Time to Say Goodbye (14 page)

But Debby and Imogen had fallen upon her, knocking her on to her bed and threatening to pour cold water over her if she did not eat her words. Rita had promptly retracted, vowing that Jill was as beautiful as the day and saying that the man she married would be ‘jolly lucky’.

Now, Debby caught hold of Jill’s free hand and spoke quickly. ‘Rita and I will go to the indoor market and see if there’s anything for sale that we can afford. And we’ll come to the King’s Head at twelve. That will give us two hours; plenty of time to look at absolutely everything.’

Jill and Laurie agreed that that would be fine, but as soon as they had disappeared into the crowd Rita jabbed a sharp elbow into Debby’s ribs. ‘I’m not going round the bleedin’ animal market,’ she said defiantly. ‘I’m goin’ to the shops. So you can choose, baby Debby; it’s either the animal market by yourself or the shops with me. Only don’t you go hangin’ about wasting time, ’cos I mean to enjoy my freedom.’

But Debby felt she had had enough of being bossed about. She did not argue – arguing with Rita was useless – she simply turned on her heel and began to wriggle through the crowd, heading for the enormous barn which housed the indoor market. She heard Rita’s yelp of surprise but ignored it, and soon the two were separated by the crowd and she was staring into the contents of the first wire-fronted cage. It held a large grey rabbit with four little ones, and the description on the card on top of the cage, read
Doe and four kittens, Miss Letitia Brown
.

Debby smiled to herself. She was sufficiently knowledgeable now to guess that kittens must be the official term for baby rabbits. Once, she would have puzzled over it, but now she simply accepted it. Beside her, however, a thin brown boy wearing heavy horn-rimmed spectacles stood staring at the rabbits with a puzzled frown. He was wearing a patched grey shirt and shorts with plimsolls on his feet, and when he saw Debby staring at him he grinned. The grin lit his rather serious face, and when he turned his head slightly to read the card again it seemed enlightenment dawned, for he turned to Debby. ‘Am I right in supposing that baby rabbits are called kittens?’ he asked, and Debby nodded.

‘I’m pretty sure you’re right,’ she said, returning his grin. ‘Though why they don’t just call them baby rabbits I can’t imagine.’

‘Me neither,’ the boy said. He took off his spectacles, polished them absently on his shirt sleeve and replaced them on his rather aquiline nose. Then he moved a little further along the line of cages. ‘Are you just looking, or do you mean to buy?’

‘Bit of both,’ Debby replied. ‘I’d like a rabbit, but I’ve only got three and sixpence. And I’ve not got a cage or a run or anything, so I suppose I’ll end up just looking.’

‘I’m just looking,’ the boy said. ‘I live on a farm so there are animals everywhere, and this morning I helped to drive the cattle all the way from the farm into the pens. Mrs Pilgrim – she and her husband own the farm – gave me half a crown to buy myself some dinner, but I did wonder whether to go hungry and blow it on a hamster or a rabbit or something. Are you an evacuee like me? Or do you live here properly, so to speak?’

‘I’m an evacuee; my name’s Debby. I came in with your Mrs Pilgrim in the cart.’ Debby went on to tell him all about Auntie, Jill and the Canary and Linnet as the two of them moved slowly along the line of cages.

The boy listened, and then told her that his name was Josh and he and his friend Woody were the only evacuees living at Pilgrim Farm. ‘Of course we go to Hemblington Hall for lessons,’ he explained. ‘The Pilgrims expect us to help around the house and farm for an hour or so when we get home, but after tea we can do as we like. What about you? From what I’ve heard, those two ladies who run the pub are as easy-going as Mrs P.’

When the line of rabbits came to an end, by common consent they went outside and toured the entire market together, talking as they went. Debby was surprised by her ease with this boy, for she was normally shy with strangers. They saw pens packed with bleating sheep and others with fat sows and their little ones, and watched cattle being auctioned by a fat man whose sonorous voice rose above the market din. They were about to move on to where Mr Pilgrim’s cattle awaited their turn in the auction ring when Debby suddenly clutched Josh’s arm. ‘Oh Lor’, I’ve just remembered! I’m supposed to be meeting Auntie and the others outside the King’s Head at noon, and judging from the position of the sun it must be noon now. Why don’t you come with me and have your meal at the same time as us? Then I could meet your pal Woody. Didn’t you say you were going to meet him?’

