A Christmas Candle

by Katie Flynn

  Looking into her companion’s freckled face, Eve felt sure that he was right. Smiling up at him, she had nodded. ‘Thanks, Johnny,’ she said. ‘I feel a lot better now, and I know you’ll be true to your word and come back to see us whenever you can.’

  Now, lying in her bed, Eve felt a small tear trickle down her cheek. Gosh, how she missed Johnny. They had all gone to the station to see him off, Auntie Bess, the land girls and Eve all dabbing their eyes with hankies, Uncle Reg and the farmhands admiring the locomotive and Chrissie chattering in excited tones to the engine driver.

  Connie had joined the farewell party, although Eve wished she hadn’t when the other girl barely managed to raise a hand in farewell as Johnny’s train puffed its way out of the station, before eventually disappearing round the bend with only its trail of smoke still visible. She had met Eve’s reproachful look with one of contempt.

  ‘One down and one to go,’ she had said in a sharp tone. ‘Johnny’s the lucky one, getting out of this dump.’ She brushed what Eve felt sure was an imaginary speck of dirt off her jumper. ‘Still, fingers crossed it won’t be long before I’m on a train heading for dear old Liverpool.’

  Chrissie had shot Connie a look of disdain. ‘There won’t be many tears shed the day you say goodbye, Connie Hale. They’ll put that much bunting out people’ll think the King’s comin’ to visit.’

  ‘Christopher Armstrong!’ Auntie Bess’s voice had boomed along the platform. ‘There’s no need for that.’ She turned to Connie. ‘He’s just upset, dear – we all are.’

  Eve had looked into Connie’s face and was surprised to see a look of hurt in the other girl’s eyes. In all the time Eve had known Connie she had not once seen her get tearful over anything. Normally she would spin into a rage with whoever had offended her, but not today. Unexpectedly touched, Eve put a hand on her arm. ‘We’re all going to miss Johnny, but he’ll be okay, you know.’

  The hurt look had vanished as Connie’s eyes narrowed. ‘I couldn’t care less,’ she had said disdainfully. ‘I just wish I was on my way home.’ She gave Eve a condescending smile. ‘I’m like your mum, Eve, I’m city through and through. Mud and animals just aren’t my cup of tea. In fact, I bet if anyone saw us together they’d think I was your mother’s daughter and that you were a Faversham.’

  At that point they had heard Uncle Reg calling them and begun to make their way to the hay wain, which Uncle Reg referred to as ‘the bus’, but Connie hadn’t finished. ‘I’ve found it pretty awful living here,’ she went on. ‘You, Chrissie and Johnny all love life on the farm, looking after the animals and helping with the harvest, but I don’t. I love shopping in the city, going to the cinema and eating out at restaurants.’ She looked down her nose at Eve. ‘We’re completely different people.’

  As Eve remembered this conversation, her sorrow was replaced with annoyance. Connie, who couldn’t give two hoots about Johnny, had received several letters from him, yet Eve hadn’t received so much as a note. She sat up in bed and gave her pillow a good thumping. Boys! They just couldn’t see what was right under their noses. Eve would have bent over backwards to make Johnny happy, yet it seemed that as far as he was concerned she might never have existed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  August 1945

  Lily had promised herself that when peace was declared and she was free, to a certain extent anyway, to do as she liked, she would return to Drake’s Farm. Despite all the promises the government had made, however, it seemed as though the young men coming back to the jobs they had once occupied no longer wished to become, as one man put it, ‘ploughboys’ once more. They needed jobs in order to keep themselves and their families, but during their absence they had learned a lot. Living in the cities had more to offer, in terms of both money to be earned and opportunity to exercise the skills they had acquired as members of the armed forces. Men who had followed the plough uncomplainingly, when offered their old jobs back, pointed out that they were mechanics, or engineers, or even aircrew. And in the meantime the country could not function without the land girls. It was all very well for Waafs, Wrens and ATS; they could stay or go as they pleased, but people had to be fed, and with many men unwilling to return to their former agricultural occupations it seemed to Lily that there was small chance of being demobbed just yet. Oh, it had started; the day would come when her name would be called and she would be expected to leave the countryside and become a shop girl, or a factory hand, or take some other job until she found a husband, but that day was not yet.

