewitt will be very worried when she finds you gone.’
‘You shouldn’t ought to of told him,’ Aggie hissed to her brother.
The little terrier they’d brought with them had crept over to the fireplace, where Sadie and Shep were sitting with their remaining puppy, Meg – Sam had been too soft to sell them all in the end. The dog started sniffing Me
g, and she wagged her tail in greeting.
‘Looks like someone’s making new friends,’ Sam said. ‘What’s your dog called?’
‘Coco,’ Jimmy whispered.
‘Is Coco running away too?’
Jimmy hesitated, and Sam smiled as he took a seat in the armchair.
‘Here, sit down,’ he said, gesturing to the old couch near the fireplace. ‘Just tell me, were you running from something or to something?’
‘From something,’ Aggie muttered.
‘Can you tell me what? I thought you were happy at Applefield Manor. Mrs Hewitt’s been kind to you, hasn’t she?’
Aggie nodded. ‘We love it there. But I heard Edie’s friend say that now the bombs’ve stopped a bit, it’ll be safe to go back to London. An’ …’ She swallowed. ‘An’ then Jimmy heard Aunty Prue say that they’ll put us in orphanages. Into different ones, so we wouldn’t never see each other again.’
‘So we had to run away, see, Mister?’ Jimmy said, blinking wide eyes at him. ‘We can’t let them break us up.’
Edie answered the front door to find Davy Braithwaite on the doorstep, wearing the uniform of the Kirkton Home Guard.
‘How do, Miss Cartwright?’ he said, taking off his cap. She’d told him a dozen times he could call her Edie, but the boy couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it.
‘Davy. Is everything all right?’
‘Sam asked me to call on my way to parade with a message for that Mrs Hewitt. Is she in?’
‘No, she’s walking over to the Constances’ farm for our milk. Sally forgot us on her round today.’ Edie smiled. ‘A dicky bird tells me you’ve been walking out with Sally’s little sister.’
Davy blushed crimson, but he was smiling. ‘Might’ve been.’
‘So do you have to speak to Prue, or might I be able to help?’
‘I reckon you’ll have to do. It’s them two bairns of yourn, the little lass and her brother. Sam’s got them and he wants someone to fetch them back.’
She frowned. ‘What? Sam’s got our evacuees?’
‘Aye, trying to run away from home or summat.’
‘Hold on a moment.’
Edie ran up to the children’s room. Sure enough, it was empty and the window gaping open, with a rope made of knotted sheets tied to one of the bedposts.
‘Whatever could have possessed them to do that?’ she said to Davy when she went back downstairs.
‘I don’t know, I went before they said. Can you go for them then, Miss? I’m going to be late for parade if I don’t get going.’
‘Yes, I’ll cycle over now. Thanks, Davy.’
When he’d gone, Edie called into the kitchen to let Tilly know she was going out. She didn’t say why – she wanted to get the full story about why the children had run away first. At least they were safe with Sam and hadn’t managed to get any further than Larkstone Farm. If they’d fallen into the hands of the sort of people who might do them harm … it didn’t bear thinking about.
What could have made them want to run away? Edie had noticed they’d seemed quiet when she, Susan and Alfie had taken them out for a picnic on Sunday, but not to the extent that it had concerned her. Baby Samantha had had an unsettled night, so Edie had assumed the children were just tired.
She felt a surge of guilt as she mounted her bike. It was her fault. She’d been so distracted by developments in her own life, wondering what answer she ought to give Sam, that she’d probably missed the signs Jimmy and Aggie were worrying about something.
Her friends had gone now: Susan back to her billet in Hull, Alfie down to London to visit his parents. It had been lovely to see them both, but Edie was forced to admit it hadn’t been quite like old times. Alfie’s proposal had cast a shadow over the weekend – not that he mentioned it again after that Friday evening, but there was a sadness behind the familiar roguish grin, and in Sue’s eyes too. He must have shared what had happened with his sister. Edie knew it had always been Susan’s dearest wish that the two of them would make a match one day, and the fist of guilt in her stomach had given her another wrench.
It wasn’t until Alfie was due to leave on Sunday evening that he made any reference to what had happened, when he stopped at Applefield Manor to say goodbye.
‘Couldn’t you, Ede?’ he’d whispered as he’d embraced her.
‘Alf, dear, I’m sorry.’
And so he’d gone, with tears swimming in his eyes.
Edie had made up her mind on one point, at least: she needed an answer from Sam before she could decide what hers ought to be. Immodest and unmaidenly it may be – that’s what Aunt Caroline would no doubt say – but she needed to ask Sam if he loved her.
