Sensing her feelings, Betty hugged her. ‘Chin up, love. Pops wouldn’t have wanted you to grieve for too long. Once they’ve let us bury him—’
‘Oh Betty, don’t. I can’t bear to think of him being put in the cold earth.’
‘He’ll be next to your gran though, won’t he? He’ll be with her now. And he’d want to know that you were carrying on the farm. For him. You will, won’t you?’
‘I – don’t know what Mam wants to do. She’s never liked the farm, so now . . .’ Anna’s voice trailed away sadly.
‘You don’t mean she’ll sell it?’ Betty was shocked.
Anna shook her head miserably. ‘I don’t know what she’ll do.’
If, at that moment, they could have heard the conversation between May and Douglas, they would have been even more uneasy.
‘Don’t you worry about a thing, May. I’ll see to everything. Just tell me what you want doing, darling, about the funeral, I mean, and I’ll arrange it all.’
‘Oh Douglas, you are good. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘You won’t have to do without me, May. I’ll stay here with you, if you like.’
‘Would you? But what about your work?’
‘I’ll have to go back into town tomorrow and sort out a few things, but if I can arrange it, I’ll stay the rest of the week and help you. I – er – take it you’ll have to see your father’s solicitor?’
‘I hadn’t thought about that, but yes, I expect so—. Oh!’
‘What? What is it?’
‘I wonder if he changed his will like he threatened.’
Douglas forced a laugh. ‘Surely not. I thought that was just an idle threat to make you throw me over.’
May shook her head and said soberly, ‘My father never made idle threats.’
Douglas’s face darkened and there was a glint of anger in his eyes. ‘I didn’t think he would move so fast—’ Hastily, he altered his words, ‘What I mean is, I didn’t think he’d really carry out his threat. Not against his own daughter.’ He thought for a moment and then said, ‘But if he has, he’ll have left it to Anna instead, won’t he?’
‘Maybe.’ May was still doubtful.
Douglas’s face cleared. ‘There you are then. It’s the same thing. She can’t run it, though, can she? She’s only fifteen. The best thing you could both do, May, is to sell the farm and come and live with me in Lincoln.’
‘He – he might have put in some clause that it can’t be sold. He threatened to leave it to Anna on the condition that she had no more to do with – with Bruce.’
Now Douglas could scarcely hide his anger. In a tight voice he said, ‘Did he, indeed?’ But he forced himself to smile and to say in a tender tone, ‘Then the sooner you find out just how things stand the better. I’ll take you into the city with me tomorrow and you can call and see the solicitor. How’s that?’
‘Oh, Douglas,’ May breathed and said again, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Bruce wangled compassionate leave to attend the funeral.
‘I had to tell a little white lie to get here,’ he told Anna. ‘I said it was my stepmother’s father.’ He laughed. ‘Mind you, by the look of them’ – he nodded to where May was walking down the church path, clinging to Douglas’s arm – ‘it doesn’t look as if it’ll be long before she really is.’
Anna said nothing. The day, for her, was a tumult of emotions. She had lost her beloved grandfather and it seemed only yesterday that she had lost both her father and her grandmother. And whilst Anna could see that her mother needed Douglas’s support, she was uncomfortable when she remembered that Luke had disliked the man so intensely that he had threatened to cut his own daughter out of his will.
Nor had he approved of the young man walking at her side, taking her cold hand in his and squeezing it sympathetically. Anna sighed as she and Bruce fell into step behind her mother and Douglas to follow the coffin into the church. After the funeral, she knew the solicitor would be coming to the farm to read the will in keeping with the old-fashioned custom. Maybe then they would learn just how deep Luke’s resentment had gone.
Betty and Rita were walking behind her and Bruce, and behind them it seemed as if half the local population had come to Luke Clayton’s funeral. Even Reg Hamlin, in plain clothes, was standing to one side watching all the mourners.
‘I shall be there,’ he had told May and Betty the day before when he had visited the farm, ‘with my Inspector. I’d be attending old Luke’s passing anyway, but I shall be in a semi-official capacity.’
‘Why?’ May had asked.
‘It’s just possible that the killers might be there.’
