Wish Me Luck (16 page)

‘There you are, you see,’ Kenny said, as the farmer moved out of earshot. ‘What did I tell you? Even a nice man like Mr Clegg questions why a big lad like me isn’t in uniform.’

‘Yes, but you soon will be, won’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ Kenny said, firmly. ‘And the sooner the better.’

At that moment, a cloud crossed the sun and a sharp breeze brought a chill to the bright day. Fleur shuddered, then snatched up the fork and attacked the pile of manure as if her life – and Kenny’s too – depended upon it.

‘By heck, you’ve done a grand job with this back garden,’ Mr Clegg said three hours later as he stood surveying all their hard work.

‘My sister’s done most of it,’ Kenny said and then, as Fleur walked away from them to fetch mugs of tea, he added slyly, ‘when she’s not on duty at the airfield.’

The farmer’s eyebrows rose. ‘Yon lass? She’s in the forces?’

Kenny nodded. ‘She’s a WAAF. She’s an R/T operator. Talks to all the aircraft when they land. That sort of thing.’

Mr Clegg pulled a face. ‘Tough job. Specially if you get to know the airmen, like.’

‘There’s one she’s particularly close to,’ Kenny confided.

‘Not the best place to be then,’ the big man murmured, but as Fleur came back their conversation ceased.

‘How are we going to get it all round to the back?’ she asked, handing out the mugs of tea.

‘Tell you what,’ the farmer suggested. ‘I’ll take it round into the field at the bottom of her garden and tip it there. It’ll be easier to chuck it over the fence.’

Fleur eyed the grass field where cows grazed contentedly. ‘Will the farmer who owns that field mind, d’you think?’

The big man laughed. ‘Shouldn’t think so. Them’s my cows and it’s my field.’

When Ruth arrived home, she stood staring in astonishment at the farmer on top of a pile of manure in the neighbouring field, rhythmically flinging forkfuls over the fence into the garden. Then at Fleur and Kenny, who were moving it and spreading it over the surface of the garden and digging it into the earth. All three of them were red faced and sweating, but they worked on as a team.

Kenny looked up and grinned at her. ‘Hi, Ruth. Come to lend a hand?’

Fleur looked up and grinned mischievously. ‘There’s another fork over there.’

‘Not on your nelly!’ Ruth was horrified. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Pooh, what a pong.’

Fleur closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. ‘Nothing like it. Best perfume in the world.’

‘Dead right there’s nothing like it, but I don’t know about the last bit.
Eau de cochon?
No thanks! Count this townie out. Tell you what, though, I’ll make you all a nice cuppa. Will that do?’

There was a heartfelt unanimous chorus of ‘Yes, please’, and Ruth held up her hand, fingers spread out. ‘Give me five minutes to get out of my uniform.’

‘Sounds heaven,’ Fleur called.

The promised minutes later, they stood in the tiny back yard, drinking tea, eating scones and admiring their handiwork.

‘What a’ ya thinking of planting, lass?’ Mr Clegg looked to Fleur as the leader of the venture.

‘Potatoes, carrots, leeks, cabbages. Runner beans in the front garden. Oh don’t let’s forget to take some of the manure round the front.’

‘It’ll cost you a fortune to grow all that lot,’ Ruth exclaimed.

‘Dad’s promised me some seeds.’

‘Now mebbe I can help you there,’ the farmer put in. ‘I’ll have a word with the locals and see if we can put a bit of a collection together. Not money, lass,’ he added hastily. ‘But a few seed ’taties, an’ that.’

Fleur’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, how kind of you. That’d be wonderful.’

‘Aye well,’ the man said gruffly, touched by her gratitude, ‘we’ve all got to pull together. All got to do our bit. There is—’

And they all chorused together, ‘. . . a war on, you know.’

Later the following morning, after a few hours’ sleep, Fleur reluctantly returned to digging out the foundations for the Anderson shelter. She’d managed to dig the oblong shape to a depth of about a foot when the curved sheets of corrugated steel arrived for the shelter.

‘Ya’ll need to be another three foot down, luv,’ the man who made the delivery advised, nodding his head towards the hole.

‘I know. It’s harder than I thought. This ground hasn’t been dug over for some time and certainly not four-foot deep.’

