He’d never confided his anxieties to any other member of his family, though had Laurence or even Frank been at home, he might have taken one of them into his confidence. But Laurence was gone and Frank had not been home for years.
It had been the postcards that had first made him suspicious. He knew they brought Edie comfort and she seemed to believe their authenticity, but to Archie there was something odd. At first, they’d arrived with a strange regularity. Though Beth was bright and outgoing and very organized, he doubted that even she would have written on the same day every month and then the frequency had lessened and he’d been very sceptical that the last few cards had even been written by her. Oh, the handwriting was hers – or if not hers, then an excellent forgery – but it was the wording that troubled him – or rather the lack of it. In her earlier cards she had always mentioned a member of the family, or referred to Irene and her nephew, Tommy.
‘Sorry you can’t write back to me,’ she’d written in one early missive. ‘But I’m moving about so much with the work I’m doing, letters would probably never reach me.’
And then the postcards had started and recently the way she signed off was different. Her usual ‘Stay safe’ message to them all was missing.
And that had been when Archie had really started to worry.
Thirty-Nine
Lost in her thoughts, Edie almost missed Fotherby Halt where she had to alight. Hastily, she gathered up her coat and handbag. Leaving the platform, she passed through the gate and walked eastwards down the long lane at the end of which was White Gates Farm. She came to the farmyard gate and paused for a moment, catching her breath. Hens scratched in the dirt and ducks and geese waddled about the yard, squawking. Three geese came towards her, menacingly, it seemed. She liked to see the countryside but she didn’t think she could ever feel a real part of it. She was a townie.
Ruth Schofield appeared at the back door of the farmhouse and then hurried across the yard, shooing the birds away. They protested loudly, but obeyed, far more frightened of the farmer’s wife than she was of them.
‘Better than a guard dog, they are.’ Ruth smiled. ‘Come in, my dear. Reggie’s not here at the moment. He’s out in the fields with Mr Schofield and the land girls.’ She grimaced as she pulled open the gate in invitation. ‘I ’spect we’ll be losing them soon now. Still, it’s wonderful news it’s all over, isn’t it?’
Edie nodded and stepped through the gate and into the yard.
‘Come along into the house and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.’
Edie beamed. ‘They’re the most welcome words I’ve heard all day.’
Minutes later, seated across the kitchen table from the farmer’s wife, between mouthfuls of home-made shortbread, Edie asked, ‘Is Reggie all right, Mrs Schofield?’
‘Ruth, dear,’ the woman reminded Edie gently. But then a wary look crossed her face as she added, ‘He’s fine, but I can guess why you’ve come to see him.’
‘I got a letter from him,’ Edie blurted out, ‘telling me that he wants to stay here – that he doesn’t want to come home. Why?’
‘He’s happy here – oh that sounds awful,’ Ruth said swiftly. ‘What I mean is, he wants to make working on the land his job. He says the only thing back in Grimsby would be fishing and he doesn’t want to go to sea.’
Edie felt the relief flood through her. At least she and her son were agreed on that. ‘But I want him home,’ she said, as tears filled her eyes. She brushed them aside, embarrassed by a show of weakness in front of this comparative stranger.
‘I know you do,’ Ruth said gently, ‘but he’s taken to the life so well here. He’s got a real love for the land – an instinct. He’ll make a wonderful farmer in years to come. Joe thinks the world of him and,’ her face fell into sorrowful lines, ‘to tell you the truth, Edie, we’re not even sure our own two sons want to take over the farm when we’re too old to manage it any more. We’re only tenant farmers, mind, we don’t own it, so it’s not as if there’s an inheritance as such, but we’d still like to think that the land we’ve toiled over will be in good hands.’
‘But they’re both all right – your boys?’ Edie asked hesitantly. ‘I mean – they’re coming home?’
‘Oh yes, yes. We’ve been lucky – we know that.’ Ruth bit her lip. She knew that Edie had lost her eldest son. In that moment, she felt the twinge of guilt of a mother whose sons had survived.
