She saw a ragged hedge looming and ducked beneath the long hawthorn branches, getting a moment’s respite before she entered its nettles, gorse and brambles. In a few moments she was burning from nettle stings and bleeding from the thorns, but she ran faster; he was coming on through the wuzzy as though he were impervious to stings and clutching brambles, with that horrid leer fixed on his thin lips and his hungry, wet-looking eyes raking her body.
Her breath was sobbing in her throat and her hair had come undone from the plait which had kept it off her face in the harvest field. She wished Snip were here, why had he gone and joined the Navy? Her right foot hurt but she scarcely heeded the pain because she had to run until she dropped – and dropping, she realised, was not unthinkable because it was still a good way to the village. She knew she was running more slowly but a glance behind proved she was not the only one. The man was no nearer than he had been, but no farther off either.
Another hedge loomed, a thicker, better-kept hedge. Nell looked for a gap, could not find one, ran desperately one way, then the other. Behind her, the man laughed, breathless, triumphant. He would gain on her if she wasted any more time, no use looking for a gap that would not take him, he was about her build; if she could get through it, she would follow. Nell dropped to her knees and squeezed through a gap at the bottom of the hedge, then rolled forward, straight into a ditch. It
was boggy and black at the bottom, with only a trickle of water, but it felt cool on her burning skin and for a second she revelled in that coolness. Then she saw that he was coming through farther up, pushing and shoving, his shoulders, it seemed, finding it hard to get between the stout, thorny branches.
Nell scrambled to her feet, slid, stumbled, emerged. She realised that she was on the dusty lane which led to the village. Fresh hope coursed through her but another quick look back showed her pursuer free from hedge and ditch, seemingly about to reach out and grab at her clothing, which was torn and trailing. She gulped and forced herself to run, though she was almost at the end of her strength. She staggered, collected herself, and reached a bend in the lane just as a hand grabbed at her hair, jerking her to a halt.
She screamed, a sound as shrill and terrified as the scream a hare gives when it feels the teeth of a hound on its neck. She tried to jerk her hair free, then turned and faced her attacker, muddy hands pushing feebly at him, mouth open to scream again, all but finished. He seemed to be jeering at her, his lips drawn back from those pointed teeth, his hands holding her shoulders now, digging into the soft, slippery flesh. He was pulling her nearer, his expression changing, then she saw his eyes widen and fix on something behind her. His hands gripped tighter for a moment, then he let go, almost pushed her away. Nell heard running feet scuffling in the dust, and a voice spoke breathlessly.
‘What the hell goes on? Is that man … hey you, come back here! It’s all right, he’s gone, he won’t hurt you …’
She turned. The tall, black-haired young man in a blue shirt and flannels running towards her must have seen what was happening as he came round the corner and dashed to her aid. Her attacker had vanished.
‘Oh, thank you,’ Nell gasped. She swayed where she stood and the young man put a protective arm around her shoulders. ‘He’s chased me for … for miles, I was so f-frightened.’
She looked up into the young man’s face. A pair of eyes so dark a blue that at first glance they appeared black looked back at her. Familiar eyes, set in a familiar face.
‘Dan!’ Nell gasped. ‘Dan Clifton!’
The young man frowned and stared into her face. He saw, Nell knew, mud, tangled locks, scratches and stings. Would he – could he possibly – recognise her?
‘Well I’m damned! It’s little Nell Coburn, isn’t it? You used to live at the lodge with your parents. There was some mystery … you used to write me letters at boarding school but then I left, and … well, I’m damned, if it isn’t little Nell Coburn!’
‘Yes, it’s me,’ Nell said. Her breathing was slowing, the sweat was cooling on her, but she wished with all her heart that she didn’t look such a mess. Still, he had recognised her, which showed he couldn’t have forgotten her. ‘What are you doing, Dan, walking down a lane in the middle of nowhere?’
‘Rescuing you from a very unpleasant character, by the look of it,’ Dan said seriously. ‘I’m staying with a friend. I walked into the village to buy some stamps and now I’m walking back. Look, you’ll want to clean up and calm yourself, have a cup of tea or something, but then we must talk. Did you know your father had been searching for you and your mother everywhere? Where are you living? Where is Hester? I’ll come home with you and you can tidy, then we’ll talk.’
