A Summer Promise (19 page)

MADDY WAS WALKING
up the track which led from the village to Larkspur when she met three young boys coming in the opposite direction. Their arms were full of holly, their faces bright with anticipation, and though this was the first time she had met them they greeted her as though she were an old friend.

‘I reckon you’re Mrs Hebditch’s granddaughter, what she said was comin’ to see how we goes on,’ the tallest of the trio said cheerfully. He wore a ragged cap on the back of his head, an even more ragged jacket, too small for him, and a pair of boots, very much too large. ‘I’m Herbert, Herb to me pals; the little ’un with the snub snitch is Sid and t’other, him with the muffler round his scrawny little neck, is Monty. Old Ma Hebditch telled us you were comin’ ’cos your factory has give you a coupla days off for the first time since you started workin’ there.’ He flourished his bunch of holly. ‘We’re takin’ this for Miss Evans at the school. We likes her, don’t we, fellers? We’ve already got a load to decorate Larkspur; the old ’un keeps on about makin’ this Christmas a real grand ’un, because of rationin’ you know. She says by next Christmas everything’ll be on ration, not just sugar and butter and that.’ He smacked his lips. ‘The farmer’s give us the promise of a chicken and Mr O’Halloran is goin’ to take a boat to Ireland to bring back supplies, mebbe even a cake.’ His eyes glistened at the prospect. ‘We ain’t ever had a Christmas cake, but the old ’un says we’ll have our share this time, especially since two of the ’vacuees has gone home – more fools they are, says us, eh, lads?’ He chuckled hoarsely. ‘Me mam’s all right, but me dad’s a docker and come Christmas he an’ the booze get together and no one ain’t safe. So we’ll be stoppin’ at Larkspur till they kicks us out, ain’t that right, lads?’

The two smaller boys agreed enthusiastically and were beginning to edge past Maddy when Herb stopped them with a gesture. ‘I say, I’ve just thought;
are
you the old ’un’s girl, what’s called Madder-something?’

‘Maddy. Yes I am,’ Maddy said. ‘And I shall be at home for Christmas because my leave is for a whole week. And a friend will be coming to join me . . .’

‘A feller?’

That was Sid, the one with the snub nose, but Maddy, though she laughed, had to confess that her friend was just another girl. ‘No, her name’s Marigold, and we lodge together in the town.’

‘Oh! Well, I suppose it don’t make much difference,’ Sid said. ‘Only we’s goin’ to join the army as soon as we’s old enough, so whenever we go into town we look out for the soldiers . . . ain’t they just smart? Dontcher wish you had a uniform, miss?’

Maddy thought of the stained and disreputable overalls the girls who worked in the munitions factories wore, and agreed with Sid that a uniform would be nice. ‘We’re goin’ to join the army too, when we’re old enough,’ Maddy told them. ‘Well, the Auxiliary Territorial Service, anyway.’

Herb nodded wisely. ‘ATS,’ he said. ‘Good on you, miss. And now we’d best gerron, else we’ll miss us dinners.’ He chuckled. ‘Your old gran is a real tartar, but I like her better’n that Irish woman, even though she’s the one what gets our meals. See you later, miss.’

The boys continued down the lane and Maddy carried on towards Larkspur. So much had happened, she reflected, since she had moved away from the farm. In fact, looking back, she realised that everything had changed, not just for her but for everyone. Within three days of war being declared, Alice had been bundled off to India aboard a troop ship taking five or six hundred British soldiers to help to secure India’s borders, for that mighty subcontinent was very much a part of the Empire. On the fifth of September she had come rushing across to Larkspur, pedalling inexpertly on Tom’s ancient bicycle. She had been tear-streaked and furious, but nothing she could say had saved her from banishment.

‘I told Daddy that the voyage itself was likely to be more dangerous than being hit by a bomb,’ she had said tearfully. ‘Daddy is afraid of what people will say if he leaves me in England, because everyone’s sure the Germans will invade. Oh, Maddy, I’m so dreadfully unhappy! India was all right when my mother was alive – though actually I always saw more of the servants than I did of my parents – but I’m happy
here
! Uncle John says he and Auntie Ruby are moving down to London because he’s been given an important job in the War Office. But I could stay here; oh, not at the Hall, that’s already been requisitioned by the army, but at Larkspur? Oh, I’m so unhappy!’

