The Waiting Hours

by Ellie Dean

  All four girls were perspiring as they finished mucking out the byre and laid down fresh straw. The cattle would be kept in overnight now the weather was so bad, and as there had been rumours of animals and machinery going missing since the area had been over-run by the military, Jack had purchased a small flock of geese which roamed free in the yard and would alert him to any trespassers.

  ‘He’ll be lucky if those geese don’t go missing too,’ said Pru, wiping her sweaty face on her sleeve. ‘I heard tell that chickens and all sorts are being nicked.’

  ‘I don’t know why,’ said Ida. ‘The Yanks have got trucks full of food we ain’t seen for years.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said Maisie. ‘They’re handing out tins of ’am and pineapple chunks like sweets – probably in the hope they’ll get their wicked way with us gels.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s the Yanks,’ said Carol. ‘PC Betts told me he’d caught a truck full of our boys making off with at least a dozen chickens which they’d already strangled and begun to pluck.’

  Ida shrugged. ‘They’re probably doing it to eke out their rotten rations. I can’t say I blame ’em,’ she added. ‘Compared to the Yanks they get lower pay, ’orrid food and uniforms that make most of them look like sacks of spuds.’

  Pru giggled. ‘Never mind about the chickens, it’s us what needs to watch out from now on,’ she said with a wink. ‘With that new camp going up just over the ’ill, the old pub will be getting very lively.’

  ‘Lively or not, with old Mother Burnley on the constant warpath I doubt she’ll let us go up there no more,’ said Ida dolefully.

  ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’ asked Maisie, digging Ida sharply in the ribs with her elbow. ‘She can’t keep an eye on us all the time, and we can sneak out the back window and be off before she knows it.’

  Carol joined in the giggles, glad of their cheerful company, and mildly surprised that she was actually looking forward to moving in with them now the village was mostly deserted. She followed them as they trooped round to the lean-to behind their billet to wash their hands before they began the evening milking.

  The accommodation for the land girls was rough and ready, with an outside lav and a lean-to supplying a chipped basin and a recalcitrant boiler to heat the rusty water that came out of the taps in fits and splutters. But the small barn was kept cosy by a pot-bellied wood-stove, and there were pages torn from film magazines pinned to the thick oak beams and thin plaster walls alongside photographs of their loved ones.

  Bright bedspreads and cushions added to the homely feel, along with rather mildewed rugs and overstuffed chairs. Moth-eaten velvet curtains hung over the single window which looked over the back field they’d just planted, and a collection of battered furniture provided storage for their few clothes. It might not have stood up in comparison to what Carol was used to, but the other girls assured her it was a palace compared to the rat-infested tenement hovels they’d been crammed in back in the East End.

  Having finished the milking and herded the cows into the byres, Carol ate her supper of vegetable stew, wished them all goodnight and cycled towards home. It seemed darker than ever now the village was all but deserted, but she could see the gathering of army trucks and staff cars outside the Queen’s Arms and could hear the raucous sing-song coming from the bar.

  She steered the bike down the steep hill to her cottage, but instead of going through her own gate, headed for Mrs Rayner’s front door to check she was all right. Pushing it open, she called out and found her in her sitting room with a tray of supper on her lap, which consisted of thickly sliced ham, beans from the garden and a mound of mashed potato.

  ‘Goodness,’ Carol breathed. ‘Where did that ham come from?’

  ‘That American general called in and gave it to me,’ Mrs Rayner said, offering a sliver to the drooling dog.

  Carol raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? That was very kind of him.’

  ‘There’s tins of ham and peaches on that table for you too,’ she mumbled through a mouthful. ‘But then he can afford to be generous,’ she added sourly. ‘I’ve heard they’ve got food in those camps we haven’t seen since before rationing started.’

  ‘Still, it was thoughtful of him,’ said Carol, her mouth watering at the thought of proper ham and tinned fruit even though she’d only just eaten a large portion of stew. ‘But I don’t understand why he should single us out for such bounty.’

