A Christmas Promise (11 page)

All the way home from the station, Agnes went over the situation in her head. She would tell Olive that she was leaving, Olive would say good luck and that would be the end of her time living in Article Row. Agnes imagined that she would then leave Article Row with Olive waving her off on the doorstep and she would go happily on her way.

‘I’m sorry, Olive, I didn’t mean to cause you any upset – I thought you’d be glad to get rid of me.’ Alice made a feeble attempt at humour but it fell flat as Olive, with her back to her now, stared out of the kitchen window.

‘Time is moving on’ Agnes continued finding the silence hard to bear ‘If I didn’t go now, I’ll lose my nerve – and my father’s farm.’

‘You don’t think Darnley will cause trouble, do you, Agnes?’

‘No, of course not,’ Agnes lied – she knew that Darnley would snap up the farm the first chance he got. She saw the way he was lording it over everyone the last time she went. ‘I’ve put it off longer than I ought to have done.’

‘Of course,’ Olive said, her smile strained, ‘we will miss you, but you have to do what’s right.’

‘I’ll be honest, Olive, I don’t know the first thing about farming,’

‘You will soon learn. You’re a bright girl, Agnes,’ Olive said, taking two cups from the dresser, ‘and we all have a duty to do our bit.’

‘In a strange way, I feel I also owe it to my father,’ Agnes answered, and Olive only nodded, not voicing the thought that Agnes owed her father nothing, if the truth be told. The girl had missed out on a parent’s love from the moment she was born. But Olive knew it wasn’t her place to say so. Agnes had come here only as her lodger; she hadn’t raised her or taken on any family obligations when the girl arrived at the house after the orphanage in which she had been reared, and later worked, was evacuated to the countryside. So why did she feel as if she was losing another daughter?

‘If this war has taught me anything, Agnes, it is never give up. If you have a dream or a wish you might as well go for it if you can.’

‘I’d like to go, Olive,’ Agnes said, knowing she had made too many excuses to stay.

‘You never know what the next few hours will bring, good or bad.’

Olive hoped she could hold her nerve as she wanted to ask Agnes to consider staying, but all thoughts of doing so vanished like dust in the wind when Agnes said, ‘It will be lovely to be in the open instead of—’ She stopped; she didn’t want to tell Olive that she saw Ted every day when she finished her shift. Olive would think she’d lost her mind …

‘Is something wrong, Agnes?’ Olive asked. Agnes, only a few months younger than Tilly, had become almost a substitute daughter and Olive felt very protective towards her.

The fading glow of a smile on Olive’s face was replaced with concern when Agnes said in a low, almost inaudible voice, ‘I’m leaving tomorrow, Olive …’ Agnes noticed that Olive’s smile momentarily slipped but just as quickly she rallied as she gathered the tea things on a tray.

‘Run along and ask Barney if you can help feed the chickens, Alice,’ Olive said, as the child came into the kitchen from the front room.

Olive smiled as Alice ran excitedly from the room. She loved helping Barney, who had taken the news of his father’s death much better than Olive was taking the news of Agnes’s departure now.

‘They are almost like brother and sister,’ Agnes said, stalling the moment when she would have to resume her difficult conversation with Olive, the only woman who had ever been like a mother to her.

Olive pulled out a chair from under the table and nodded to one opposite. ‘I’ve been waiting for this,’ she said, lifting the teapot and swirling the contents while neither of them looked at the other. ‘I’m not saying I would ever have been prepared for you going …’

‘Oh, Olive, I am so sorry,’ Agnes said, stricken by Olive’s words.

‘But that is not to say you shouldn’t go,’ Olive answered quickly. ‘Oh, no, you must follow your heart, and your heart belongs on the farm now.’

Agnes watched through the window as the children played a chasing game, with Barney allowing little Alice to win, and concentrated on not crying.

‘I have to go,’ Agnes said eventually, taking her seat opposite Olive. ‘You understand, don’t you, Olive?’ For a short while, there was silence in the kitchen while Olive gathered her thoughts. Agnes broke the silence when she said solemnly, ‘I’ll pay up until the end of the month, so you are not out of pocket.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Agnes,’ said Olive, trying not to laugh. ‘Tomorrow’s the thirty-first.’

‘Oh, Olive!’ Agnes exclaimed, holding her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. ‘I am such a dimwit sometimes, I meant next month.’ Then she laughed and tears of embarrassment rolled freely down her cheeks.