‘What did Tom say? He’s the one with ideas, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to see you packed off to India,’ Maddy had said. ‘I’m sure he’ll agree that you’ll be more at risk on an ocean voyage in wartime. Where are you supposed to be sailing from, anyway?’

Alice had dabbed at her eyes with a small handkerchief which was already drenched with her tears, saying bitterly: ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. And as for Tom, a fat lot of good he’s been: he’s already left. Apparently he joined the army even before war was declared and got the letter he’s been waiting for yesterday, telling him to report to Catterick a.s.a.p.’ She had gulped and rubbed fiercely at her reddened eyes. ‘Why didn’t he think of
me
? I thought he was keen on me, but if so he’s got a strange way of showing it, running off without a word. He could at least have tried to say goodbye!’ She had mopped again at her tears, then sniffed defiantly. ‘He’s cooked his goose, I can tell you; not that I ever intended to marry a chauffeur’s son, but now I wouldn’t even give him the time of day.’ Despite herself, Maddy had laughed, earning a glare from Alice hot enough to fry an egg. ‘All right, all right, I suppose he had no choice, but he must have known I’d be angry and upset. But, dear Maddy, will you ask Uncle John to let me stay with you, for as long as the war lasts?’ She had looked appealingly at her friend. ‘Everyone’s saying it’ll all be over by Christmas.’

But pleading had been useless, of course, and Alice had had no option but to leave on the troop ship, accompanied by a great many soldiers, several of whom had not hidden their admiration for the pretty, weeping girl, which Maddy thought Alice would find comforting.

Now, as she walked up towards the house that had been her home for as long as she could remember, Maddy continued to ruminate on the changes war had brought. The absence of Tom had been painful at first, for she had begun to think that she might become an important part of his life, but the fact that he had left without saying goodbye seemed to indicate that this was unlikely. Worse, Marigold had told her that on his way to the station Tom had stopped off at her lodgings and given her the address of his training camp, promising to write to her as soon as he got there.

But I could have written to him as well as Marigold, Maddy told herself now. After all, I’ve been his friend for longer than she has. But then she remembered the expedition to the caves, and the kiss. If you kissed someone did you instantly become boy and girlfriend? She had heard girls talking in the village, but could not make up her mind about the significance of the embrace she had witnessed. And presently, as the lane grew steeper and rougher, she tried to distract herself by thinking about the invasion which the Germans had promised and every member of the United Kingdom must be prepared to repulse.

But the war was three months old now and though there had been various false alarms – rumours of nuns floating out of the sky on parachutes, only identified by their lack of petticoats and the addition of jackboots – the threatened invasion had failed to materialise. Some things were rationed, to be sure, and their number would greatly increase on the eighth of January, when the new restrictions came into being, but other than that things jogged along very much as they had always done.

At the beginning of the war Marigold and her mother had discussed the possibility of returning to their relatives in the south, but this Marigold had been reluctant to do. She and Maddy had applied for factory work, and decided to find lodgings in town.

I wonder what the O’Hallorans are going to do now, Maddy asked herself as she reached the old gate which led into the farmyard. For the hundredth time she went over the advantages of the O’Halloran occupation. Gran liked them, and they were both patient and pleasant to the old woman. Mrs O’Halloran, though she admitted that she had never preserved fruit before, had allowed Gran to instruct her in the art of bottling fruit and veg when she discovered piles of empty Kilner jars under the pantry shelves. They did Gran’s laundry as well as their own, and when Mr O’Halloran shot a rabbit or caught a couple of trout there was no question but that Gran should have her share. They shopped for her in the village, sometimes going as far as the town for something she needed, and they saw that she took her medication and was visited by the doctor, taking his advice and seeing that Gran did too.

In the beginning Maddy had sometimes wondered why Mrs O’Halloran did not write lists of what Gran wanted, seeming to prefer to simply memorise her requirements. But it had soon struck her: neither of the O’Hallorans could read or write! This had surprised her, but she had been far too tactful to let it show. She was sure they thought they had hidden their inability pretty well, because whenever he went down to the village Mr O’Halloran bought a newspaper. He would sit in the old basket chair of an evening, apparently reading the headlines and then fetching a funny little pair of wire-rimmed spectacles to cope with print which he said was too tiny for him to read with the naked eye. But it was a small deceit, reminding Maddy how anxious Alice had been to hide her own inability to read. After all, she had accepted Alice’s secret, so why should she not accept the O’Hallorans?

