Under the Apple Tree (53 page)

‘Well, you can let me carry one of the cases then.’ Jean

took the lighter one and they strolled along between the

leafy hedges. There had been primroses and violets here a

few weeks ago, Judy reflected, and bright, sunshiny celandines. Now the grass had grown and a froth of wild

parsley on both banks almost met across the narrow way, so

that it was almost like walking through a shower of foam.

Small birds were dustbathing in shallow potholes, and a

rabbit scuttled into a hole as the two girls rounded a corner.

Above them, the sky was a deeper blue than it had been in

the spring, and the sun hotter. You don’t notice the seasons

half as much in a town, Judy thought, yet here everything

seems to have changed in just a few weeks.

The vicarage garden had changed too. The big vegetable

patch was flourishing, with rows of lettuces already big

enough to pick, and runner beans climbing vigorously up a

row of tall poles. A shorter row was bushing out with peas

and there were several furrows of potatoes which had

already been dug over, and a line of feathery carrots. Judy

looked at them enviously. Some of the men in April Grove

had allotments and grew vegetables like these but Dick had

never been strong enough to do heavy gardening, and in any

case until they’d moved to Alice’s house they’d lived too far

away. Except for a few things Alice and Cissie had planted

in the small garden at the back of the house, the Taylors

were dependent upon vegetables from Atkinson’s, the

greengrocer’s in September Street.

‘You’re going to eat well here,’ she said to Jean. ‘It’ll be

good for you and good for the baby.’

She opened the small wicket gate into the patch of garden

that the Hazelwoods had kept for relaxation. Here too the

flowers had grown and the apple trees had lost their blossom

and now bore small green fruits. Beneath the one where she

had been sitting on the day that she had first met Ben, there

was a deckchair and at the sight of it, Judy stopped short.

‘Ben!’

The lanky figure stretched in the chair stirred. A pair of

dark, rather heavy brows lifted enquiringly and bright blue

eyes met hers. The wide mouth spread into a curling grin and Ben unfolded himself and came to his feet.

‘Judy! I thought you were never coming.’ He pulled her

into his long arms and hugged her tightly.

Judy, laughing, expostulated, ‘Ben, don’t be silly. What

are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school? Oh, it is

good to see you.’

He let her go, making a rueful face. ‘Well, that puts me in

my place. Shouldn’t you be at school, indeed! Just when I was

hoping to impress this lovely lady you’ve brought with you.’ ‘I don’t know what you’re saying but I’m sure it’s ridiculous,‘Judy said firmly. ‘Ben, this is Jean Foster. She’s come to stay here for a while. But we thought — well, I thought you’d be away at school. I thought she’d be having

your bedroom.’ She stopped, feeling her face turn pink, and

Ben laughed.

‘Well, so she can.’ He spoke clearly so that she could

understand. ‘I’m leaving today - that’s why I was hoping

you’d arrive this afternoon. I didn’t want to miss you.’

‘Leaving?’ Judy stared at him. ‘Going back to school, you

mean?’

He sighed. ‘There you go again. No, I’ve left school. I’ve

joined the RAF.’ Excitement broke out over his face. ‘I’m

going to train to be a pilot, Judy! A pilot!’ He spread his

arms and tilted from side to side, like a small boy playing

Spitfires, then flung his hands skywards. ‘I’m going to be up

there, flying my own aeroplane and doing my bit for the war

at last!’

Judy stared at him. Even when the words escaped her, it

was easy to understand what Ben was saying, and how

pleased he was to be saying it. But Judy couldn’t feel pleased

for him. A cold fear settled round her heart. Not another

one going off to be killed, she thought. Not another boy like

Sean and Terry and Johnny, setting off full of hope and

courage, to die in some horrible way without ever having

really had his chance at life…

Ben had turned to Jean and was shaking her hand,

obviously welcoming her to the vicarage and Jean, who had

been standing shyly by, was flushed and smiling as she

responded. Judy wondered how much he knew about her

condition. Had his mother and father discussed it in front of

him? Did he know enough to notice that she was pregnant?

She watched them a little sadly, the boy who was about to!

risk his life and the girl who had lost her sweetheart. It all

seemed so peaceful and innocent, standing in the sunshine

in this tranquil garden, yet the shadow of death was

reaching out to them both.

‘What am I doing, keeping you standing out here?’ Ben

exclaimed, picking up both suitcases. ‘Come in and we’ll

find Mother. She’ll want to make you a cup of tea or a glass.

of lemonade or something. It won’t be real lemonade, of course,’ he went on, striding off towards the French windows. ‘We can’t get lemons now, although I did hear a consignment of oranges has arrived in Southampton. But the stuff we make with those crystals isn’t too bad.’ He went

on talking as he led them through the cool house, but fori

once Judy didn’t feel left out. She looked about her, glad to

be back here, glad to be at Ashdown, glad to be with Ben.

I’ve missed them all while I’ve been back in Portsmouth,

she thought with some surprise. I’ve missed the peace and

quiet. And then she caught herself up in surprise.

How could a deaf person say that she missed the peace

and quiet?

Back at the Royal Beach, Polly was kept busy with a variety

of jobs. Sometimes she found herself driving round the city

all day, delivering messages or packages, at others she was in one of the Clothing Stores, or on another day she might be driving the Lady Mayoress or some important visitor.

There were no more trips to London, however, and Joe Turner didn’t seem to be likely to visit Portsmouth again.

Polly had tried to put him out of her mind, but without

success. There was nothing special about him, she told herself-he was no oil painting, he was several years older than she, and he was a widower with two sons to bring up.

