‘Doug, you don’t think he’ll…oh, you know…try it on?’ Mabel asked worriedly.
‘Boys will be boys,’ Doug warned.
‘Oh, no! What if he gets her into trouble?’
‘They’re still just kids and I doubt it’ll go that far, but don’t worry, leave it to me. I’ll have a word with the lad.’
‘Thanks, Doug.’
‘Mabel, what do you mean?’ Ellen asked. ‘How can Billy get Sheila into trouble?’
Before Mabel could open her mouth, Hilda snapped, ‘Haven’t you two got any sense? You shouldn’t be talking about such things in front of Ellen.’
‘Calm down,’ Mabel urged. ‘Ellen’s fourteen too and she’s got to find out about the facts of life sometime. Maybe it’s time you had a word with her too.’
‘I’ll do no such thing. Unlike Sheila, my daughter doesn’t go chasing after boys. Now if you don’t mind, I’d think it’s time to change the subject.’
‘Please yourself,’ Mabel said huffily, ‘but if you ask me, you’re over-protecting her – as usual.’
‘I’ll bring my daughter up as I see fit.’
‘Come on, you two, there’s no need to fall out over this,’ Doug said.
Mabel was the first to concede. ‘Yeah, you’re right, and sorry, Hilda. As usual, I’m sticking my nose in where it isn’t wanted.’
‘Fine. Now let’s have dinner.’
Ellen sat at the table, none of them aware of her thoughts. She still wanted to know what Mabel meant by Billy trying it on with Sheila, but as usual, her questions remained unanswered.
‘What’s wrong with Ellen?’ Doug asked. ‘She’s not the same lately and it’s a job to get a word out of her.’
‘If you remember, Sheila went off with Billy and I think Ellen feels pushed out.’
‘The lad’s too busy at the stables to see much of Sheila, and with Billy, horses come first.’
‘It’s just as well. I still think Sheila’s a bit young to be going out with boys, and I don’t think Ellen should be told the facts of life, despite what Mabel said. My mother didn’t tell me anything and it didn’t do me any harm. I reckon talking to young girls about such things will just make them curious and it’s better they stay innocent.’
‘You’ll be lucky. If you ask me that Sheila knows a thing or two and Ellen’s probably heard it from her.’
‘No, Doug, Sheila’s a lovely girl.’
‘Surely it’s better to hear the truth than the
things I picked up at school. I thought you got a girl pregnant by touching her belly button.’
‘I thought you only had to kiss a boy to get in the family way, and you’ve got to admit, it kept us from misbehaving.’
Doug stood up to pull Hilda into his arms, saying with a wink, ‘I dunno about that, but give us a kiss then and we’ll go on from there.’
‘Behave. Mabel will be up soon.’
‘I’m already up.’
‘Don’t talk like that, it’s rude!’ Hilda protested, pulling away. ‘I know what your problem is, Douglas Stone. You’re bored.’
‘It’s only me,’ Mabel called as she walked in. ‘I didn’t hear Billy get up and I hope he had a bit of breakfast before he left.’
‘Yes, he did. I saw the remnants when I got up.’
‘I caught the tail end of what you were saying, something about you being bored, Doug.’
‘Yeah, I am a bit.’
‘What about a bit of decorating? With all of us smoking, the walls are looking a bit yellow in here.’
‘I don’t think your back is up to it, Doug,’ Hilda warned.
‘It might be all right. If I remember rightly, I saw a few old cans of paint in the shed. I’ll go and have a look.’
‘I’m not sure about this,’ Hilda said as Doug
went outside. ‘Doug tries to hide it but I think his back is getting worse.’
‘If he can’t manage it, we can take over.’
‘It still feels like a miracle to have him back. I thought that woman at the underground station was just making it up about her vision, trying to get money out of me. Gertie once talked about it, saying nothing like that has been proved, but Doug
was
on a raft; he
did
come home,’ Hilda said. She felt it was proof enough, but despite that, she doubted Gertie would believe her and would come up with some sort of explanation. She wouldn’t tell Gertie, she’d keep it to herself, especially as she now believed that someone really was standing next to her in Somerset, someone unseen. If Gertie hadn’t called out, would it have manifested itself? Could it have been her mother?
