by Anne Baker
‘I’ll write to her so she knows all about my wedding,’ June said.
‘And you could send her photographs and some wedding cake afterwards,’ Leonie told her.
‘If we have a wedding cake.’
‘I’ll make you one. I stocked up with dried fruit and icing sugar before the war started.’
‘That’s hoarding, Mum.’ Milo smiled.
Leonie frowned. ‘A pity it won’t have long enough to mature.’
Amy always rushed home from school on Tuesday afternoons because she knew Mum wrote to her on Sundays and it would be delivered on Tuesday. Today was no exception; she found the expected letter waiting for her but was surprised to find it was from June.
Dear Amy,
I have some splendid news for you, so I’m writing to you this week instead of Mum. I’m very excited because I’m going to get married on October the twentieth. My husband-to-be is Elaine’s younger brother and his name is Ralph Harvey. He’ll be your brother-in-law and I hope you’ll like him as much as I do.
It’s all being done in a bit of a hurry because he’s got his call-up papers and will have to go away to fight before long. You and I talked about weddings once and I said you could be my bridesmaid, but I’m not going to have a long white dress and veil, or any of the frills we talked about and no bridesmaids either. It isn’t going to be that sort of wedding.
We are being bombed quite often at night and that is really terrifying, so Pa and Mum think it would be safer for you to stay where you are. I’m really sorry that you won’t be beside me when I make my vows, I’d have loved to have had a dream wedding with you holding up my train, but with this war raging, it just can’t be done. When it’s all over, Amy, we’ll have a wonderful party to make up for all this.
Milo is getting better all the time, and I’m getting over my car crash. My hair looks a terrible mess because they shaved it off where I had a cut on my head. It won’t have time to grow back before I get married either, I’m mad about that, but I’m hoping to find a hat that covers the mess.
Don’t be upset about missing my wedding. This war is stopping us all having a good time. I’m hoarding two films for the occasion so I’ll be able to send you some photographs. We all send you lots of love, Mum especially, and she says she’ll write to you next week.
Love,
June
Amy pushed the letter back into the envelope and couldn’t stop her tears. Ages ago, she’d picked up a book in Mum’s sewing room full of patterns for bridal wear and she and June had studied the designs and talked about the dream wedding they’d each have one day. She’d made June promise she could be her bridesmaid as she was likely to be married first. But now she wouldn’t even be there.
She showed the letter to Bessie who said, ‘It can’t be helped in wartime, bach. People can no longer do what they want.’ But that didn’t cheer Amy up.
They were tying up the cows for milking when Bessie said, ‘Jack is thinking of bringing the sheep down from the hill soon for tupping and perhaps he’ll take you along to help. It won’t be as exciting as a wedding but it will be a nice outing for you, wouldn’t it?’
‘What is tupping?’ Amy asked. It was a word she hadn’t heard before but Bessie didn’t seem to know how to explain it.
Over supper that night, Jack said, ‘Shall we bring the sheep down from the hill on Saturday afternoon?’
‘Oh yes,’ Amy agreed and that morning she helped Bessie make a pan of thick broth for their lunch and cut some sandwiches to take with them. Bessie went off to catch the bus into town to do the weekly shop, and Amy read her book and watched the pan simmer slowly on the trivet over the fire until Jack came home from work.
He brought his bike with him. Usually he left it in a shed on a nearby farm where they had a lane going down to the road. The path up the cwm and through the fields was impossible for bikes. His work was planting trees on Forestry Commission land which had once been an upland hill farm and was some twelve or so miles distant. Jack used his bike every day to get to a meeting point where they were picked up by lorry.
First they ate as much of the broth as they could and Jack fished out a slice of flitch bacon for each of them to eat with their bread.
‘Why are you bringing the sheep home?’ Amy wanted to know.
‘I always do in the autumn once we’ve got the harvest in. They have to come to be tupped by the rams.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Unless that happens there won’t be any lambs. You’ll see them doing it in the fields. We’ll take them back in a few weeks to spend the winter up there, then I’ll bring them down again for their lambs to be born here in the spring, where we can care for them.’
While Amy put on her coat and wellingtons, Jack wrapped some sacking round the cross bar of his bicycle to make it more comfortable for her to sit on, and tied a shallow wooden box to the carrier over the back wheel for Fly.
‘Even the dog rides up,’ he said, ‘to save his energy for rounding up the sheep.’ Fly was untied and they all set off walking across two fields to reach the top road that wound up to the hill.
There Amy was lifted on to the cross bar and Jack started to peddle. When he had the bike going he whistled to Fly who took a running jump into the box. Amy felt the bike wobble as he landed and felt anything but secure on her perch.
The top road was little more than a lane and just wide enough for a car but they didn’t see even one all day. There were banks on both sides with hedges growing on top, so Amy couldn’t see into the fields and very soon it became so steep that they all had to dismount and walk up it. This was repeated several times until they’d covered the six miles up to the sheepwalk.
Long before then the banks and hedges had given way to wire fencing. It was windy here and Amy could see for miles across rough heather-covered moorland and was amazed. It felt like being on top of the world. The lane came to an abrupt end with a five-bar gate across it. On the other side was Jack’s thirty-acre sheepwalk. He called it hill land but to Amy it looked like moorland. The wind seemed near gale force. She put on the pixie hood that Jack had advised her to bring.