‘Ah, well, I wish I could give you a hand but I’ve still three more shelters to deliver today. I’d best be getting on . . .’

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Fleur asked.

‘Nah, lass, ah’m all right. Had one at the last house.’ He set off back along the narrow garden path, having deposited his delivery near where Fleur was working. ‘Good luck, lass. I reckon you’re going to need it.’

‘Thanks!’ Fleur muttered wryly but she gave him a cheery wave.

She’d dug for another ten minutes and then sat on the edge of the hole for a breather when she heard the chugging sound of an engine that sounded vaguely familiar. ‘Can’t be,’ she muttered. The noise died away and she shrugged, stood up and, with a sigh, picked up her spade once more.

She’d dug five more spadefuls when a voice said, ‘You look as if you could use a little help, love.’

Fleur stopped, looked up and then dropped her spade with a squeal of delight. She flung her arms wide as she scrambled out of the hole. ‘Dad! And Kenny too! Whatever are you doing here?’ Her face clouded. ‘Oh, there’s nothing wrong, is there? Is Mum all right?’

‘She’s fine,’ Jake laughed as he gathered his daughter, earthy hands and all, into a bear hug.

‘Then why are you here?’

‘A little bird told me you were planning to put up an Anderson for the old folk to use and finding the digging a bit tough.’ He shrugged. ‘So, here we are. We thought a little help wouldn’t come amiss.’

‘Come amiss!’ Fleur echoed. ‘You’re heaven sent!’

‘Right,’ Kenny grinned. ‘I’ll go and get the tools out of the boot while you take Dad to meet Mrs Jackson. And I’ve no doubt Harry will be popping his head over the fence any minute now . . .’

Right on cue, as they moved towards Mrs Jackson’s cottage, the old man appeared round the corner with his usual greeting, ‘Now then, lass.’

Fleur and Kenny leant against each other, unable to stem their laughter, but Jake merely smiled broadly and moved towards the old man, his hand outstretched. ‘You must be Harry. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Jake Bosley, Fleur and Kenny’s dad.’

Harry beamed as he shook hands. ‘I’m real glad to meet you. You’ve a fine couple o’ bairns, Mr Bosley.’

‘Jake – please.’

If it could, Harry’s beam widened even further. ‘Have you met Mary yet?’

‘No. We were just on our way in to say “hello” before we get digging.’

‘Ah. Come to give the lass a bit of a hand have you. It’s a big job on her own and I’m afraid I’m past that sort of digging mesen else I’d’ve . . .’

‘Of course,’ Jake said and put his hand on the old man’s shoulder.

‘Well, come and meet Mary. I’ll introduce you. She’ll be glad to meet you an’ all. Thinks a lot of yon lass, an’ that lad o’ yourn an’ all. Tells me he can’t wait to join up.’

Jake’s face sobered. ‘Aye.’

Harry stopped on his way towards the back door of the cottage and faced Jake in surprise. ‘You don’t sound too pleased about it.’

Jake sighed. For some reason he couldn’t at this precise moment fathom, he felt he could confide in the old man. ‘It’s not me, it’s his mam. She . . . she wants to keep her chicks safely at home and because we live on a farm she can’t understand why they even want to go.’

‘Were you in the last lot?’

‘Aye. I volunteered.’

‘Then
you
know why they want to be involved?’

Jake nodded. ‘Oh yes. I know why.’

‘We lost our lad in the last war. Nearly broke my Doris’s heart when the telegram came. But we were still proud of him. To this day, I’m proud of him. The only sad thing is that these youngsters have got to do it all again now. Don’t seem right, does it?’

‘No. It doesn’t. But they’ll do it. They’ll do it all right.’

‘Oh, I know that. Whilst we’ve got young ’uns like yourn there . . .’ He nodded towards Fleur and Kenny. ‘And that young feller of hers, then we’ll win. No doubt about that. It’s just – well – what we might lose along the way, eh?’

Now Jake couldn’t speak for the sudden fear that arose in his throat, so he just gently squeezed the old man’s shoulder.

Harry nodded understandingly and then opened the door and called cheerily, ‘Hello, Mary, love. Got a visitor for you. Fleur’s dad.’

Mrs Jackson was standing at the kitchen table, her hands floury as she rolled out pastry. She looked up and smiled a welcome as Harry opened the door and ushered Jake into the room.