Yet his face was friendly, his eyes warm and his presence

comforting. She could not forget how he had taken her into

his arms to comfort her, and how she had felt as if she had

come home. Oh Johnny, she thought, would you mind very

much? Would you be very hurt if I found someone else to

love? It wouldn’t make any difference to you and me - I

could never forget how we loved each other. But there are so

many years ahead, so many years to spend alone, and if I

could just have the sort of comfort Joe Turner gave me, it

would make the years so much easier to bear.

And then she shook herself. Joe Turner had never given

her any reason to suppose that he wanted or would offer

anything more than friendship. And look at the last time he

came here - flung headlong into a family crisis, sent off into

the countryside to fetch home an unknown girl, and one who couldn’t even hear him when he talked to her? He wasn’t likely to risk that again!

Deep in thought, she mounted the steps to the Royal

Beach and jumped, startled, as someone touched her on the

arm. She looked up and recognised the young Observer who

had been stuck in the lift with Judy.

‘Hello, you’re Chris Barrett, aren’t you?’

‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘and you’re Mrs Dunn - Judy

Taylor’s aunt.’

‘Polly,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I feel we’re almost

family after what happened to you and Judy.’

He looked rueful. ‘I’m never going to hear the last of that.

It would start at just that moment! I never meant to

embarrass her, you know, Mrs Dunn. I didn’t even mean

to make a pass - it just happened. We were talking, and

then—’

‘It’s Polly. Please.’ She hesitated. ‘I think you should

forget about that. It wasn’t really that important, after all.’

‘I know.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘I suppose I ought to put Judy out of my mind - I know she’s engaged - but

somehow, I can’t. How is she, Mrs Dunn? Is she all right?

Will she get better?’

Polly stared at him. ‘Better? You mean her ears? Well, we

hope so, but nobody really knows. But - what was that you

said about her being engaged?’

‘Well, she is, isn’t she? She was wearing a ring anyway,

that day in the lift.’ He stared at her, a small frown creasing his brows. ‘She said she was going to tell me about it - we

were going to go out together, but it was the Sunday of the

big raid and I had to stay on duty. And after that - well, she

wouldn’t see me again. And I’ve been away for a while, on a

training course. When I came back, I didn’t know what to

do next.’

Polly remembered Judy coming home a few days before

the raid, different somehow, her eyes brighter and her face

more alive than it had looked for weeks. Was that because

she had made a date with Chris Barrett? Was it then that she

had moved Sean’s ring over to her right hand? Had she been

going to tell Chris about the young Irish sailor?

But if so, they had never had their date and she had never

told him. Polly remembered the young man’s attempts to

come and see Judy in April Grove, and her refusal even to

go to the door. Perhaps she had regretted agreeing to see

him. Or perhaps she really did believe he would no longer

be interested in her. And then she’d moved the ring back

again.

‘Judy was engaged,’ she said, making up her mind. ‘But

her fiance died - he was lost at sea around the time of the

first Blitz. I expect that was what she was going to tell you.’

He gazed at her. ‘So we could have gone out together.

She wasn’t being disloyal or anything. But why won’t she

see me again? What happened to make her decide not to

have anything more to do with me?’

‘It’s not just you,’ Polly said gently. ‘She’s had a bad

time. That’s why we got her to go out to the country — for some peace and rest. You see, she’s not as strong as she likes

to think. She has this terrible fear of being shut in.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘She was scared stiff in the lift, but she

tried hard not to show it. I thought she was really brave.’

‘She is, but in the Blitz that night we were trapped in a

building with high walls all around. It was terrible — there

was a woman dying, we were trying to get her out and then

the building was bombed again - we thought we weren’t

going to get out at all. Judy was a heroine, she saved me. I

wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for her, but afterwards

she seemed to go right down. The doctors say there’s

nothing wrong with her ears, nothing physical. And my

brother-in-law thinks it’s like shell-shock. It’s as if she

doesn’t want to hear, as if she’s shut everything out - the

noise and the fear, everything.’

‘But that’s terrible,’ he said. ‘She’s shut herself into a

worse space than ever.’

‘I know,’ Polly said. ‘That’s why we’re so worried about

her. But out in the country - well, she seems more able to

manage. She seems stronger.’

Chris nodded. Then he said, ‘D’you think she’d see me if

I went out there? D’you think she’d send me away?’

Polly looked at him. His fair, open face was troubled. She

said carefully, ‘I think you ought to leave her for a while,

Chris. She needs time to get over Sean. She needs the peace

and quiet of the countryside, with no more complications.

Perhaps in a few weeks, if you still feel the same …’

‘I’ll still feel the same,’ he said. He met her eyes candidly.

‘I think a lot of Judy, Mrs Dunn - Polly. The first time I

saw her, I thought, That’s the girl for me. That’s the girl I

want to marry.’ He paused. ‘I don’t know if she could ever

come to feel anything for me, but when we were in the lift it

was as if there was something between us, something

special. So, I’d like to try again. I’d like to see if there is a chance. And I’m ready to wait.’

‘And suppose she’s deaf for the rest of her life?’ Polly

asked. ‘It isn’t easy, you know, for anybody.’

‘She’ll still be Judy,’ he said simply. ‘She’ll still be the

girl for me.’

Jean settled into the vicarage more quickly than anyone had

thought possible. The arrangement was that she would have

her board and lodging in return for whatever household

duties she could manage, and Mrs Hazelwood found herself

continually remonstrating with her for doing too much.

‘You’re not supposed to slave from morning till night, my

dear. You’re expecting a baby - you ought to be putting

your feet up.’

‘I did.’ Jean was cleaning the French windows with a

screwed-up newspaper. ‘I was out there in the deckchair for nearly an hour. Then I noticed the glass was all smeary where the cat was trying to get out to chase the birds, and

once I’d started—’

‘Once you’d started you decided to clean every window in

the house.’ Mrs Hazelwood took away the newspaper and