Whisper on the Wind (32 page)

Kath had thought a lot about that, lying awake in the little room. Aunt Min was a fixture – why not accept it, and she and Barney find another house? There might even be a cottage at Alderby. Didn’t Roz have houses of her own in the village? Suppose one of them became vacant? Couldn’t Barney find work around Helpsley when the Army no longer needed him?

A train crashed past, travelling in the opposite direction, making her start, reminding her that soon she would be in York and only half an hour away, then, from Home Farm.

She frowned, wondering if she should have tried harder to stick it out. One more day of Aunt Min, grey, cold skies and Barney’s photographs on the piano top, that was all. But one more day had proved too much even to think about and she had hurried to pack her best summer dress and the gold dancing slippers, hoping Aunt Min would not discover they were gone, knowing she would; knowing she would wonder why a woman whose husband was fighting in North Africa should be in need of dancing shoes.

But her bridges were burned; she
had
packed her dancing shoes, she
had
left a day before she need and Barney would hear of it, nothing was more certain. Aunt Min and Barney were close and the day her husband came back to Birmingham was the day her troubles would really start, Kath acknowledged soberly.

But Barney wasn’t coming back yet. It was a fact of life that it could be two years, three years – even longer before they were together again. How their marriage would stand up to a separation that long, she refused even to think about. And not just themselves. There were so many couples exactly like them – not long married, too soon parted. This war would have a lot to answer for before its time was run.

It had rained on and off for a week and enough to satisfy even Mat Ramsden. Now he declared it was sun the farmers needed; sun from daybreak to dusk, till the hay was cut and the corn harvested. He reached up to fondle the great grey horse that tossed its head at the stable door, impatient to be out.

‘Stop your fretting, lad. There’ll be work enough for you afore so very much longer.’ Hay to be mowed and dried in the sun, then carted away to the barns; after that, the corn harvest. But Duke was up to it all. A superior creature; one of the Lord’s finer creations and the equal of two tractors.

Mat wished he had passed on his love of horses to his son, but Jonty was one of the new breed who wanted more and more machines now that farmers suddenly had the money to buy them. Jonty was impatient, though for what his father had yet to discover. Time the lad was settling down, in his opinion; time he was doing a bit of serious courting, war or no war.

He smiled to remember himself at Jonty’s age, walking the three miles to Helpsley to court the daughter of a farmer there. My, but Grace had been a beauty and worth every step of that six-mile trip. Grace was still a beauty and he loved her every bit as much as the day he’d wed her. Pity her hopes for Roz and Jonty seemed to have come to nothing, but there was time enough, Mat supposed – unless Alderby gossip was to be believed.

But Roz was a grand little lass. She’d taken to farm work like a good ‘un in spite of her being a Fairchild and proudly reared. There were the makings of a farmer’s wife in her, did she but know it. Sad that Jonty had let the grass grow under his feet …

Roz gave a shout of delight and held wide her arms.

‘Kath! You’re back! I’ve missed you. But have
I
got it wrong, or have
you
?’

‘A day early, you mean?’ Kath set down her case. ‘I feel such a fool, but I couldn’t have taken any more. They’ll all think I’m mad when I get back to the hostel.’

‘Then why go back there till you’re due? Why not stay the night at Ridings? You know Gran would love it.’

‘Could I? But what about food? I couldn’t eat your rations.’

‘We’ll manage. It’d only be supper tonight, and surely we can wheedle an egg out of Grace for your breakfast. And don’t worry about supper, come to think of it. Haven’t we been promising for ages to bike over to Helpsley for fish and chips? Why don’t we do that, then look in at the dance?’

‘Great!’ Kath’s cheeks pinked with pleasure. ‘I’ve brought a dress back with me and my gold shoes. Might be nice to go to a dance looking like a girl. But won’t you be meeting Paul?’

‘Afraid not. One of the reasons why I’m so glad you’re back. Paul’s gone on leave – a seventy-two-hour pass, so you’ll keep me from moping. It’ll be the last leave they get for a while. The next one will be when they’ve finished their tour. Only six more to go, Kath. But I’ve got to fly. I’m doing the afternoon milking with Marco. Mat’s gone to see a bod at the War Ag. and Jonty’s at the dentist’s. Off you go and tell Gran you’re staying. And Marco’ll be glad to hear you’re back. I think he’s missed you, Kath. ’Bye. See you.’

