‘No blokes, you mean.’
‘Well, yes.’
Winnie grinned at her. ‘Believe me, lass, if there’s just one I’ll winkle him out, and anyway I’m not letting you go alone and that’s that.’
‘Don’t be so silly, I’m fine.’
‘You’re not.’ There was deep concern evident in the flatness of Winnie’s voice.
Abby stared at her friend. Winnie had been a rock the last weeks since the news about James, and now there was an additional pain tearing through her because of Winnie’s loyalty. It was causing her breath to constrict and a lump to rise in her throat. To combat the feeling she tried to tell Winnie she needed to think about joining up, but her voice was strangled and all that emerged was a low moan.
When the floodgates opened she was aware of Mrs Todd poking an anxious face round Winnie’s bedroom door and being hastily waved away by her daughter, but she couldn’t stop crying. It was only after two or three minutes that she felt able to pull away and straighten up, taking the handkerchief which Winnie silently handed her and mopping her face with it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said thickly. ‘Whatever will your mam think?’
‘That it’s a darn sight better out than in,’ Winnie said smartly, adding one of her favourite lines, ‘as the actress said to the Bishop,’ almost without thinking.
Abby gave a hiccup of a laugh. She felt empty and desolate and completely drained, and she had never thought she would smile again in the whole of her life. But then she hadn’t reckoned with Winnie. ‘What am I going to do without him?’ she whispered. ‘How am I going to get through the rest of my life?’
‘You will, lass.’ Winnie patted her arm. ‘You’re a fighter, same as me. But for now you’re going to come down to the kitchen and let me mam fuss over you a bit. You’ll have to have a piece of her sly cake and a couple of drop scones along with a cup of tea or she’ll give me gyp when you’re gone, I can tell you.’ And when Abby hesitated, Winnie added gently, ‘Me mam’s been worried to death about you, lass. We all have.’
Abby nodded. She was unable to speak for the moment at the kindness of these folk.
‘And once me mam’s got a cup of tea in front of her we’ll break the news about the Land Army,’ Winnie added, her tone indicating how she thought her mother would respond. ‘With you being all upset she won’t go too mad, with a bit of luck, although you never know. She won’t like me moving away from home, that’s for sure. You said anything about this to your lot yet?’
Abby shook her head. She knew full well she’d need more than a bit of luck to divert her own mother’s wrath. Her mam wouldn’t take kindly to losing her chief skivvy. But whatever her mam said or did, she was going. She was nineteen years old, a grown woman and lately the situation at home had grown intolerable. It was time to spread her wings.
In spite of Clara’s tears, her mother’s fury and her father’s grim face, Abby didn’t weaken in the days before she left for the month’s training required by the Land Army. She and Winnie were being sent to an agricultural college some distance from Thirsk in North Yorkshire, after which there was no guarantee they would remain together. Farmers had first call on Land Army members, the recruitment lady told them, but they were also employed on food production in large private gardens, commercial nurseries and the bigger market gardens. They had to go where the need was greatest and no quibbling. Abby had glanced at Winnie at this point, and the glint in her friend’s eye indicated it would be an exceptionally brave soul who tried to separate them.
Their uniform, they were told, would be supplied at the college once they arrived. It would consist of brown corduroy breeches, short-sleeved biscuit-coloured blouse, green tie and pullover, short khaki overcoat, hat, mackintosh, black leather boots and brown walking shoes with canvas leggings for winter, supplemented by a pair of fawn bib-and-brace dungarees for the summer. An extra item of uniform was rubber boots, but because rubber was scarce, these were generally allocated only to girls who were on milking. Winnie winced visibly at this point.
If, after training, they felt unable to carry on, the officer had continued, her eyes moving over Abby’s slim, delicate frame, they were not obliged to remain in the Land Army, but as training involved expense and time, applicants were not encouraged to join lightly. Abby’s chin had lifted at this point, and as Winnie had remarked afterwards, ‘By, she didn’t have your number, did she, lass? If anyone can see it out, you can.’
All of Abby’s work colleagues, including Mr Wynford, thought she was mad marooning herself out in the country miles from anywhere. ‘What will you do in the evenings?’ Felicity Cook asked wide-eyed, fluffing her newly permed blonde curls. ‘What if you’re not near a cinema or any shops?’
‘I dare say I’ll survive,’ Abby said drily.
‘But what do you know about cows and sheep and chickens?’
‘Not much.’
‘And animals bite, don’t they? And kick. And I read in the paper that girls are being asked to fork manure and dig ditches.’
‘Good. Plenty of new challenges then.’
Felicity fluttered her mascaraed eyelashes and raised her thin plucked eyebrows in polite disgust and conceded defeat.
Only her aunt was supportive. ‘Lass, if I was twenty years younger I’d be coming with you,’ Audrey declared, frowning at Ivor, who had shaken his head and clucked his tongue at Abby’s news. ‘It’ll do you good to get away and try your hand at something different,’ Audrey went on. ‘Don’t worry about your da, he’s just concerned it’ll be too much for you but he’ll come round. Me and Ivor’ll keep an eye on him. Now he’s home for good, him and Ivor can have a jar together in the evenings. Isn’t that right, Ivor?’
Ivor smiled weakly. ‘Aye, I don’t see why not, love.’
‘So you go and get stuck in, hinny. And don’t forget to keep us posted on how you’re doing.’
And now they were on their way to get ‘stuck in’. Abby glanced at Winnie beside her in the train carriage. Her friend was fast asleep and snoring slightly, her straw hat askew and her brown hair wafting about her perspiring face in the breeze from the open window. The hot dry summer showed no signs of abating but no one was complaining, even though the heat was excessive. The newspapers were predicting a bumper harvest and it couldn’t have come at a better time, what with the war and all.