  Lily had tightened her lips at the thought. She had talked it over with Mr Parker, who professed himself not just willing but eager to keep Lily on as one of his workers. His cowman had been killed in action over the Ruhr, and Mr Parker had no desire to start another man from scratch.

  ‘Of course there’s no saying how long you’d be a land girl,’ he had said slowly. ‘I don’t know what we’d call you. Cowgirl sounds a bit too like the movies, but I suppose the title doesn’t matter. It’s the job that counts, and I don’t mind telling you that it’s not everyone me and the missus would want to take on board now that peace is here at last.’ He had pulled a wry face. ‘I dunno as I should have guessed what would happen, but after six years of war it never occurred to me that fellers who’d flown planes or driven tanks wouldn’t take kindly to herding sheep or milking cows.’

  He had looked quizzically at Lily. ‘You’re a grand lass, and you don’t need me to tell you that you could have your pick of the young men round these parts. Suppose you fell for one of them? It’s idle to pretend that you could cope with the job when the babbies came along. Don’t tell me you don’t want a family of your own, because I’m sure you do. I’ve seen you with kids; on VE Day you were in your element, playing games with the little ’uns.

  ‘And what if you suddenly decide to light off on me? They aren’t just British lads a-knockin’ on our back door and askin’ if you’re ready to go to the dance. There’s a Frenchie who’s very particular in his attentions, and a fair number of Yanks who come a-callin’ whenever they’ve got free time. They get short shrift from the missus, I can tell you. Half of them seem to think you live here.’ He had looked hard at Lily. ‘Someone told me that most of the doughboys have already been either sent home or promised a speedy release, and some of ’em have just about convinced their sweethearts that they own big ranches – which is what they call their farms – when the only ranch their family possesses is four square feet of earth in a window box in New York City!’ He had cocked a shrewd eye at Lily. ‘Suppose one of yours is speakin’ the truth; how about that, eh?’

  ‘I’ve no fancy to leave England,’ Lily assured him. ‘Come to that I’ve never met the man who could lure me away from farm work. But before I start as your official cowgirl I need to take some leave. I’ll arrange it for whenever you can manage without me, but I promised myself that when peace came I’d go back to Devonshire and thank the Favershams for all they did for me. What do you say to that?’

  ‘I say that’s fair and square and would suit me just fine.’

  ‘Hank Ruskin! You and I are supposed to be good friends; in fact I’d go one further and say you’re my best friend. You know as well as I do that once you’re off to America we may never meet again, so why, for heaven’s sake, won’t you come with me to Drake’s Farm? I’ve told you how hospitable the Favershams are and you said yourself you’d like to see young Eve again, so why not come with me? Honest to God, you’d be as welcome as the flowers in May. I’d even buy your ticket if you’d agree to come.’

  The two of them were in the Kendals’ kitchen, Lily making sandwiches for her journey and Hank preparing a flask of coffee which he would presently add to the basket of goodies. It was very early in the morning and no one else in the house was up, Mr and Mrs Kendal having bidden their daughter farewell the previous evening, when Lily had told them very firmly that she had no intention of dragging them from their bads when Hank had already offered to come round first thing and see
her off.

  ‘Yes, we’re good friends,’ Hank said now, screwing the top on to the coffee flask, ‘but if I came with you to Drake’s Farm it would give rise to talk.’

  Lily sniffed. ‘I don’t care what people say; you’re my best friend and we’re going to be parted soon enough by thousands of miles of sea. And I’ve told you so much about Drake’s Farm that surely you must want to see it for yourself? If I were in your position I know I’d long to meet the Favershams and young Johnny, to say nothing of everyone else.’

