Elizabeth Elgin - Where Bluebells Chime

‘Oh, my Lord – you haven’t …?’

‘No we haven’t, but we will, Daisy. It nearly happened on Wednesday night. We both of us know it will, one day soon. And don’t look at me all holier than thou, as if I’m a common little tart! If you loved Keth as much as I love Tim, you’d understand.’

‘Tatty! I’m not judging you – truly I’m not. And anyway, the pot doesn’t call the kettle black!’

‘You mean you and Keth – you’ve …?’

‘Been lovers? Yes. When Keth came home because he thought there was going to be a war – the summer of ’thirty-eight it was. It happened before he went back to America to college.’

‘And was it marvellous? Was it worth it – all the worry? Because I know I shall worry – looking Mother in the face afterwards, I mean. Funnily enough, I’m not so bothered about getting pregnant because Tim says he wouldn’t let it happen. And you didn’t get pregnant, did you?’

‘Tatiana Sutton! You are so innocent!’

‘I suppose I am, but I trust Tim.’

‘Oh, famous last words! Please, please be careful? And make sure Karl doesn’t catch you out. You know he’s always hovering.’

‘Karl’s getting old now. I can give him the slip any time I want to.’

They had come to the crossroads, to where a signpost once stood with ‘Holdenby 1 1/ 4’ on one arm and ‘Creesby 5’ on the other. Only signposts weren’t allowed now, because of the invasion, nor names on railway stations.

‘I’ll be careful. Both of us will. And, Daisy – was it marvellous? If you were me – would you?’

‘You’ll be taking an awful risk, you know that? And I can’t advise you now, can I? Your circumstances and Tim’s – well, they’re a whole lot different to ours. There’s a war on now.’

‘I know there is. And it wasn’t fair of me to ask, was it?’ She gave a little shrug of despair. ‘Well – good night, then. Is tomorrow your half-day off, Daisy? Will I see you?’

‘It is, but let’s leave it? You’ll probably be meeting Tim, anyway.’

‘God, I hope so!’

‘Of course you will! Tim will be just fine. And you don’t know for sure he’ll be on ops. tonight. Want me to walk to the gates with you?’

‘No thanks. I’ll be all right. I’m a big girl now – really I am.’

‘Hmm.’ Daisy watched her walk away into the twilight, shoulders drooping. Oh, damn this war and damn the stupid politicians who let it happen! Old men, all of them! Just declared war, they had, then expected the young men to fight it! ‘Hey, Tatty!’ she called.

‘Yes?’ Tatiana stopped, then turned slowly.

‘It was marvellous! Good night, love.’

Tatiana smiled suddenly, brilliantly. Then she turned, head high, shoulders straight and walked with swinging stride towards the gates of Denniston House.

Good old Tatty, Daisy smiled. She still hadn’t told her about the medical, but what the heck? Medicals were two a penny. And she had passed, anyway. She had known she would. Now all she had to do was wait until They sent for her.

She crossed the field where only yesterday sheaves of wheat had stood in stooks, drying. Today they had been piled high on carts and stored to await threshing after Christmas. She winced as the sharp stubble scratched her feet through her sandals then thankfully climbed the fence into Brattocks Wood. Here, in the shifting half-light, the wood was settling down for the night. She squinted at her watch but could not see the time. About ten o’clock, she supposed. Not a light was to be seen. Official blackout time tonight was 8.31, though it would not be completely dark for a little while. Yet despite the extra hour of daylight the nights were drawing in now. Soon the leaves would begin to yellow and then would follow the misty mornings, with swallows chattering on the telegraph wires, making ready to fly away.

Clever little birds. They came in May and left, suddenly, when they knew the time was right. The war made no difference to their migrations. Swallows didn’t know about war.

A hunting owl screeched to frighten its prey into movement, and Daisy began to run towards Keeper’s Cottage.

‘Watch the blackout, lass,’ Tom warned as she opened the kitchen door. ‘Want to get us all locked up, do you?’ He glanced pointedly at the mantel clock. ‘And what time of night is this to be coming in?’

‘Nearly half-past ten, Dada. The little hand is on ten and the big one on five,’ she grinned mischievously. ‘I’ve been with Tatty – just walking and talking …’

‘Didn’t you see your Aunt Julia? She’s just this minute left.’

‘No. I came across the field and through Brattocks.’

‘And what have I told you about being in the wood alone at night? Anything could happen to you!’

‘Dada! I know Brattocks like the back of my hand – even in the dark.’

‘Happen you do, but you’ll come home down the lane in future, especially now the nights are drawing in. I could tell you things about that wood –’

‘What your dada means is that you could have been taken for a poacher,’ Alice interrupted hastily. ‘Or you could come across a tramp … Your Aunt Julia came to tell us about Drew. Seems his ship is based in Liverpool, so he’ll be nice and near when he gets leave. Only three hours by train to York. HMS Penrose , he’s on. We have to write to him care of GPO London, so no one will know where the Penrose is.’

‘But we do know, Mam, though I can’t believe Drew would say a thing like that over the phone.’

‘No. Seems the phone rang and Winnie on the exchange asked Julia if she would accept a trunk call, reversed charges. And it was Drew. Gave her his address and said they were tied up alongside, that was why he’d been able to ring, see? But he didn’t say alongside where. Then the minute Julia put the phone down it rang again. “Did you get your trunk call all right?” Winnie asked. And when your Aunt Julia said she had, Winnie dropped her voice all dramatic, like, and whispered, “Well, it was from Liverpool, but not a word to a soul, mind.”’

They all laughed, because it was good to hear from Drew and that he had sounded happy and sent his love and asked them all to write.

‘But not a word about this!’ Alice was all at once serious. ‘We’re family so we’re entitled to know, but we don’t shout all over the Riding where Drew’s ship is and what he’s doing. Drew has been lucky. He could have been sent all the way up to Scapa Flow – or even overseas. And the Germans haven’t bombed Liverpool much, so far. Not like when he was in barracks. I’m glad he’s left Plymouth.’

‘Hmm. Wonder where I’ll end up, Mam?’

‘What do you mean, Daisy – end up? You’ve only just had your medical. They told you it might be quite a while before you get your call-up papers.’

And then Alice’s blood ran cold and she wondered why she had never thought of it until now. Because they could well send Daisy down south where all the air raids were; where the fighter stations were being bombed and strafed day after day.

They could send her to Dover, which was being shelled from across the Channel every day, or to Plymouth or Portsmouth, where the invasion would be – if it came …

Julia unlocked the door of the room she had not entered for exactly a year. Next to it was the sewing-room where Alice once worked; the small back room in which they had shared secrets almost too long ago to remember. And this room – Julia slipped the key into her pocket – was Andrew’s surgery. Major Andrew MacMalcolm of the Medical Corps, killed just six days before the conflict they called the Great War ended. In this room she had created a sentimental replica of Andrew’s London surgery; a shrine, almost. Every piece of furniture, every book, pencil and instrument – even the grinning skeleton and the optical wall chart – had been brought here.