A Christmas Candle

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A Christmas Candle Page 22

by Katie Flynn


  Eve guessed it was a sort of game; the men loved her delicate looks, her gentle voice and above all, perhaps, her English accent. They vied with each other to amuse her, acquiring cars from unknown sources to take her to the cinema, the theatre, or even up to London, where Eve gathered they were welcomed with respect even at the grandest places.

  However, there was one person who made no attempt to lure the golden Lily to his side. He liked her, but then he liked Eve as well, and when he could have claimed her for a dance he usually gave way, with a rueful grin, to any member of his crew who hankered after the girl he teasingly called ‘the blonde bombshell’. This made Eve laugh, because Lily was certainly no bombshell, but when she showed no sign of favouring one over another, and gave no hint of feeling more than a friendly interest in any of them, Eve was forced to conclude that her love for Colin must have gone deeper than she, Eve, had realised. In fact, she often thought that Lily’s love for Colin had never truly died, and one day at the beginning of the second week, whilst the two girls were in their bedroom getting ready for the latest dance at the Samson, she asked Lily outright just how much Colin’s defection had hurt her.

  Lily was applying a delicate smear of colour to her long and curling eyelashes and jumped when she heard the question.

  ‘Oh, Eve, I nearly poked my eye out,’ she said reproachfully. ‘Colin who? I mean, I know at least three Colins; one’s English and the other two are Americans.’

  Eve giggled. ‘When you were at Drake’s Farm you were in love – or thought you were – with Colin Tunstal,’ she said. ‘We all thought you’d come back to Drake’s Farm once you got over him, but you didn’t. I suppose I thought he’d put you off men for life; is that true? If you think I’m being really cheeky I’m sorry, but I’ve grown up, Lily, and there are things I want to understand. There’s one man in the USAAF who’s absolutely crazy about you – you must know the one I mean. His name is Alvin something or other, and he’s so good-looking the girls nearly swoon if he asks them to dance. But he only asks them when you’re on the floor already, and then he keeps trying to get near you and doesn’t care that his partner hates it and everybody else is laughing at him.’

  Lily had been making up her face – a dab of powder on her nose, a dab of lipstick on her mouth and just a smear of mascara on her long gleaming lashes – but now her eyes met Eve’s in the little mirror and she gave a subdued chuckle.

  ‘That chap? I suppose he is rather handsome, but there’s nothing in his noddle apart from his own looks, you know. Haven’t you noticed how dreamy he seems half the time? That’s because he sees himself as a sort of Prince Charming and believes that at one kiss from him I’ll buckle at the knees, dismiss all the other nice boys and dance off with him into the sunset.’ She chuckled again. ‘My love, you’ve got to start recognising sincerity when you see it. That little fair chap, Tommy Roberts, the one who flies a Mosquito and thinks he’s in love with me? He’s not, you know. When he goes home to his little village in Wales and sees his Sian again – a girl who has written to him every week since the war started and loves his personality and not just his fair hair and blue eyes – he’ll not give me a second thought. Can you understand, sweetie? You don’t fall in love with someone just for their looks – it’s much more meaningful than that.’ She turned away from the mirror and smiled at her companion. ‘You’ve come away from Drake’s Farm now because Johnny was in a temper and said things he didn’t mean. Picture his face beside Alvin’s and see which one is really your friend.’

  ‘But you haven’t answered my question,’ Eve pointed out. ‘I’ve heard someone say that because of what Colin did to you you’ll never marry anyone else. That’s not true, is it? Did he really hurt you badly enough to put you off men for ever?’

  Lily began to brush her hair rhythmically, then tied it back from her face with a blue ribbon which exactly matched her eyes.