‘Really?’ Betty had put in. ‘Then I’ll keep me beady eye open an’ all, pet.’
Several people returned to the farm for sandwiches and cups of tea, with something a little stronger for the men.
‘You can’t have a wake without a drop of the hard stuff,’ Douglas had told May. ‘Leave it to me.’
As the mourners began to drift away, Douglas said, ‘Bruce and I should go too, May. That solicitor chappie looks to be getting a bit agitated. We’d better let him have his bit of the limelight.’
‘Oh Douglas, don’t go. You’ve every right to stay. You’re – you’re my fiancé.’
Douglas patted her hand. ‘No, May. I don’t want to intrude. You can tell me later. I’ll run Bruce to the station but I’ll come back tonight. That’s if you want me to?’
‘Of course I do. And will you – will you stay?’
Douglas put his arms round her and held her close. ‘Of course I will, darling.’
‘And we’ll make ourselves scarce, too,’ Betty said. ‘This is family business.’
The solicitor’s clipped tones butted in. ‘No, Miss Purves and Miss Mackinder too. I shall need you to be present.’
The two Land Army girls exchanged a puzzled glance, then shrugged and sat down at the table, where the solicitor, Mr Davey, had already seated himself at one end and was setting out his papers in front of him.
‘We’ll go, May,’ Douglas whispered and kissed her cheek. ‘Chin up, darling. It’ll be all right. I know it will. ’Bye for now.’
As the solicitor’s voice droned through all the legal jargon of the will, the nub of Luke’s wishes became clear. Although no mention was made of either Douglas or Bruce Whittaker by name, Luke’s suspicions had overshadowed his thinking and his decisions. The will had been made and signed only a month earlier.
The solicitor laid down the paper. ‘To sum up briefly,’ he said now in his own words, ‘Mr Clayton has left two thousand pounds to his daughter, May Milton, together with bequests of two hundred pounds each to Miss Purves and Miss Mackinder. The remainder of his estate is to be held in trust for his granddaughter, Anna Milton, until she attains the age of twenty-five.’
‘Twenty-five!’ May cried, her voice high-pitched with indignation. ‘Why twenty-five for Heaven’s sake? Why not twenty-one?’
‘Mr Clayton felt that twenty-five was a more mature age for such decisions.’
The three women and Anna glanced at one another. May turned towards Mr Davey. ‘So what you mean is that he’s turning me out and expecting Anna to live here on her own and run the farm until she’s twenty-five?’
‘No, no, my dear lady. The reason he has, er – ’ the man cleared his throat in obvious embarrassment – ‘bypassed you and left everything to his granddaughter is that he believed you intend to marry quite soon.’
‘Ah, now we have the real reason.’ May’s eyes glittered with anger now.
‘He also mentioned to me,’ the man went on calmly, no doubt used to being in situations where the dear departed’s will did not meet with unmitigated delight from the rest of the family, ‘that you had never had much interest in the farm, but, he said, he believed that his granddaughter did.’ He fixed May with a beady look. ‘Is that so, Mrs Milton?’
May was flustered now. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so. But I’m
his daughter. I have a right—’
Mr Davey shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, dear lady, but his wishes are crystal clear and the will is solid. I helped draft it myself.’
‘And you mean we can’t even sell the farm?’
Mr Davey shook his head. ‘He appointed one of my partners and myself as his executors and trustees. When Miss Anna reaches twenty-five the farm will be hers to do what she likes with it. But until that time—’ He spread his hands and his gesture said the rest.
There was nothing that could be done to challenge Luke’s will.
Forty-Two
‘A measly two thousand pounds!’ Douglas almost shouted at May when she told him the news. ‘But you’re his daughter, for God’s sake.’ Then, realizing his error, he put his arms about her. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not my place to say a word. But I’m so angry on your behalf. I know how dreadfully hurt you must feel. And I feel so responsible too, darling. If it wasn’t for me—’
May nestled against his chest. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in the farm. He knew that.’
‘But he’s left it so that it can’t be sold, hasn’t he? Left it so – so tied up – ’ Douglas’s tone was bitter once more – ‘that you can’t do anything with it. Not a blasted thing.’ He held her away from him and looked down into her upturned face. ‘What exactly are you going to do?’
