The Farmer's Daughter (22 page)

‘So Pa said.'

‘I think it would be best if he still came to work. I need him. He won't be able to live-in, there isn't room, but he could come from the camp every day like he used to. You could perhaps help with the morning milking before he arrives.'

‘Don't try organising me, Jean. I've had quite enough of that.'

‘I'm sure you have, but the farm work has to be organised or we'd never get anything done. You should know that.'

‘OK, don't rub it in.'

She finished what she was doing and went to stand beside the bed. ‘That looks very red. Is it often like that?'

‘Only when I've been on it a long time. The journey down from Cosford took ages and I had to change trains. It will be fine tomorrow.' He couldn't tell her about the long march, not yet anyway, perhaps not at all. The memory of it was still too raw.

‘Do you need any help washing and bathing?'

‘Bath?' He gave a hollow laugh. ‘I got into one at the hospital where they sent me to have my stump seen to. It was an interesting experience. I ended up on the floor. But don't worry, I'll manage. I've no intention of calling for help every five minutes.'

‘Good for you, but don't be too proud to ask for it if you need it.'

There was a tap at the door and Doris came in with a loaded tray. She almost stumbled when she saw Gordon's exposed stump, but quickly recovered herself. ‘I've brought your dinner, since you don't feel up to joining us.'

‘No, Mum. It would mean strapping that thing on again, and I don't really want to. It'll be OK in the morning.'

She put the tray on the bedside table. ‘Can you undress yourself?'

‘Of course I can. I'm not a child.'

‘No, but you're still
my
child,' she said softly.

‘Oh, Mum, I'm sorry.' He reached up and took her hand. ‘I didn't mean to snap. I've been in that camp too long and forgotten my manners. If I seem grumpy, forgive me. I can't quite believe I'm home.'

‘That's all right, son. We'll leave you to it. Bang on the floor if you want anything.'

He laughed and picked up the peg leg. ‘And I've got a handy implement to do it with.' He used it to rap on the floor. ‘You'll hear that all right, won't you?'

He waited until they had left and then tackled a dinner the like of which he had not had for five long years.

‘Do you think he's all right?' Doris asked Jean as they returned to the kitchen. ‘He didn't used to be so snappy.'

‘He's been through a lot, Mum, we have to make allowances.'

‘I know that, silly. Oh dear, there's me snapping now. I'm sorry. I just didn't think he'd be like he is. If only he'd told us, I would have been prepared.'

‘At least he's home, and he tells me the RAF will provide him with a proper false leg with a foot on it. That will make all the difference. It's marvellous what they can do nowadays.' She paused as they entered the kitchen. Donald had helped himself and his father to plum duff and custard. ‘Did he tell you he had to report back in six weeks?'

‘Yes. But then he'll be home again.'

‘I think we'll still need Karl,' Jean said, sitting down and helping herself to pudding. ‘He could come on a daily basis like he used to. What do you think, Pa?'

‘Ask Gordon,' he said. ‘He's in charge now.'

It was like a blow to the stomach. Gordon was home and all her hard work counted for nothing. Like many other women who
had been working throughout the war, doing work usually done by men, she was expected to slide back into anonymity, do the jobs women traditionally did – marry, raise a family. Marriage for her was a distant dream, but one she clung to. If Gordon refused to allow Karl to come back, how was she to go on seeing him?

‘Will you persuade him to come to the party tomorrow?' Donald asked her. ‘We can't cancel it, can we? And it will be a washout if he's not there.'

‘I'll try.' It made her think of Rosemary. What would she make of it all?

Rosemary could not understand why Gordon had not rushed to see her the minute he arrived home. She had dressed in her best frock, put on her only pair of nylons and washed and set her blonde hair, put on make-up and waited.

‘Doesn't he care for me any more?' she asked her mother. She had taken the afternoon off from work and had been watching on tenterhooks all afternoon to see him come up the garden path. ‘I'm going up there to see what's going on.'