Edie sighed heavily. She’d always vowed she’d never rule her children’s lives – not once they were grown-up. But, to her, Reggie was still a boy. Could he really be expected – or trusted – to make such an important decision? And what would Archie say? She smiled inwardly. She knew exactly what her husband would say.
‘Let the boy have his way – if that’s what he wants. It’ll be a hard life, but a good one for him. But it’s a sight better than fishing, love.’
Archie loved the sea and his way of life. It was what he had been brought up to know, for his father had been a trawlerman too, and Archie had wanted no other job, but he was not blind to the many dangers; dangers which had got even worse over the six years of war. No, Archie wouldn’t want to stop Reggie doing what he wanted.
‘So, you want him to stay with you? Live here, like?’
‘We do, Edie,’ Ruth said promptly. ‘And I promise you we’ll look after him. And we’ll make sure he comes to see his family regularly. Joe will be going into Grimsby more often now and he can bring Reggie with him.’
Edie forced a smile, but could not trust herself to speak as she was obliged to accept the inevitable.
It wasn’t long before they heard noises in the yard and four people came into the kitchen that was at once alive with chatter and laughter. And amongst it all was Reggie.
‘Hello, Mam, what’re you doing here?’ He grinned and then, seeing her expression, his smile faded. ‘Ah, I bet I know why you’ve come. Well, I aren’t coming home.’
Edie stared at her son; she hardly recognized him. He had grown so much. He was tall and thin, yet his shoulders were broadening, already giving promise of the strong, well-built man he would one day be. His brown hair still curled, though it was cut shorter now. His face and hands were tanned with working outdoors in all weathers, but his cheeky grin was still the same until overshadowed by the mutinous look he now wore.
‘Sit down, Reggie,’ Ruth said, getting up from the table and bustling about her kitchen. ‘And talk to your mam.’
Now his face took on a little boy’s appealing look. ‘Mam, I love it here. I love the land and the work’ – he grimaced comically – ‘even though it’s hard sometimes. Besides, I can’t come home, Mam. Mr Schofield needs help. Now the war’s over, the land girls’ll be going home. He’ll have no one.’
‘He’ll have his sons back.’ Edie couldn’t quite hide the edge of bitterness in her tone. The Schofields were lucky; both their sons were coming home and now it seemed they wanted to keep one of hers too.
‘Tell you what,’ Reggie said, his eyes lighting up. ‘Why don’t you and Dad come and have a holiday here on the farm at harvest time?’
Ruth Schofield took up the plea. ‘The Government have warned folks not to flock to the seaside all at once, so the farmers around here are advertising for Harvest Holidays for town and city folks to come and have a working break.’
Edie laughed, though her laugh was a little strained. ‘We are at the seaside. We don’t need to go there.’
Ruth laughed too, ‘Of course you are. How silly of me. But perhaps you’d like a few days in the countryside.’
‘Helping with the harvest, you mean?’
‘Only if you wanted to. We’d be pleased to have Reggie’s family any time. We’ve plenty of room.’
‘But you want him to stay?’ Edie repeated her earlier question in front of Reggie. ‘You want him to live with you?’
‘It’s what he wants, Edie.’
‘But you’ve not tried to persuade him to come home, have you?’
; ‘Well,’ Ruth glanced uncomfortably at Reggie, ‘no – I must admit, we haven’t.’
‘Mam, please see it from my point of view. And,’ Reggie added craftily, ‘you don’t really want me to go to sea, do you? And what else would I do if I came back to Grimsby?’
‘They’ll stop the ten-and-six-a-week they’ve been paying you.’ It was Edie’s last shot across Ruth’s bows. She saw the woman and Reggie glance at each other.
‘We know that,’ the farmer’s wife said softly. ‘It’s not about the money. Besides, we’ll be paying him to work for us.’
‘They’ve been paying me already, Mam, for what I’ve done after school and at weekends.’
Edie felt herself beaten. If only Archie were here. She’d know what to do then. She would have been guided by his common sense and reasoning. Edie was honest enough with herself to know that her argument stemmed from her overwhelming desire to have all her chicks back under her roof. But it seemed now that that was never going to be possible.