  Hank had pulled a face. ‘No matter who I’d meet it wouldn’t be this Johnny Durrell,’ he pointed out. ‘Didn’t you tell me he’d joined the RAF? And I’m pretty sure Eve said in one of her letters that he would be amongst the last to be demobbed, so I doubt whether I shall ever meet him.’ He looked at Lily under his white lashes. ‘I’ve not told you, but there’s a liner sailing for the United States in a couple of weeks and I shall almost certainly be aboard.’

  For one moment the kitchen was so still, so silent, that it was as though a magical spell had been cast upon it. Then Lily realised that Hank’s last remark had hit her like a hammer blow in the stomach, so that she had to make a conscious effort to breathe normally again. For a moment she could only stare at him, trying to take it in. Life without Hank seemed suddenly impossible to imagine. The summer was almost over, he had had his discharge papers weeks and weeks ago, yet he was still here and she had come, insensibly, to believe that he always would be. Yet he had spoken quite calmly, as though she must have known that parting was imminent. Lily looked away from him, towards the neatly packed rucksack, and spoke as lightly as she could.

  ‘As soon as that? How long have you known? You might have told me before, Hank. I don’t believe I’d be spending my leave in Devonshire if I’d known you were going so soon.’ She gave him the travesty of a smile and held out the rucksack. ‘Oh well, if you’ve made up your mind at last there isn’t much I can do about it. Do Mother and Father know you’re leaving so soon? I don’t think they can, because they haven’t said a word. Indeed, I believe my mother has been looking round for some sort of job for you. I mean, I’m sure she never thought you intended to stay for ever, just that you might need something to do whilst you were still here. When did you say the ship sailed?’

  ‘I didn’t, not exactly,’ Hank said. ‘But I’ve heard from several people that she’ll be setting sail, heavily laden with GI brides, around the time you come back from Drake’s Farm.’ He grinned uncertainly. ‘Thinking of becoming a GI bride yourself? I bet you’ve had plenty of opportunities.’

  Lily felt a flush creep up her neck and into her cheeks. ‘The man I wanted never asked,’ she said stiffly. ‘And the others can go to Putney on a pig.’

  Hank laughed and raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s one British expression I’ve never heard,’ he said. ‘In the States we say someone can go to hell on a handcart. Well, they say we’re two countries divided by a common language, and how true that is. I’ve only just got used to saying pavement when I mean sidewalk, and tarmac when I mean blacktop, and now I’ve got to unlearn everything you’ve driven into my head over the past few years.’

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t bother if I were you,’ Lily said; her tone was cool. She glanced up at the clock above the kitchen mantel. ‘Help me on with my rucksack, would you, and let’s get going. The journey to Drake’s Farm is quite complicated enough without missing the first train.’

  Hank followed the direction of her eyes and gave a surprised whistle. ‘Doesn’t time fly?’ he said. ‘We’ll have to step out, babe, or you really will miss your train.’ He walked across the kitchen and opened the door. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘I’ve been ready for the past half hour, only you would keep on chattering,’ Lily snapped. ‘You might remember that I walk faster than you. And don’t call me babe; it’s an expression I simply cannot stand.’ She stalked past him, head in the air, and did not see him put out a hand as though he could not bear to let her go, but then they were walking down the path and Hank was assuring her that he could easily outpace her though he seldom bothered to do so. Consequently it became a sort of race to see which of them could reach the station first, and this restored Lily’s good humour so that she tried very hard to extract a promise from him not to leave England without a proper farewell. Hank, however, would make no promises, so when they reached the station platform it took a good deal of chaffing to restore good relations. When the train arrived Lily climbed aboard, slung her rucksack up on the string rack overhead and went to lean out of the window so that she and Hank might see the last of one another. Presently the guard waved his little green flag and the train began to move very slowly along the track. Lily leaned out as far as she dared in order to remind her old friend that she could easily leave Drake’s Farm a couple of days before she had planned to do so.

  ‘I simply won’t let you sneak off to the States without a word of farewell to me,’ she shrieked. ‘I might even come over to America to make sure you don’t forget all about us Brits.’