Shaking her head, Kath watched her go. Quicksilver Roz. So full of life, so in love; wanting everyone to share her happiness. And six months ago, she thought, she hadn’t known Roz existed.

She closed her eyes, contentment washing over her. She was home and she had been missed. Here was where she was happiest and she wasn’t going back to Birmingham to live when the war was over, though how she would convince Barney, she thought, suddenly sober, was altogether another matter.

In the guest bedroom at Ridings, Kath regarded her mirror image.

‘I
have
lost weight, Roz. Aunt Min was right.’

‘You look fine. Do a turn? Let me look at your dress. Oh, by the way, Gran says you’re welcome to use her bike tonight, and I forgot to tell you – when I went on the cadge for eggs I told Grace you’d come back a day early because your Aunt Min wanted your room tonight for a friend from London. And Grace said, “Oh, dear. Poor Kath,” and I said you were glad, really, because you’d been promising to stay at Ridings for a long time and hadn’t got round to it. So don’t forget, will you? But is Birmingham really so awful?’

‘Nothing wrong with Birmingham.’ Kath turned, eyes grave. ‘It’s Aunt Min, truth known. She’s taken over the house and she’ll not easily let go, though I ought to be glad she’s there, looking after it. But she and Barney seem really close. She’s taken over where his mother left off.’

‘Looks like you’ve got problems, old love.’

‘You could be right. Do you know, Roz, Barney writes to Aunt Min more than he writes to me? And he’s told her things in his letters he hasn’t told me. It’s hurtful.’

‘I suppose it must be.’ Roz brushed her hair vigorously, wondering how someone as nice as Kath could have married someone as awful as Barney. Or as awful as he sounded. ‘But he can’t still be holding a grudge about the Land Army? It’s nearly six months ago. He’s had time to get over it by now. Quite sure you haven’t let anything drop in your letters?’

‘Like what?’ Of course she hadn’t. What was there to let drop?

‘Sure you’ve never mentioned Marco?’

‘Certain.’ She’d been careful not to. ‘Nor Jonty, either. I’m not entirely stupid. Barney’s got a thing about men who aren’t in uniform. I’m careful what I write.’

‘Then do you think he could feel insecure, being so far away? You’re very attractive, Kath. Do you think he could be jealous?’

‘I don’t see why. I’ve never given him cause in the past and as far as Marco’s concerned it was only a –’ She stopped, eyes wide, cheeks flushing.

‘Marco?’ All at once Roz was alert, her head tilted expectantly. ‘How does Marco fit into it?’

‘He doesn’t. I mean – well – it’s just that when I told him I was going away for a week he – he kissed me. Just a goodbye kiss. That’s all it was – honestly.’

‘Of course.’ Airily, Roz regarded her fingernails. ‘All it was. Nothing at all to stammer and stutter and get all steamed up about. I kiss all sorts of people, but I don’t go hot around the collar over it. Come on, Kath – you enjoyed it, admit it.’

‘I did
not
! And don’t dare say I did!’

‘Then you should have done. I think Marco’s gorgeous. I bet he’s a smashing kisser.’

‘Roz! Do you realize what you’re saying? Marco’s an enemy alien and I’m a married woman, or had you forgotten?’

‘No, I hadn’t. Had you, Kath? And if you had; if you forgot for just long enough to let him kiss you – does that make you a fallen woman?’

‘Of course it doesn’t.’ Why hadn’t she been more careful? Why hadn’t she watched her tongue? Yet didn’t she want to talk about it; tell Roz what a mess and muddle her life seemed to be in? ‘All I know for sure, though, is that I had to get out of that house – Barney’s mother’s house. It’s full of her things and Aunt Min polishes and dusts them. She loves it but she’s looking after it for Barney, not for me.

‘I can’t stand it. I can’t stand Barney’s photographs. They’re all along the top of the piano and in one of them especially he looks so smug; it’s as if he knows.’ There now, she’d said it. Or as good as said it. And she didn’t care, either.

‘As if he knows that it all began when you slipped off the stack on threshing day and Marco was there when you needed someone? As if he knows you’re flesh and blood and lonely, sometimes? And mightn’t he be lonely, Kath? Mightn’t Barney feel guilty, too?’