Fly was sent running in one direction to round up the sheep and Amy was sent in the other. Jack directed the round-up with shouts and whistles. Amy had to jump from one rough tussock to another and more often than not splash into water in between.
It took a long time before Jack was satisfied that he’d rounded up all his flock, then one or two sheep were separated out as having the markings of another farmer. Amy was told to open the gate and the flock was pushed out on to the lane. The sheep immediately put their heads down to nibble at the fresh green grass on the verges, and Fly lay down to rest but kept his eye on his master.
‘Time for bait,’ Jack said, retrieving the packet of sandwiches from his saddle bag and offering them to Amy. She was hungry, but when he threw his crusts to the dog, she did the same. Fly received them with enthusiasm.
Going home was easier as it was downhill all the way. Fly ran loose so he could control the flock and kept them moving at a brisk pace. Jack and Amy followed on the bike. When they were nearing the fields above Coed Cae Bach, Jack hung back and whistled for Fly to halt the flock. When he’d achieved that, Amy was sent to creep along the bank to pass them while the dog stood guard and Jack prevented any retreat. She opened wide the gate to the first field and propped it open. Then she stood back to block the sheep from going further down the road.
Another whistle from Jack and Fly had them swooping into the field. Amy was sent to run alongside them to keep them near the hedge while Jack shut the gate behind them. Then there was the last gate to open into the little field and the flock was safely back at home.
Amy had much preferred the trip up to the sheepwalk to going shopping. She had seen half Wales laid out below her and felt full of fresh air, but she was exhausted and so was Fly. Bessie had returned from town, the Saturday sausages and Sunday joint were beginning to fill the kitchen with savour
y scents and she was now out milking.
Jack said, ‘I’d better go and give her a hand. Why don’t you go and get Fly’s dinner for him? He’s had to work very hard today and he’s tired. And I’d be grateful if you’d shut the hens in for me before you take your wellies off.’
Amy gave Fly an extra handful of food to reward him and found he’d already gone to sleep before she reached his kennel, but he was fully awake in an instant and excited to have it. She patted him and decided she’d had a lovely day. After shutting the hens in she found Jack in the house separating the milk while Bessie organised supper.
‘Uncle Jack,’ Amy said, ‘can I help you take the sheep back up to the hill when they’ve been tupped?’
‘Of course you can,’ he said. ‘I’ll be very glad of your help. I couldn’t have managed without you today.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
JUNE WAS BACK AT the hospital and helping to nurse the sick and injured. She blessed the fact that her nurse’s uniform included a white cap, because it hid her shaved hair. Life suddenly seemed unreal. She found the raids terrifying, and the injuries flooding in afterwards made her see the full horror of war at first hand. It made her realise that Ralph might soon be in a worse position. She clung to him, glad that she could run across the park to be with him whenever he was at home and she was off duty.
She longed to stay all night with him, but when the air-raid sirens sounded all the nurses were ordered to the shelters. A stand-by rota was set up in case the small number of night staff couldn’t cope with the casualties. Some were on first call and some on second, depending on the number of injured needing attention, but all would be called if the hospital was hit and needed to be evacuated. June had done enough drill to know that in the event of a raid, she’d be missed if she wasn’t where she was expected to be.
She had asked to have her weekly day off on 20 October, and that had been agreed. Her only worry then was that she’d been told all leave would be cancelled and staff called in if the hospital was in difficulties because there were many bedridden patients who would need help.
On the night before her wedding, June went home to spend some time with her family. Ralph was invited for supper and Mum managed to put on a celebratory meal. He went home afterwards in his own car which had been returned to him looking like new.
That night it was Bootle that received the attention of the Luftwaffe, and though they had a warning, nothing fell nearby, so June felt she’d had a good night’s sleep. In the morning, her mother came to her room bringing her a cup of tea. ‘Stay in bed a little longer and rest,’ she told her. But June wanted to enjoy every minute of this special day. It was a lovely morning, with the sun just breaking through the autumn mist.
‘I’ll get up,’ she said, ‘and pick some roses from the garden to make buttonholes. I want us to look like a wedding party when we go to the register office.’
‘I’ve already picked every remaining flower,’ Leonie said. ‘I’ve had to pull off the odd brown petal from the outside of some, but it’s been a good year for the roses.’ She smiled. ‘It’s such a treat not to rush to open the shop, Ida will be in charge of the business today. I’ve made small buttonholes for the men and larger ones for the ladies. I’ve made a special one for you with two roses, one cream and one white, with some maidenhair fern to set them off. It looks surprisingly glamorous.’
June could hear the family collecting in the kitchen so she put on her dressing gown and went to join them. ‘We’re all going to have breakfast together,’ Mum told her. ‘I have four eggs, so as a treat it’s going to be boiled eggs and toast.’ The ration was one egg per person per week.
June was surprised to see Pa already up and trying to help. He seemed a different person. ‘I’ll time them,’ he said. ‘Four minutes, isn’t it? I’m fussy about my eggs.’