She leaned on the gate, contemplating the farm and wondering idly what was different. Apart from the fact that it looked even more disreputable than it had when she left – the gate she was leaning on, for instance, had finally shed its rusting hinges and was tied to the post with string – she could see no particular changes. Her eye ran swiftly from the roof tiles to the cobbles; nothing new there. Perhaps it was something to do with the evacuees, though she could not think what it could be.

She was halfway across the yard before it occurred to her that the geese had not rushed out, honking, to drive her off. Maddy paused; that was odd! Then she realised that without its hinges the gate had given no revealing squeak to warn the birds that a stranger had entered the yard. Maddy tutted beneath her breath. She would have to tell Mr O’Halloran that it must be repaired, because geese, as everyone knew, were even better than a guard dog for keeping strangers at bay. She headed for the back door, and something made her beat a tattoo on the door panel before she flung it open. She told herself that it was only good manners to warn the occupants of Larkspur that she had arrived, but she resented the necessity. Nevertheless, she pinned a bright smile in place as she entered the deliciously warm kitchen with its well-remembered scent of cooking, but had she been looking for an ecstatic welcome she would have been disappointed. Fortunately, she had had no such expectation.

Gran had never been demonstrative, and the fact that her granddaughter had been living away from her for the past three months did not merit any special greeting. To be sure, she looked up, but if anything like a smile crossed her countenance it was speedily gone. ‘Oh, so you’ve decided to come a-callin’, have you?’ she said disagreeably. ‘About time too – it’s a good thing that at least Mr and Mrs O’Halloran have spared no pains to see I’m not affected by this war. And it may interest you to know that though you’ve not seen fit to come home and see how I was getting on, one of your friends hasn’t been so neglectful. We’ve had a visit from young Tom Browning, and very smart he looked in his uniform. The evacuees mobbed him as if he were a fillum star. He stood there, on the very spot where you are standing now . . .’

‘But I thought he was miles away from here! Oh, don’t tell me I’ve missed him. Is he home for Christmas? But where will he stay? The Hall’s full of soldiers and somebody in the village said the evacuees have taken every available bed, so the local children have been forced to sleep on sofas, or to share beds with brothers or sisters . . . oh, Gran, don’t say I’ve missed seeing Tom!’

Maddy’s obvious disappointment had one thing in its favour: it brought a smile to Gran’s face. ‘Yes, you’ve missed him,’ she said, with evident satisfaction. ‘He was on . . . oh, what the devil was it called? It was something to do with dogs . . . yes, I remember, barkation leave.’

‘
Em
barkation leave,’ Maddy said, unable even to raise a smile over her grandmother’s inadvertent humour. ‘Oh, damn, damn, damn . . . if only I’d known I’d have wangled some time off, by hook or by crook!’ She noticed Mrs O’Halloran for the first time and turned an imploring face towards her. ‘Sorry, Mrs O’Halloran, I didn’t see you over there. Did Tom stay here?’

Mrs O’Halloran gave Maddy a rather wintry smile. ‘We’re full up with them dratted evacuees,’ she said. ‘He didn’t give us no warning any more’n you did, miss! I think he stayed in the old flat above the stables at the Hall. I disremember when exactly he were here, but he’s been gone a long while, two or three weeks at least. And if embarkation leave means what I think, it’ll be many a long day before we see him again – always provided he survives the voyage to wherever he’s bound, of course.’ She looked across the room at Maddy and there was something strangely secretive in her expression. ‘We couldn’t put your pal Tom up, and the same goes for you,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to look for somebody else to take you in – you and your friend.’

Maddy stared at her. ‘Can’t take us in?’ she asked incredulously. ‘You must be joking, Mrs O’Halloran! Apart from anything else, I met three of your evacuees coming up the lane – they were taking holly down to decorate the schoolhouse – and they told me that the other two had gone back home for the holiday. So there’s at least one attic room – which will be unoccupied for the next week or so. Besides, this is my home, mine and Gran’s, and it’s not as if I didn’t give you notice; I sent a telegram to say when we would be arriving.’