Abby sighed, turning to look out of the window and doing her best to ignore the interested stare of the good-looking RAF officer sitting opposite. He had been giving her the eye ever since he had entered the carriage some minutes before. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all a perky young officer who looked full of himself, even if he did have one arm in a sling.
And then she caught at her thoughts, ashamed of herself. The newspapers and the wireless reports were full of the fact that the RAF were giving the Luftwaffe a pasting. The Battle of Britain, the Air Ministry in London were calling it, and the prediction was that it would be a good many days before they were out of the woods. The fresh-faced young man could well have been injured in the dogfights in the skies whilst defending his country, and everywhere wives and mothers were receiving the dreaded black-edged telegrams.
But still, she really did not want to engage in conversation with the RAF officer, she decided. However, she knew someone who would be only too pleased to oblige. On the pretext of asking Winnie for one of the sandwiches Mrs Todd had insisted on packing up for both of them, Abby nudged her friend in the ribs, and from that moment the problem was taken care of. By the time they left the train, Winnie had the young man’s name and the address of the base where he was stationed, and he was looking positively glassy-eyed. Abby actually had it in her to feel sorry for him.
They were in the heart of the country. All the signs had been painted out because of the war and they’d had to rely on the conductor to put them off at the correct station. As the train moved off in a burst of steam, Abby became aware of several other women standing around somewhat forlornly, much as she and Winnie were, she supposed. They all gazed at each other in open curiosity, kitbags on their shoulders and suitcases and gas masks in their hands. It was Abby who spoke first, saying, ‘Are you all going where we are? Hill Farm?’
‘That’s right.’ A tall slim girl with thin fair hair cut in a short bob and an expensive leather suitcase in one hand frowned at her. ‘I thought there would be someone to meet us, didn’t you? Poor show, this.’ The accent was undeniably upper class. ‘I do hope that conductor chap knew what he was doing.’
Another girl, who was as round as she was tall and who was perspiring heavily, stared at them in alarm. ‘Hey, you don’t think he’s put us all off at the wrong stop, do you?’ she said. ‘I ate all me sandwiches miles back an’ I could kill for a cup of char.’
A Cockney for sure. They were certainly a mixed bunch. Abby thrust out a hand to the first girl, smiling as she said, ‘Abby Vickers, and this is Winnie Todd. I suppose we’d better see about finding someone who can tell us where we are.’
‘Rowena Hetherton-Smith.’ Hands were shaken all round and introductions made before, as a group now, they moved off the deserted platform and into the station yard, whereupon a small bespectacled station master appeared. He eyed Rowena’s three-inch heels and make-up with world-weary eyes before he said, ‘You’re the latest crop for Hill Farm, I take it.’
‘Indeed we are.’ It was clear to Abby that Rowena had noticed the direction of the station master’s gaze and taken exception to it, along with the note of thinly veiled scorn in his voice. ‘Will transport be provided for us or do we need to call for a taxi?’ she asked icily.
‘Taxi?’ The old man gave a wheeze of a laugh. ‘There’s no taxi, not since Nathaniel Weatherburn got his call-up papers. Besides, the farm’s only five miles or so down yon road.’ He indicated what appeared to be a lane leading away into the distance.
‘You mean we are expected to
walk
it?’
‘Just so.’ The station master wasn’t even trying to hide his delight at their predicament. ‘Course, you could wait here for the next train to take you back whence you’ve come, if you’ve a mind, that is.’
Rowena fixed the man with the sort of look which would have caused a lesser being to curl up and admit defeat. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said frostily. And then, clearly distrusting this hostile individual, she added, ‘You
do
know where Hill Farm is situated?’
The superior smile slid from the station master’s weaselly face. ‘I was born an’ bred here,’ he bit back, ‘an’ I’ll tell you somethin’ else. Folk round here don’t hold with the government sending bits of girls like you lot to do men’s work. Women can look after chickens but they can’t ditch. They can feed the pigs but they can’t look after the boar. They can mebbe drive a tractor but they can’t pitch hay.’
‘Really?’ Rowena’s voice dripped ice. ‘That’s your expert opinion, is it?’
‘Aye, it is, an’ you’ll find I speak for plenty round here an’ all.’
‘I see. So if I told you I’ve had experience in laying drains and spreading chalk and dung, as well as loading it and pulling swedes and mangolds, you’d be surprised?’
It was clear the station master was taken aback. His expression stated as clearly as any words could have done that this highfalutin slip of a girl had no business knowing the terms she had used.
Rowena allowed him a moment. Then she said coolly, ‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to direct us to Hill Farm without further delay.’
Once they were outside the station and walking in twos and threes along the dusty lane, Abby tapped Rowena on the shoulder. ‘You’ve done all that? Laying drains and spreading dung and the rest of it?’
‘Of course not, darling.’ Rowena smiled at her, her somewhat horsey features mellowing. ‘But Daddy got me a book which explained all about such things when I said I was going to join up. I think he thought reading it would put me off.’
‘But it didn’t.’
‘Not really.’ Rowena glanced down at her fine kid court shoes and then stopped, slipped them off and tucked them into the top of her matching handbag before walking on in bare feet. ‘And I only asked that nasty old man if he would be surprised if I’d had experience in those things. I never said I actually had.’
‘You certainly cooked his goose,’ Winnie chimed in, her voice full of approval.
‘Yes, I did rather, didn’t I?’ Rowena giggled. ‘Some cheek he’d got when we’re here to do our bit for King and country. I do hope we’re sent somewhere near a town when our training is over, though. I’ve brought a couple of dance dresses with me just in case.’