  ‘I’ll tell you something I’ve told nobody else, sweetie,’ she said after some thought. ‘Colin wrote to me … oh, weeks ago … saying that he had come to his senses and wanted to resume our relationship. He wanted to see me, and I agreed; why not? He and I go back a long way. He was my first boyfriend. So we agreed to meet at the Dorchester of all places and talk over what had happened. Eve, I got there first and watched him walking across that enormous dining room, looking for me – or at any rate looking for the girl he had left behind – and I knew I had narrowly escaped making the worst mistake of my life. I suddenly realised he’s frightfully handsome but not particularly nice, and by the time he reached the table I just wanted to get on the first available train back to Norwich. I didn’t want to shame him in front of all the other diners, but I didn’t want him to leave with the impression that I still had any feeling whatsoever either for him or for our relationship, which was finished so totally that even my smile must have looked rather fraught. You see, my feelings for Colin weren’t real feelings at all. He was just another fellow who liked pretty blondes and I was no longer just a pretty blonde.’ She smiled suddenly, then pulled a face. ‘I knew it was useless to try to explain, so I just said I had an appointment and walked out on him; dumped him with even more force than he had dumped me. And as I hurried to catch the train a tremendous feeling of lightness came over me. I was sorry for Colin, and I suppose there will always be a place in my heart for the first boy who meant anything to me, but it’s over. I wrote him a letter telling him I didn’t wish to see him again and I suppose he went back to the girl he left me for, but whatever he did is no concern of mine and I’m happy to have it so. And now, shall we go down to the kitchen and wait for our escorts to take us to the dance?’

  Eve had not said a word throughout this explanation, but as they descended the stairs she took her friend’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

  ‘I’m glad you told me,’ she said. ‘Suppose you had never received that letter and went ahead with your plans for a wartime wedding? Oh, Lily, I think I understand now why you’re what they call “fancy free”, and I’m glad. There are lots of very nice boys chasing round after you and you’re all having a good time, but in a way you’re playing a game and so are they, and when the war’s over and the glamour’s gone you might settle down with one of them or you might not. Is that right?’

  At the bottom of the flight Lily stopped and wagged an admonitory finger at the younger girl.

  ‘You asked me and I told you because I trust you, little Eve,’ she said seriously. ‘I don’t mean to encourage anyone to believe that I’m on the hunt for a husband, because I’m not. In fact of all the crowd of young men that I’ve met since I took the job at Parker’s Place there isn’t one I’d look at twice. For a start, I’m British through and through and wouldn’t dream of moving abroad. I know I’m a city girl and before the war I’d probably have worked in an office and been happy enough, never knowing what I was missing. But now when the war is over I mean to look for a job on the land. I’m good with stock and Mr Parker needs another cowman or woman, but even if he doesn’t take me there’ll be jobs for land girls who have already proved themselves, so I’m not worried. I may not make much money but I’ll be doing the work I love, and since I learned to love it at Drake’s Farm I’m going to come back for a visit very soon. I shan’t be able to stay long, of course, but I must see the Favershams to thank them for everything, and apologise for running away.’

  ‘They’ll understand,’ Eve said at once. ‘We all miss you dreadfully, Lily, but to have you back at the farm for a while would be wonderful. And don’t you think you ought to tell them that you have discovered Colin is a rat?’

  Lily chuckled, but shook her head. ‘He’s not a rat, just a very ordinary young man; war fooled him into thinking he was in love with me when all we were, in truth, were friends. So let’s forget the whole thing and enjoy the dance.’

  Chapter Eleven

  The talk with Lily had opened Eve’s eyes to a great many things, and that evening, when she danced, as she did, with several youn
g men who asked her to partner them, she found herself looking at them with different eyes. They were nice, friendly and eager for the war to end, and because of the talk with Lily Eve realised that she was able to think of them simply as friends.

  She had not expected her mother to visit her whilst she was in Norwich and was surprised one bright afternoon to find, when she returned from a last visit to the cathedral, her mother sitting at the kitchen table, talking in the friendliest way to Mr and Mrs Kendal. Eve stared. She hadn’t seen Eleanor since Lily’s twenty-first birthday party, and could not help wondering why she had taken the trouble to come all the way up from Plymouth when her daughter had been within far easier reach in Devon. The matter was soon explained, however. When Eve started to ask her why she had come so far her mother gave a rather artificial laugh.