‘Well, for the moment,’ May began hesitantly, unsure how he would greet her plans, ‘I thought we could live here at the farm.’
Douglas raised his eyebrows and said sarcastically, ‘Oh – and will your daughter allow that?’
May stared at him, not knowing how to react. Then Douglas laughed loudly and drew her to him again. ‘Darling, I’m only teasing. Of course, you must stay here, at least for the time being. But once the war is over, well, then we’ll see.’
‘Why? What do you mean?’
‘You don’t want to go on living here for ever, do you? I thought you wanted to get back to the city.’
‘You know I do,’ May said slowly, ‘but I can hardly leave a fifteen-year-old girl living here on her own, now can I?’
‘What you ought to do is to put a manager in here until such time as she can sell the blasted place.’
May gasped. ‘Douglas!’
‘Well, you said yourself that you don’t want to stay here.’
‘I know, but Anna does.’
‘She’s said so?’
‘Yes.’
Douglas’s mouth was suddenly a thin, hard line. ‘Then your daughter will have to do as she’s told. As you have said, darling, she’s only fifteen and you, May, are her mother.’
‘I’m not going back to the city. I love it here. It belongs to me. Grandfather wanted me to have the farm and I want to live here.’
‘And you think you know all about farming do you? You think you’ll be able to run this place single-handed?’ Douglas sneered.
Anna faced him. ‘No, of course I don’t. But Betty and Rita are here for a while and—’
‘A couple of Land Army girls?’
‘And,’ Anna continued, ‘there’s Mr Tomalin – Jed’s uncle – at the next farm. He’ll help me. He’s said so. And, and—’ she added in a low tone, ‘there’s Jed.’ She wasn’t so sure that she could rely on Jed’s help any more. His attitude had been decidedly frosty towards her ever since Bruce and she had become close.
‘But you’re only fifteen, Anna,’ May said. ‘I can’t go and live in Lincoln and leave you here.’ She glanced helplessly towards Douglas. ‘I can’t.’
‘What’s wrong with you and Douglas living here?’ Betty asked. ‘Seems to me that’s the simple answer.’
Douglas shot her a vitriolic glance. ‘I’m a city dweller. My work’s in the city. I couldn’t drive back and forth every day. It’s difficult enough getting hold of the petrol to get here at weekends as it is. Tell you what, though.’ His face suddenly brightened. ‘Why don’t we buy a place in the city? It’s quite a good time to be buying. There’s your two thousand pounds, May.’ He took her hand and kissed it, smiling into her face. ‘We could get a very nice house in Lincoln for that.’
Before May could answer, Betty put in, ‘And you’d be selling your place, too, would you?’ Her stare was fixed on Douglas’s face. He laughed with feigned embarrassment. ‘I’m afraid I’ve nothing to sell. Bruce and I live in rented accommodation.’ He pulled an apologetic expression.
May smiled and patted his hand. ‘Don’t worry. At least my father didn’t leave me penniless. Or homeless. We’ve always a home here, haven’t we?’
Above her head, Douglas looked up to meet Anna’s troubled gaze. ‘Of course we have.’ He smiled.
But the smile did not reach his eyes.
Without her grandfather, the farm was not the same place to Anna. Even though the work continued as before with the guidance of Luke’s friend and neighbour, Bill Tomalin, she missed the old man dreadfully. Her mother, too, was unhappy. Douglas’s visits were fewer. Some weekends, as he was leaving, he would say, ‘May, I’m sorry, darling, but I just can’t get the petrol to come all the way out here next weekend.’
When he did not come, May moped and cast resentful eyes at Anna, as if it were all her fault.
Only Betty and Rita carried on much as before, though even they missed ‘Pops’.
Anna left school and began to work full-time on the farm.
‘Ya’ll wear a path between your farm and mine, lass,’ Bill Tomalin remarked.
Anna smiled. ‘I’m sorry to keep bothering you—’
‘No bother, lass. Luke’d be proud of the way you’re handling things. A slip of a lass like you and you’re more or less running that place, aren’t ya?’
