Pam Weaver - Pack Up Your Troubles

She knew they’d be surprised but Gwen almost dropped her teacup and Ga’s mouth fell open. ‘A nurse?’ she said in a measured tone. ‘Do you think you have the stomach for it?’

‘I’ve toughened up a lot because of the war,’ said Connie.

‘We really need another pair of hands on the smallholding,’ said Ga, glancing at Connie’s mother.

‘We’ll manage,’ Gwen smiled.

‘Manage?’ Ga challenged. ‘It’s hard enough to cope now. Your mother and I are not getting any younger and we’ll need every pair of hands we can get.’

The nurseries weren’t large by the standards of other nurseries in the area. They grew seedlings and vegetables and her mother kept hens for the eggs. There were a couple of stretches of waste ground which had never been developed but there was plenty of work to be done. Connie knew that if she stayed at home she would be expected to work in the small lean-to shop attached to the side of the house or in the greenhouse. She didn’t mind helping out, but she certainly didn’t want to do it for the rest of her life and besides, she wasn’t sure the nursery could support so many people.

Connie sipped her tea. She’d always known it would be a bit of a job persuading Ga and her mother that she wanted a career of her own. She wasn’t afraid to go ahead with or without their blessing, although she would much prefer them to be happy to let her go. She was determined to stand her ground, come what may. She was nearly twenty-two for heaven’s sake. The war had changed everything. Girls had more opportunities than they’d ever had before, and besides, now that Emmett was out of the picture what else was there? She didn’t want to leave it any longer. The training took four years. By the time she’d finished, she would be twenty-six … quite old really. Ga’s reaction was predictable but it took Connie by surprise that her mother didn’t put up more of a fight.

Pip barked.

‘That’ll be Mandy, home from school,’ said Gwen as the dog hurried outside. Connie’s younger sister Mandy had been at infants’ school for about a year. ‘Mrs Bawden, next door, and I take it in turns to take Mandy and Joan to school. It’s her turn this week.’

Connie stood up as Mandy burst through the door and threw herself into her arms. ‘Connie, Connie!’ Laughing, Connie twirled Mandy around in a circle.

‘How many times do I have to tell you, Mandy?’ Olive grumbled petulantly. ‘No outdoor shoes in the house.’

Connie let her go and Mandy slid to the floor. Obediently the little girl retraced her steps to the back door and took off her shoes, placing them next to the umbrella stand. Connie caught her breath. With her hair in plaits and wearing a grey pinafore and white blouse her little sister looked so grown up.

A couple of minutes later, Pen Cooper knocked on the door and stepped into the house. She had a jam jar in her hand. Inside the jar, an angry bee knocked itself against the glass. Pen was not only a gypsy but she was also a bit of an eccentric. She wore a long flowing dress and plenty of beads. She had make-up too, which was unusual for a traveller. Thickly layered powder and some kohl around her pale mischievous eyes. When she saw Connie she stopped and held out her arms. ‘’Tis good to see ye.’

‘It’s good to see you too, Pen,’ Connie smiled. ‘I’ll come up later and see Kez if that’s all right.’

‘You knows it is,’ Pen beamed, ‘and welcome.’ She turned her attention to Olive. ‘Now, are you ready, dear?’

‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ said Olive. ‘It’s killing me and someone’s got to get the ground ready for the calabrese and winter cabbages.’

Connie saw her mother’s back stiffen.

‘Yoohoo.’ They heard another voice call from the front door and Aunt Aggie came into the room. Aunt Aggie wasn’t really a relation but she was Ga’s oldest friend. A rather prim woman, Aggie never had a hair out of place. She always seemed to be dressed in her Sunday best and today was no exception. She wore a yellow floral dress, white peep-toe shoes, newly whitened, and she carried a white handbag. She and Olive had been friends since they were at school together. Peeling off her white crochet gloves, Aggie offered Connie a cold cheek to kiss. ‘How nice to have you home again.’

‘I’d better make a start,’ said Pen and Gwen took a protesting Mandy away from Connie’s arms and upstairs to get changed out of her uniform. ‘But I want to see, Mummy. Why can’t I watch?’ They could hear her complaining all the way to her room.

Connie watched fascinated as Pen took some tweezers from her pocket. ‘Ready?’ she said again and slid the lid from the jar.

‘Are you sure about this Olive, dear?’ Aggie asked.

‘Pen knows what she’s doing,’ Olive snapped.

Aggie poured herself a cup of tea and sat down with one leg swinging as she crossed it over the other. The bee continued to bang itself against the jar until eventually Pen caught its wings with her fingers and put it onto Olive’s swollen knee, holding it there until thoroughly enraged, it stung her. Olive winced. Pen removed the dying bee and eventually the sting it had left behind.

Gwen reappeared at the door. ‘While Mandy is getting changed, I’m going outside for a bit.’

Connie left the three women to watch Ga’s swelling knee and followed her mother outside to where she found her picking runner beans.

‘There’s so much to do this time of year,’ she said matter-of-factly as Connie made a start on the broad beans in the next row. Their smallholding was very popular and the shop was always busy. Their customers knew everything was very fresh, perhaps only just picked. Olive kept the prices down while Gwen did her best to keep the supplies from running out, in between the housework and looking after Mandy. Connie knew how hard her mother’s life was and the unease slipped in.

‘You don’t mind me not working in the nursery, do you Mum?’

‘I’m pleased you’re going to make a career for yourself, dear,’ said Gwen. ‘You’ll make a good nurse.’

‘Ga was a bit cross,’ said Connie. ‘I don’t want to leave you in the lurch.’

‘We’ll be fine,’ said Gwen.

The nursery was hardly making its way when Olive bought it but Clifford was such an excellent nurseryman that he had pulled it back from the brink and made it a going concern. When he was called up in 1943, the two women took over. Gwen used to serve in the shop, but these days she preferred to work on the land, leaving Ga to look after the business side of things. It was never voiced, but the arrangement was so much better since Olive’s knee started playing up. On bad days, Olive could sit in the shop, which was little more than a glorified lean-to, and let the customers serve themselves.

Although the family managed to lift the early potatoes themselves, they generally hired casual labourers to help with the main crop in September. They mostly used the locals because the gypsies didn’t often come this way. When Connie was a child and the gypsies came to Patching, she and Kenneth were invited to share in their communal meal. Connie loved it, especially when Peninnah, Kez’s grandmother, would take her pipe out of her mouth and tell them about the old days. She had an encyclopedic knowledge when it came to family and some of them sounded such wonderful people. ‘They called ’e Red shirt Matthew on account as he always wore a red shirt …’ ‘So they stuffed the two rabbits under ’is big ol’ hat and legged it all the way ’ome …’ ‘She’d stolen ’is trousers, so when ’e got out of the lake, ’e was as naked as the day he were born. He had to walk ’ome without a stitch on ’is back.’ Pen would stop to chuckle. ‘That learned him not to mess about with a gypsy girl …’ Connie and Kenneth would roar their heads off even though they hadn’t a clue who she was talking about. Nobody minded the gypsies being there back then. They were hard workers, the women and children selling handmade pegs and bunches of flowers around the centre of Worthing and the men doing any kind of manual labour on offer.