Elizabeth Elgin - Turn Left at the Daffodils

‘I’m not writing to him, Evie. I know it would be far the best way because I could set out my feelings more carefully and without interruption, too. But the thought of my letter being censored – oh, no. And it would be the same for Jeffrey, as well.’

‘Then what you’re going to have to do is write it all in a letter, keeping nothing back, and then stick a stamp on it and post it in a pillarbox like civilians do. We’re going to Lincoln on Saturday – surely you can manage to post one without been seen? It’s the best way out, in my opinion.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that, Evie. After all, even if I were caught, it wouldn’t be Heronflete I’d be writing about, would it? It would just be -’ She hesitated, sighing deeply. ‘Well, it would just be about my love life, wouldn’t it. Or the lack of it.’

‘You’ll give it a go, then? All it needs is an unbiased, uncritical letter telling Jeffrey how you felt about what happened that night, and how willing you are to work things out between you so that, when you do get married, everything will be much less embarrassing. You do want your wedding night to be something to remember always, don’t you Carrie?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Just to think of a loving and gentle husband, caring about how she felt and wanting to make things wonderful for them both, made her feel more understanding towards the Jeffrey who had been so uncaring and brash that it had made her almost dislike him. ‘Thanks a lot, Mrs Turner. And I wish I’d talked to you like this ages ago.’

‘Ages ago, Carrie, we didn’t know each other well enough. And bless you for calling me Mrs Turner. I was Mrs Turner for a whole week, after which I became Turner, or lance-corporal again. And heavens! What is that awful din outside!’

‘Sounds like a threshing machine in pain!’

Carrie put out the light as Evie made for the front door, calling ‘Who is it? Who’s there?’

‘It’s me – Morrissey. Who did you think it was?’ Nan giggled. ‘And it was only Chas turning Boadicea round. She’s a bit naughty in reverse gear, he said.’

‘Boadicea? Have you been drinking Morrissey?’

‘No, Evie. We’ve been talking, mostly. And listen – there she goes, up the hill by the wood.’

They heard the sound of an engine protesting at so steep a hill, then the grating of gears and the parping of a horn.

‘That’s Chas letting me know he’s got her under control again.’

‘We’d better get inside. It’s turned half-past ten and I wouldn’t put it past the sergeant to do a sneaky check on us tonight – especially after all the commotion. And got who or what under control?’

‘Boadicea. She’s the little Austin they have as a runabout at Chas’s place. She’s very old and lots of bits have dropped off but they’re all very fond of her, so don’t mock her. And if I called your pick-up a rattletrap, Carrie, then I take it all back. You don’t know what rattletrap means, till you’ve been driven in Boadicea.’

‘So are you going to tell us about it,’ Evie prompted, a little alarmed at the flush in Nan’s cheeks and the shine in her eyes. ‘You had a good time?’

‘Luvely. And fingers crossed that we’ll both be able to make it on Tuesday. Chas says he’ll pick me up at Priest’s, so’s I don’t have to hoof all the way to the Black Bull, and would you mind if I don’t tell you, about it just now? So much happened, see, that it would take half the night.’

‘But everything was all right?’ Evie persisted. ‘He didn’t – er -’

‘Try anything on? Course he didn’t. But I hope it’s allowed for him to kiss me goodnight?’

‘Of course it is – and I’m not quizzing you, Nan. I haven’t got the right. I’d like to know, all the same, that Chas acted – well – like -’

‘Like a gentleman,’ Carrie supplied gravely.

‘Of course he did. He is a gentleman. And I’ll just do a quick nip down the garden.’

‘You’ll be all right, Nan?’

‘Course I will!’

The kitchen door slammed and Carrie said, ‘Well, if falling in love makes you that brave, then I’m all for it. And mark my words, Nan’s in love.’

‘Then I hope she doesn’t get hurt – after all, Chas does take more risks than most – flying, I mean.’

‘She won’t get hurt, Evie. She’ll be all right. Nan’s sort usually have a good guardian angel.’

‘Then I hope Chas has one, too.’

Evie really meant it, because Nan was so very young and this was her first falling in love. And probably Chas’s, too. Not twenty-one yet, but old enough to fly over Germany.

Evie hoped that Charles Lawson had a very vigilant guardian angel.

Carrie waited outside Priest’s Lodge. Three o’clock, Sergeant James had said, after which she would drive to Southgate, collect Evie and Nan, then set out for Lincoln. She drummed her fingers on the wheel, going over her instructions in her mind.

‘You can park behind Lincoln Barracks, no problem,’ Freddy had told her. ‘Best place to leave the truck, then nobody can get at your petrol. And Norm can take the big car to pick up the late shift. What’ll you be doing with yourself this afternoon, Carrie?’

‘Just having a look at the shops and maybe I’ll get something to eat if I can find a café.’

Carrie had felt uneasy. Not about driving through Lincoln for the first time, nor finding somewhere to park, but about the letter she was going to post sneakily in the first pillarbox she came across.

That letter to Jeffrey had not been easy to write. She had torn up several attempts before deciding that pussyfooting would get her nowhere. Straight and to the point it would have to be – and as reasonable as she could make it without seeming to criticise.

Dearest Jeffrey,

This letter will be very hard to write, but write it I must because something has been upsetting me for a long time – since the night mother was out playing whist, in fact – and we did something we should not have done. I was not proud of myself for giving in because I would rather have waited until our wedding night.

What we did made me feel so guilty, Jeffrey, that I did not enjoy it, and I know I should have, so can we talk about it, and will you at least try to understand how I feel, and what a terrible scandal there would have been in the village, if something had gone dreadfully wrong?

I cannot think about our wedding, you see, without remembering that night and how it upset me. And yes, I know I should have said something at the time, but I was too embarrassed and just wanted to forget it.

I do not know what I am trying to say, exactly, except that I want you to put my mind at rest and tell me it will be absolutely wonderful when next it happens – which will be on our honeymoon, I hope.

This letter is not meant to criticise you. I just think that we were both a bit hasty and spoiled something that should really be very precious.

I think I have put this badly, and I am sorry, but when next we meet I hope we will be able to talk to each other freely and frankly and put things to rights.

I am posting this letter sneakily, so you need not worry that someone had read it, and I hope you might be able to find a way to do the same when you reply to it. After all, things concerning you and me should be read by you and I only.

Write back very soon, and tell me you understand, darling. And tell me I am being an idiot, and that of course our honeymoon will be something I will never want to forget.

With love.

A disjointed, rambling letter with words tumbling out higgledy-piggledy; a letter she wished she need never have written, but one which, now it was in her pocket, she was glad that she had.