by Ellie Dean
‘I see,’ murmured Jane.
Vera turned to Sarah. ‘The WTC have taken over Lord Cliffe’s estate, and as you already have a billet with Peggy, you’d be able to get there each day without too much effort.’
‘But once the forest has been cleared and replanted, I would be posted somewhere else?’
Vera nodded. ‘But that is many months, perhaps years ahead. It’s a huge forest and the work is slow.’
‘What about the Land Army?’ asked Jane. ‘Are there local farms I could work on?’
‘There are, but again the labour is intensive and you’d need to be tough both physically and mentally to be able to cope with the conditions. The hours are from dawn to dusk, regardless of the weather, and you would be expected to plough and harrow, dig and harvest, look after the animals and help make repairs to outbuildings. You would find some of the old farmers wouldn’t treat you kindly, for they still hold the opinion that women shouldn’t be let loose with farm implements or their livestock. Thankfully, that attitude is slowly changing.’
‘But couldn’t I just work with the big horses and look after them?’
Sarah was becoming quite alarmed at how determined Jane seemed to be about working with horses, and could only hope that Vera would continue to dissuade her.
Vera shot a glance at Sarah before replying to Jane. ‘They are only a tiny part of the work involved, Jane, and not all farms have them now there are more tractors about. Farming is a tough way of life, and only a very few girls settle down to it successfully. They seem to have this dewy-eyed image of floating about in cornfields in a cotton frock, or sitting on hay bales in a sun hat, but that’s the poster image – the reality is far harsher.’
Sarah had hoped that Vera’s bleak description would make her see sense, but Jane still didn’t look convinced.
Vera seemed to realise this too, for she regarded Jane, took a deep breath and plunged on. ‘Imagine that it’s four in the morning, Jane,’ she said quietly, ‘and the freezing wind and rain are lashing the muddy yard. The cows have to be fetched from the field to be milked, and once that’s done, they have to be herded back out again so you can scrub the milking parlour clean of all their filth. And this is even before you’ve had time for a cup of tea, let alone breakfast. And then the rest of the day would be spent out in the windswept fields, battling with tractors that won’t start, or trying to plough a straight furrow in mud that reaches to your knees.’
Jane grinned at Vera. ‘You don’t have to say any more,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very convincing, and the picture you’ve painted is nothing like the poster I saw at Victoria Station.’
‘The reality rarely is, but the recruitment is vital if we’re to win this war,’ she replied, and gave her a warm smile. ‘You must think I’m an odd sort of recruiting officer for putting you off, but I think it’s best to try and steer people to the jobs where they’ll get the most satisfaction. My daughter worked in the Land Army, and she lasted four weeks and was utterly miserable. Now she’s a WREN and driving an Admiral about, and is as happy as a lark. So you see there is a job for everyone – it just might take a bit of time to find out what suits and what doesn’t.’
‘The trouble is,’ sighed Jane, ‘I’m not much good at anything really – only mathematics and puzzles and stuff – and I can’t see how they would help at all.’
‘Don’t get downhearted, Jane,’ soothed Sarah. ‘We’ll see Anthony tonight, and then you’ll have a much clearer idea of what to do next.’
‘There are lots of administration and book-keeping jobs going,’ said Vera cheerfully. ‘I’m sure we could find you something.’
‘You’ve been very kind,’ said Sarah as she got to her feet. ‘I’ll think about the WTC and let you know one way or the other tomorrow.’
They were almost out of the door when Vera called out, ‘Hold on a minute. I’ve had a marvellous idea that might just be perfect for Jane.’
They looked at one another, shrugged and returned to the desk with apologetic smiles at the woman who was next in line.
Vera’s face was alight with eagerness as she rummaged through the great pile of paperwork on her desk and pulled out a leaflet. ‘The local dairy needs someone to load up and deliver the milk each day. The lad they had working for them has been called up and Alan Jenkins is finding it difficult to run his usual number of rounds. It will involve getting up very early, for the round starts at five in the morning, but you’d be finished by lunchtime.’
Jane’s expression wasn’t at all enthusiastic. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘Delivering milk isn’t exactly going to win this war, is it?’
