The Lost Days of Summer (28 page)

‘It’s been a real success story. But that reminds me – what happened to those cottages?’ Nell had asked curiously. ‘I know Eifion and your gran – I mean nain – live in one, but there’s another, isn’t there? Who lives in that?’

‘That’s right. The other one is occupied by old Mrs Dibble Davies, whose sons worked for Mrs J until they were called up,’ Bryn said. He had grinned at Nell. ‘I don’t believe old Ma Dibble pays rent, any more than my taid does, so you can see why your aunt is well thought of locally.’

Now Nell chatted to Pansy as she milked, and thought about Bryn and smiled with pleasure; she wished – how she wished – that he were here.

And when the land girl arrives she’ll be another friend – if I’m lucky that is – Nell told herself, moving along to the next cow. I would have liked to go with Auntie to the station, but actually her going off at midday will be an ideal opportunity for a quick visit to the attic. Since the coming of the long light evenings Nell’s interest in its treasures had revived, and she had been changing her books at regular intervals for ages, reading them in her room after her aunt had retired to bed. She smiled to herself, sitting down on her stool and beginning to milk Heather, murmuring soothingly all the while, for Heather was a tail-swisher when she was impatient to get out of the shippon and back to whatever pasture the cows had left.

By the time the milking was finished the rain had ceased. Nell and Eifion put the milk through the cooler and then into the big churns, setting aside some for Auntie Kath to make into butter. After that Nell mixed the pigswill, a messy but delightful job, and fed the two large sows, both with a dozen candy pink babies tugging at their teats. Not that they tugged for long once the swill was in the troughs; all the sows’ maternal feelings went to the wall when it was a choice between suckling their young and feeding their own bellies, Nell thought with a grin, seeing piglets scattered ruthlessly as their mothers surged to their feet and charged across to the troughs. Nevertheless she leaned over the sty and scratched both pigs behind their large and flapping ears before returning to the kitchen to make up the poultry meal to feed the hens. Auntie Kath had already collected the eggs and gone out to the pond to feed the dozen geese who lived there with the gander, terrorising anyone who ventured too near.

Eifion had gone off to check on the sheep and Nell followed him, knowing how foolish sheep can be. He had told her how they would push their way through the thin part of the hedge and then try to get back a different way, tearing their long fleeces in winter and spring and sometimes doing themselves a far worse injury when they were shorn. On this occasion, however, all was well and the two returned to the kitchen just as Auntie Kath put mugs of tea on the big table beside a plate of buttered scones.

‘All done?’ she asked briskly. ‘Then get the grub down you. The ministry vet is coming tomorrow to check the cows and heifers for TB, so we’ll want to get all our yard work done early.’

‘We’ll have extra help tomorrow, though,’ Nell said smugly. ‘Has anyone answered our advert for a bicycle, Auntie?’

‘Not so far as I know; and as for extra help, I don’t suppose the land girl will be much use at first. I thought I’d show her round the place, explain about feeding and so on, then get her to do simple jobs for a day or so. I’ll give you two a hand when I can, but if I supervise her for a couple of days we’ll have a better idea of where she fits into the scheme of things.’

‘I wish a bicycle would fit in,’ Nell said longingly as Eifion left the kitchen. Ever since her trip to the Swtan she had wanted to go there again, to learn to swim in that crystal clear sea, to discover for herself what the longhouse was like inside as well as without. ‘Will you have a chance to pop into the post office when you’ve got the land girl in the pony trap, Auntie?’

‘You make it sound as though I’m going to put her between the shafts,’ Auntie Kath said, smirking. ‘But I might make time, I suppose.’ She reached her coat down from its hook and slipped into it, then turned back to her niece. ‘Get Feather tacked up and bring her round to the door, there’s a good girl. You can start making that plum cobbler as soon as I leave.’

‘Right,’ Nell said briskly. She grinned wickedly at her aunt. ‘Don’t forget Margaret comes from a very posh area of Liverpool; remember to curtsy when she gets down from the train.’

Auntie Kath snorted, Nell laughed, and the back door banged as Nell hurried over to the stable. When she got there she found that Eifion had already tacked Feather up, so between them they backed the pony between the shafts and then Nell led her over to the door where her aunt was waiting.

‘Don’t forget to curtsy,’ she called as the equipage moved off, and laughed as her aunt made a rude gesture. The older woman was becoming almost human, she thought.

