Kitabı oku: «A Scent of Lavender», sayfa 2

‘Ah, but was it, Ness? In those days, people believed in witches and a hare – a black cat, too – were thought to be familiars of a witch.’

‘Sorry, you’ve lost me.’

‘A familiar was another form a witch could take when she was up to no good, so a pregnant woman, startled by a hare, paid the price for it.’

‘Or her poor little baby did! But what about Dickon?’

‘Dickon was ordered by Sir Francis to deliver Ursula to the convent, the two of them riding horses. Ursula wept all the way there and Dickon was so upset that he proposed to her – or so the story goes.’

‘But she wouldn’t have him, him bein’ a peasant, sort of, and her bein’ high born?’

‘Wrong! Ursula accepted. Dickon had always been fond of his master’s daughter and protective towards her and couldn’t bear to see her locked away. And he wasn’t marrying her for her money because she’d been disinherited. You’ve got to admire Dickon.’ Lorna pushed open the back garden gate. ‘I feel like a cup of tea. Will you put the kettle on, Ness, and I’ll see if there’s been a call for me.’

‘From your husband? Lucky you’ve got a phone in the house.’ Few people had their own telephone. There had not been one in Ness’s Liverpool home. Very middle class, telephones were. She set the kettle to boil and had laid a tray by the time Lorna returned.

‘No joy. Mrs Benson from the telephone exchange at Meltonby said she hadn’t had any trunk calls from down south all day. Says her switchboard has gone over all peculiar since Dunkirk. Anyway, I wasn’t really expecting a call. More chance of a letter tomorrow, or the next day.’

‘Sorry, Lorna. Must be rotten when your feller goes off to the Army.’

‘Rotten. But I haven’t really taken it in. It feels like I’m in a daze, kind of. I – I haven’t cried, Ness. Not one tear.’

‘No, but you will when it hits you, queen. But if you don’t feel like tellin’ me about Dickon and Ursula, it’s all right.’

‘Oh, but I do. Having someone to talk to helps a lot, believe me. Where were we?’

‘We’d got to the bit where Dickon asked Ursula to marry him, even though she didn’t have a penny to her name.’

‘And Ursula accepted him, but I suppose they couldn’t just gallop off into oblivion. After all, Sir Francis would expect his servant back in York – plus two horses – so they decided Ursula should wait until the next saint’s day to run away. Sir Francis always gave his servants time off to go to church on saints’ days, so that was when it would be. Dickon would come and wait for Ursula who would slip away when no one was looking.’

‘And he’d wait for her in the wood – bet I’m right!’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t as easy as they’d hoped. Three saints’ days came and went, but getting out of the priory wasn’t as easy as Ursula had expected. In the end, she became desperate and tried to climb out of the window of her cell. But she fell and hurt herself badly. It didn’t stop her, though, from dragging herself to the wood. She died in Dickon’s arms.’

‘Gawd. And what did Dickon do then?’

‘No one seems to know. He just faded out of the picture, so to speak.’

‘So why is it called Dickon’s Wood?’

‘We-e-ll – and I tell you this tongue in cheek, Ness – Ursula is supposed to haunt the wood, waiting for Dickon to come for her!’

‘Ooooh! You haven’t seen her?’

‘To be honest, no one has seen her.’

‘But there must be some truth in it, or why did they call this village Nun Ainsty after her? Like keeping her name alive, innit?’

‘I rather think the people who came here all those years ago kept her name alive to make sure not too many more joined them. It wasn’t long after Ursula died that the nuns were turned out of the priory, and once the king had taken all he wanted, a blind eye was turned to the looting that went on. With the roof gone, the building started to decay. All that was any use was a pile of stones and quite a lot of land.’

‘And the people who came here weren’t afraid of germs an’ things the lepers had left behind?’

‘Seems not. Would you be, when there was priory land for the grabbing and stone to build your house with? Of course, the building material soon ran out. The manor took the lion’s share, and then Glebe Farm was built. Very soon, all that was left was what you see now – archways and columns and some of the cloisters.’

‘But weren’t people worried, pulling down a holy place? Didn’t they fear punishment from God?’

