Safe in what had been her old bed at home, she pulled the blanket up further so she could tuck the ends around her shoulders. The room was so cold it was difficult to think straight, but she knew that was true for most of the nation. She wondered how far Bingham was from Liverpool and for the children’s sake she hoped this place was miles out in the sticks.
She shook herself. Why did it matter how far the village was from the city? She wouldn’t dream of applying. A headmistress was different altogether from a teacher. It would be far too big a leap and she wasn’t going to put herself through more humiliation by being rejected – this time for not being experienced enough. A pity, really. If they’d been advertising for a teacher she might well have been tempted to apply.
A few days later The Yorkshire Post forwarded two letters to her parents for the part-time assistant vacancy.
‘Trouble is, we can’t pay much,’ Lana’s father said as he came through the shop to the kitchen for lunch. ‘But I’d still have thought there’d be at least a half a dozen replies from married women who only want part-time.’ He held out the two opened letters for her.
‘I’ll have a look at these after supper tonight,’ she said, then hesitated. Should she say anything? She knew her father wouldn’t let it go further if she asked him not to. ‘Dad, in one of those magazines Mrs Randall-Smith left for Mum there was quite an interesting advert.’
‘Oh, what was that?’
She felt her father’s eyes studying her closely.
‘They want a headmistress for a school. Apparently, the headmaster has joined up and gone abroad. It’s obviously only for the duration of the war.’
‘Have you applied?’ her father asked casually as he picked up the tray with a bowl of lentil soup and bread and margarine, ready to take to his wife.
Lana shook her head.
‘What are you waiting for? It sounds right up your street.’
‘Because I don’t have any experience of being a headmistress.’
‘You could do it standing on your head.’
She grinned at him. ‘You’ve always had such faith in me, Dad. But it would be too terrifying.’
‘Nonsense. Can I see the advert?’
‘Let me take Mum’s tray.’ She took it from her father’s hands. ‘She’s probably got it.’
She was back in moments and handed her father the magazine.
‘Hmm.’ Her father looked up. ‘It only says an experienced teacher. It doesn’t mention anything about being an experienced headmistress.’
‘I know, but I wouldn’t feel confident organising the other teachers – telling them what they have to do.’
‘Darling, you’ve been in teaching long enough to know how it all works – the duties of the headmaster. And you’d be releasing a man to fight for his country.’
‘He’s already gone,’ Lana said.
‘There you are, then. Why don’t you apply and see what happens?’
‘It’s too far away. Near Liverpool.’
‘Straight through on the train,’ her father said. ‘Mind you, you’d certainly see some action there, if that’s what you’re looking for.’ He spooned up the last of his soup. ‘If you do decide, for heaven’s sake don’t let Mum know how bad it is. Jerry regularly bombs the docks, from what I read in the paper.’
‘It’s not in Liverpool itself – it’s in a village called Bingham. I’m not sure how far away it is from the city … but I shan’t apply.’
‘Her father gave her a sharp look. ‘Because the docks are so near?’
‘No, not that at all,’ Lana said quickly. ‘It’s because I’m needed in the shop.’
‘Not true.’ Her father set the tray down on the kitchen table again. ‘Both women who applied for the job sounded nice, so we’re bound to pick one of them.’ He looked at her, his eyes smiling. ‘Your country needs you more than we do, Lana.’
‘But the ATS won’t accept me—’
Her father ignored her. Instead, he said gently, ‘That goes for the school kids as well.’
‘Did you reply to that advert in The Lady?’ her mother said unexpectedly one afternoon when she was reading her book in the front room. Lana had just brought her a cup of tea and a digestive biscuit.
‘Dad shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘Well, he did. He thinks you ought to at least apply. I agree.’
‘Even though it’s in Liverpool?’
‘Yes. Being a headmistress would give you a sense of purpose, which is exactly what you need.’ She looked up at Lana and smiled gently. ‘I know Dickie would approve.’ From the bowl she scooped a tip end of sugar and stirred it into her tea. ‘Except for the rationing we’ve had very little to put up with, except the time when that little row of cottages was struck and that whole family was killed.’ She shook her head. ‘That was terrible.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘Sometimes I think we should be doing more for the war effort.’
‘Don’t tell the villagers that, Mum. They wouldn’t know what to do without you and Dad for their food supplies.’ She looked at her mother’s pale face. ‘You need to eat more. You’ve lost quite a lot of weight since you’ve been ill.’
‘You’re changing the subject, dear. We were talking about the headmistress job. It would be a marvellous opportunity for you.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘If you don’t answer soon you’ll be too late. Mrs R-S gives me The Lady after her daughter’s read it.’
‘I’m sure it won’t have gone,’ Lana said. ‘Most people seem to be doing proper war work.’
Her mother gave her a sharp look. ‘Lana, get it out of your head that you wouldn’t be doing proper war work, as you call it, if you went back to teaching. All right, you wouldn’t be in the military, but your job with children would be just as important. Imagine how they must feel – terrified most of the time, I should think. You’d be bringing some fun into their lives, and some stability as they won’t have their fathers coming home every night. And some of them, poor little kids, will lose their fathers forever.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Mum.’ Lana looked across the room at her mother, a sob catching in the back of her throat. ‘I don’t know anything any more.’
‘Believe me, love, life’s too precious to waste. This war is taking far too many of our young people.’ Her mother blinked rapidly. ‘I think about your Dickie every day.’
Even at this distance Lana could see her mother’s eyes fill with tears and she knew she was also worrying desperately about her sons, Geoff and Nick, Lana’s beloved brothers, so far out at sea, not knowing from one day to the next if they were safe. She went and knelt by her mother’s chair.
‘Write the letter this evening,’ her mother said, stroking Lana’s head. ‘Will you promise?’
Lana nodded. ‘All right, Mum, if it makes you happy.’
The reply came through swiftly. The position had already gone, Mr Shepherd informed her. Thank you for your interest and I wish you good luck in seeking a suitable alternative position, he finished.
Her