Though he didn’t say so outright, Anna knew he was hinting that he understood May had no interest in the farm. It had been the talk of the district since Luke’s death.
Loyally not mentioning her mother, Anna said, ‘I couldn’t do it without Betty and Rita.’
Bill eyed her soberly. ‘Aye, but they’ll soon be gone, lass, won’t they, when the war’s over. Still,’ he brightened, ‘When the fellers get demobbed, there’ll be plenty looking for work.’
Anna nodded. ‘But how much longer is the war going on?’
Bill sighed. ‘I can’t tell you that, lass. I only wish I could. But I’ll let you have Jed whenever I can spare him.’
If he’ll come, Anna thought, but she smiled and thanked him.
‘I’ve got what they call embarkation leave. When I get back, I’ll be going overseas.’
Bruce had arrived that Friday evening with his father. When he told her the news, Anna’s eyes were wide with fear. ‘Where are you going?’
Bruce shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ Then he grinned, ‘And if I did, I couldn’t tell you.’
‘But I’ll be able to write to you?’
‘Yeah, course you will. I’ve got the address written on a bit of paper somewhere. You write to BFPO, I think it is.’
‘Whatever’s that?’
‘British Forces Post Office. And then it gets sent to wherever we are.’
‘Oh.’ Anna was silent and then asked in a small, doubtful voice. ‘Do you think you’ll ever get it?’
‘Course I will.’ He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘You write every week and I’ll do the same. If I can, that is.’ He grinned. ‘But I’ll be so busy sticking it to Jerry’ – he made a stabbing movement as if thrusting his bayonet into the enemy – ‘that I might not get much time. Anyway, let’s not think about that. Let’s go for a walk around your farm.’
He laughed and, for a brief moment, Anna felt a twinge of uneasiness at his attitude, but she brushed it aside when he added, ‘Come on, let’s make the most of my last day.’
Despite her inner sadness, Anna was to look back on that day as one of the happiest she had spent with Bruce. He was kind and attentive, kissing her gently and holding her hand. They talked and laughed and when she shed a few tears over her grandfather, he held her close, st
roked her hair and murmured words of comfort.
When Douglas and his son left late on the Sunday night, Anna clung to Bruce. ‘You will take care?’
He laughed. ‘Don’t worry about me. Them Jerries won’t get me. It’s them that’ll have to watch out when I get over there.’ He tapped her chin gently. ‘Just you remember that you’re my girl. I want to know that you’re here waiting for me to come home to.’
‘Of course I am,’ she breathed, feeling a thrill of pleasure run through her.
Douglas revved the car engine and Bruce hopped into the passenger seat. The car roared out of the gate as May and Anna stood waving goodbye. They stood there in the empty yard, listening to the sound grow fainter and fainter.
May put her arm around Anna’s shoulder and drew her back into the farmhouse. ‘Anna,’ she began, biting her lip, ‘there’s something I have to tell you. Douglas wants me to go back into town with him sometimes. Not every week,’ she added hastily, ‘but just now and again. You don’t mind, do you? Betty and Rita will be here to look after you.’
‘That’s fine, Mam,’ Anna said brightly. But she guessed that May’s visits would get longer and longer until she was hardly at the farm at all.
Forty-Three
The tide of the war seemed to be turning in favour of the Allies. At the beginning of June they had entered Rome and only days later the newsreels of the D-Day landing had given everyone new hope. The pictures of the troops landing on the beaches were cheered loudly in every cinema. And as the soldiers pressed inland, Anna wondered if Bruce was there with them. Desperately she scanned the screen for a glimpse of him, but amongst the thousands of servicemen she could not really hope to see him.
But then Hitler launched a new and terrible weapon upon the south of England, the V-1 flying bomb, and a mass evacuation of children from the target area of the pilotless weapons began again.
‘Will they get here, do you think?’ Anna asked fearfully.
‘Don’t think so,’ Betty said practically. ‘They haven’t got the range. It’s just the south that’ll get it. Them poor devils in London have had more than their fair share, I reckon. Fancy having to cope with doodlebugs after all they went through in the Blitz.’ She cast a wry glance at Douglas. ‘Bet you’re glad you moved up here, aren’t you?’
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