Returning to the kitchen, she prepared the salad and made the plum cobbler. When it was cooked to a golden brown, she stood it on the windowsill to cool, laid the table for four and examined her handiwork. She thought that a few flowers would give the table a festive touch and hurried outside to the vegetable patch, which was divided from the rest of the garden by a thick hedge of Mrs Simkin’s pinks. She picked a generous handful, then chose a pretty green glass vase and put the arrangement in the middle of the kitchen table.

Satisfied that she’d done all she could, Nell headed for the stairs, glancing at her wristwatch as she went. The train was supposed to get in at noon; if it really did arrive on time, then Feather could come trotting into the yard in another fifteen minutes or so. But when did a train ever get in on time whilst the excuse that there’s a war on could be made, Nell told herself. Still, I’d better get a move on.

She raced up the stairs, paused on the first landing to nip into her room to fetch the books she had finished reading, then climbed quickly up to the attic. It was hot up there and as soon as she had scrambled out on to the dusty boards she went over to the sash window and pushed it up, letting in deliciously cool air. Then she approached the nearest pile of books, smiling to herself as she returned the two she had carried upstairs and selected two more for later perusal. She loved the feeling that she had her own private library in the attic and could change her books without all the fuss and botheration of tickets, dates in and out and other people snatching the book she wanted whilst she was still hesitating over which title to choose.

Having made her selection, she put them down by the trapdoor, went to the window – the one overlooking the approach to the farm – and checked that the lane was empty, then returned to find the kaleidoscope. She had not had a chance to examine the toy since her first visit to the attic because on previous occasions her aunt had never been sufficiently far away for Nell to take her time. She had simply climbed the stair, changed her books and descended rapidly. But now, with Auntie Kath in Valley, she did not need to hurry.

She took the kaleidoscope over to the horsehair sofa, sat down upon it, clapped it to her eye and trained it on the window. Then she began, with great care, to turn the lens, counting each complete revolution as she did so. For the first four, she saw only brilliant colours and different patterns, but on the fifth turn the photograph appeared and this time she was able to confirm that the young man in the picture was definitely not the young man in the photograph which her aunt had removed from its customary place on the mantelpiece. Nell frowned thoughtfully. Oh, how I wish I could take the kaleidoscope down to the kitchen and ask Auntie Kath to explain about the photograph. But for the time being it’s impossible—

Nell jumped to her feet, a hand flying to her heart, as the hush was broken by the rhythmic tapping of what sounded like hooves. Unless Eifion had seen fit to move Hal, and it was the big carthorse she could hear clicking across the cobbles, it must be Feather returning! She shot across to the open window and peered down, just in time to see Feather’s rump disappearing into the farmyard below. She gave a gasp of horror and withdrew from the window, closing it carefully, anxious not to draw attention to her presence. Heart still thumping, she hurried down to her own room and threw the books on to her bed, then had to return to put them under her pillow, since she supposed it was quite possible that her aunt might take the land girl on a tour of the house, as she had done with Nell herself.

Trying to stay calm, though her heart was still leaping about all over the place, she left her bedroom, closing the door quite loudly behind her – I was in my room, changing my blouse . . . no, that wouldn’t do . . . putting away some washing . . . hell and damnation,
what
washing! . . . I was having a rest on my bed . . .

For heaven’s sake, Helen Mary Whitaker, get a hold of yourself, Nell commanded as she left her room and began to descend the stairs two at a time. Auntie Kath will be too busy chatting to the land girl to wonder what you’ve been up to, unless you give yourself away by rabbiting on. She hurled open the kitchen door and entered the room breathlessly, still trying to think up an excuse for obviously coming down the stairs when she should have been in the kitchen, attending to their cold dinner.

The kitchen was empty. Nell blinked, then thanked providence; Auntie Kath must be untacking Feather and rubbing her down, and the land girl must be watching. She grabbed the pan of potatoes which she had put on the back of the range to stay warm and tipped them into a tureen, added a large knob of butter and a sprig of mint, and stood the tureen on the table next to the pie. Then, her heart now beating at its normal rate, she crossed the kitchen and opened the back door just as her aunt and a stranger came towards her.

Nell smiled gaily. ‘The train must have been on time – what a miracle!’ she said. ‘I’ve just put a knob of butter on the potatoes; they’re still nice and hot.’ She held out a hand to the stranger, a tall thin girl with wispy dark hair, clad in the land girl’s No. 1 uniform, which did not suit her, since it appeared to have been made for someone a good deal larger than Margaret Smith. ‘I expect my aunt told you all about me. How do you do? Did you have a good journey?’