‘Of course you won’t, Agnes,’ Olive said, brightening a little, knowing that she could always go to the country for a visit if she so wished. ‘The farm will be your home from now.’

Agnes thought Olive looked a little tense when her laughter subsided. Agnes knew from experience that she was keeping up a dignified façade, and she marvelled at how many times her landlady had been expected to do so in the past.

‘You never turn anybody away, do you, Olive?’ said Agnes as she sipped her scalding tea.

‘There’s always a solution if you ponder over it. The answer comes eventually.’ Olive sighed. ‘What’s the point of living all these years if we don’t put our experiences to good use?’

‘I think if there hadn’t been a WVS, you would have invented it, Olive.’

Olive laughed and shook her head; ‘It’s just good old-fashioned common sense half the time, nothing else. You just ask yourself if you can live with the decisions you make and then get on with it.’

‘I’m going to miss your good old-fashioned common sense, Olive.’ Agnes could feel her throat tightening.

‘I’ll miss you too, Agnes. Who else will do the dishes after tea?’ Then she laughed to stop herself from crying. ‘That’s not to say we won’t miss you – because we will,’ she added quickly. ‘The house will not be the same without you …’

‘Oh, Olive, please don’t, you’ll set me off again.’ Agnes gave an unsteady half-smile and both women swallowed the ever-threatening tears.

Then, taking a deep breath, Olive said in a lighter, more supportive tone, ‘We can come out and visit when the weather warms up a bit.’ She patted Agnes’s hand. ‘It would be madness to let the farm go to someone like Darnley, who has no rights to it whatsoever.’

‘He has worked on the farm for years, though,’ Agnes insisted, hoping that Olive would try to talk her out of claiming her inheritance, but it was not to be.

‘Audrey Windle’s husband has been vicar of our church for nigh on twenty years but the powers that be will not be giving him the vicarage, and buckshee at that, so I can’t see your reasoning, Agnes. Just because he’s worked on the farm doesn’t give him an automatic right to own it. He has been accepting wages, I presume?’

‘I’m sure he has.’ Agnes’s eyebrows furrowed at the thought; trust Olive to see things from a sensible point of view and allay her worries at the same time.

‘So, you don’t think he’ll see me as some kind of upstart who hasn’t got a clue about farming?’

‘Of course he will,’ Olive said, eyes wide, as if Agnes had quite lost her marbles, ‘but that won’t matter, because you are the boss – the farm will succeed or fail by your methods now. I’m sure you will quickly learn the ropes,’ she said, stirring a teaspoon of milk into her tea.

‘But it can’t fail!’ Agnes said in alarm. ‘I have to make it work, even if only for the War Ag.’

‘There you go, you’re talking like a farmer already, Agnes.’ Olive suspected Agnes was not going to have the easiest of times with that old duffer Darnley, who walked about the farm as if he owned it when Agnes’s father was alive, so Lord only knew what he was like now. But it wasn’t her place to say so and make the girl feel even more nervous. Agnes had to make her own way in the world and this was her best chance.

‘He might not like answering to a woman.’ Agnes was full of doubt, Olive could see.

‘He’s got a wife, hasn’t he?’ Olive asked, and Agnes nodded. ‘Then he’s been answering to a woman for years, whether he knows it or not. Anyway, he might want to retire.’

‘Of course.’ Agnes’s face brightened. ‘I didn’t think of it that way … And he is getting on a bit. It will be hard for him to continue now the winter is nearly on us …’

‘He may just be waiting for you to take the strain before he gladly steps down from managing the place.’ He might, thought Olive, but she doubted it. But she went on, ‘You’ve seen how difficult it was for him to walk – and that was last year.’

‘I never thought of that either,’ Agnes said as the realisation hit her. ‘Oh, Olive, I have been so selfish. I’ll have to get a move on.’

‘Well, have your tea first,’ Olive said, before they looked at each other and laughed.

‘Have your tea first … that’s a good one, Olive,’ Agnes said, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. Suddenly the future seemed much easier to bear. But there was something she had to do first.

‘And what do you want, may I ask?’ Mrs Jackson looked down her nose as she opened the front door just enough to stare out at Agnes, who stood on the carbolic-smelling landing of the block of flats. Agnes noticed the stairs were still wet, as if they had not long been scrubbed, and she peered into the gloomy face of Ted’s mother.