  The old woman shrugged. ‘Probably after something,’ she muttered. ‘Men like that always are.’

  ‘I’m sure not,’ replied Carol gently. ‘Perhaps he was just being neighbourly now the village is almost empty.’

  ‘Well, he did ask what arrangements had been made for me and Nipper,’ Mrs Rayner admitted, giving another morsel to the dog, who gulped it down instantly and begged for more.

  ‘I still haven’t heard anything from Mildred,’ Carol said. ‘But I promise I’ll see her tomorrow and give her a reminder that time’s getting very short.’

  ‘No need for that,’ the old woman said, scraping up the last of the mash with her fork. ‘She came in this afternoon and told me where I’d be going.’

  Carol sank onto the footstool, feeling rather bereft, for with Mrs Rayner leaving she would be the last one left in the street. ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘It’s a cottage up in Frogmore that’s part of her family estate,’ she mumbled through the mashed potato. ‘The tenant farmer and his wife have agreed to make it ready for me and will look out for me and Nipper all the time I have to be there. I asked about the rent, but Mildred said it was free, so I suppose I should be grateful.’

  ‘Goodness, how generous,’ said Carol warmly. ‘So when will you be moving in?’

  ‘In three days’ time. The general is organising men to pack up my things and a truck to take it all up there. Mildred said she’d give me and Nipper a lift in her car. Nipper won’t like it, and neither will I – neither of us trust cars, or her driving – but you know what she’s like once she gets an idea into her head, so I suppose I’ll just have to shut my eyes and put up with it.’

  ‘I shall be sorry to see you go,’ said Carol, reaching for her hand. ‘But it sounds as if you’ll be very comfortable up there.’

  ‘I’ll be sorry to leave,’ she said on a sigh, her faded eyes taking in the clutter of her possessions and the familiarity of her surroundings. ‘I just hope I’m still alive when all this nonsense is over and I get to die in my own home.’

  Carol hoped so too, but said nothing as she kissed her cheek. ‘I’ve got the day off tomorrow, so I’ll come in and help you pack your private and most delicate things,’ she said, ‘and I might even be able to find a basket for Nipper to travel in. I’m sure I saw one somewhere up at the farm.’

  Mrs Rayner’s sad expression was lifted by a sweet smile. ‘You’re a good girl, Carol,’ she said softly. ‘Thanks for being a friend to an old woman who doesn’t always appreciate what others do for me.’

  Warmed by this unexpected sentiment, Carol kissed her again and took the tray into the kitchen. Having washed the plate and cutlery, she made sure the old woman had all she needed for the night before putting the tins of ham and fruit in her coat pocket and leaving the cottage.

  Edith Rayner had proved to be a difficult woman over the years, but tonight there had been a glimmer of the soft heart which she’d shown during the first awful weeks of Carol’s bereavement – and as for Mildred Ferris, she’d proved to be an absolute brick. It just went to show that you could never tell the true nature of people by merely judging them on their looks and manners – it took much more to see behind the facades they showed to the outside world.

  Stepping back out into the cold and dark, Carol wheeled her bike along the cinder path and leaned it against the wall before opening her front door. She froze in the act of drawing back the heavy curtain, realising there was a glow of firelight coming from the sitting room and something was cooking in the kitchen. ‘Who’s there?’ she called
.

  Dolly came flying out of the sitting room and threw her arms about her. ‘Surprise, surprise!’

  Carol laughed as they hugged, breathing in her familiar perfume and so delighted to see her she was almost lost for words. ‘When did you get here?’ she managed as they finally drew apart.

  ‘A couple of hours ago. I hope you don’t mind, but the door wasn’t locked, so I made myself at home.’

  ‘You’re lucky you found me at all.’ Carol had to fight back her sudden tears. ‘I have to be out of here by the end of next week.’