‘Why should they? Henry had made himself head of the English church. If the king could help himself, then surely so could anyone else.’

‘You reckon?’ Ness was clearly impressed. ‘You live nearest to the wood. Can you say, hand on heart, that the nun has never been seen there?’

‘You mean the nun’s ghost? Well all I can say, hand on heart, is that if she has I haven’t heard about it. Mind, Grandpa told me people said they’d seen her ages ago, on the odd occasion, though maybe they’d had a drop too much at the White Hart. But I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over Dickon and Ursula, if I were you.’

‘But haven’t you thought,’ Ness was reluctant to let the matter drop, ‘that every house in this village is built with stone from the priory, so who’s to say that every house isn’t haunted by Ursula? Or Dickon?’

‘Because they aren’t. It’s all a lot of nonsense. I’m sorry I told you now. You aren’t going to keep on and on about it, Ness?’

‘N-no. But I’ve got to admit I’d like to know more about those two, ‘cause there’s no smoke without fire, don’t they say? And had you thought, maybe it’s only certain people the nun appears to. I mean, I don’t suppose everybody can see ghosts.’

‘No one in this village can, that’s for sure. Anyhow, I think I’ll go and settle down. I want to write to William so there’ll be a letter ready to post as soon as I have an address.’

‘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 said it would be either the land girl or children?

‘Only if you want her to be. I must say we’re full at the hostel, though, and it would help if she could stay permanently with you. Be nearer her work, too.’

‘Well – I’ve got a spare room and I don’t think Agnes will be any trouble.’ Not as much trouble as children. ‘Shall we give it a try for a month? See how things go?’

‘Very well. Next week I’ll leave you a ration card for four weeks when I bring the billeting allowance.’ She smiled, holding out her hand. ‘And thanks a lot.’

Lorna thought afterwards that she would have to tell William about Ness and that she had practically offered to have her in the spare room on a permanent basis. And then she reminded herself there was a war on and no one, not even William, had the right to expect that an Englishman’s home was his castle, because it wasn’t; not any longer. And she liked Ness. She was cheerful and appreciative and would be company for her, especially through a long, dark winter. Did she really have a choice when the war was going so badly for us, with Hitler’s armies waiting to invade. And France and Belgium and Holland and Norway and Denmark occupied. And as if we weren’t deep enough in trouble, Italy ganging up with Hitler and declaring war on Britain in the biggest back-stab since the Battle of Bosworth!

So she would tell William about Ness; she would have to. But she would not apologize for taking her in. Being stuck at the end of a lane in the back of beyond would not guarantee Ainsty’s safety if Hitler chose to invade or sent his bombers to fly over it!

‘Sorry, William.’ She picked up his photograph. ‘I love you dearly and I wish you hadn’t gone to war, but even in Nun Ainsty things must change.’

Every village, town and city was at war and it was up to her to make the best of it, like every other woman. And she would try, she really would, to take care of Ladybower so that when it was all over and William came safely home, they could carry on as before – have the child she wanted so much.

Gently she replaced the photograph then stood to gaze out of the window at a garden glorious with June flowers. The grass so green, the roses so thick and scented, and behind it Dickon’s Wood to shade it in summer and shelter it in winter from the cold north-easterly winds.

Dear Ladybower, in which she had grown up. She loved it passionately and could find it within her to hate anyone who would take it from her or bomb it or set it ablaze in the name of war. So she would care for it and fight to keep it until the war was over. And Ness, who had left her home to do her bit for the war effort, would be made welcome at Ladybower for as long as it took, and tonight, when she wrote again to her husband, she would tell him all about her and how lucky they were to have her and remind him, ever so gently, how much better Ness would be than the evacuees he’d been glad to see the back of.

But then, William had never really liked children – not other people’s. She hoped he would like his own – when they had them, that was. When the war was over. In a million years …

And she wasn’t weeping! She damn well wasn’t!

TWO

‘’S only me!’ Ness kicked off her shoes at the back door, then sniffed appreciatively. ‘Sumthin’ smells good!’

‘Stew. The warden brought your rations today. Gave me a piece of shin beef; enough for both of us for two days. Vegetables nearly done. Do you want to change?’