With no idea that she’d been the subject of discussion when she’d left for work that morning, Ellen made her way to the farm. She heard someone running up behind her and turned to see Sheila.
‘Ellen, please, this is silly. If you’d told me you had your eye on Billy, I wouldn’t have flirted with him.’
‘Flirt with him all you want. I couldn’t care less.’
‘Then why aren’t we friends now?’
Ellen fumbled for an answer, but, unable to find
one, she went on the defensive. ‘Don’t blame me. Nowadays you prefer Billy’s company to mine.’
‘That isn’t true. Yes, he comes out for the occasional walk, but there’s nothing to stop you joining us.’
‘No, thanks. I wouldn’t want to be in the way.’
‘Colin’s always with us and you know that. If you ask me, you’re jealous.’
‘Jealous! Of you and Billy! You must be joking.’
‘If you say so, but please, can’t we be friends? I admit I like Billy, but all he ever really talks about is horses. I’d have to be a brood mare before he’d show any real interest in me.’
‘What’s a brood mare?’
‘It’s a horse used for breeding, one they put with a stallion.’
Ellen frowned. ‘Put with a stallion. What do you mean?’
‘You know, they mate to have a foal.’
‘Mate! What’s that?’
‘Don’t you know anything?’
‘Not about horses,’ Ellen said. ‘It’s Billy who’s mad about them, not me.’
‘So you know how babies are made.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes, of course. When you grow up in the country you soon find out. I’ve seen all sorts of animals mating, wild ones, farm ones.’
‘What’s that got to do with having babies?’
With a lift of her eyebrows, Sheila told her and Ellen blanched, appalled. ‘No, surely our parents aren’t like the animals? Surely they don’t do that?’
‘They do, though I’ve never seen my mum and dad at it. Have you?’
‘Of course not. It sounds disgusting.’
‘When you get married and want babies, you’ll have to do it too.’
‘No, thanks,’ Ellen said, at last making the link. So mating was sex, lovemaking, but it didn’t sound much like love to her. She had thought it was just kissing, cuddling, something her parents were always doing, but not…not
that.
‘Please, can’t we be friends again?’ Sheila asked. ‘You don’t have to worry about Billy; he hardly spends any time with me lately.’
‘Yes, of course we can,’ Ellen said, linking arms with Sheila as they set off for the farm again. If Billy wasn’t seeing much of Sheila now, perhaps he was going off her. Maybe he’d notice her at last – but then Ellen flushed. If he did, she’d never be able to look him in the eye, the thought of doing
that
with him disgusting.
On a Sunday in early April, the weather turned; the temperature became warmer. It had taken some time, but at last Doug’s army pay had been sorted out. They had stopped Hilda’s widow’s pension and deducted it from Doug’s backdated pay, but it had still left them a small amount of savings. Hilda’s only worry was that Doug was now waiting to go before the medical board of assessment. They would decide the extent of his disability, and, if necessary, discharge him and award a pension dependent on whether they thought he was capable of doing any kind of work.
‘Mabel, a letter for you,’ Doug said as he came back from the village shop.
Hilda looked at her husband worriedly, unable to miss the signs of pain etched on his face. Painting this room had proved impossible, and he’d been forced to let her and Mabel finish it
while he lay flat on the floor until his back eased. He was getting worse, she was sure of it, but he kept insisting that he was all right, in fact, fine after a little rest.
Mabel took the envelope, a smile on her face. ‘Oh, look, it’s from Jack.’ But as she read the letter her face paled. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘Mabel, what’s wrong?’
‘Ja…Jack’s been wounded. He says he took a bullet in his stomach.’
‘He’s alive, and managed to write to you,’ Doug said. ‘Surely that’s a good sign?’
Mabel turned the page over, quickly reading the other side. ‘He says he was operated on in a field hospital, and though it was touch and go for a while, he…he’s all right now and…and…they’re shipping him home…My Jack’s coming home! I’ll have to go back to London. I want to be there when he arrives,’ Mabel cried, rising quickly to her feet. ‘Billy! He’ll have to pack, too. I’ll run down to the stables to get him. Trains! I’ll have to find out what time the train leaves.’