  ‘I got your letter with the change of address, and had to come to find out what’s going on here. The local policeman told me about the evictions, which of course explains the reason why most of your furniture is missing, and I saw for myself the devastation being caused by all those Americans. What on earth is going on here?’

  Carol took off her coat and scarf and toed off her filthy boots. ‘You know as much as me, Mum, but it’s fairly easy to guess that it has something to do with the expected invasion into France.’

  Dolly regarded her daughter with some concern. ‘You can’t be finding this at all easy, darling,’ she murmured. ‘I know how much this little cottage means to you.’

  Carol took a quavering breath, determined not to let her mother see how deeply affected she was at the thought of leaving. ‘I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I have no choice in the matter, and count myself lucky that at least I’ll still be able to keep an eye on the village from the hills at the farm.’ She forced a smile. ‘And the other girls are lovely company, so it will probably do me good to get away from all the sad memories for a while.’

  ‘Well, I have to say you do look well,’ said Dolly, gently easing a lock of fair hair from Carol’s forehead and lovingly patting her cheek. ‘All this country air must be doing you good.’

  Carol didn’t want to spoil her mother’s surprise arrival by getting tearful, so she determinedly made an effort to appear cheerful. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ she responded, taking in the tailored suit, high heels and slender legs encased in delicate nylon stockings. ‘Life in Bournemouth obviously agrees with you.’

  Dolly chuckled. ‘It’s life itself that does me good, Carol. Now come on into the sitting room and relax for a while by the fire. I didn’t know if you’d eat before coming back so I’ve made a cauliflower cheese for our supper, and there’s some lovely whisky for us to indulge in while we catch up on things.’

  Carol wasn’t in the least bit hungry, but as her mother rarely did anything domesticated, she didn’t want to spoil the moment by telling her so. She dug into her deep coat pockets and pulled out the tins of ham and peaches. ‘I’ll just put these in the kitchen, then I’m all yours.’

  ‘Goodness,’ gasped Dolly. ‘Where on earth did you get those?’

  ‘They were a gift from an American general.’

  ‘An American general?’ Dolly’s eyes were suddenly wary. ‘Why would such a man give you tins of ham and peaches?’

  Carol giggled. ‘There’s nothing sinister about it,’ she said, carrying the tins into the kitchen. ‘He gave the same to Mrs Rayner next door and she’s in her nineties.’

  ‘Well, you watch your step, Carol,’ said Dolly solemnly. ‘American men can be far too charming for anyone’s good – especially during wartime when there’s so much uncertainty about everything.’

  Carol smiled at this. ‘Now there speaks the voice of experience,’ she teased. ‘If you hadn’t been bowled over by the American charms of Frederick Adams in the last shout, I wouldn’t be here.’

  Dolly shrugged and tried not to look flustered. ‘Your father was a very attractive man – but we all make mistakes in the heat of the moment,’ she said. ‘I’m merely asking you not to do the same.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Rayner’s already given me that lecture, Mum – and as I have no intention of following in your footsteps, there’s no need to worry.’ She stowed the tins away on a shelf above the sink, checked the cauliflower cheese bubbling away in the range oven and turned back to Dolly.

  ‘I’m well aware of their attraction,’ she said mildly, ‘and can quite understand why you were bowled over by my father. From his photograph I can see that Frederick was a very handsome man – but charm, good looks and tins of ham won’t get the general very far with me – if that’s his intention.’

  She was distracted by the sight of discarded Harrods packaging and jars of marmalade on the drainer. ‘What’s all this?’

  Dolly looked mischievous as Carol picked up the wrapping paper and eyed her quizzically. ‘I had to go to London to visit someone,’ she said quickly, ‘and popped into Harrods to buy you a few treats. There’s butter, flour and more cheese in the larder, as well as pots of strawberry jam and marmalade.’

  Carol chuckled. ‘My goodness, Mum, you do get about, don’t you? Bournemouth to London, and then all the way down here to Devon – how on earth did you manage with transport the way it is?’