‘Hello, Mrs Jackson, it’s me, Agnes …’

‘I know fine who you are,’ Mrs Jackson snapped. ‘Why are you here? There’s nothing here for you now. I told you at my son’s funeral that we didn’t want anything to do with you and I meant it.’ She was just about to close the door when Agnes stepped forward; she hadn’t expected to be asked inside.

‘Oh, I haven’t come to—’

‘And don’t think you can come around here with your hand out neither,’ cause my Ted never said nothing about no club money for you! I paid into that for years …’

‘I haven’t come around for money,’ Agnes tried to explain, but it was obvious Mrs Jackson wasn’t listening. ‘Well, there’s nothing here for you so you can scarper. Go on, off my step!’

‘I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving London, Mrs Jackson. I’m going to live on a farm …’ Agnes’s words seemed to have reached Mrs Jackson’s ears because she stopped her diatribe and thought for a moment.

‘A ruddy land girl! Well, that sounds about right, running away from all your responsibilities. I said to my Ted, I said, that girl will amount to nothing, that’s what I said.’

Agnes could feel her heart sink. She hadn’t come here for a confrontation.

‘I can’t see that lasting,’ Mrs Jackson said from behind her half-closed front door where Agnes could see only her head and right shoulder. ‘You’re frightened of your own shadow, you are. My Ted told me you are terrified of the dark.’ She shuffled a little and continued, ‘Don’t you know they’ve got no lights in the countryside?’

‘Ted offered to walk me home because of the blackout. It can be very dangerous.’

‘Caused me no end of grief, it did. My Ted’s dinner used to be freezing after he got in from walking you home and then all the way back here. Some people have got no consideration!’

Agnes refrained from asking if it would have been a hardship to put his dinner in the oven or perhaps make it half an hour later, as she didn’t want to inflame Mrs Jackson any further.

‘Who told you there are no lights in the countryside?’ Agnes was confused. ‘Of course they have lights – not in the lanes perhaps, but neither have we in the blackout …’

‘Don’t you be so impudent.’ Mrs Jackson’s sharp intake of breath told Agnes she hadn’t finished yet. ‘I am not having no foundling talking to me … coming around here with your airs and graces, working on a farm indeed! Get off my step!’

‘I just wanted to let you know, that all,’ Agnes offered, taking a step back as Mrs Jackson was getting increasingly riled.

‘And what makes you think we need help from the likes of you?’ The last part of the remark was a sneer. ‘So you can go about your bother and leave us in peace.’

‘If there’s anything that you ever need I’ll be at this address.’ Agnes handed Ted’s mother a piece of paper, which was snatched from her hands, and Ted’s mother read the address of the farm before shoving it roughly into the pocket of her apron. As she was about to close the door Agnes said, ‘If the girls want to come out to Surrey for a little holiday they are more than welcome.’

‘Hark at Lady Muck.’ Mrs Jackson’s wide eyes told Agnes that she was outraged. ‘What right ’ave you got to say who can and who can’t take holidays on farms? Tell me that!’ The door opened a little wider now so she could lean forward and thrust her chin in Agnes’s direction. ‘Coming round here with your airs and graces.’ Her hands were on her hips now and her words echoed around the stairwell for all to hear. ‘Who do you think you are, lording it over respectable people! We don’t take charity from the likes of you, lady.’

‘Well, the offer’s there, take me up on it any time, Mrs Jackson,’ Agnes said, feeling guilty that she hadn’t called round sooner because, like now, she was sure she wouldn’t be welcome.

Agnes didn’t tell Mrs Jackson she actually owned the farm; the older woman probably wouldn’t believe it anyway and her thoughts were realised when Mrs Jackson said, ‘It’ll be a poor day in the workhouse before I take handouts from an outcast, my girl.’ She scurried back behind her front door. ‘Now if I were you, I’d make my way down those stairs and don’t come bothering us any more.’

‘Well, so long, Mrs Jackson …’ Agnes said.

But before she’d even finished what she was saying the door was slammed shut. Mrs Jackson couldn’t stand her when her son was alive, and Agnes was quite sure she hated her guts now that he was dead.

As she descended the stone stairs Agnes knew it would have been nice if Ted’s younger sisters could have come out to the farm in the summer for a bit of a holiday. It would do their chests the world of good being out in the open countryside instead of cooped up in soot-covered foggy old London, and it would be safer. Even if there hadn’t been many raids lately, there was always a chance that they would start up again.