‘Not ’alf. Can’t you smell me?’ Ness couldn’t get the cow shed stink out of her nostrils. ‘Bet everybody in the village got a whiff of me on the way home.’

‘You aren’t too bad – honest. Probably your shoes. How was it today?’

‘Tell you when I’ve got out of these overalls. And I’ve got messages to give to Goff and Martha at the almshouses, but it’ll wait till after supper. Won’t be long!’

And she was gone, taking the stairs two at a time before Lorna could tell her what she had read in the morning paper; something so frightening that it had to be shared.

‘Look – before we eat,’ she whispered when Ness appeared wearing a cotton frock and smelling of Vinolia soap. ‘This morning – in the paper – I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind all day.’

‘Don’t tell me Hitler’s askin’ for an armistice!’

‘Nothing as wonderful as that! Listen – I’ll read it. It must have come from the government; the papers wouldn’t have dared print it if not. It’s headed, WHAT DO I DO and it goes on to say, “If I hear news that Germans are trying to land, or have landed? I remember that this is the moment to act like a soldier”,’ she said chokily. ‘“I do not get panicky. I stay put. I say to myself; Our soldiers will deal with them. I do not say I must get out of here.”’ She lowered the paper, sucking in her breath. ‘Anyway, Ness, I wouldn’t even think of getting out of Ainsty. It’s as safe as anywhere – well, isn’t it?’

‘Reckon this place would take a bit of finding, queen. But is that it?’

‘No. There’s more. It says I must remember that fighting men must have clear roads. I do not go onto the road on a bicycle, in a car or on foot. Whether I am at home or at work, I just stay put. And it ends with, “Cut This Out and Keep It”.’ She gazed into Ness’s eyes, begging comfort. ‘It’s more serious than I thought. And look at this cartoon!’ She laid the newspaper on the table, pointing to it with a forefinger stiff with fear. ‘Look at him! It makes you want to weep, doesn’t it?’

The cartoon showed a steel-helmeted British soldier, feet apart, rifle in his right hand, left arm extended in defiance at planes flying overhead. And he was saying, ‘Very well! Alone!’

‘Ar, hey. You’re right, Lorna. We’re up the creek and no messin’. Suppose we’ve been trying to kid ourselves everything would be all right, but maybe it isn’t goin’ to be.’

‘Maybe. Ness – when your warden came this morning, she seemed to think that you being at Ladybower was only temporary, but I told her I’d like you and me to give it a try – a month, say – and she said it was OK by her. I hadn’t read the paper when I asked if you could be here permanently, but now I really, really want you to stay. I’m not very brave, you see, and if there were the two of us it might not seem so bad.’

‘Ar. That’s nice you wanting me an’ of course I’d like to stay. But hadn’t you thought, queen, it’s likely to be on the south coast – If it happens. It’s them poor beggars who’ll cop it before you an’ me will.’

‘William is in the south,’ Lorna said dully.

‘Ar, but he’s with soldiers and they’ll have rifles and hand grenades and machine guns.’

‘In the Pay Corps?’ She ran her tongue round dry lips. ‘Mind, William learned to shoot when he was in the Territorials.’

‘And he’ll be all right, same as you and me will! As for this country being alone, well, I suppose we are. But Hitler’s got to cross the channel, hasn’t he? And what’s it called, eh? The English Channel! And we got most of our soldiers back from France, don’t forget, and we’ve got a Navy, an’ all! You aren’t goin’ to tell me our Navy’s goin’ to let them Jairmans set foot on English soil without a fight, now, are you?’

‘But Ness, there’s something else. Flora Petch – y’know, the district nurse from Larkspur Cottage. Well, she told me she saw men taking down the signpost at the top of the lane; taking the arms down, that was. They told her it was so German parachutists wouldn’t know where they had landed if there were no names on signposts. And the men said that railways were doing the same. No more names on stations. Nobody’ll know where they are any more!’

‘So what? Neither will them parachutists, if they come! Ooh, I hate that Hitler, but let’s not let him spoil our supper, eh? It’s just what he wants, innit; us running round like headless chickens, so you and me won’t oblige, eh? We’ll eat our supper and then we’ll worry about being invaded.’