  ‘I’m a driver as well as a secretary, you know, and I had to bring the admiral up to Norwich to attend a very important meeting,’ she said. ‘I left him at the city hall whilst I arranged overnight accommodation, and then of course I remembered that my one and only daughter was somewhere in the city, enjoying the first little break she’s had since the war started.’ She glanced around the table. Mr Kendal smiled politely back but said nothing. He was a tall, thin, dreamy clergyman, always a man of few words, and now he left his wife to maintain the conversation. Mrs Kendal turned to Eve.

  ‘Aren’t you a lucky girl? Your mother has come a long way to see you, Eve. I put the kettle on as soon as I heard who she was, but I’m afraid the only food I had to offer was some rather boring oatmeal biscuits.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about food; the admiral has already booked a meal for all of us at somewhere called the Library Tavern,’ Mrs Armstrong said gaily. She glanced at her wristwatch, then addressed herself to Eve. ‘Darling girl, I have exactly half an hour before the forces catch up with me again. Tell me all your news; have you thought at all about what you want to do when the war’s over?’

  Eve stared. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll go back to London with you and Daddy and try for the grammar school – the teachers here said I’d certainly done well enough at least to apply for a place. But what about Chrissie? Are you going to take him on again?’ She smiled. ‘He’s a bit of a handful, but you’ve always been able to manage him, though I can’t imagine that he’ll find life back in London attractive.’

  Eleanor was looking a little startled. ‘Well, I’m afraid you’ll both have to stay where you are for the time being,’ she said. ‘I’ve no idea when Daddy and I will be able to take up civilian life again. Chrissie will be happy to stay on the farm until then, won’t he? And you can start to study for grammar school on your own, you know.’

  Eve laughed. ‘I’m not too sure about that, but Chrissie will be delighted, and so will Auntie Bess. Indeed, she’s said several times that she doesn’t want to lose us Armstrongs when the men come back from the war.’ She looked up at her mother. ‘Some of them have come back already, because captured German soldiers are working on the land and have to be supervised. We evacuees couldn’t possibly do that, and we’re kept as far as possible away from them. Mrs Shelborne at the post office says some of the Jerries are real nice guys, and I think she’s right. Chrissie, of course, speaks to everyone, and one prisoner who knew a bit about woodwork carved a beautiful horse for him. He keeps it on the windowsill in the attic and is ever so proud of it.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ her mother said awkwardly. ‘You can scarcely blame Chrissie for fraternising with the enemy when they give him gifts.’ She turned suddenly on Eve, a sharp expression on her beautifully made-up face. ‘It’s happened now, and can’t be undone, but you should keep a closer eye on your brother and tell him that the man who carved that horse might easily be the one who led the bombardment against Plymouth earlier in the war.’

  Eve did not say anything. She was remembering how her mother had constantly snubbed her, and recalling also that it did not do to complain. Better to say nothing, for in twenty minutes or less – Eve glanced at the clock on the mantel – Mrs Armstrong would have left and Eve would probably not see her again for months. After all, a mere thirty miles or so had separated them in the past and her mother had rarely made the effort to come to the farm and see her children even then.

  A knock on the back door interrupted her train of thought and as soon as a rosy face appeared around the panel Mr Kendal stood up.

  ‘I can see I’m needed,’ he said with mock resignation. He gave a little bow and held out a firm white hand. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Armstrong; so nice to have met you. I hope we shall meet again, but just now my colleague here has need of my services.’

  He left the kitchen and Eleanor got to her feet. ‘It’s time I was off as well,’ she said, and there was definitely relief in her voice. She turned to Mrs Kendal. ‘Thank you for what you’ve done for my daughter; she works very hard at the farm and I’m sure this break will have done her good.’ She held out her hand, and then Mrs Kendal accompanied both her and Eve down the short path to the front gate. Mrs Kendal gave her guest her usual sweet smile. ‘Any time you come up to Norfolk we shall be delighted to entertain you,’ she said rather formally. ‘It’s a pity your daughter has been billeted so far away, but we must all expect to be moved around in wartime and from what I’ve gathered your Eve is very happy in Devon. And now I must start preparing our evening meal, since we’re expecting guests. I’ve invited a young American airman and a chap who drives a Wellington bomber, so I had best start making a very large and very delicious rabbit and vegetable pie.’ She smiled at her visitor as an official car turned into the Close and drew up alongside them.

