Roland Moore - Land Girls - The Promise - A moving and heartwarming wartime saga

“It’s funny. I used to love it,” Martin said.

“It’ll really help me.”

“How are you getting on?”

“Slowly. But Frank is very patient and he listens while I stumble over every word.”

They smiled at each other. She got the impression that Martin wanted to say something, perhaps about who she was going to the film with, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He nodded goodbye to her and, with the books tucked under her arm, she made her way to Frank’s den. He was inside tinkering with a rusted metal trap. Its jaws were clenched shut and Frank was trying to prise them apart with an equally rusty chisel. He laid it aside and opened a drawer, taking out a pencil and a note pad, in readiness for their lesson. But Iris wanted to talk about her appointment earlier. She was worried about what Dr Channing had thought about her. Could he say she was mad? Get her locked up? And what would the pills do to her? After about twenty minutes of repeating the same things to her, Frank decided that they should call it a night.

“Come back tomorrow, when you’ve had a rest, eh?”

Iris nodded. She apologised for not being able to concentrate.

“Dr Channing thought I should go to Shallow Brook,” she said. “I think I might ask Finch if I can work there for a bit. Just until it’s not a scary place. That might help. Do you think?”

“I don’t know, Iris. Might do.” Frank picked up his trap and resumed trying to get its jaws open. He was no expert. Besides he dealt with problems by keeping them to himself and soldiering on. Iris picked up her books, left the outbuilding and walked back to the farmhouse. Back in her bedroom, she bolted the door and sat on her bed. She knew that Esther had forbade her from locking it, but she needed the security. She took out the small brown bottle of white pills. She put one in her mouth, but it was hard to swallow. Iris reached for the wardrobe, took the carrot whisky and downed a slug of the orange liquid to help the medicine down.

To her dismay, sleep didn’t come any more easily that night. She was still haunted by every sound and creak in the yard outside, still wary of every long shadow in her room. After an hour of restlessness, Iris hauled herself out of bed and with a heavy heart went to the wardrobe. This time she drank until she passed out on the bed.

Scrish.

Scrish.

The sound of the homemade broom scraping its heavy twigs over the concrete was beginning to annoy Iris. She and Shelley Conrad had been working on the yard of Shallow Brook Farm for well over three hours, and both girls’ backs were beginning to burn and throb with the exertion. At first it had been fun, a chance to chat and laugh about things with a girl she didn’t see all the time. But now they worked in monosyllabic silence, willing John to come to the door of the farm and call them in for lunch. Surely it must be lunchtime soon? Had he forgotten about them?

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