How she wanted to talk, to confide, to take him back to the trailer and tell Hester that Dan had rescued her! But she couldn’t. For years Hester had made it plain that to make any sort of connection between themselves and
that other life was dangerous. She could not let Hester down by taking Dan to the gaff. But that did not mean she had to leave him immediately, they could surely exchange a few words first?
‘I can’t take you home, I’m only staying here too,’ she said slowly. ‘The lady that I’m staying with wouldn’t be too pleased. But there’s a stream across that field …’ she gestured ahead, ‘… so I can clean up there and we can talk. Would that do?’
‘A stream? No, it won’t do. Nell, have you looked at yourself? You’ve been evacuated, I take it?’
Nell nodded guiltily. The lies she was telling!
‘Right, then I understand you can’t take me back, but there’s nothing to stop you coming back with me to the Tillet’s place if you can get that far. It’s not much more than a mile. What about your feet?’
Nell looked down; she was wearing one sandal and the other foot was bare, cut and bruised. Her skirt was torn to ribbons and so was her short-sleeved shirt. Earth, grass stains, hedge clippings, brambles – she was coated in them. She felt tears come to her eyes and rubbed them defensively with filthy fists.
‘I didn’t notice losing the sandal,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t come home with you looking like this, what’ll your friends think? And what’ll I tell … the lady?’
‘It’s all right, I’ll take you straight to the downstairs cloakroom and clean you up; as for clothes, I’m staying with cousins, two boys and a girl. Daisy will lend you something,’ Dan said reassuringly. ‘In fact I expect she’ll give you a skirt and blouse or a cotton dress, God knows she’s got enough of them. She’s about your size, too, only a bit fatter, so if the things are too big you can borrow a couple of safety pins, make them fit. Come on, you’d better take the other sandal off and walk barefoot. Who was chasing you, by the way? I didn’t ask.’
‘I don’t know him. He’s horrible, one of those horrible
men,’ Nell said, padding along beside Dan and hearing her voice begin to shake without being able to do a thing to stop it. ‘If only I’d had the jukels … I’ll never go out without them again.’
‘What’s a jukel, a good luck charm, or a friend, or what?’ Dan asked curiously. ‘You certainly shouldn’t wander in the woods and fields alone at your age, Nell dear.’
‘The jukels? Oh … they’re a family I’m friendly with,’ Nell said, hating the lies but seeing the necessity of keeping Dan in ignorance of her new life. ‘You’re right, Dan, I’ll never go out alone again.’
‘Good girl. See that white house over there, against the wood? That’s the Tillet’s place. Not far now, eh? Best foot forward!’
Nell got back to the gaff in time for a late tea and, rather to her own surprise, said nothing about meeting Dan. It would involve too many questions, too much explanation. She and her mother almost never mentioned Pengarth, far less discussed their life there. It had become taboo. But she did tell her mother about the terrifying chase through the wood, describing the flattie as accurately as she could.
Hester was horrified, but Ugly Jack was more practical.
‘Sounds like Geoff Brewer to me; it’s high time the Brewers were told their son ought to be kept closer,’ he said. ‘I’ll go over there tonight, have a word. I’d noticed him hangin’ about starin’ at the girls on the gondolas and cakewalk. He’ll do someone a mischief one of these days despite them sayin’ he’s just a bit soft in the head.’
‘Is that the man they were talking about the other evening? The one Edie said was a poor lack-wit, only your Mum said it was in-breeding, and the fellow was a danger to young girls?’
‘Aye, that’s the one,’ Jack said grimly. ‘I’ll have a word.’
He left the living waggon and Nell turned immediately to Hester.
‘What does that mean, Mum? In-breeding?’
‘It’s what happens sometimes in small village communities. Cousins marry cousins generation after generation, then a widowed uncle takes his pretty niece behind a haystack and the child doesn’t know who he or she is and marries someone who might be a half-brother or sister. That way you get village idiots, men with peculiar appetites, fellows like Geoff, who can’t understand what is theirs and what isn’t,’ Hester said grimly. ‘If you ask me, love, you had a very lucky escape. Another time, take the jukels, or Riggy, or someone else from the fair, who knows you.’
‘When Snip was here I went everywhere with him; I wish he hadn’t left,’ Nell said forlornly. ‘And Riggy … Mum, he likes me.’ She had not previously mentioned her change of feeling over her old friend, but thought this was the moment. ‘I feel embarrassed at the way he looks at me sometimes.’