‘It weren’t bad, nor I wouldn’t call it good,’ the girl said in a broad Liverpudlian accent. ‘I gorron the train at the crack of bleedin’ dawn and had to change two or three times, but at least I gorra seat as soon as folk saw me uniform.’ She grinned, showing crooked teeth, and held out a thin, knobbly hand, grasping Nell’s with unexpected strength. ‘How d’you do, Miss – Miss Jones?’

Nell smiled at the other girl. ‘My name’s Nell Whitaker, but you must call me Nell and I’ll call you Margaret,’ she said. ‘I expect Auntie Kath told you to call her Mrs Jones, but . . .’

‘I told Maggie – she wants to be called Maggie – that the pair of you might as well call me Auntie Kath,’ her aunt said quickly. She pointed to the bag slung from the girl’s shoulder. ‘Put that down, my dear, and wash over the sink. Nell here will take you to your room after we’ve eaten.’

Maggie’s eyes brightened as she looked at the food on the table. ‘Wharra wizard spread!’ she said reverently. ‘Better’n they ever give me in Brompton Avenue.’

Nell was too astounded to be tactful. ‘But Brompton Avenue is a real smart part of Liverpool,’ she said. ‘I know rationing is tougher in the city than in the country, but—’

‘I think we’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick, Nell,’ Auntie Kath said apologetically, giving her niece a glare and nudging her quite painfully in the ribs. ‘Maggie worked for a lady who lives in Brompton Avenue, only as soon as she was eighteen she had to leave there to do war work.’

Nell turned to stare at the other girl, who was nodding vigorously. ‘I’s a foundling,’ Maggie said matter-of-factly. ‘I were a kitchen maid first off, then when all the rest of the staff left to take war work, I were just about everythin’. Truth to tell, I were downright delighted when I got me call-up, ’cos Miz Avery took me ration book and never fed me proper; bread and scrape and weak tea was what she served up for the kitchen staff.’ She laughed mirthlessly. ‘That were me, once the others were gone. She tried to say I could stay on, said she’d write a letter sayin’ she were an invalid and needed me to nurse her, but no way were I doin’ that. I didn’t fancy the ATS or the WAAF – I’d had enough of being bossed about in the children’s home what brought me up – so I went for the Land Army.’ She looked down at her dreadful breeches, the wrinkled socks on her pipe-cleaner legs, and the great clumping shoes. ‘It’s awright, ain’t it? Norra uniform really, more like boys’ clobber than girls.’

‘I – I see,’ Nell said rather feebly. ‘Well, I must say, you look very – um – very smart, only you won’t stay smart for long once you’re working on the farm. Auntie had to buy me overalls and boots and that; I suppose she’ll have to do the same for you.’ She looked at her aunt, who was straight-faced, but with a twinkle in her eye and a twitch at the corner of her mouth. ‘You wouldn’t want Maggie to dirty her lovely uniform, would you, Auntie?’

‘No indeed, but I think you’ll find that Maggie won’t need any help as regards suitable clothing,’ Auntie Kath said placidly, but still with that lurking twinkle. ‘She was telling me, as we drove home, that she has overalls, wellington boots and working shirts in her luggage; the uniform she’s wearing is for best.’

‘I see . . .’ Nell was beginning, when a thought struck her and she clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, Auntie, your homemade lemonade! I completely forgot to bring it through, but at least it will still be beautifully cold since it’s standing on the slate slab.’ She turned to Maggie, who had put down her bag with a sigh of relief. ‘You wash first. There’s a piece of soap on the draining board and you can dry on the roller towel. Trains are always dirty.’

Maggie went obediently to the sink and, rather to Nell’s surprise, washed with great thoroughness. When she had done, Auntie Kath rinsed her own hands and the three of them were taking their places at the table when the back door opened and Eifion hobbled into the room. Auntie Kath introduced him to Maggie, and the old man immediately broke into a torrent of Welsh. Auntie Kath began to remonstrate, but Maggie cut across her. ‘Don’t you go tryin’ that on me, old feller, ’cos you’ll soon find you’ve got the wrong cat by the ear,’ she said severely. ‘I reckon that’s this ’ere Welsh language I’ve been told about, but they said at the agency everyone on the island could speak a bit of English, so I reckon you know enough to say how do you do.’ She had already taken her place at the table, but jumped to her feet and held out a hand towards the old man. ‘How d’you do? I’s Maggie Smith; what’s your moniker?’