  Dolly’s dimples showed as she giggled. ‘A friend lent me his car along with lots of lovely petrol coupons, so I didn’t have to battle my way on buses and trains.’

  ‘You’re incorrigible,’ Carol said fondly. ‘Please don’t ever change.’

  ‘I don’t intend to,’ Dolly replied, reaching for the oven gloves and drawing out the cauliflower cheese. ‘Let’s have supper, and then you can tell me all about this generous American who’s plying you with treats from the army stores.’

  ‘There’s nothing much to tell,’ said Carol. ‘We’ve only met once to exchange a few words after he’d come to address a meeting in the village hall. General Addington is—’

  Dolly’s hands slipped and the boiling hot dish thudded onto the table, spilling molten cheese over the clean tablecloth. ‘Oh, how careless of me,’ she cried out, dabbing ineffectually at the spillage with the oven glove.

  ‘Leave it, Mum, or you’ll burn yourself.’ Carol quickly grabbed a kitchen towel and moved the heavy pot onto the stove top. She went to gather up the tablecloth to soak it in the sink when she noticed that her mother had gone quite pale and her hands were trembling. ‘What is it, Mum? Did you get burnt?’

  ‘No, darling,’ she said distractedly. ‘I’m quite all right, really, please don’t fuss.’

  Carol eyed her with deep concern. ‘It’s not like you to be so careless,’ she murmured. ‘The long journey down here must have tired you out.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dolly, squaring her shoulders and digging her hands into her jacket pockets. ‘That’s it absolutely, of course. I must be getting too old for such things.’

  ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that,’ teased Carol as she dumped the cloth into the sink and scraped off the rapidly congealing cheese sauce. ‘Why don’t you go and sit in the other room and relax with a whisky while I sort this out? The supper will be far too hot to eat yet, and I want to hear what you’ve been up to in Bournemouth.’

  Dolly left the kitchen and sank into the couch by the roaring fire. Reaching for the whisky, she poured a generous tot into her glass and then downed it in one before lighting a cigarette. She’d thought Felix was still in London, which was why she’d badgered Hugh into letting her come down to see Carol before she had to move out and the rehearsals began – but the knowledge that he was already here and had made himself known to Carol was a terrible shock, and for once in her life she had no idea what to do for the best.

  10

  London

  Frank Reilly had finally shaken off the dust of the army camp and been given his demob papers three days earlier than expected. There wasn’t an inch of space to be had on the special troop train that was chugging through the early darkness, and he’d stood crammed in by soldiers and sailors in the corridor for the entire journey down from the Midlands.

  He felt a little out of place in his civvies amongst all the uniforms, and all too aware of how old he must seem to his youthful travelling companions – but then he would be fifty in a matter o
f days, had done his bit in the last shout and completed his call-up in this one. He didn’t envy the boys surrounding him, for he knew that their bright chatter and over-loud laughter was their way of hiding the fear of what they might have to face now an invasion into France was looking ever more likely.

  Frank could remember how he’d felt all those years ago on a similar train that was taking him to the battlefields and trenches of France and Belgium. He’d been twenty-one, and, despite his father’s warnings of what awaited him there, he’d been excited and eager to prove himself and be a hero like his father.

  He grimaced as he threw the end of his cigarette out of the window, remembering how terrifying it had all been as they’d cowered in stinking trenches waiting for the order to go over the top while the enemy bombarded their lines and mustard gas drifted with the wind. Heroes were made during that time, but it was more by luck than anything else that any of them had survived in one piece to tell the tale.

  Frank became aware of a general shuffling around him as the train slowed to approach the station. Emerging from his gloomy thoughts, he grabbed the cord of his kitbag more firmly and waited for the hectic exodus that would soon follow. Doors were already being opened, the more foolhardy jumping down as soon as the platform came into view, and as the train gave one final great sigh of steam and ground to a halt, he felt the pressure of those around him forcing him down the step and into the chaos of a dimly lit, busy mainline station.