The Farmer's Daughter (26 page)

‘OK, I'm going,' Alan said. He got to his feet and made for the door. He had to pass Gordon. As soon as he was within striking distance, Gordon punched him hard. He staggered back, grabbing the muzzle of the gun, more to save himself than take possession of it. Gordon hoisted it upwards and at the same time lifted his false leg and kicked Alan with it. He laughed suddenly. ‘That hurt you more than it did me, my friend.' He wrenched the gun from the other's grasp. ‘Now get out before I give you both barrels where it will be very inconvenient for your love life.'

Alan, who had taken the full force of the leg on his shin, hobbled out and slammed the door behind him.

‘I knew that leg would come in handy some day,' Gordon said, sitting down beside Rosemary on the settee. She stared at him. ‘Gordon, I didn't mean it to happen. I didn't …' She burst into tears. He put his arm about her and hugged her.

‘It's OK, love. I know you didn't. I was coming up the garden path when I heard you scream. I came in by the kitchen door and overheard the rest.'

‘Thank goodness you came. I was terrified. I was sure he was going to rape me.'

‘It's over now and perhaps you will learn not to be so trusting in future.'

‘But what about you? Can I trust you? After all, we are alone …'

‘Rosie, I would never do anything you did not want me to, surely you know that? I love you. But you hurt me, hurt me badly because you couldn't accept the man I am now.'

‘I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you.'

He grinned suddenly. ‘I've never used that leg as a weapon before and I think I've twisted it. It's damned uncomfortable.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘So am I because I'm going to have to take it off and sort it out. Shut your eyes if you don't want to look.' He stood up, let down his trousers and sat down again. Then he undid the harness and removed the leg, putting it on the floor at his side. He glanced sideways and realised she was watching him. Deciding not to comment on that, he rubbed the stump. ‘I could do with a bit of cream on this.'

‘I'll find some.' She disappeared and he wondered if it was an excuse to flee from something she found repulsive. But he had misjudged her; she returned and handed him a tube of ointment.

He cocked one eye at her. ‘Do you want to do it for me?'

‘No, I might hurt you.'

‘You wouldn't, no more than you already have but no matter, we are making progress.'

‘Does it hurt?' She was looking at it properly now.

He laughed. ‘Only when I do something stupid like kicking someone.'

She took the tube of cream from him, knelt down and smoothed some into his stump. He grinned with pleasure. ‘Oh, that feels so good.'

She finished and sat back on her heels. ‘I won't go out with Alan again.'

‘I should hope not.' He picked up the leg and began strapping it on again. ‘I might not be around to rescue you next time.'

‘I hope you'll always be around.'

‘You mean that?'

‘Yes. I've been silly, haven't I?'

‘I forgive you.' He paused. ‘You know, I don't sleep in the damned thing.'

‘I didn't think you did.'

‘It wouldn't make any difference to you-know-what. I've lost a bit of me, but the rest is all there, all functional.' He stood up to pull his trousers up.

She laughed. ‘Just what are you doing here, Gordon Coleman?'

‘Your mother was worried about you being here all alone with escaped prisoners on the loose. I came to fetch you back to the farm. You can both stay the night with us.' He paused and sat down again. ‘But first there is something I want to do.'

‘What's that?'

‘Kiss you.' And suiting action to words, he did just that. ‘When are we going to get married, Rosie?' he asked when, breathless, they drew apart.

‘Whenever you like.'

‘You mean that?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then let it be soon.'

‘All right. But where will we live?'

‘Ah, that's a point. We'll have to give it some thought. Not tonight though. Our respective parents will be wondering what we've been up to.' He stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘I wouldn't mind if we had …'

‘You won't tell them about Alan?'

‘Why not?'

‘I'm too ashamed.'

‘It's not you who should be ashamed, but OK, if that's the way you want it.' He kissed her again. ‘Let's go and tell everyone the good news.'

Most of the prisoners were recaptured, but with no telltale patches on their uniforms and the fact that they were allowed to walk to their work and stroll about the countryside, even if they could not go into public houses and cinemas, one or two managed to stay free, including Otto. Karl wished him well. Those left behind spent the week confined to camp but, in the face of demands from the farmers and builders to have their workers back, Colonel Williamson lifted the ban. Karl returned to Briar Rose Farm.

He found them all in high spirits. There was to be a wedding and everyone was excited about it. ‘It has taken them long enough to make up their minds,' Jean told him. ‘Funny, but it was the prisoners escaping that triggered it off.'

He smiled wryly. ‘I'm glad it had a positive effect somewhere.'

‘Why did they do it?'