‘I shouldn't. He'll be with his family and maybe he's not well.'

‘But I'm going to be his family, the most important person in his life, that's what he told me.' She rose from the table where they had just finished a meal of fishcakes, made with a tiny piece of cod her mother had queued up for in Wisbech and were more potato that fish. Still, fish was a rare luxury.

‘Can't you leave it until tomorrow?'

‘You know I've got to go to work tomorrow and I don't want our reunion to be witnessed by dozens of people at a party.'

She put on her coat and hat and left the house for the ten minute walk to Briar Rose Farm.

She was nervous. It was over five years since she had waved him goodbye. Eighteen years old she had been, much too young to be committing herself, her mother had told her, but she had ignored that advice and had said she would wait for him. He had gone cheerfully, telling her it would all be over by Christmas and then he would be home again and they would be married. Far from being over, it had barely started when he was taken prisoner. In five years how much had he changed? How much had she? War altered the way you viewed life. The leisurely pace of rural life vanished in the need to work long hours, to make every second count towards winning the war. You worked hard but you also played hard, and it had been difficult keeping that promise to be true to him; the longer it went on the harder it had become. Was going out with Alan Hedges breaking it?

She had told Alan that now Gordon was coming home, she would not go out with him again. He had taken it badly. ‘You haven't seen him for five years,' he had said bitterly. ‘You don't know what he's like. He's probably moved on …'

‘He couldn't move far in a prison camp, could he? And I told you at the beginning …'

‘I know what you said. I didn't think you meant it.' He had seized her in his arms and kissed her soundly. ‘When you discover everything is not so rosy in the garden, then you'll change your mind.' Was it his words making her so nervous?

Jean answered her knock. ‘Oh, Rosie, it's you. Come in.'

‘Is he back? Is Gordon home?'

‘Yes, but he's very tired. He's gone to bed.' She led the way into the sitting room, where she and her parents had been listening to
a concert on the wireless. Doris switched it off when she saw their visitor.

‘Rosemary, how nice to see you. Come in and sit down. Would you like a cup of cocoa? I was going to make one for us.' She hardly waited for the girl to say ‘Yes, please', before she scuttled away, leaving Jean to deal with Rosemary.

Rosemary looked round her. ‘I hoped I would see him.'

‘I am sure he'll want to see you as soon as he's rested, but it was a long journey, Rosie, he's tired and not himself.'

‘Not himself? What do you mean?'

‘I don't know how to tell you this …'

‘Then don't,' Gordon said from the doorway. He was in pyjamas and a dressing gown.

‘Gordon!' they both said together.

Rosemary ran forward but then stopped. There was something strange about the way he was standing. Then he pushed the door open further and she saw the reason for it. ‘Oh.'

He stomped further into the room. ‘I'm not quite myself,' he said, proving he had overheard, ‘because I left part of me back in France.'

‘You said you were going to stay in bed,' Jean said.

‘I couldn't sleep and I was sitting looking out of the window when I saw Rosie coming up the drive. I wanted her to see for herself the half man who had come back to her.' He paused. ‘Rosie, you are quiet. Cat got your tongue?'

‘I don't think I'll stay for cocoa,' she said and fled.

‘Well, that went well,' Gordon said in the silence that followed.

Jean tackled Gordon about the party at breakfast the next morning. While she had been doing the milking alone, he had managed to wash, shave and dress himself and come down to the kitchen. Doris was cooking him bacon and eggs.

‘Did you sleep well?' she asked, scraping marmalade on a piece of toast.

‘Apart from wondering what the hell to do about Rosie, you mean?'

‘It was shock. She'll come round. You'll see her at the party tonight. It will be different then.'

‘Yes, because I won't be there. If everyone runs off at the sight of me, the hall will empty in no time. You can enjoy yourselves without me.'

‘Gordon, I think you should come. A lot of people have made sacrifices to make it a good do, donating food and drink they can ill spare because they are pleased you are home safe and sound.'