‘
Guilty
? What can Barney have done to feel guilty about? For Pete’s sake, he’s in the desert. It’s all sand and flies and hot days and cold nights. There’s no distractions where he is. No barmaids; no dancing girls …’

‘Sorry, love. Forget it. Just trying to help ease your conscience, that’s all.’

‘Well, I like that!’ Angry, she walked to the window and stood, arms folded, gazing out and seeing nothing. Then turning she said, as evenly as she could, ‘My conscience is all right – okay?’

‘Is it?’ Roz smiled tantalizingly. ‘Oh, dear. What a pity.’

By the time they were pedalling along the Helpsley road they had come to an understanding. Roz had promised not to tease any more and to forget every word Kath had said and Kath had determined, silently, of course, to try to understand how Barney must feel all those miles away from home. She had promised Roz, openly with hand on heart, not to be so hard on herself and accept that one kiss of friendship did not constitute a fall from grace. She would allow that women whose husbands were overseas had every right to feel lonely and that they in turn had no right at all to expect their wives to go into purdah for the duration of hostilities.

Now the sky was clear and bright, the rainclouds all gone and Roz was insisting that Kath had brought the sun back with her. They were going to eat fish and chips, well-salted, vinegared and wrapped round in newspaper; eat them with their fingers which was the only way, of course, then go to the hop in the parish hall, dance every dance and have a marvellous time.

Afterwards, Kath thought happily, she would sleep in the pretty guest bedroom at Ridings and when they had eaten boiled brown eggs for breakfast she would leave for Peacock Hey and tell Flora she was back.

She breathed in deeply. The air was thick with the scent of lilacs, the grass verges bright with dandelions and cow parsley; nowhere was there as much as the sound of an aircraft nor a sign of war. Tonight was special. Tomorrow she would worry about the muddle her life was in; tomorrow was always the best time.

‘Oh, Roz.’ She smiled tremulously. ‘Isn’t this the most beautiful evening?’

‘We can leave the bikes at Polly’s cousin Willie’s.’ Roz directed Kath to the rear of the shop bearing the name
William Appleby. Boot & Shoe Repairs & Leather Goods.
‘It’s near the chip shop, so we’ll be handy for the queue.’

They had checked on the notice which announced ‘Frying Tonight’ and noted that the head of the line had already been established by three ladies carrying newspapers.

‘It’s ages since I’ve had fish and chips.’ Sniffing, Roz wrinkled her nose as they joined a queue now grown to seven. ‘We can walk along the riverbank to eat them, if you like. Nobody’ll see us there.’ Even in wartime, fish and chips were not eaten in public view. ‘And I’ll show you where Marco’s camp is; not far from the dance hall, actually. Poor Marco. He was upset the other day. A lot of Helpsley people don’t like having prisoners here, and one woman yelled at them to clear off back to Italy; called them Wops and shook her fist at them, he said. There’s been quite a bit of resentment; the women are the worst. They feel it, I suppose, having their men abroad and seeing prisoners doing nothing, and getting fed on our rations.’

‘Marco works,’ Kath defended.

‘Marco’s in a minority. He hates being cooped up, he told me. We talked quite a lot while you were away.’

‘Hope your gran didn’t see you.’

‘Gran’s like the Helpsley women, I suppose, though I can’t see her cat-calling and shaking her fist. Gran’s protest comes in the form of icy aloofness – far more effective, actually. Anyway, I told Marco not to worry because it’s the same for Jonty, come to think of it. Jonty comes in for more than his fair share of flack and it’s almost always from women.’

The doors of the chip shop were opened with a flourish; the queue moved slowly inside and the smell of hot fat and crispy batter set empty stomachs rumbling.

‘Aaaah.’ Roz closed her eyes blissfully.

Kath smiled. Tonight Roz was relaxed and full of chatter, but she always was when Paul wasn’t flying. Six more to go, hadn’t she said? Six more times waiting and worrying, then counting them home.

Fish – 4d. Chips – 2d.
said the notice on the counter. ‘My treat tonight.’ Kath took out a shilling. A celebration, a thanksgiving for her homecoming. And of being happy again.