  The train began to gather speed and Lily turned away from the window. She was alone in the compartment, and knowing herself to be unobserved she produced a handkerchief and blew her nose resoundingly. Even as she returned the hankie to her pocket the door slid open and she glanced up to see who had entered. For a moment she could not believe her eyes.

  ‘Hank!’ she gasped. ‘Oh, Hank, whatever are you doing here? When the train pulled out you were still on the platform, I know you were. How … oh, Hank, the next station is miles away, and you’ve been and gone and got on the train by mistake! Whatever will you do now? I suppose we could pull the communication cord; that will stop the train all right.’ She reached up to grasp the red cord but Hank shot out a hand and seized her fingers.

  ‘It’s all right, don’t get in a state,’ he said rather sheepishly. ‘I – I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming to Drake’s Farm with you.’

  Lily opened her mouth, but it was a few moments before any coherent speech emerged. Hank watched her with the glimmer of a smile, which broadened as she struggled to find her tongue.

  ‘Hank Ruskin, you don’t have a single possession with you, let alone a change of clothing or a ticket,’ she gabbled at last. ‘I know I said the Favershams were hospitable people, but they take paying guests and since you didn’t tell anyone you intended to come with me there may not be a spare bedroom to let and the farm is miles from anywhere, so what are you going to do?’

  Hank sank into the seat opposite to her own; he did not seem at all fazed by the question. ‘I shall borrow anything I need from the nearest USAAF base; the chaps will all rally round when they hear why I’m there,’ he said complacently. ‘I’ll sleep on the base if the Favershams can’t put me up. As for clothing – old clothing, I mean – there’ll be plenty of that lying around the place.’ He grinned at her again. ‘I thought you wanted me to come with you,’ he said in a rather hurt voice. ‘I’m only doing what you asked me to, after all. And I’ve plenty of money – pounds, shillings and pence, not dollars – so I can pay my way. Any more objections, Miss Kendal?’

  ‘Ration book?’ Lily said rapidly. Her heart was singing. If he wasn’t interested in her romantically – and he said he wasn’t – then why would he jump on to the train at the last moment, having already said a conventional goodbye? He had constantly declared that they were nothing but friends and he had no desire for a closer relationship, and when she had occasionally indicated that she would not be unwilling to take things further he had pushed her back, metaphorically if not literally. Was it really because he wanted nothing more than friendship from her, or could it be that he considered himself, for whatever reason, incapable of earning her love? The fact that he had already done so seemed, to Lily, to be beside the point. She had never revealed that she loved him. How could she? Lily was a nicely brought up young lady and nicely brought up young ladies did not propose marriage to young American flyers, especially to one who showed no in
clination to reveal anything stronger than liking for herself. But now she had a whole fortnight, a full two weeks, to attempt to discover his true feelings, and one sign that they were not as cool as he pretended was the very fact that he had jumped aboard the train without so much as a platform ticket, and had made it plain that he intended to go with her all the way to her destination.

  Hank was a good man, kind and polite to everyone and fiercely protective of his crew, behaving like a father to them despite the fact that a good many of them were older than he. He knew they called him Plug (short for plug-ugly) and Lily resented this on his behalf but Hank did not.

  ‘What does it matter?’ he asked reasonably. ‘It isn’t looks that take the Lib into the air and bring her back safely. They can call me the Hunchback of Notre Dame for all I care.’

  ‘But you aren’t a hunchback,’ Lily had pointed out, and wondered why Hank roared with laughter.

  ‘See what I mean?’ he had asked when he could speak again. ‘No, I’m not a hunchback, but you never said I wasn’t plug-ugly.’

  Lily had started to protest, but realised she had fallen into her own trap and laughed with him. She had been hopeful, then, that he would begin to behave in the way so many of his compatriots did; would in fact fall in love with her and ask her to be his wife. People laughed about GI brides but Lily thought them romantic, and was sad when Hank disclosed that the tales told to these wide-eyed wondering English girls were quite often nothing like the truth which awaited them.