‘Mabel, calm down. You don’t know when Jack will arrive, and if it’s a stomach wound, he could be sent straight to hospital,’ Doug warned softly. ‘I’ll go and tell Billy to come home, and then sort out your travel arrangements.’
‘Will you? Oh, thank you, Doug.’
As Doug left the cottage, Ellen ran downstairs.
‘I’m going back to Sheila’s house,’ she called, a book in her hand and not stopping on her way to the door.
‘Wait,’ Hilda called. ‘Mabel and Billy are leaving.’
‘Leaving! Why?’
‘My Jack’s been wounded, and he’s coming home.’
‘Is he all right?’
‘Well, love, he says he is,’ Mabel told her, but then paled again. ‘Oh, Hilda, I’ve just had a thought. If Jack’s all right he’d be fit for action and they wouldn’t be shipping him home. What if he’s bad? What if he’s really bad?’
‘Don’t get in a tizzy again. As Doug said, Jack was well enough to write, so look on the bright side. He’s coming home and you’ll be seeing him again soon.’
‘You’re right. He’s alive and that’s all that matters. I’d best go and pack,’ Mabel said, looking brighter as she left the room.
Mabel had barely gone out of sight when Ellen said, ‘Mum, the talk is that the war will be over soon. We’ll go back to London then, won’t we?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Yes, but you’ve changed your tune. You actually sound keen on the idea.’
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
‘Ellen, you once said you wanted to stay here.’
A blush rose all the way up from Ellen’s neck to her cheeks. ‘I…I didn’t. I was talking about Somerset, how I didn’t want to leave there.’
Hilda’s eyes narrowed. It was funny that just because Billy might be going back to London, Ellen wanted to go too. The door opened, Billy walking in, and quickly Hilda said, ’Your mum’s upstairs.’
‘It ain’t fair. Just because me dad’s come home, I’ve got to go back to London. I don’t know why I can’t stay here.’
‘Billy, your dad’s been wounded. Surely you want to see him?’
‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ he said, then stomped off upstairs.
Hilda saw the expression on her daughter’s face. She looked upset, but all Hilda felt was a surge of relief. If Ellen had a childish crush on Billy, it was just as well he wasn’t going to be under the same roof now. It was sure to be a case of out of sight, out of mind, and that suited Hilda just fine.
Ellen chewed on her bottom lip. It had stopped her in her tracks, hearing that Billy was leaving and she felt confused by her feelings. She’d decided that she wasn’t interested in Billy, in any boys, so why was she upset? I’m not, she told herself. Good riddance. He was just a smelly boy,
coming home stinking of the stables and going on and on about horses. All he cared about was those flaming animals, and hardly spared her a glance.
Only a few minutes later, her father walked in. ‘There’s a train in two hours so if Mabel gets a move on they should be able to get it.’
‘Billy doesn’t seem keen on leaving.’
‘He took a bit of persuading, only agreeing when Mr Dunning said again that he’d keep his job open.’
‘I don’t think Mabel will let him come back on his own. Billy was always up to mischief in London, hopping school, nicking things, and she’ll want him where she can keep an eye on him.’
Ellen’s mind drifted from their conversation. Her mother was right, Billy had been a menace in London and she had kept out of his way as much as possible. His brother, Percy, was different, and she had always liked him.
Yes, but now you like Billy too, but in a different way,
a small voice whispered in the back of her mind.
I don’t, I don’t
, Ellen argued.
‘Mum, is it all right if I go up and say goodbye now?’ she asked. ‘Sheila’s waiting for me and she must be wondering where I am.’
‘Yes, all right, and tell Mabel about the train.’
‘I’ve just popped up to say goodbye,’ Ellen said
as she walked into the room to find Mabel cramming clothes into a suitcase. ‘Dad said there’s a train in two hours.’
‘We’ve nearly finished packing, but come here,’ Mabel said, holding out her arms. ‘Bye, sweetheart. I’m gonna miss you.’
Ellen hugged her, and then, trying to sound off-hand, she said, ‘Bye, Billy.’
His reply was brusque, ‘Yeah, bye.’
Ellen waited a second, but he, too, was packing and didn’t even look at her. She turned away and ran downstairs, picked up her book and called, ‘I’m going along to Sheila’s.’
‘You were a long time,’ Sheila said. ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.’