‘Safe but not sound.'

‘Of course you are. You can walk, you can talk, and you seem to have a hearty appetite. You've just eaten everyone's bacon ration for a week.'

‘Oh.' He looked up at his mother, busy making a fresh pot of tea. ‘Is that right?'

‘Don't think of it, son. Jean should not have said anything. You are too thin and we must build you up.'

‘The food over there was pretty lousy. Watery soup and dry black bread. Thank God for the Red Cross.'

‘Our rations aren't all that good, but we can do better than that.'

‘Do
you
think I ought to go to this party, Mum?'

‘Not if you really hate the idea, but I wouldn't like to think of you hiding yourself away. I thought you had more guts than that. You're still a Coleman, still our son. I'm proud of you and I want to tell the world I am, and the fact that you've lost part of your leg in the service of your country is not something to hide, but something to be proud of. Besides, it doesn't look nearly as bad as you think.'

‘Is Pa going?'

‘Wouldn't miss it,' his father said.

‘All right, I'll go.'

And so they all went to the party. Donald wheeled Arthur there, but Doris and Jean drove Gordon in the truck. Jean was becoming a little worried about the amount of petrol they would have to use ferrying her brother about. It was only supposed to be used for essential farm work.

Forewarned by Elizabeth, everyone greeted Gordon enthusiastically and he was soon sitting in the middle of a crowd, regaling them with highly exaggerated stories of life in a prisoner-of-war camp. Jean found herself standing next to Bill.

‘He's on good form,' he said, as a gale of laughter came from those surrounding her brother. ‘I didn't know he'd lost his leg.'

‘We didn't either until we saw him. It was quite a shock.'

‘He won't be much use on a farm like that.'

‘He is going to be fitted with a proper false leg and then he'll be able to do most things.'

‘I bet he wasn't pleased to see Sergeant Muller.'

‘He hasn't seen him. Karl has gone back to the camp.'

‘Good. That's where he belongs.'

‘He'll be back. At least until Gordon can take over.'

‘We haven't been out together for ages.'

‘Last time it was mentioned, you said you'd rather take Brenda.'

‘Did I? I didn't mean it.'

‘Oh, I believe you did.'

‘You're not jealous of her, are you?' He laughed as he spoke, making her cross.

‘No more than you are jealous of Karl. Now, I had better go and help Mum with the refreshments.'

Gordon hadn't expected Rosemary to turn up, but Jean had persuaded her and she arrived, if a little late. The crowd around Gordon melted away so that they could sit together. Mrs Harris put on some dance music and several couples began to move about the floor.

‘Gordon, I'm sorry,' she said. ‘I shouldn't have run away. I was shocked, that's all. I'd been dreaming of your homecoming ever since your mother told me about it and …'

‘It was a let-down.'

‘Well, you didn't exactly behave like the returning lover, did you?'

‘No, s'pose not. But you've no idea what it's been like.'

‘No, but you are going to tell me, aren't you?'

‘Probably not.'

‘Why not? You were telling everyone else when I arrived.'

‘That was different, that was joking …' He stopped when he saw Alan Hedges approaching them.

‘You don't mind if I take Rosie off for a dance, do you, Gordon?' He didn't wait for a reply before holding out his hand to Rosemary. She looked briefly at Gordon who nodded, then took Alan's hand and he was left to watch them.

‘Who asked him to come?' he asked Jean when she brought him a plate of sandwiches and sat down beside him.

‘We issued an open invitation. Why, don't you like him?'

‘I don't like the way he's mauling Rosie. Look at them, giggling like a pair of lovers.'

‘She's only dancing with him, Gordon. There's nothing in it.' She hoped that was true.

‘I haven't seen her for five years and she's hardly given me the time of day.'

‘She will. You need to get used to each other again, that's all.'

‘Take me home.'

‘You've hardly got here.'

‘All the same, I'm tired.'

