Rosie James - Letters To Alice

‘I’d love to help you with that sometimes, Mrs. Foulkes – if I’m not needed anywhere else, of course,’ she said eagerly. Alice had a picture-book view of putting her hands into warm straw and finding a lovely brown egg nestling beneath…

‘’Course you can, luvver – but s’mornin’ those ’taters d’come first I’m afraid!’

As she turned to go, Fay said tentatively – ‘Um…how far are we from the village, Mrs. Foulkes?’ She wanted to say – how far were they from any kind of civilization at all. ‘And is there a bus service into Bristol…or into anywhere?’ she added hopefully.

Mabel pursed her lips. ‘We used to get two buses a day, ’afore this war,’ she said, ‘but now all we get is a charabanc twice a week – Sundays and Wednesdays. The train sometimes stops at the Halt – but it’s only a branch line and I dunno the times. I ‘aven’t used the thing for yers.’

‘But I take it you have some shops…somewhere…?’ Fay said.

‘’Course!’ Mabel said at once. ‘The village is only a mile and a half away, though there’s only the one shop, really – but it’s big – an’ they sell a bit of everythin’! An’ the chemist is next door. Then a ’ course there’s our church by the green – next the war memorial and the school. And there’s the pub…the Wheatsheaf…and the bakery, next to the telephone box…mind, we get a bread delivery come in from one of the towns each mornin’ but, well, the little bakery everyone uses is not really a shop,’ Mabel went on, ‘see, the twins, Eileen and Esther, have run the place from their house for yers and yers. They got a big front room, see, and they sell everythin’ from the open window first thing each mornin’…and they never ever fail. ’Course, tis only bread and buns, though sometimes there’s somethin’ a bit more fancy.’ Mabel paused reflectively. ‘ We’ve never got our bread from them, a’course, because I do all our bakin’ meself, like most others do.’ She folded her arms. ‘An’ there’s our WI hut where they have whist drives every Tuesday and Thursday evenin’s, and some Saturdays there might be a film showin’ as well… I know Rog goes up there if it’s summat he wants to see.’

Fay had stopped listening. At least there was a pub!

After Mabel had gone, the girls filled their bowls with the porridge then went over to the table and sat down. Eve stared down at hers and shuddered.

‘I don’t really eat porridge,’ she said, ‘and not this thick.’

‘Well – dilute it, Evie,’ Fay said, pushing the jug of milk across.

‘What – with raw milk?’ Eve said, shocked at the thought of swallowing anything that hadn’t been made bug-free. ‘I think it would make me sick!’

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ Alice said reassuringly. ‘The Foulkes family obviously drink nothing else., and they look fit enough to me.’

‘Yes…but it’s not the same for them,’ Eve said. ‘They’re used to it…they’ve obviously become immune to any infection, haven’t they…’

Fay, who was thoroughly enjoying her porridge, put her spoon in and took another mouthful. ‘And that’s what’ll happen to us, Evie,’ she said. ‘We’ll get used to everything, and become strong and hearty Land Girls, living off the fat of the land!’ She scraped the bowl with her spoon and got up. ‘I’m having seconds!’

Presently, they made their way outside and into the yard where Roger was waiting for them.

‘Morning,’ he said easily, grinning down at the girls, and once again not believing his luck. They were all so smashing- looking – even in their uniforms – and always so friendly…he’d been wondering who was going to turn up. Living out here and working on the farm as he had for most of his life, Roger didn’t meet many new people…certainly not new women…and the village girls, most of whom he’d been to school with, were hardly exciting company any more. And a lot of them had moved on, and out.

Now all he had to do was to show these city types the ropes. And he was going to enjoy it.

‘You’ll be up the top today,’ he said as they fell into step beside him. ‘We didn’t manage to get up to the potato fields last night, did we?’ He glanced down. ‘It’s another pot boiler, so good job you’ve got those hats on!’

After a good five or six minute hike, they came to the field. Roger pushed open the gate and went in and the girls followed him. And for a few seconds neither of them uttered a word as they stared around.

The field went on for ever, disappearing into the far distance…almost further than the eye could see…with rows and rows and rows of plants rustling gently in the slight breeze. Wheel barrows and long-handled forks were there by the hedge, and Roger said –

‘Well, there you are, help yourselves to that lot! They’re ready to come up so there won’t be any problem.’ He picked up one of the forks. ‘Approach the plant from the side, see, like this, and start gently so as to try and not damage any potatoes, then dig, lift and shake.’ With his strong brown hands and muscular arms, the task seemed easy going for Roger, and he’d lifted half a dozen plants in a few seconds. ‘Then just fill up your buckets with the spuds, and chuck the plants into the wheelbarrows,’ he went on, ‘and I’ll return with the trailer every now and then to take everything down to the sheds.’ He stood back. ‘Have a go,’ he suggested.

The girls each picked up a fork and started digging, and as Roger had said it wasn’t a complicated assignment – it was just that it appeared to be endless. Fay glanced up from under her hat.

‘Um – how long d’you think it’ll take us to finish this particular field, Roger?’ she said. Farmer Foulkes had intimated that there was more than one. ‘It’s a far bigger area than I’d thought it was going to be…d’you think the war’ll be over before we dig up the last spud?’

Roger laughed at that. He liked a woman with a sense of humour. ‘Get away with you,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Once you get going it’ll get easier and easier.’ He grinned. ‘But it might take you a couple of days,’ he admitted.

He stood with his hands on his hips watching them for a few minutes – enjoying seeing them tackle a job which none of them had ever done before. It was funny having women on their land – women who managed to look good, look enticing, even when wearing those brown uniforms. And they were getting on with the job without question. Fay had already lifted a dozen plants, and Alice seemed to know exactly what to do as she lifted and pulled, though Eve seemed at a bit of a loss, standing back now and then as if hoping the potatoes would pop up by themselves.

But of the three girls, it was Fay who intrigued Roger Foulkes. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on – not that he had that much experience of women, he admitted – but she seemed different. One on her own. With a sort of devil-may-care attitude, as if she could take on the whole world if she wanted to, single-handed, and everyone had better look out. And he liked that. But he also sensed that she was hiding behind something, hiding behind the persona she liked to portray, hiding behind a kind of veneer. Roger shrugged at his own introspection. None of that really mattered as long as these Land Girls managed to convince his father that they were worth the money he’d be paying them.

But the best thing he liked about Fay Reynolds was that she certainly seemed fun to be around – good for a laugh, good for a joke…they were all giggling about something now, as they worked, at something Fay had just said. Yet Roger instinctively felt that you’d better be careful not to go too far with her…not to overstep the mark. To play the game – whatever it was – on her terms. And that she had her own very specific point of no return.