by Maureen Lee
Jacob’s old face twisted in a mixture of sadness and delight. “Are you sure, Eileen?”
“Positive.” She’d no idea when she would be back in Pearl Street, if ever, and Snowy was merely another haunting reminder of her lost son.
Ruth came to the door with her when it was time to leave. “I envy you, in a way.”
“Envy me?” said Eileen, astonished.
“Oh, not the circumstances,” Ruth said hastily, “though I know exactly how you feel. I’ve lost two children, but I suppose with me there’s always the chance they might still be alive. No, I meant I envy the fact you’ve joined the Land Army. I wish I could do something worthwhile and adventurous towards the war effort. I’m fed up with Reece’s, it seems such a trite way to spend my time, but the pay’s good and the hours are short which means I don’t have to leave my father on his own for very long.” Jacob was undoubtedly better, but he seemed fragile of late, and frequently fell asleep nursing the kitten in his chair. There were times when he seemed so still that Ruth was scared to touch him in case he was dead. “I’m sorry, Eileen.” She involuntarily clasped the woman by the shoulders. “I shouldn’t be burdening you with this. You’ve more than enough worries of your own.” There was something about Eileen that always made Ruth want to confide in her.
“Don’t give it a second thought, luv.” Eileen smiled warmly. “I think I know what you mean—I’d probably feel the same way meself
“I’ve started a bank account,” Ruth said shyly. “As soon as I can, I intend to go to America in search of Simon and Leah.”
Eileen paused, then kissed Ruth impulsively on the cheek. “I’ll give you my address, shall I? Then you can write and tell me all the news.”
As Eileen pushed her legs into the stiff overalls, she wondered if Ruth would still be envious if she could see her now. She was almost fully dressed by the time she got out of bed. She put an extra cardigan on, then the duffel coat, tied a woollen scarf around her head and went downstairs.
Her boots were in the back porch. The soles leaked and the fleecy lining was still damp from the previous day.
She’d scarcely had them on a minute before her feet felt cold despite her thick socks. She stamped on the coconut mat to try and warm them before going outside into the blackness of the morning, where she found the mud had frozen into solid ridges during the night. The dog gave a muted “woof, but she said firmly, ‘It’s only me, Rex,’ and he subsided with a muffled growl. He was beginning to get to know her. As she made her stumbling way across to the cowshed, the wind howled and she could feel flecks of snow whipping against her face. Ted was already at work in the end stall. Several oil lamps were suspended from the rafters casting a yellow glow over the scene. Despite everything, her cold feet, her desperate need for a hot drink and her general misery, Eileen always found the cowshed rather welcoming. It seemed to have an almost religious significance, reminding her of cribs and Bethlehem and the birth of Baby Jesus.
“Morning,” Ted said shortly.
“Morning.” She picked up a stool and carried it into the stall furthest away from Ted. Ten days ago, when she’d first started and after some brief instruction, she’d barely managed to milk two cows by the time Ted had done the other twelve. Yesterday morning, she’d managed six.
“You’re not too bad at this,” Ted conceded. He seemed quite pleased. “Much better than that bloody Peggy woman.”
“Peggy’s a far better worker than you give her credit for,” Eileen said defensively, but Ted merely grunted in reply. Poor Peggy was driven to distraction by his constant criticism. She could do nothing right in Ted’s eyes. Perhaps it was because he thought Eileen was a friend of Conor Kinnear’s, or maybe he felt sorry for her - she’d discovered on her first day he knew about Francis and Tony—but he was always friendly and encouraging.
“Morning, Norma,” she whispered, patting the cow’s rump before proceeding to pump away at her icy swollen teats with equally icy fingers. It was no use trying to milk a cow with gloves on. A satisfying gush of milk poured into the metal container underneath. When she’d finished, Eileen stroked the animal’s soft neck. “Thanks, Norma,” she murmured. “You’ve been a very good cow today.”
Norma was inclined to be frisky if she was in a certain sort of mood, and once had Eileen off her stool and into the straw with a sudden flick of her tail.