‘Very well. I'll go and tell Mum. I'll come back for her later.'

Doris went round telling everyone that Gordon was tired and all the excitement was too much for him and they prepared to leave. Jean tapped Rosemary on the shoulder. ‘I'm taking Gordon home. He's had enough. Go and say goodnight to him.'

Rosemary obeyed, but what they said to each other she did not know. Gordon was silent all the way home.

It was a strange, upsetting time. Gordon hardly ventured from his room and when he did, he was morose and uncommunicative. Jean knew it was difficult for him, but it was hard for the rest of the family too, especially their mother, who did everything she could to make him comfortable and cheer him up. Jean lost patience with him.

‘There are a lot of people worse off than you,' she said when she found him sitting in the kitchen stirring a cold cup of tea, stirring it round and round, on and on. ‘You are making everyone miserable. Poor Mum is trying so hard and you are not making it easy. She's got enough on her plate with looking after Pa.'

‘You don't understand. I'm useless, no good to anyone …'

‘You won't be, if you don't try. Come out and help me with the milking. You can still do that, can't you?'

Reluctantly he followed her out to the cowshed and settled on a stool by Gertrude's udder. For a moment, he seemed content as the milk gushed into the pail, but then he tipped the pail over while trying to stand up. The whole yield from one cow ran across the floor. Angrily, he stomped back into the house, leaving her to
hose the milk down the drain and record the mishap in the yield book.

Karl had to come back. She tackled Gordon about it that evening, but he refused point-blank. ‘If you think I'm going to work alongside a Jerry, you'll have to think again,' he told her. ‘We'll manage. Don can help.'

‘Don is revising for his school cert. I don't want to spoil his chances.'

‘Does he need a certificate to work on the farm?'

‘Gordon, he doesn't want to work on the farm. He's planning to go to college.'

‘Find an English labourer then.'

‘Do you think I didn't try? When Pa had his stroke …'

‘Leave off, Jean. I'll soon have my new leg. We'll manage.'

Gordon was in the orchard filling the pig troughs the next morning when Elizabeth passed on her way up to have Sunday lunch at the farm. She stopped to speak to him. ‘How are you getting along, son?'

‘OK. More than enough to do.'

‘Is it what you want to do, Gordon? Farming, I mean.'

‘It's what I was born to do.'

‘That's not what I asked.'

‘Then the answer is yes and no. Farming is changing. It has to if it is to survive and we have to change with it. More specialisation, more mechanisation, that's what's needed. We're still farming the way we did when Grandpa was a nipper. I've been talking to Pa about it, but he won't see it. He says he's happy to go on hiring the machinery he needs from the Ministry of Ag. depot, but that won't go on for ever.'

‘What does Jean think?'

‘Don't know. I haven't asked her.'

‘Why not? Surely she deserves to be consulted. She ran this place almost single-handed while you were away. It wasn't easy.'

‘I know that.'

‘Jean is exhausted, Gordon. You have no idea what it's been like for her. Sergeant Muller turned out to be a godsend.'

‘What are you getting at? I'm not the equal of a Jerry, is that it?'

‘Not at all, but we're coming up to the busiest time of the year. Don't you think it would help to ask Colonel Williamson if Sergeant Muller could come back? Just for a little while.'

He looked closely at her. ‘What's between Jean and the Jerry, Gran? There's more to it than just work, isn't there?'

‘I wouldn't know.'

‘Oh, come on, Gran, you know everything.'

‘It's their business, not mine.'

‘She must be mad. I don't like it, I really don't. Has she thought about the consequences? It's against the law for a start. And she'll lose all her friends.'

‘Then they're not real friends. Besides, I don't know that it's got that far. All I want to do is get him back here to work to give Jean a break. Let the future take care of itself. You must admit you could do with a strong man about the place. There are still jobs you must find difficult. I can't see you working on top of a haystack, for instance. And if Don takes himself off to college …'