‘I’ll see what your dad says when he’s next home,’ was all Edie would promise. ‘We’ll both come out to see you. We might be able to borrow your Uncle Harry’s car. It’s been laid up all the war but he’s taken it to the garage to have it put into working order again. Aunty Jessie says they’re waiting for a new battery for it and new tyres and they’re hard to come by at the moment.’
The Kelseys had never owned a car, but Harry and Jessie had bought a second-hand Morris 6 painted green and black in 1935.
‘It’s a nice motor, Harry,’ Archie had said, as he stood looking at it, ‘but you’d do best not to be seen driving it around Grimsby.’
‘Eh? Why ever not?’
‘Fishermen don’t like the colour green. Edie knows better than to buy a green dress. The only green that ever gets into our house is vegetables. I thought you’d have known that, Harry, working on the docks.’
‘Oh lor’! Yes, I do, but, to be honest, I was that delighted getting such a bargain, I never thought about it. Mebbe that’s why it was so cheap. I’ll get it painted over.’ Harry had been as good as his word. He would never want to bring ill-luck on Archie and his fellow fishermen and so the car had been repainted a maroon colour. But for the duration of the war, it had stood idly in the narrow alleyway behind their house.
Now Edie murmured, ‘I was just counting the days until you all come home, that’s all.’
Reggie, who had every faith that his dad would agree with him and would be the one to persuade his mother to agree too, touched her hand and said huskily, ‘I know, Mam, I know.’
They were both thinking of the one who could never come back.
‘Are you sure, Reggie, really sure that this is what you want?’ She was still clinging to a last vestige of hope, even though in her heart she knew it was in vain. And she knew for certain when she saw the light in his eyes.
‘It is, Mam, I promise you.’
She nodded, the lump in her throat almost choking her as she said, ‘Then so be it. We’ll say no more about it now, but, you understand, your dad will have to agree.’
Reggie nodded, his eyes shining. He had no fear of his dad doing anything else.
But there was still plenty that Edie had to say to Ruth, though this time it was not about her son. For the twenty minutes or so whilst the farmer and his workers drank tea and ate a fruit pasty as their ‘elevenses’, Edie held her tongue. She wanted to be alone with Ruth once more before she broached the delicate subject of her daughter-in-law.
She watched the easy rapport between Joe Schofield – a big, quiet man, with a firm handshake and gentle eyes – and his workers. The two land army girls were quite sweet with Reggie, teasing him as they might a younger brother – in fact, they reminded Edie heart-achingly of the way Beth and her brothers had been together when they’d all been at home. Shirley, though, she thought sadly, had always been the odd one out, but Edie realized now it had been the young girl’s own fault; she had never joined in the family banter, holding herself aloof and always looking slightly disapproving. But now, there was hope even for Shirley. She, too, seemed to have found her niche in life, even though, to Edie’s chagrin, it would keep her away from home as well. And here, the two girls and Reggie – and even Joe and Ruth – were just like a family. Reggie would miss these two lasses when they went home. But, as the conversation went on, Edie gleaned that one of the girls – Pearl, with dark hair and brown eyes – was also thinking of staying on.
‘She’s found herself a boyfriend on the next farm,’ her companion, Eve, with red curls and dancing green eyes, said.
Edie nodded and smiled. Perhaps, she was thinking, it was Pearl she ought to be talking to about Irene.
When Joe rose to go out, the three workers got up at once.
‘You stay here, lad, and talk to your mam. We can manage for an hour or so.’
‘No, no,’ Edie said at once. ‘I wouldn’t want to keep him from his work.’ She stood up and clasped the embarrassed boy to her ample bosom before saying firmly, ‘Off you go, but don’t forget where we live now, will you?’
‘We’ll see he comes home often to see you,’ Joe said in his deep voice. ‘Things should get easier now.’
Edie was touched that the man referred to the house in Grimsby as Reggie’s home, but she knew in her heart that this was no longer so; the farm was where the boy wanted to be and these good people would parent him from now on.
She nodded and forced a smile, though, for a moment, she was unable to speak.
When they’d all gone out, chattering and laughing together, Ruth busied herself at her sink to wash up the cups, saucers and plates that had been used. Automatically, Edie stood up and reached for a tea towel.