She carried the stool into the next stall. “And how are you today, Daphne?”
“Humph!” There was a grunt from the far end of the shed. “I’ve never known cows given names and talked to before.”
“The horses have names and you talk to them. Anyroad, they respond better if you have a little chat.”
“Who said?”
Eileen didn’t answer, but wished Ted’s cordial attitude was shared by his wife. Until officially a member of the Land Army, she wasn’t entitled to live in the hostel along with Peggy and the other local land girls. Initially, she’d thought Conor and Laura might accommodate her in the big house.
Instead, it had been arranged that she live on the farm.
“I hope you get on with Edna Wright,” Kate said worriedly when everything was sorted out. “I’ve always found her a frightfully difficult person. It’s a pity, in a way, you’ve got to stay with them. It would have been much nicer to have gone straight into the hostel, but then it would have meant waiting, and I know you’re desperate to start straight away.”
Eileen remembered the woman who’d stared at her more balefully than the dog on the day she’d visited the farm. Maybe her bark’s worse than her bite, she’d thought hopefully.
But she was wrong. Edna Wright was the rudest and most unfriendly person Eileen had ever met. She seemed to regard their temporary lodger as an intruder. If circumstances had been different, if Eileen had cared about being happy, she might not have stuck it out at the farmhouse after the first night.
She’d been on and off freezing trains and waiting on freezing stations since leaving Liverpool at six o’clock that morning, and as she was expected, hoped someone would be at the station to meet her. But there was no-one, and she was forced to walk down miles of dark country lanes carrying her suitcase which grew heavier with each step.
Fortunately, she’d come across the station during her long walks and more or less knew the way.
There’d been no sign of Ted when she reached the house. A surly, hatchet-faced Edna showed her to her room without uttering a single word, not even in response to Eileen’s polite attempts at conversation as they made their way upstairs.
“Well, if that’s the way you want it . . . ” she muttered when the woman left after drawing the blind and plonking the oil lamp she was carrying on the bedside table, leaving Eileen alone in the white painted room with its sloped ceiling and brass bedstead. It was quite a pretty room in a bare, almost spartan sort of way, with plain white curtains I and a lovely old-fashioned jug and pitcher set on the washstand above which a faded sampler was embroidered I with Oh Lord, Welcome All They Who Reside Under My Roof.
“Huh!” Eileen said aloud. She unpacked her clothes, put them away in the curtained alcove, and wondered if she was supposed to go downstairs for something to eat. As usual, she was dying for a cup of tea, but surely Edna would have said if there was going to be a meal?
She sat on the bed and waited and waited for Edna to call. Whilst she waited, it got colder and colder. She glanced around the room for a fireplace, but there was none, and no electricity, either. She shivered. How was she supposed to keep warm?
After about an hour of waiting, she realised she wasn’t going to be fed. There was a wireless downstairs and she could hear music, voices, laughter. The sounds made her feel isolated and very alone.
What on earth was she doing here, in this strange cold room, desperate for a cup of tea and hundreds of miles away from the people who loved her? For a while, she briefly contemplated packing her suitcase and going back to Bootle, even if it meant waiting on the station all night until a lo
cal train arrived to take her as far as Norwich. But there was nothing for her in Bootle now, merely memories, she thought sadly. The people who loved her had their own lives to lead. There was nothing for her anywhere. Anyroad, this was what she wanted, to be alone. It was why she’d applied to join the Land Army, to get away from people and places she knew, things that reminded her of what she’d lost. Eileen realised she’d entirely forgotten about Nick.
She sighed, and decided to go to bed, though she did a Mr Singerman and left on most of her underclothes underneath her nightdress. The sheets were crisp and fresh and seemed to be made of ice, though after a while she began to feel warm and fell asleep more quickly than expected.
During the night, she was disturbed twice by the sound of aeroplanes passing overhead, but as there’d been no siren, she assumed they were from the nearby RAF camp on their way to Germany and back with a load of bombs.
Ted woke her by banging on the door and shouting, “Mrs Costello, Eileen.”