Vera laughed. ‘You’d be surprised how important our daily delivery is, Jane. It’s a tradition that not even Hitler has been able to break, and we need milk to keep our teeth and bones healthy now rationing is getting so tight.’ She leaned across her desk, her face beaming and her eyes twinkling. ‘And do you know how that milk is delivered, Jane?’
Jane shook her head and gave a tiny shrug, clearly not at all excited by the idea.
‘Alan Jenkins has four Shires which pull the delivery drays, and the person delivering the milk is responsible for the care of their horse.’
Sarah’s spirits plummeted as Jane sat bolt upright, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘You mean I’d have to muck out and groom and feed it – and check its hooves for stones and make sure it has enough water and feed?’
Vera laughed. ‘I suppose you would, though I know nothing about keeping horses.’ She passed the piece of paper over to Jane. ‘This is the address. Why don’t you go and talk to Mr Jenkins and find out what the job entails? The money isn’t much, but it is only part-time, and you could always find something else to do in the afternoons.’
‘Oh, I will,’ Jane said, clutching the paper to her heart, her face glowing with hope. ‘I’ll go this very minute.’ She headed straight for the door, forgetting her handbag, coat and gas-mask box in her eagerness to find the dairy.
Sarah smiled at Vera as she gathered up their belongings. ‘She gets a bit over-enthusiastic about things at times,’ she said softly.
Vera nodded. ‘I had a feeling she might,’ she replied with a knowing look. ‘Good luck, Sarah, and I hope that tomorrow you’ll have decided about your work. I have a feeling that the WTC would suit you down to the ground.’
Sarah smiled her thanks and hurried after Jane, who’d already found Peggy and was excitedly telling her all about the job at the dairy.
‘Well, we’d better go and see Alan then and make sure he gives you the job,’ said Peggy with a sideways glance at Sarah. ‘But you will need to put your coat on – it’s still very cold outside.’
Jane blushed as she pulled on her coat and took her handbag and gas-mask box from Sarah. ‘I got a bit carried away, didn’t I?’ she said ruefully.
‘I’d call it youthful enthusiasm,’ said Peggy, ‘and there’s nothing wrong with that.’
Sarah wished Peggy wouldn’t encourage her. Jane had been very carefully brought up, and delivering milk was not the sort of occupation her parents had envisioned for her.
‘I really don’t think you should apply for this, Jane,’ she said firmly. ‘Mother and Pops have been quite specific about you staying away from any kind of horse, let alone those huge Shires. They will take a great deal of strength to handle – and you haven’t been near a horse in years, so it would be very dangerous.’
Jane blushed a deeper red. ‘I have, actually,’ she confessed. ‘Sally Bristow used to let me exercise her horses and help around the stables.’
‘What?’ Sarah stared at her in shock and horror.
‘Mrs Bristow knew,’ Jane ploughed on, ‘but Sally swore her to secrecy, and once she’d seen I wasn’t going to fall off or do anything stupid, she even began to teach me how to drive a carriage and pair.’
‘Good grief,’ breathed Sarah. ‘I can’t believe Elsa Bristow would do such an underhand thing when she knew how much Mother and Pops drea
ded you having another accident. It’s a good thing they never discovered what you were up to, because you’d have been put under virtual house arrest and they would have fallen out very badly with the Bristows over it.’
‘Well, they didn’t find out,’ Jane said defiantly, ‘and they’re not here to stop me now. I want this job, Sarah, and I’m determined to have it.’
Sarah could see that determination in her eyes and knew there was little point in arguing. But she felt quite sick at the thought of her excitable, naïve sister in sole charge of a huge Shire – and if her parents ever found out, they would be furious with both of them – especially with Sarah, for she’d promised to keep her sister safe.
She kept these thoughts to herself as she helped Peggy down the Town Hall steps with the pram. All she could do now was hope that the job was already taken, for it would be easier to deal with one of Jane’s tantrums than have to face her parents’ wrath.