As the ceremony was due to take place at eleven that morning, it gave June time to have a leisurely bath and put on her blue wool dress and small hat of matching blue feathers. As her mother pinned her roses in place for her, June leaned closer and kissed her. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, ‘for talking Pa round. You made him change his mind.’
Leonie smiled. ‘There’s a happy family atmosphere this morning,’ she said, ‘but it’s Milo you must thank for that.’
Tom and Elaine arrived to drive Pa, Mum and Milo to the register office. The twins were with them, looking like bridal attendants. Dulcie wore a pale blue satin dress with a skirt of many frills while Lucas was in navy velvet trousers and a white satin shirt.
‘You both look beautiful,’ June told them and made a mental note not to send Amy any photograph that showed them. She’d weep that they could be here and she could not.
Ralph arrived wearing his best suit. June pinned his buttonhole in place and, hand in hand, they walked out to his car.
The Birkenhead register office had a large hall for weddings but as the wedding party numbered only seven and two children, they were guided towards a small room panelled in light oak. Leonie had a lump in her throat as she heard her daughter make her vows. This wasn’t the wedding she had envisaged for her and she was afraid it had come much too soon, but June’s groom was gazing at her with such love in his eyes that she felt heartened.
He was slipping the ring on her finger when the sound they all feared and dreaded shredded the peaceful atmosphere. It was the siren sounding an alert. There was an involuntary pause and then the ceremony carried on as though nothing had happened. Dulcie started to cry and Elaine put an arm round her to comfort her.
Leonie shivered, she was glad now that she’d decided Amy should be evacuated and that she hadn’t given in to temptation and brought her home today.
For June, the signing of the register came quickly. She’d sensed the rising tension as their guests listened for the sounds of explosion or gunfire outside, and now there was relief that the ceremony was over and the bombs hadn’t come.
Ralph put down the pen and felt for her hand. The alert had frightened them and been a distraction. ‘Daylight raids never amount to much,’ he whispered to her, and sure enough it was still quiet when they went out.
The registrar advised them to take shelter but they decided to keep to their plans. Tom lined them up on the steps outside to be photographed, and as Ralph was escorting her back to his car, June heard the all-clear sounding its note of safety through the streets.
They were all in heightened good spirits when they reached Elaine’s house, laughing with relief that the marriage had taken place despite Hitler’s attempt to stop it. Tom had persuaded his wine merchant to allow him to buy two bottles of champagne for the occasion. He removed the cork with a resounding plop and filled the glasses. June felt the bubbles going up her nose as she sipped and felt her wedding was now going with a swing.
Elaine was good at entertaining at home but had had to turn to the black market to obtain two chickens, and rely on her home help to roast them. June felt they couldn’t have had a better wedding breakfast anywhere. Pa praised it and thanked Elaine; he called it lunch though it was clearly more than that.
The afternoon was gone in a flash and at five o’clock Elaine made them a cup of tea and brought out the wedding cake. From the start, Mum had said regretfully she’d only be able to make one tier. It looked very festive, with a touch of pre-war richness.
June could see her mother wasn’t so pleased when she cut into it. ‘It’s turned out to be a lighter fruit cake than I intended. I had the icing sugar put by but I couldn’t get any almonds or almond paste to go under it.’
‘There’s almond paste here, Mum,’ June said.
Her mother smiled. ‘Elaine found me a recipe for a wartime substitute and provided the almond flavouring.’
‘It looks a very good cake, Leonie,’ Pa said, ‘and we all know how hard it is to get anything these days.’
Leonie laughed as she cut slices. ‘Ida let me borrow the wedding cake ornaments that came from a relative’s wedding cake.’
Leonie put what was left back in its tin and gave it to June when they were leaving. ‘You have it,’ she said, ‘and eat it. This is wartime wedding cake and won’t keep.’
‘I’m taking my bride home,’ Ralph said as the family were kissing her goodbye. ‘We’re going to have a quiet evening because June has to go to work early tomorrow morning.’
Amy was waiting eagerly for the photographs of June’s wedding, but it was Mum who wrote to her the following week. She ripped open the envelope to read, ‘I’m going to tell you all about June’s wedding,’ but almost the only thing Mum did tell her was that there had been an air-raid warning in the middle of it, and how everybody had said they were glad Amy was in a safe place.
She knew about the bombing in Liverpool and on the Wirral because another group of five evacuees arrived from Birkenhead. They were not from her school and she didn’t know them. They came without a teacher, were immediately settled into Mrs Robert’s class and seemed to think she was a local girl.
The next week, June did write to her and sent her three postcard-sized photographs taken at her wedding but she looked nothing like a bride. She was wearing a funny hat stuck on the side of her head and Mum was wearing a hat and coat Amy had seen many times before. She wasn’t sure about the bridegroom either. He looked almost as old as Pa, but June wrote that he was being called up soon and she dreaded to see him go, so she must love him.
She also said that Elaine had given her a little box that had been left over from somebody else’s wedding to send her a piece of her wedding cake. It arrived two days later and was very pretty with silver wedding bells and ribbons printed all over it, so even the postman knew she’d had a wedding in the family.