‘Ruth, there’s summat else I want to ask you.’
‘I thought there might be,’ the woman said softly, setting a cup carefully on the wooden draining board for Edie to pick up to dry.
‘About Irene.’
Ruth sighed as if she had been dreading the inevitable question. She’d known that Edie’s visit wouldn’t only be about Reggie.
‘D’you know who the father of her baby is?’ Edie asked bluntly.
Ruth’s slight hesitation before she answered spoke volumes. ‘Not – really.’
‘But you can guess? Am I right?’
Ruth bit her lip but was obliged to nod.
Edie felt guilty at interrogating this nice little woman who was so good to Reggie, and yet, she had to know. ‘So?’
‘The girls – Pearl, Eve and Irene – used to go to the village dance on a Saturday night. Reggie went too sometimes, but me and Joe used to look after Tommy. We didn’t see any harm in it, Edie.’ Ruth turned towards her with pleading eyes. ‘We wanted the young ones to have a bit of fun – oh, I know, maybe Irene shouldn’t have gone,’ she added swiftly, as she saw Edie open her mouth to make some retort. Ruth hurried on, not giving Edie a chance to speak. ‘But she worked so hard on the farm alongside the others, we thought she deserved a night out once a week and she was missing her husband so much—’
‘Was she now?’ Edie muttered sarcastically.
‘There’s a bomber station not far from here,’ Ruth went on, ‘and the lads from there used to come to the village dance if they weren’t flying. Of course, there was a bit of rivalry between the local farmhands and the RAF boys in their smart uniforms. Caused a bit of ill feeling now and again, I think, when they’d all had a bit to drink. But the local bobby was very good. He was usually around on a Saturday night to stop any quarrels getting out of hand. But one night there was a bit of a fisticuffs between Pearl’s boyfriend and one of the airmen. Evidently, this RAF lad was getting a bit too friendly with Pearl, if you know what I mean.’
Oh aye, Edie thought wryly, I know exactly what you mean, but she didn’t interrupt this time; she didn’t want to stop Ruth, who seemed to be a long time coming to the point.
‘Well, it seems your Irene—’
She’s not ‘my’ Irene, Edie wanted to shou
t. Not any more. And I doubt she’ll be Frank’s when he gets home. But she bit her lip and remained silent.
‘– stepped in and broke up the fight. Ken – that’s the RAF lad – had a cut and a black eye and Irene administered first aid.’ Ruth smiled. ‘All the girls went on a first-aid training course in the village hall one night a week.
Another night in the week when Irene had left her son in Ruth’s care! Not that Edie thought that a problem; she liked this woman and would have trusted her own children with her. With a jolt, she realized that that was exactly what she was going to do; leave her Reggie to be looked after by Ruth. But now, she wondered, just how many nights a week Irene had left Tommy to go out dancing or . . . she shied away from the picture that came into her mind.
‘Irene patched him up and they got talking and’ – she sighed – ‘well, you can guess the rest. They were both lonely. Irene’s husband was far away and she didn’t even know if he was ever going to come back. And Ken – well, he was facing danger and possible death every time he went up in his bomber, wasn’t he?’
‘Did he ever come here – to the farm? Did you meet him?’
‘A group of the lads from the station used to come now and again and, yes, he was one of them. Especially at festive times – like Christmas and Easter – when they couldn’t get leave to go home or it was too far for them to travel in the given time. But I promise you, Edie,’ Ruth turned troubled eyes to her, ‘I had no idea things were getting out of hand. I feel so guilty now that we encouraged her to go out and have fun. If I’d thought for one moment . . .’ Ruth picked up the corner of her apron and wiped her eyes.
Edie was touched by how upset Ruth was over something that was hardly her concern and certainly not her fault. She had opened her home and, it seemed, her heart to strangers in dangerous times. She’d looked after them all and tried to do her best for them and this was how Irene had repaid the kindly woman by bringing shame to her door. Edie was moved to put her arms around Ruth. ‘It’s not your fault, love. You’re not responsible in any way. Irene is. And the feller, of course.’
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