They set off up the High Street, taking the narrow road past the station which led to a maze of streets that radiated from what remained of the high brick wall that ran beside the railway lines. There was a lot of clearing and building work going on amid the shattered remains of street after street of houses.
‘Our little Rita used to live in this area,’ said Peggy. ‘The whole lot was flattened when the Luftwaffe dropped their blast-bombs. A lot of people were killed, but luckily she wasn’t at home at the time and her widowed father was away with the Army.’
Peggy eyed the miserable remains of the terraced hovels as they walked past. ‘It was a blessing in a way,’ she added, ‘because the houses were no better than slum tenements, and these nice new asbestos ones will certainly do until after the war.’
Sarah thought they looked no better than boxes, and, with their flat roofs, pipe chimneys and plain grey walls, they reminded her of the native shanties back in Singapore.
Peggy pointed out the allotments and the new factories and warehouses that had sprung up over the past three years, and explained that the barrage balloons which swayed high above the industrial area were there to deter the enemy planes from getting too close.
She came to a halt finally outside a high brick wall which had ‘Jenkins’ Dairy’ written on a large board above a double gate. ‘Here we are,’ she said, puffing rather from the uphill walk. ‘Open the gate, Jane. Alan’s been our milkman for years, and he won’t mind if we take the pram in.’
Jane pushed open the right-hand gate and came to a halt as she was confronted by a cobbled yard and a wooden stable-block. Most of the stables were empty, but there were four handsome, inquisitive heads poking over the doors, and they snorted and stamped their great iron-shod hooves as they greeted their visitors.
Jane left the pram to Peggy and, before Sarah could stop her, quietly walked towards them.
‘Hello, beauties,’ she murmured to each of them in turn as she stroked their broad noses and let them snuffle the palms of her hands. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have any carrots or sugar for you today.’
Alan came out of his office to see what all the noise was about, and once Peggy had told him why they were there, he eyed Jane up and down and scratched the grey stubble on his chin. ‘I was hoping for another lad to help me,’ he said in his thick Welsh accent. ‘Would she be strong enough to keep one of my girls under control, and has she ever driven a dray before?’
‘She’s never driven a dray,’ said Sarah, ‘and hasn’t worked with such big horses before.’ She felt mean at trying to spoil things for Jane, and quickly added, ‘But she’s good with horses and knows how to handle them.’
‘I’ve heard that before,’ he said darkly. ‘But I do need help, so I’ll give her a fair chance to show me what she can do.’ He stumped across the yard and shook Jane’s hand, and after a few words they couldn’t catch, he got her to open one of the stable doors.
Sarah’s pulse raced as she saw how enormous the Shire was. It towered over little Jane and snuffled at her hair as she nimbly squeezed past, avoided the great restless hooves and quickly got it tacked up. Within minutes she emerged with a beaming smile, leading the great beast into the yard and tying it to a ring that had been set in the wall.
Alan Jenkins pointed to a large wooden dray that had been propped against a nearby wall, and Sarah gasped. ‘Surely he doesn’t expect her to manoeuvre that? It looks like it must weigh a ton.’
‘It appears so,’ muttered Peggy. ‘Who would have thought there was so much strength in that little body?’ she added in amazement as Jane got the dray into position and set about coaxing the Shire back between the long wooden shafts.
Sarah’s initial fear was replaced by a swell of pride as Jane expertly secured the harness to the dray, petted the horse, and then clambered up onto the seat. Her little sister had clearly lost none of her talent for dealing with horses, and her face was simply glowing with pleasure. They watched in awed silence as she quietly spoke to the animal before slapping the reins against the broad back and getting it to plod across the yard and down towards the sprawling building at the far end.
Alan laughed and ran his fingers through his mop of snow-white hair. ‘She’ll do all right,’ he said, ‘though goodness knows where she learned to do that. She looks as if a puff of wind would blow her away.’
Jane brought the horse and dray back into the yard, clambered down and patted the animal’s muscular neck before looking up at Alan. ‘Did I do it well enough, Mr Jenkins? Have I got the job?’
He stroked the animal’s broad nose and ran his fingers through the pale mane that drifted over the animal’s gentle eyes. ‘What do you think, Mabel? Can you and her get on?’
