‘And I still have unpacking to do,’ said Ness reluctantly. ‘By the way, thanks for takin’ me in. This is a lovely house and I don’t mind it bein’ so near to Dickon’s Wood.’
She said it teasingly and with a smile, so that Lorna smiled back, silently vowing to say not one more word on the subject; wishing she had left Ursula Ainsty where she rightly belonged. Very firmly in the past!
Ness closed her eyes and breathed deeply on air so clean and fresh you wouldn’t believe it. Around her, all was green. Every front garden was flower-filled and roses climbed the creamy stones of age-old houses. This was an unbelievable place; so tucked away – smug, almost, in its seclusion at the end of a lane. People back home would be amazed to see so much space belonging to so few people. But one thing was certain. It wouldn’t take long to get to know the entire village. She had already passed the almshouses and Larkspur Cottage where the nurse lived and now, to her left, was Beech Tree House where someone called Nance lived; someone, Ness suspected, who could be a bit of a martinet, given half a chance.
She stood a while outside the tiny chapel, wondering about the sleeping dead around it and how the lepers had fared when there were no nuns to care for them. Probably they were doing a bit of haunting, an’ all, ringing their pathetic bells still.
Then she stopped her dawdling and daydreaming. There was a war on and Agnes Nightingale from Liverpool was about to become a part of it, a land girl for the duration of hostilities. At seven on the dot she was supposed to join her war, and it was almost that now.
She began to run, turning the corner to see the farmhouse ahead of her, and to her right the stark ruins, already throwing long, strange shadows in the early morning sun. A dog barked and she hoped it was friendly.
‘Hey! You!’
‘You talkin’ to me?’ she demanded of the young man who was closing a field gate behind him. ‘Me name’s Miss Nightingale!’
‘And mine’s Rowland Wintersgill and you’re late. Milking’s over. Still, suppose you can muck out. Better go to the cow shed – make yourself known to my father.’
‘Yes sir! And can you tell me, if you don’t mind, if there are any more at home like you, ’cause if there are I’m not stopping!’
Head high, she followed his pointing finger, then carefully crossed the yard, avoiding pats of dung.
The cow shed smelled warmly of cows and milk. She supposed she would get used to it. And sweeping it.
‘Hullo, there. Our land girl, is it?’ A man, leaning on a brush, smiled and held out a hand. ‘I’m Bob Wintersgill. I’ll take you to meet Kate. Have you had breakfast, by the way?’
‘I – well, yes. Before I came.’ A piece of bread and a smear of jam because she had been unwilling to eat Lorna’s rations.
‘Well, we usually eat after we’ve got the cows milked. You’ll be welcome to a bite.’
‘Sure you can spare it – rationing, I mean …?’
‘I think it’ll run to a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea. Farmers don’t do too badly for food.’
‘Then I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea – if you’re brewin’.’ She returned the smile. ‘And to meet the lady of the house. I’m sorry I was late. Seven o’clock I was told to be here.’
‘That’ll be fine, till you get used to things, and oh – a rule of the house! You wash your hands after you’ve been in the cow shed. In the pump trough. Towel on the door; soap beside the pump. Very particular, Kate is.’
She would like Farmer Wintersgill, Ness thought as she lathered and rinsed; hoped she would like his wife, too. Yet she knew without a second thought that she would never like their son. And that was a pity, really, because she was going to have to work with him for years and years, maybe. For the duration of hostilities, she supposed. And how long that duration was going to last was anybody’s guess. Especially since Dunkirk, and the mess we were in now!
‘I’m sorry,’ Ness said when she had eaten a bacon sandwich and swallowed a mug of strong, sweet tea, ‘if I’m not goin’ to be very good at farming at first. Being in the country is new to me and I know I’ve got a lot to learn and that I’ll make mistakes. But I hope you’ll be patient with me.’
‘And the answer to that, lass, is that the woman who never made mistakes never did any work! You’ll learn, and I hope you’ll come to like it here,’ Kate Wintersgill said softly. ‘And don’t you take any nonsense from that son of mine. Just give back as good as you get! Now, want some toast? Another cup?’
‘Ooh, no thanks. That butty was lovely.’
‘Ah. Home-cured bacon, you see. Anyway, Rowley’s working in the top field, so can you help my man with the mucking out? It’s a messy job, but it’s got to be done. Have you got gum boots with you? If not, there’s plenty in the outhouse by the back door. There’ll be a pair to fit you. Off you go then, lass!’
Ness sighed. She had laid out her working clothes so carefully last night: dungarees and a pale blue shirt over a chair to avoid creasing, yet now here she was, folding her trouser-legs around her calves, shoving her feet into gum boots a size too small. And what she would look like when she had helped clean the cow shed was best not thought about. Thank heaven soap wasn’t rationed and that there was a wash house at the hostel if ever she needed it! She wondered, as she began to sweep, what the girls in the salon would say if they could see her now. Trying not to breathe too deeply, she shut Liverpool and everything connected with it from her mind.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ said her new employer, who cheerfully hosed water up walls and splashed it over the concrete floor.
‘Ar.’ She forced a smile then thought about the bacon sandwich and wanted to be sick. ‘Reckon I will, at that!’
Lorna received William’s first letter, which was very short.
Arrived safely, three hours late. This far, Army life doesn’t appear too bad. This brief note is to send you my address.
I miss you. Take care of yourself.
Lorna smiled tremulously, then taking the already-written letter, she added a postscript.
Thanks for yours. I miss you, too. Take care and write again as soon as you can.
Then she sealed the envelope and made for the pillar box. There was only one collection in Ainsty; at noon, when the red GPO van delivered parcels and envelopes too bulky for the postman, then emptied the pillar box outside the front gate of Ladybower House.
Soon her letter would be on its way to William, and she wondered why she had not mentioned that hardly had he been gone when Nance Ellery arrived with a land girl. But she knew she had not mentioned Ness because having got rid of troublesome evacuees, William would not be at all pleased to be told that his home had once again been invaded. And without his permission, too!
‘Hullo! Are you Mrs Hatherwood – does Agnes Nightingale live here?’
A young woman dressed in a short cotton frock stood at the gate. ‘I’m the warden of the hostel at Meltonby. I’ve brought you Agnes’s rations and a week’s billeting allowance. Think it’s best we do it on a weekly basis – not knowing how long she’ll be with you, I mean …’
‘Just as you wish. Ness – er – Agnes seems no trouble at all. Got herself up and off to work this morning without awakening me. I felt quite guilty.’
‘Then don’t, Mrs Hatherwood. You aren’t expected to wait on her, you know. And I’ll give her a bed at the hostel just as soon as I can.’
‘B-but I thought she was with me permanently.’ Hadn’t Nance