Hester was ironing. She put her iron down and went over to Nell, sitting down beside her on the long windowseat. She put her arms around her daughter and gave her a squeeze.
‘Darling, I know what you mean, but Riggy would never do you harm. He is really fond of you and astounded to find how grown-up you are, but he would never, never take a liberty. However, you’re right, of course, that a pretty young woman shouldn’t be alone in quiet places with a man. You’d be safe enough with Snip, I daresay, you’ve been pals for so long, but I think you should look on this as a frightening lesson and be more careful in future. Take a couple of jukels with you when you go walking; jukels are good friends, they’d not let harm come to you.’
So was Dan a good friend, Nell thought. How nice it would be if we were settled near his home so we could see more of each other. But she said nothing.
11
‘HE’S THERE, LILIBET
– right in the front row!’
‘Where? I can see Aunt Kent. Is he to the left or right of her?’
Peggy, who had helped to dress the two principals in the royal pantomime at Windsor Castle, watched as they tried to see through the gap in the red velvet curtains without being seen; Margaret Rose already in costume, her sister lacking the wig and jacket which she would presently don.
‘To the right, silly … oh, you must be able to see him – he looks so handsome! Huntie thinks he looks like a Viking plunderer, and his hair really is almost yellow, isn’t it? Will it make you nervouser than ever though, knowing he’s watching?’
‘Will it make me more nervous, not nervouser, goose,’ Elizabeth corrected automatically. ‘Yes … no … I’m not sure. Ah, yes, I can see him. Oh help, he’s looking this way! We’d better finish dressing, Margaret, or they’ll call us and we won’t be ready.’
She moved back from the curtain, the pink deepening in her cheeks. Margaret Rose pushed her sister gently back again. ‘There’s plenty of time,’ she said robustly. ‘You ’ave a gander, me old dear.’
‘Don’t, Margaret, you shouldn’t talk cockney in case people think you’re poking fun,’ Elizabeth said, moving back from the curtain. She turned away and saw Peggy standing patiently waiting, the jacket in her hands. ‘Oh, we’ve kept Peggy hanging about! How long before we’re called, Pegs?’
‘Seven minutes,’ Peggy said. ‘And you without your wig, Lilibet! Now come along both of you and stop hanging about peering at your audience. This is serious,
remember, the people out there have paid good money to see the pantomime and even though it’s for charity they should get good value.’
Elizabeth nodded at once, her face serious, though her cheeks were still pink and her dark blue eyes shone like stars.
‘Yes, I know, Peggy. And Margaret knows too, don’t you, Margaret Rose? It’s the only good thing about the war – we can help to raise money and do something we enjoy at the same time. Is Papa sitting down yet, or is he still talking to the guards officers backstage?’
‘He’s just come through to sit down,’ Peggy said, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘He had a word with Prince Philip earlier, and welcomed one or two others. Now he’s waiting to be entertained, so go through, there’s good girls, and finish getting ready.’
‘Papa’s watched so many rehearsals, he must know the words as well as we do,’ Margaret muttered as Peggy followed them towards their makeshift dressingroom. ‘Still, Philip hasn’t, has he?’
Elizabeth nudged her sister hard in the ribs. ‘Hush, don’t go on,’ she hissed. ‘You don’t want to make me nervous, do you?’
The train was late and crowded, and the small Devonshire railway station, when they reached it, was completely blacked out.
Anna hefted her kitbag on one shoulder and climbed down on to the platform, looking around her. Another figure, also clad in the grey-blue skirt and jacket and peaked cap of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force, saw her and moved tentatively closer. They stood there awkwardly, almost shoulder-to-shoulder, while other passengers jostled and pushed their way out of the station or on to the train the two girls had abandoned.
‘Hello! My orders said transport would meet me at
the station – are you going to RAF Colport, too?’
‘Hello.’ Anna smiled at the other girl. ‘Yes, I am as a matter of fact. My orders said I’d be met. D’you think we ought to leave the platform and go to the station forecourt, to see if there’s a lorry or something out there? Oh, I’m Anna Radwell, by the way. I’ve been in the service six weeks.’
The other girl stuck out a hand. She was an attractive redhead with a great many freckles, a cheeky grin and a broken tooth which did not detract from her prettiness in the least.