Grey daylight filtered through the white curtains.
Eileen got out of bed and hurriedly put a coat over her nightdress before opening the door. Ted looked harried as he stood frowning down at her. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Have I slept in?”
“I deliberately left you, seeing as how you’d had such a long journey yesterday, but it’ll be half past six from tomorrow on. Put your working clothes on and I’ll show you what’s to be done. Breakfast’ll be in about half an hour.”
“Ta.” They were going to feed her!
In fact, the breakfast was delicious. Thick slices of crisp fried ham, two eggs and tomatoes, followed by toast and marmalade.
“Where on earth do you get the tomatoes from at this time of year?” she asked. They were in the kitchen, and Ted, who appeared to have already eaten, was sitting with her smoking a cigarette.
“Edna bottles ‘em.’ He nodded towards the silent figure at the sink with her back to them. Edna had made no attempt to acknowledge Eileen’s friendly ‘good morning’.
“And she made the marmalade and the bread.”
“It’s lovely, Edna, all of it,” Eileen said warmly. “I was never able to make bread as light as this.”
Edna gave no indication she’d heard. Eileen felt her heart sink. It was going to be very difficult over the next few weeks, living in the same house as someone who seemed unwilling to exchange the basic courtesies.
“It’s a lovely room, too,” she said to Ted. “Very homely.” Like the rest of the house, the big kitchen was painted white. There were copper pans hanging on the walls, along with several other utensils that Eileen had never seen the likes of before. The room had a comfortable, lived in look. There were two plump armchairs in front of the blazing log fire and a battery wireless on a shelf nearby. Three cats dozed on the hearth, one heavily pregnant.
“Edna keeps the place looking nice,” Ted murmured.
Eileen noticed Edna’s back stiffen and was aware of a tension between the two. “Now, as soon as you’ve finished, we’ll get down to work. I don’t normally stop for a break at this time of day.”
“I’m sorry.” Eileen gulped down the remains of her second cup of tea. She wouldn’t have minded a third. “I didn’t realise I was keeping you.”
“It’s what you call a mixed farm,” Ted said later as they tramped through the mud. “We have a bit of everything, ‘cept sheep, and it’s not what you’d call big. Three of us managed it afore the war, Horace, Bob and me, but the Ministry insist on every single inch being cultivated and we’re still at work clearing the scrub—that’s why we took on an extra hand - not that you’d call that bloody Peggy much help.’ His bluff red face creased in disgust.
“She’s less than useless, that girl.”
Eileen stopped at the sty to look at the pigs. She’d never realised pigs were so nice. You could almost cuddle the little ones. She kept her thoughts to herself, feeling Ted wouldn’t take kindly to pigs being described as cuddly.
They came to the stables, which contained two fine black and white horses with well-groomed manes and massive fluffy hooves. “This is Bessie, and that’s Warrior,” said Ted. He patted Bessie’s neck affectionately. “They’re the best workers we have.”
“They’re beautiful,” Eileen said admiringly. “I love horses. We have one living a few doors away down the street. He’s called Nelson. He can’t stand the raids.”
Ted was looking at her with astonishment, and she realised it probably sounded strange, a horse living in a street. “Nelson pulled the coal cart,” she explained.
“Where’s that bloody Peggy?” Ted frowned. “I put her to work cleaning this place up earlier on.”
Peggy Wilson came bouncing into the stables, her cheeks and the tip of her fine nose pink with cold. Dark curls spilled out from underneath the felt hat which was set somewhat precariously on the back of her head. She wore dungarees underneath her fawn overcoat, and hobnailed boots. “I’ve just been to the loo,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve nearly finished here.” She noticed Eileen and her eyes lit up. “Oh, hallo! Ted told me you were coming. I’ve been dying for you to arrive so that I’d have some female company.” She glanced at Ted. “It’s horrible working with nothing but men.”
“If you could call it working,” Ted said cuttingly. “Well, I’ll leave you in Peggy’s hands. Once the stables are finished, you can help Horace out with the beet on the west field.”