  It was the sight of the official car, Eve thought afterwards, which brought vividly into her mind a long-ago conversation with Chrissie. She had told herself over and over that it was Chrissie’s imagination which had led him to believe that Lily had kissed the driver of the car which had brought their parents to the farm on Lily’s twenty-first birthday. She had tried and tried to make sense of it, to convince herself that Lily, who had such high principles, had allowed herself to be half pulled into a big black car in order to be passionately kissed, but she had never really succeeded. It just did not ring true. She simply could not imagine her friend behaving in such a fashion.

  Eve frowned. Chrissie had said Lily was in her working kit: fawn-coloured overalls, a yellow shirt and long green wellies. Miriam had been on early duty that day and had found time to change into a skirt after finishing her morning chores, so the only other person in land girl kit had been Mrs Armstrong. But I must stop worrying over trifles, Eve told herself determinedly. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, but I hate to think of dear Lily behaving so badly.

  It was not until she got into bed that she admitted to herself that, if it had not been Lily, the only other explanation was that her own mother, a married woman, had shared an ‘oogly-googly kiss’ with a naval officer who was not her husband.

  For what seemed like most of the night Eve tossed and turned. And in the morning, pale-faced and red-eyed, she cornered Lily when they had finished washing up the breakfast pots and without preamble told her the whole story. ‘So if it wasn’t you, Lily, and I don’t think it was, it must have been my mother,’ she said in a low voice. ‘If my father knew …’

  Lily turned to Eve and gave her a reassuring hug. ‘No, it wasn’t me,’ she said. ‘But don’t worry – these things happen when someone is off their guard in wartime. That kiss wouldn’t have meant anything; it would just have been a sort of joke between two friends, nothing serious. But your father might not like it, so if I were you I shouldn’t mention it to him. Will you promise me something, darling? Will you pretend the incident never happened? Because it can’t have been important, and I’m sure Chrissie has already forgotten it completely. Eve?’

  ‘I promise,’ Eve said at once. She smiled lovingly at Lily. ‘I never meant to burden you with my worries, but I couldn’t bear … oh, never mind. I shan’t ever think of it again, and I feel sort of light, as though
you’ve taken a burden off my shoulders.’

  ‘Good,’ Lily said approvingly. ‘Now, what would you like to do today? There must be things you’d rather do than come to work with me at Parker’s Place. Mr Parker has bought a large number of pigs – I don’t know how many yet – and wants them rehoused in the sties nearest the house; I think they’re in-pig gilts, so he wants to keep an eye on them. But it doesn’t seem fair to ask you to herd pigs on your last day.’

  Eve laughed. ‘A busman’s holiday, don’t they call it? When you do the same thing on holiday or at work? But I’m one of the lucky ones; I love my work and wouldn’t want to do anything else. Besides, I don’t suppose the pigs will take up the whole of the day; we can come home and de-piggify ourselves, then go to one of these tea dances you’ve told me about.’ She looked sideways at Lily as they crossed the kitchen and headed for the back door. ‘Do you remember me mentioning a chap called Robin Maddon? He’s ever so nice, and he’s like us, Lily, he loves the land, though at present he’s a mechanic looking after aero engines. He wants to see me again before I go back to Drake’s Farm. Would you mind if I invite him to the tea dance as well? The minute you appear half the USAAF will arrive on the doorstep, so you won’t lack for partners.’ She smiled at her friend. ‘You are lucky. You’ve never been a wallflower, standing at the side of the dance floor and waiting for some kind soul to take pity on you and ask you for a dance.’

 

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