This was definitely a bow at a venture, and Debby was not particularly surprised when Josh shook his head. ‘I said nothing of the sort and well you know it,’ he said reprovingly. ‘Woody’s got a den down by the river where he watches birds and that. And lately he’s got what he calls a lookout. It’s up a tree, a really tall one. He wanted me to go with him, but I’m not keen on heights and anyway I didn’t want to miss the market.’ He grinned at her. ‘Even though it meant helping to drive the cattle in. When you wear specs you get half blinded by the dust the cattle’s hooves make on a hot day, and the mud they throw up on a wet day is even worse.’

‘I don’t wear specs, but I can imagine how it must be,’ Debby agreed. ‘Only you haven’t said you’ll come to the King’s Head for your dinner. Oh, be a sport! Even if I can’t meet Woody, you could meet Rita. She’s not my particular friend – when there are three of you you can’t really have a particular friend – but she’s not bad. Bossy and rather rude sometimes, but not bad. So will you come with me?’

Josh patted her shoulder, but shook his head. ‘Thanks but no thanks,’ he said breezily. ‘The men get cheese baps and beer from the Drovers’ Arms; they’d wonder what was up if I went off to the King’s Head, which is where the farmers’ wives go. We’ll have to meet up again sometime, though. I don’t suppose you want to help to drive Mr Pilgrim’s new stock back to the farm?’

Debby was pleased to note that his voice sounded hopeful; it made her feel that she really had made a friend. Nevertheless, though regretfully, she shook her head. ‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid. Auntie means us to go back in the wagon with Mrs Pilgrim. When we reach the Linnet we’ll have to help unload the sacks of poultry meal and so on, and they’re jolly heavy, I can tell you.’ A thought struck her. ‘You know that den you said you use, down by the river? If it’s made of willow wands, sort of twisted to form walls and a roof, with just a little gap so’s we can get in and out, Imogen, Rita and me made it long before you came to Pilgrim Farm, and I think it was mean of your pal to pretend it was him.’

Josh’s dark eyebrows shot up. ‘I never said he built it, I just said he goes there,’ he protested. ‘Tell you what, tomorrow’s Sunday. All us Hemblington Hall boys go to Sunday service at the church in the next village, but afterwards me and Woody have our dinners at the hall and then walk back to the farm. We finish dinner by about half past two, so we could meet at the den at about three o’clock.’

Reluctantly, Debby shook her head. ‘Sundays are special, because Auntie and Jill have the day off,’ she explained. ‘We go to morning service in the village, and after lunch Jill darns her stockings while Auntie writes letters to friends in the forces. She told us once that before the war she and Jill used to catch a bus to the seaside and have a day on the beach. They can’t do that now, of course, because the beaches are mined and you aren’t allowed on them, but even so . . .’

‘Oh, well, it was just an idea,’ Josh said peaceably. ‘We’re bound to meet again soon, living so close.’ They had wandered into the main street and now he looked up at the clock above the chemist’s shop and whistled under his breath. ‘I say, it’s past twelve; you’d better get a move on.’

Debby squeaked. ‘Oh dear, I’m going to be late! ’Bye, Josh. See you sometime.’

‘Bound to,’ Josh called after her. ‘If it doesn’t happen by chance I can always pop into the pub for a whisky and ginger!’

Jill and Laurie wandered around the market, hands linked, talking. Jill thought him the nicest man she had ever known, but was aware that he was only offering friendship. He had already told her that in his opinion wartime relationships tended to be overdramatised, and she had read this as a kindly warning. Don’t go taking me seriously, he seemed to imply. I’ve other things on my mind right now; relationships can wait.

Laurie told her that the general belief in an invasion by the Jerries was pretty widely held in the Mess, and when it came he and his crew, who had discussed it endlessly, believed that the enemy would attack the airfields first in order to put them out of commission. Once the British planes were destroyed it would be a far simpler matter to send an invasion fleet across the Channel, knowing that there would be no retaliation by an air force already battered into submission. But when Jill gave a little shudder Laurie smiled at her reassuringly. ‘My old dad had a saying: “a dog fights best with its back to the wall when defending its own”,’ he quoted. ‘And that’s the position we are in at the moment. We’re defending everything we hold dear, so if they come they come at their peril because, as dear old Winnie says, “we shall never surrender”.’ He spoke in his best imitation of the Prime Minister’s well-known tones and Jill gave a small breathless laugh.