“Yes, sir!” Peggy saluted smartly and Ted’s red face turned even redder as he marched away.
“He hates me purely because I’m a woman and we aren’t supposed to work on farms,” Peggy said as soon as Ted was out of earshot. “I do my best, really I do, but he always finds something wrong.”
“No-one can do more than their best.”
“Tell that to Ted!” Peggy put her hands on her hips and looked Eileen up and down. “Are you warm enough in that get up?”
“Not particularly, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll have a proper uniform soon enough.”
“You must be keen to start work if you’re willing to live with that awful Edna. What’s she like at close quarters?”
She began to sweep the floor vigorously with a rush broom.
“Horrible!” Eileen told her of the reception she’d got the previous night. “I was dying for a cup of tea, at least.”
“Bitch! Most of the locals hate us land girls, Edna’s worse than most.”
“Why should they hate us? We’re all on the same side.”
Eileen asked in surprise.
Peggy shrugged. “Dunno. They’re awfully old fashioned here, and we seem like liberated women.
We go in pubs by ourselves which women aren’t supposed to do, and the young men like us better than the local girls.
Whenever there’s a dance, we always get asked first, particularly if we’re in uniform.” She put the broom away and slung a khaki haversack over her shoulder. “Come on, we’d better get going. Ted’ll have a fit if he finds we’re still here.”
Once outside the farmyard enclosure, the wind lashed even more keenly across the fields, which were surrounded by bare black hedges offering no protection at all.
The marshes could be glimpsed in the distance, and beyond the marshes, the North Sea glinted dully, like unpolished pewter. Eileen shuddered as she stuffed her hands in her pockets and reminded herself that only very recently she’d found herself drawn to this bleak scenery.
But it seemed different today, bleaker, more desolate and not in the least appealing. As they trudged over the broken, frozen soil, Peggy began to get on her nerves. She had a juvenile, gushing manner and chattered unceasingly, mainly about her mother. Eileen felt she would have preferred to be alone with her thoughts. Her heart sank for the second time that morning. Was it going to be like this every day?
She was an only child, Peggy informed her, and her widowed mother wouldn’t let her out of her sight for a single moment when she wasn’t at work. “Mummy’s only young, forty-nine,” she co
mplained in her breathless, rather childish voice, “and I could see myself stuck with her for the rest of my life. Ever since the war began, I kept wanting to join up, the WRAF or the WRENs or something, but she practically had hysterics whenever I suggested leaving. In the end, I put my foot down and joined the Land Army. At least it means there’s no chance of being sent abroad - not that I would have minded.
Unfortunately, we’re less than an hour away from Ipswich by train, which means she keeps nagging me to come home for weekends.”
“I suppose she’s lonely,” Eileen said reasonably.
“So was I,” Peggy said bluntly, “stuck at home all the time with only Mummy for company. If I suggested going out, she’d feel too ill to be left. I brought a boy back once, years ago, and she nearly had a heart attack.” She stopped. “How old do you think I am?”
Eileen stared at the pretty, unlined face. “About twenty-five, I reckon.”
“I’m nearly thirty and I’ve never even kissed a man. Isn’t that terrible?”
“It’s not exactly the end of the world,” Eileen said brusquely. Peggy’s problems, real though they may be, seemed trivial compared to her own. She felt uncomfortable when Peggy lapsed into silence, clearly hurt at the putdown.
“Was I rabbiting on too much? I’m sorry,” she said after a while. “It’s just that Ted told me about your husband and little boy. I think he was scared I’d put my foot in it. I thought if I did all the talking it would take your mind off things. I must have sounded awfully selfish under the circumstances, concerned only with my own foolish affairs.”
Oh, God! Eileen instantly felt ashamed and full of contrition. It was her that should be sorry. Last night she’d been dead upset because Edna didn’t talk to her, and she’d nearly bitten Peggy’s head off for talking too much!
She apologised for being so short-tempered. “Don’t take any notice of me, luv,” she said. “I don’t know what I want or where I am at the moment. I’m afraid I’d have to ask you to put up with me until I’ve sorted me head out.”