Mabel snorted and slobbered on his shoulder, and he laughed. ‘It looks like you’ve got Mabel’s approval, so I suppose you’d better start tomorrow.’
Sarah could see that Jane was struggling to keep her joy restrained, for she was almost dancing on the spot as she grinned up at him. ‘What time tomorrow?’ she breathed.
‘I expect you here at four-thirty every morning except Sundays. You’ll muck her out and groom her so she’s all clean and ready for the round, and when you get back you must groom her again and see that she has plenty of feed in her nosebag, fresh straw in her stable and clean water in her bucket. I pay two pound ten shillings a week and provide a uniform of sorts – but I warn you, it’s very basic.’
Jane’s face was glowing. ‘Thank you, Mr Jenkins,’ she managed. ‘Thank you so much, and I promise to never be late, and to look after Mabel as if she was royalty.’
He grinned back at her and stuck out his hand. ‘Have we got a deal then, Jane?’
‘We’ve got a deal,’ she said as she clasped his hand and beamed up at him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ron had let Cordelia boss him about for half the morning, and after fetching and carrying and sweeping, he felt he’d earned a couple of hours up in the hills with Harvey and his young ferrets. With Dora and Flora neatly tucked into the inside pockets of his poacher’s coat, and carrying a sharpened spade over his shoulder, he’d followed the galloping dog up the steep hill and down into the valley copse where he knew there was a small rabbit warren. He didn’t want to risk his babies getting lost in one of the larger warrens that burrowed for miles beneath the windswept hills, but he needed to see what they could do.
‘This is always the tricky moment,’ he murmured to Harvey, who was eagerly watching him place the pocket nets over the rabbit holes and secure them with pegs. He gently lifted the two ferrets from his pockets and stroked their bellies. ‘Now,’ he muttered, ‘you’ve to find me a rabbit or two and then come back. I don’t want you getting lost down there.’
Flora and Dora’s whiskers twitched as he lowered them one after the other beneath the pocket net. They didn’t look back, but disappeared down the rabbit hole eagerly.
Ron sat on a hummock of grass and lit his pipe. ‘Now we wait, Harvey, and hope we see them both again.’
Harvey flopped down with his nose
on his paws, his eyebrows wriggling as he followed the sounds beneath the earth that Ron couldn’t hear. He was used to waiting for ferrets and looked relaxed, but he was coiled like a spring, alert for the first sight of a rabbit running into a net.
Several minutes later a small rabbit shot into one of the nets, Dora at its heels. Ron left Harvey to grab the rabbit while he snatched up Dora before she could run away. ‘Good girl,’ he praised, as he fed her some of the milk-soaked bread he’d brought in an old biscuit tin, and made a fuss of her before sending her back down another hole.
Fifteen minutes passed and three more rabbits shot into the nets as they fled the ferrets, but there was still no sign of Flora. After another half-hour had gone by, Ron was beginning to worry that she’d got lost, or had simply caught a rabbit and was down there eating it. Ferrets could stay underground for days, making a feast of an entire warren of rabbits, and he didn’t want her to get into that habit.
Dora chased another rabbit into the net and Ron decided she’d done enough on her first outing. He gave her some more food and placed her back in his coat pocket, where she wriggled about and finally curled up and went to sleep.
Harvey began to sniff one of the rabbit holes and whined as he heard something. Ron lay on his stomach and listened. He could hear Flora now, and she sounded as if she was in some distress. He knew it was a stupid thing to do, and experience had taught him it was foolhardy to offer a trapped ferret anything she could bite. But he had no other option if he was to get Flora out of there.
He gingerly put his hand down the hole, reaching as far as he could, his fingers scrabbling through roots in search of his trapped ferret.
‘Ow, bejesus, that hurts!’ he yelled as Flora’s teeth fastened on his finger. ‘Let go, ye heathen creature.’
But Flora had no intention of letting go, and now they were both stuck – Ron with his arm firmly jammed into the rabbit hole up to his shoulder, and Flora more than likely trapped among the roots in a narrow tunnel.