‘Billy and his mum are leaving. I had to wait for him to come back from the stables to say goodbye.’
‘Billy! Billy’s leaving! What – now?’
‘Yes, they’re off to the station to catch the London train.’
‘Is he coming back?’
‘I doubt it.’
Sheila’s face fell. ‘I’ll pop along to your place to say goodbye to him.’
‘You’re too late, they’ve gone,’ Ellen lied.
‘Oh, no, but that means I’ll never see him again.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Ellen said off-handedly,
cheered by the thought. When they went back to London,
she’d
see Billy again and at last admitted inwardly that she liked him –
really
liked him.
At first, they weren’t sure whether to believe the rumours that spread rapidly around the village, but on the eighth of May there was an official announcement. It was Victory in Europe – VE day – and, along with the other villagers, Hilda, Doug and Ellen poured onto the narrow cobbled streets, joining in the party atmosphere as people waved flags, danced, laughed and sang.
The celebrations went on for hours, until at last, exhausted but happy, they returned to the cottage, where Hilda kicked off her shoes to rub her aching feet.
‘Well, that’s it,’ Doug said. ‘We’ll have to go back to London now.’
There was a time when Hilda might have welcomed this, but not now. London had brought her nothing but heartache and, shaking her head, she said, ‘It might be victory in Europe, but the war isn’t over yet. Until we hear from Veronica
that she wants the cottage back, I think we should stay here.’
‘Hilda, you know the assessment board discharged me with only a fifty percent pension. It’s not enough to live on and we’ve been dipping into our savings.’
‘You could try finding work around here, go back to being a milkman, or one of the farms might take you on.’
‘With my back, I won’t be able to lift the milk crates, let alone the constant bending to put bottles on doorsteps. It’d be the same on a farm. I couldn’t handle the digging or any other heavy work.’
‘It won’t be any different in London.’
‘Yes it will. I’m not keen on going back either, but at least I’ll be able to find some sort of light work there, maybe a bench job in a factory.’
‘I still think we should wait.’
‘Our savings won’t last, you know that. We need to go now, before our lads come home and all the jobs are filled.’
Hilda wanted to protest, to find an excuse – any excuse to keep them here.
‘What about you, Ellen? Surely you don’t want to leave?’
‘I don’t mind, Mum. I hate working in the dairy and I’m bound to find a better job in London.’
Hilda knew she had lost the argument and her stomach churned, but with nothing further to offer
in protest, she said sadly, ‘All right then, we’ll go back.’
Ellen was up early the next morning and ran along to Sheila’s cottage, saying when her friend opened the door, ‘We’re going back to London and I won’t be coming to work. Will you tell them at the farm and that I’ll collect my wages later today?’
‘Oh, no! First Billy and now you. When are you leaving?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘I’m going to miss you,’ Sheila said sadly, ‘but hold on a minute.’
She ran inside, returning with a piece of paper.
‘It’s my address. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Billy when he left, but would you give him this and…and ask him to write to me?’
‘Yes, all right,’ Ellen said as she stuffed the piece of paper into her pocket. She had no intention of passing it on to Billy, but Sheila didn’t know that. ‘I’d best go. Mum wants my help to give the cottage a thorough clean and then I’ve got packing to do.’
‘If I don’t get a move on I’ll be late for work. I’ll see you later when you come to the farm.’
‘Yeah, see you,’ Ellen called, and as she walked back home she put her hand into her pocket, crushing the piece of paper with Sheila’s address on it into a ball before lobbing it over a hedge and into a field.
Her eyes were drawn to the church in the distance, to the steeple and cross on top. She was still confused by the old woman and the rune stones and always found herself looking for signs. Was the cross the sign? Was she supposed to go to church again?
‘Right, Ellen, that’s it,’ Hilda said as she emptied a pail of water. ‘All done, and once you’ve had a bit of a break, you might as well go to the farm. You won’t get a full week’s wages, but anything is better than nothing.’
‘I’ll have a wash first.’
Hilda looked around the room, pleased to see that it looked almost exactly as she’d found it; better, in fact, without a speck of dirt of dust to be seen. She envied Veronica this lovely cottage, a place that she had come to love. She’d been over there, sitting in that chair when Doug had come back to her, the memory a joyful one. In fact, unlike the London flat, there were only happy memories here and she was heartsick at the thought of leaving.