The farm soon came into view. Edie could see the children outside the farmhouse with Sam: Jimmy sitting on Sam’s old Fordson tractor and Aggie playing with Coco and Meg. She wondered again what could have made the pair of them want to run away, when they’d shown every sign of loving their new life. Prue and Jack had fallen naturally into the role of parents and the children, as far as she could see, had never been healthier, happier or better cared for in their lives. Hopefully there would be some answers waiting for her.
‘Children!’ she gasped when she reached the little group. She threw down her bike and pulled Aggie to her for a hug. ‘Aggie, sweetheart, what on earth did you think you were doing? I was worried to death!’
‘Are we in trouble, Edie?’ Aggie whispered.
‘You’re not in trouble, but it was very naughty to give me such a fright. Now, you must come home and we’ll have no more talk of running away.’ She looked up at Sam. ‘Thanks for looking after them, Sam.’
He grunted, but he didn’t say anything.
Edie glanced at Jimmy on the tractor. His eyes sparkled as he turned the steering wheel around in his hands.
‘Is it safe for him to be messing about in that thing?’ she asked Sam, straightening up. Aggie squealed as Meg jumped up at her leg, and turned to chase her around the yard.
‘Engine’s off. It can’t do him any harm,’ Sam said. ‘Where’s the old lady? The message was meant to be for her.’
‘She had to go out.’
Something was wrong. He was refusing to meet her eye, and his face looked like thunder.
‘Sam, what’s the matter?’ she asked, frowning. ‘The children didn’t misbehave, did they?’
‘Nay, they’re good kids.’
She shook her head. ‘Whyever would they run away? I can’t understand it.’
‘Here.’ He handed her an envelope. ‘This’ll answer a few questions.’
Edie’s own name was written on the front, in an unformed, childish scrawl she recognised as belonging to Jimmy.
Deer eedy, the letter read. We av ran away and we are sorry becus we reely like you and evryone at the howse and we wull mis yu and arnty prew and uncul jack and tilli and samanfer and the kitens and chics and canirees and bugs and pepa. We wish we cud stay for ever and ever, but soon they wull take us to a orfanidge and split us up becus the boms av stopt. We no becus we erd arnty prew say so. Sorry for lisnin, we dint meen to. I leev my best marbels to yu and the souljers wot uncul jack made me to baby samanfer and my canirees to arnty prew and my radio wot i made and bugs my rabit to uncul jack, to remeber me. Aggie givs er book wot she wun as a prize to tilli and er best dol to baby samanfer, and she says yu and arnty prew and uncul jack mus share er kitens and to giv em all a kis from us. We will mis yu lodes and we luv yu for ever. Fanks for takin care of us. James Adam Cawthra (and Aggie and Coco too)
‘What do you think?’ Sam said quietly.
‘Well his vocabulary’s coming on but his spelling needs work.’ She sighed. ‘Poor lambs, so this is what’s been on their minds. I had no idea they’d heard us talking.’
‘Is it true? Are they going into an orphanage?’
‘They might have to go into some sort of institution eventually,’ she admitted. ‘It’s better than sending them back to a stepmother who beats and starves them. But Pr
ue and the vicar are fighting to make sure they won’t be split up.’
‘I think they could do with a dose of reassurance when you get them home.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Sam glanced at Jimmy, who’d hopped down from the tractor seat and was running his fingers lovingly over the engine. ‘Bright lad, that, spelling aside. He was showing me the book where he draws designs for inventions. They looked like summat out of Flash Gordon.’
Edie laughed. ‘Yes, his patented Jimmy Cawthra Shrink-o-matic Ray Gun is going to revolutionise human life as we know it.’
‘Reminds me of our Jacob. He was just like that: magic with any sort of machinery. You should’ve seen his face light up when he got near a steam engine.’
Sam’s scowl had lifted and for a moment it almost looked as though he might smile, but as his gaze fell on Edie, he seemed to remember something and the black look descended again.
‘Sam, is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘Nowt new, no.’
‘Then why are you … are you angry with me?’
‘Why, have I any reason to be? Or any right, for that matter?’
‘Well, no.’ She paused, wondering how best to bring up the subject she wanted to discuss. ‘I, um … there was a question I needed to ask you.’
‘Make it quick then, London. I’ve got things to do.’
She looked at him for a moment. He was still glowering, his eyes turned down so he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
‘So? What is it then?’ he demanded. ‘Ask if you’re going to, I’ve not got all night.’
Edie hesitated, then shook her head.
‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Never mind.’
It felt as though, in his furrowed brow and cold manners, Sam had already given her all the answer she needed.
Edie's Home for Orphans Page 31