‘That’s it,’ she said approvingly. ‘And now since this is a day off let’s not talk any more about the war. What would you like to do next?’ She glanced at the small watch on her wrist. ‘Are you interested in pictures? Auntie says that if we go round behind the corn hall there’s an exhibition of paintings by local artists in the hut and some of them are quite good. Want to have a dekko?’

‘Good idea; I’d like that,’ Laurie said. ‘In fact if I can buy a picture which isn’t too expensive I might get it for my mother’s birthday. And then we’ll go on to that little tea room close by the church and have some elevenses.’

‘Lovely,’ Jill said contentedly. ‘I told Auntie not to worry if I didn’t meet them at the King’s Head for lunch, so we can spend the day together, if you like.’

Auntie watched Jill and Laurie wander away as the cart swung into the feed merchant’s yard. She liked Laurie very much, was pretty sure he was fond of her niece, but told herself that it was early days. Jill was her dear girl, but Auntie knew that she had never had a boyfriend, and was very sensibly taking things slowly. Laurie, on the other hand, was an extremely personable young man who must, she felt sure, have the experience which Jill lacked. When Jill was putting her jacket on that morning Auntie had been tempted to suggest that her niece might wear something a little smarter, since she guessed that Jill and Laurie meant to meet up. But she knew this would be blatant interference and might be resented. After all, Jill was only seventeen and would probably have a good many boyfriends – casual boyfriends – before settling down with any particular one.

At this point Mrs Pilgrim pulled on the reins and jumped down to go to Magnum’s head. She tied him up, then returned to the cart and addressed her passenger. ‘Best get our buying over before we go into the market,’ she said briskly. She cocked an eye at Auntie. ‘I see your niece have got herself a feller . . . nice-looking one, too. Ah well, that’s life.’ She chuckled. ‘Before you know it we’ll be hearin’ wedding bells, and you’ll be advertisin’ for a new barmaid.’

Auntie opened her mouth to say indignantly that Jill was not a barmaid but a partner in the business, then changed her mind. ‘I think she’s a bit young for marriage yet awhile,’ she said cautiously. ‘But if she did marry Laurie she wouldn’t want to move away. Still an’ all, never meet trouble halfway. I dare say the lad’s got no more idea of marriage than my Jill. Now how much pig meal do you reckon I’ll want?’

Debby arrived at the King’s Head breathless and panting, to find the others just about to go into the pub without her. She apologised for her tardiness and explained that she had forgotten to keep her eye on the clock, but whilst Auntie smiled and said it wasn’t important Debby received an angry glare from Rita. ‘A fine friend you are,’ Rita said contemptuously as they entered the dining room. ‘You never even tried to find me, did you? Oh no, why should you bother? You’d found yourself a boyfriend, and had no further use for me.’

Debby giggled. She thought of Josh with his enormous spectacles, his skinny body, and what she thought of as his hooky nose. They had got along well, but she had never considered him as a boyfriend for one moment. Still, once again she told herself that it was no good arguing with Rita, so instead she tried the apologetic approach. ‘Oh, Rita, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were looking for me,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you come over? I was only with that boy – his name’s Josh, he’s one of the Pilgrims’ evacuees – because we were both looking at the rabbits in the big barn. I thought you only wanted to see the shops, and you know I’m not much interested in clothes.’

Rita sniffed. ‘What’s the use of being interested in clothes when you’re stuck out in the country, with no one to care if you look pretty or ugly as sin?’ she asked sulkily. ‘My mother taught me to take care of my appearance; your mother – and Imogen’s for that matter – don’t seem to give a tuppenny damn what you look like.’

Debby felt a hot blush rise up her neck and into her face. She said stiffly: ‘You know very well I don’t have parents any more. Sometimes I think you’re really horrid, Rita Jeffries.’

She was pleased to see that her friend looked a little ashamed, but being Rita she did not intend to admit it. Instead she shrugged and turned away. ‘Oh well, it doesn’t matter. It’s just that you and that boy, Josh or whatever his name is, were laughing and chatting, and I knew if I went over and joined you I’d have felt left out.’

Debby felt a stab of guilt. In a way, Rita had hit the nail on the head. Had she joined them, Debby knew very well that her own pleasure in the day’s outing would have been, if not spoiled, at least lessened. The truth was, Rita was not easy. She wanted to be in charge of everything, tell everyone how they should behave, make all the decisions. Debby had once heard her telling Auntie that because she was an only child she had always mixed with grown-ups and regarded other children as being in some way inferior to herself; a remark which had made Auntie laugh. ‘Go on with you!’ she had said affectionately. ‘How can you say such a thing, let alone think it?