‘And you’ll stay, Ness? You don’t mind that I asked the warden if it could be on a permanent basis?’

“Course I don’t. And we aren’t entirely on our own, y’know. I heard it on the wireless at Glebe Farm that the first convoy of Australian and New Zealand soldiers has arrived to help us out. So bully for them, eh, and good on them coming, just when we need them.’

‘You’re right. I’d say it was pretty bloody marvellous them coming all that way to fight for a country they none of them ever thought to see. And the word invasion is banned for the rest of the day! Right?’

But for all her sudden defiance, Lorna was afraid and wished desperately that William could be with her. William would have known what to do if parachutists dropped in one of the fields around. But William was a long way away, Somewhere in Wiltshire, so there was nothing for it but to get on with it as best she could; as best she and Ness could, that was. And oh, thank the dear heaven for the land girl from Liverpool!

Ness made for the almshouses to her left, across the Green. Three of them, built more than four hundred years ago for the nuns at the priory and not considered important enough to be destroyed by Tudor vandals. Goff Leaman lived in one of them and Martha Hugwitty in another. Of the occupant of the middle one, Ness knew little, save that he was sometimes there and sometimes he wasn’t.

‘Mr Leaman?’ she asked of the man who stood in the tiny front garden who had already stuck his spade into the ground at her approach, and now regarded her with unashamed curiosity.

‘That’s me. You’ll be the land girl from Glebe?’

‘Mm. I’ve got a message from Mr Wintersgill. He said could you get your body and your shotgun up to the farm tomorrow early. Says he’s got cartridges. You’re going to be shooting rabbits, aren’t you?’

‘That’s the general idea. And before you start worrying about them fluffy little bunnies, let me tell you they’re a dratted nuisance and do a lot of damage. Vermin, that’s what. They make a grand stew, for all that. Starting the haymaking, are they?’

‘That’s right. I did hear Rowley say he’d be up good and early to open up the field, whatever that means.’

‘It means, lass, that he’ll cut a road round the field so the machinery can get in. Do it by hand, with a scythe, and by the time it’s finished, the rest of the field will have the night dew off it and be dry enough for the mower. And you’d better call me Goff. Everyone else does. Short for Godfrey.’

‘And I’m Ness,’ she smiled. ‘Short for Agnes. See you tomorrow, then.’

‘You’ll not be in the hayfield? Not a place for amateurs, tha’ knows.’

‘No. I’ll be helping in the farmhouse. There’ll be the cooking to do for family and helpers, so I think I’ll be more use in the kitchen – till I’ve learned a bit more about things. I’ll probably feed the hens, an’ all, and collect the eggs and wipe them,’ she said knowledgeably, having this afternoon been initiated into the poultry side of the business. She had enjoyed that part of it much more than the cow shed bit. ‘Ah, well. See you.’

Goff Leaman watched her go. A bonny lass with a right grand smile and friendly with it, an’ all. A town lass, without a doubt, but willing to learn it seemed. Should do all right in Ainsty, if she could stand the quiet of the country.

He squinted up into the sky as a bomber flew over, far too low, in his opinion, for safety. Off bombing tonight, he supposed.

He shrugged, picking up his spade, grateful that having done his bit in the trenches in the Great War, he was a mite too old for this one!

‘Miss Hugwitty?’ Ness smiled down at the small, elderly woman. ‘I’m the new girl from Glebe Farm and Mrs Wintersgill wants to know if you could help in the kitchen, them bein’ busy with the hay. Starting tomorrow.’

‘Come in, lass. Was wondering when I’d be hearing. Always help Kate at busy times. They’re late with hay this year. Usually they like to start about Barnaby.’

‘Er –?’

‘Barnaby time. St Barnabas’ Day – eleventh of June. Mind, we had two weeks of wet weather, recent, so it’ll have put things back a bit. Sit you down.’ She nodded towards the wooden rocker beside the fireplace. ‘And what do they call you, then?’

‘Agnes Nightingale, though people call me Ness. And I’m twenty-five and from Liverpool, and I’m not courting.’