‘Cheer up, love,’ Doug said. ‘At least we’ve got a home to go back to, and with so many people in London without decent accommodation, we’ve got that to be thankful for.’
‘I know,’ she said tiredly.
When Ellen came back from having a wash,
Doug asked, ‘What sort of job are you after when we get back to London?’
‘I dunno, Dad, maybe work in a flower shop or something like that. It’d be lovely to handle so many different flowers, and to learn how to make lovely bouquets.’
‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ Hilda said. ‘You’ve always been plant-mad and spend hours working in the garden. Anyway, if you want your wages, you’d best get off to the farm.’
‘I’ll walk with her,’ said Doug.
‘Yes, go, and while you’re both out it’ll give me a chance to put my feet up for a bit. We’ll start packing when you come back.’
Hilda’s face was downcast as they left. She dreaded the morning, hated the thought of leaving the cottage, and prayed that London wouldn’t bring her more heartache.
Ellen was taking in the countryside as they walked to the farm. Yes, she’d miss it, but she was excited at the thought of seeing Billy again. When her dad had asked her what sort of job she hoped to find in London, she’d just blurted out the first thing that sprang to mind, but, thinking about it now, she realised that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad working in a flower shop. It wouldn’t be quite the same as growing things, but it was better than nothing.
‘Do you know, Ellen, when at sea I used to dream of a life in the country, and envied Gertie her smallholding? I can’t say I’m looking forward to going back to London, but I’m afraid, needs must.’
‘Never mind, Dad. One day I might be rich and then I’d buy you a cottage, just like the one we’re leaving. You wouldn’t have to work again either, and you could spend all your time living the life of Riley.’
‘That sounds good, but take your time. I might have a bad back, but I ain’t ready to be put out to pasture yet.’
‘Billy liked living here too and I wonder how he’s getting on in London.’
‘He hasn’t been there for five minutes, but his job at the stables will be open if he wants to come back.’
Ellen remembered her mum saying that she doubted Mabel would allow it and was cheered by the thought. Yes, but what if her mum was wrong? What if Billy could persuade Mabel to let him come back?
Doug, too, was deep in thought. He’d told Ellen that he wasn’t ready to be put out to pasture, but now wondered if that was all he was fit for. He hid it as best he could from Hilda and his daughter, but the constant pain in his back was grinding him down.
He hadn’t wanted Hilda to think him less than a man now and made love to her when he could, but of late had begun to fear that soon it would be beyond him. Afterwards Hilda would fall asleep in his arms, happy, content, while he lay in excruciating agony, unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning. As he stumbled on a stone, a hot rod of pain now shot up Doug’s spine and he gasped.
‘Dad, are you all right?’
‘It was just a twinge,’ Doug lied, gritting his teeth as he continued to walk. It was his own fault. He’d been warned, the doctors cautioning against any further damage and Doug knew that if he didn’t want to end up a permanent cripple, he would have to tell Hilda that there’d be no more lovemaking.
‘Nearly there, Dad.’
Doug would be relieved to stop for a while, and was glad when they reached the farm. He waited outside, watching Ellen as she went to the dairy. It amazed him how grown up she looked now and there were signs that she was going to be a beautiful young woman. Dark hair framed her pretty face, her small nose was sprinkled with freckles and her blue eyes were clear and bright. It wouldn’t be long before blokes were sniffing around, but they’d have to get past him first. If he could, he’d give his daughter the world, but with a gammy
back what chance did he have of earning a decent wage?
Morose, he took in the view now. It really was a lovely area, the New Forest on the doorstep, and he’d be sorry to leave. The countryside was beautiful, lush, green and the still quietness enough to soothe your soul. Doug grinned – hark at him getting all poetic – and his good humour was restored by the time Ellen returned.
‘All set, love?’
‘Yes, let’s go.’
As they walked back to the cottage, Doug was once again struck by the beautiful countryside. He wasn’t looking forward to going back to London, but with the need to earn a living there was no choice.
One day though, no matter what, he’d come back to this area. Doug didn’t know how, or when, but somehow, he’d do it.