‘Sorry I can’t shake hands but come in, do. You’re very welcome.’ She glanced beyond him. ‘Is your wife with you?’

‘Er – no. She stayed to mind the farm. But Kenny’s here.’

Mrs Jackson’s beam plumped up her cheeks so that her glasses rose. ‘He’s a lovely boy. So helpful. Please, Mr Bosley, do sit down. I’ll make a cup of tea.’

‘No, no, don’t trouble just now. We’ve come to help Fleur with the shelter for you both.’

Mrs Jackson gasped and pushed up her glasses to wipe a tear away, leaving a smudge of flour on her face. ‘How kind you all are.’

At that moment Kenny pushed open the back door and deposited a box on Mrs Jackson’s table. ‘Just a few eggs and a bit of butter from our dairy. And I think there’s a chicken in there.’ He grinned. ‘Plucked and dressed with my own fair hands.’ He nodded towards Harry. ‘It’s for you both. And we killed a pig last week. Dad’s got a licence, of course. So there’s some sausages and a piece of pork. Oh, and a couple of rabbits as well, but I haven’t had time to skin them. But Fleur can do them for you.’

‘Oh, I don’t know what to say. I really don’t.’ Mrs Jackson was lost for words.

‘You’re looking after Fleur for us, Mrs Jackson. It’s the very least we can do,’ Jake said softly. ‘Now, where’s that pick we brought, Kenny? We’d best get cracking.’

The earth yielded willingly to Jake’s experienced wielding of the pointed pickaxe. When he paused for a breather, Kenny shovelled out the broken-up earth whilst Fleur ferried mugs of tea down the path. The hole sank steadily deeper. ‘Don’t make yourself late, Dad. You ought to get home before milking time.’

‘Just a few minutes more, luv, and I think it’ll be deep enough. Can you manage to put up the shelter?’

‘Yes, Robbie and Ruth will give me a hand with that as soon as they can.’

‘Where is Ruth? Is she due back soon?’ Kenny asked, pausing for a breather and mopping his forehead.

‘No, sorry, she’s on duty.’

Kenny’s face fell. ‘Oh well, give her my love, won’t you?’

Jake climbed out of the hole and brushed the earth from his trousers. ‘There. I think that’ll do.’

As they gathered the tools together to take back to the car, Fleur said, ‘Where’ve you built one at home?’

‘I haven’t.’ Jake laughed. ‘I can’t see us getting bombed in the middle of nowhere, can you? It’s different for these folk here, though. They’re likely to catch a few stray bombs being aimed at the airfield.’

‘Oh, Dad, I think you should build one. You never know.’

‘But we can’t even hear the sirens, love. Only very faintly in the distance and then only if we happen to be outside. If we’re in bed asleep, we’d never hear them anyway. Besides, your mam’d never use it. “Can’t waste my time sitting in here when there’s work to be done,” she’d say. You know she would.’

‘You might have to build one if you’re going to have Land Army girls.’

‘I don’t think I need them. Old Ron says he’ll lend a hand when he can.’

Old Ron, as Jake now called him, and his family had lived in a cottage on Middleditch Farm for as long as Fleur could remember. He’d worked for her father and for the Smallwoods before that until his retirement a few years earlier. He was still fit and healthy and liked to help out at lambing and at harvest time.

‘You will when I go, Dad,’ Kenny said, throwing the spades into the back of the car.

Jake sighed. ‘Aye well, I’ll think about that when the time comes.’

‘You off, then?’ Harry hobbled round the corner of the cottage and stood beside Fleur as they all said their goodbyes.

‘Well, I think so, unless you can come back with us, Fleur? Kenny said he didn’t think you were on duty until tomorrow afternoon. Will it be all right? We could be sure to get you back tomorrow morning.’

Fleur forced a smile. Part of her didn’t really want to go home, didn’t want to face more antagonism and censure from her mother, yet she could see that both Jake and Kenny wanted to snatch another few hours with her. ‘I’ll risk it. I’ll just get my things . . .’

As she ran upstairs she was thinking: at least it might keep my mind off Robbie; but in her heart she knew it wouldn’t. Oh I wonder if he’s asked her yet, she couldn’t help thinking as she slipped out of her workaday clothes and back into her uniform. I wonder if he knows already . . .