Best tell her, sooner than later. Beady-eyed people like Martha Hugwitty always found out in the end.

‘Ah. Well, you’re a bonny lass, so you soon will be. Courting, I mean. There’s not much to choose from in the village with Tuthey’s twins away in the Navy – apart from young Rowley at the farm. But there’s a few young men across the top road at Meltonby. And York is full of RAF lads; aerodromes all around these parts. You’ll not go short of a dancing partner if you’re not already spoken for, that is.’

‘Like I just said, I’m not going steady and I’m not looking, either. See you tomorrow, then?’

Ness got to her feet. Time she was going. Martha Hugwitty had been told all that was good for her to know about Glebe Farm’s land girl. ‘And nice meetin’ you.’

Martha closed the door, nodding with satisfaction. Interesting, the lass was. Very pretty and twenty-five and not courting. Peculiar, to say the least. Young man been killed, perhaps? Agnes Nightingale, whose eyes held secrets to be probed by someone like herself, possessed of the gift. Likely the lass would have an interesting palm as well, could she but get a look at it. She shrugged, turning on the wireless for the evening news.

The pips that signalled nine o’clock pinged out. The land girl could wait. Until tomorrow.

‘There you are!’ Ness found Lorna in the garden, pulling weeds. ‘Messages delivered.’

‘Good. The two of them always help out at the farm. Both glad of the money, I think. But that’s enough for one night. I’ll come inside now, and wash my hands.’

‘That Martha is a bit of a busybody.’ Ness followed Lorna into the house. ‘Got real beady eyes, like little gimlets.’

‘She’s all right, once you get to know her. But don’t let her tell your fortune.’

‘Bit of a fraud, is she?’

‘Far from it! A lot of the things she’s told people have come true – those who’ll admit having been to her, that is. And you are right about her eyes, Ness. They do look into your soul, kind of. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were a medium, on the quiet. Oh, drat! That’s the phone! Answer it, will you, whilst I dry my hands.’

‘Meltonby 223.’ Ness spoke slowly and carefully into the receiver.

‘Hullo! Lorna?’

‘Sorry, no. I’m Ness. Lorna’s here now. I think it’s your William,’ she mouthed, closing the door behind her. And just what the girl needed; cheer her up with a bit of good news and reassurance. But the news it would seem had not been good, and reassurance thin on the ground, judging from the downcast mouth and tear-bright eyes.

‘Lorna, girl, what is it? Not bad news?’

‘No. As a matter of fact there wasn’t a lot of news, good or bad. William spent the entire three minutes telling me off.’

‘Why? What have you done to upset him?’

‘I didn’t tell him about you. He got a shock, he said, when a strange voice answered. I should have told him in my letter and to cut a long story short, he says I mustn’t have you here.’

‘Well, it’s his house, innit? Suppose you’d better tell them at the hostel.’ A pity, Ness brooded. She was really getting to like it at Ladybower. ‘I’ll go as soon as there’s a bed for me. And sorry if I got you into trouble – me answering the phone, I mean.’

‘No, Ness! It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t want you to go! I don’t care what William says. The evacuees we had to take put him off, you see. He said good riddance to them when they left. But he shouldn’t object to a grown-up who’s hardly ever in the house.’

‘Poor love. He gave you a bad time because of me, when all you wanted to hear was that he was missing you and that he loves you,’ Ness soothed.

‘Afraid so. Do you know, if anything awful happened to me, he’d have it on his conscience that the last words he said to me were, “See Nance Ellery in the morning and tell her to find somewhere else for the woman to stay. Is that clear?” Then the pips went. He must have known we’d only get three minutes on a long-distance call, and he wasted them.’ She blinked hard against tears.

‘Never mind, queen. Dry your eyes. I’ll make you a cuppa, eh? Don’t bother ringing the hostel tonight. Tomorrow will do.’

‘No it won’t, because I don’t want you to leave and what’s more, I’ll have who I like in this house. It isn’t William’s, it’s mine!’ Chin high, she dabbed her eyes. ‘Grandpa left it to me. It’s my name on the deeds, not William’s! And I’m sorry, Ness. He isn’t usually so rude.’