‘I think they were angry at the slowness of the repatriation and decided to take matters into their own hands.'

‘Did they really think they could get all the way back to Germany?'

‘I don't know,' he said guardedly. ‘It was unrealistic if they did. Mind you, there are still one or two on the loose, but I expect they are far away by now.'

‘You once said that if there were a chance of success, you would be tempted to go too. Do you remember?'

‘Yes, but that was before I fell in love with you. I do not want to jeopardise my turn to go. The sooner I do, the sooner I will come back.'

‘There is that, I suppose.'

‘How did the ploughing match go?'

‘Oh, I forgot you weren't there. It went very well. There were the usual entries.'

‘Did you enter?'

‘No, but Gordon did. It was so good to see him joining in as if he'd never been away. I do believe he is learning to cope with that leg. And Rosie agreeing to marry him has lifted his spirits enormously.'

‘I am glad. When is the wedding to be?'

‘In December. There isn't so much to do on the farm then and they will be able to have a honeymoon. The first banns were called last Sunday. Mum is in a fair old lather about it. It should be the bride's parents who arrange it, but Rosie's only got her mother and she's not the world's best organiser, so Mum has offered to have the reception here at the farm. I've no doubt the whole village will be invited, and some of Gordon's air force friends and people from Rosie's workplace. Austerity or not, it's going to be quite a do.'

‘You will be busy, too.'

‘I'll give a hand with the catering and I'll have to find something to wear that won't look too dowdy.'

‘Whatever you wear, you will look lovely,' he said. ‘And don't worry about the farm work, I can see to it.'

Gordon came home from visiting air force friends one day carrying a huge bundle of white silk. ‘Is that a parachute?' Doris asked him.

‘Yes.' He dumped it on the kitchen table. ‘A mate of mine works in the packing shed and this one was rejected. Its seams are not strong enough. Can you make use of it?'

‘Can we make use of it?' Jean repeated. ‘My, can we! There's enough here for everyone's dresses. But won't your friend get into trouble?'

‘Shouldn't think so. If 'chutes are damaged or not up to standard, they'd only be thrown away. That's what he said, anyway.'

‘Have you shown it to Rosie?' Doris asked.

‘No, she'll be at work. I'll see her later.'

‘Fetch her over. We'll have to have a conference. Some of it will need dyeing. Rosie must decide on the colours she wants.'

‘That's the dresses sorted,' Jean said. ‘What about the cake?'

‘I've been saving fruit for our Christmas cake,' Doris said. ‘Rosie's mum said she'd give me her ration as well, so we should have enough. I'll use that. I'll make a couple of Victoria sponges as well and some sausage rolls. As for sandwiches, we'll find some fillings for those.'

‘What'll we do for Christmas then?' Gordon asked.

‘We'll manage something. Weddings are more important.'

‘Mum, you're a wonder.' He stepped forward and hugged her. ‘I'm more than grateful and Rosie will be too.'

‘Oh, go on with you. Now go and talk to Pa. I've got work to do.'

Doris turned to Jean after he left, a broad smile on her face. ‘It's so good to see him happy. I was beginning to wonder if he would ever come out of the doldrums. I don't know what happened when he went to fetch Rosie that night, but whatever it was, it did the trick. He was like the cat that got the cream.'

‘So I saw. I just hope it spreads to doing some work on the farm.'

‘He will, give him time. Then we won't need Sergeant Muller any more.'

‘Are you so anxious to be rid of Karl, Mum?'

‘I think it would be for the best. The war is over, we should be getting back to normal.'

‘What is “normal”, Mum? I don't know any more. I don't think anyone does. Do you think all the women who have been working in the factories, on the land, in the forces, will be content to go back to being housewives? I don't. Am I supposed to hand over the farm to Gordon and become a shop assistant again?'

‘You wouldn't need to if you married Bill.'

‘Mum, I am not going to marry Bill. Please put that out of your head.'

‘Not even when Sergeant Muller goes back to Germany?'

‘Not even then.'

Jean was not sure if Bill himself had given up the idea; she saw very little of him. He had been at the ploughing match where he and Gordon had enjoyed a friendly rivalry and gone off to the Plough and Harrow together afterwards. He had asked her to dance at the prize-giving that evening but they had had little to say to each other and he went on to flirt with Brenda. If that was a ploy to make her jealous, it failed. Her heart had been irrevocably given elsewhere.

The wedding, attended by half the village, went off as planned. The bride looked radiant in her white silk gown and the groom handsome and smart in his RAF uniform. The dyeing had resulted in blue dresses for Jean and Doreen, one of Rosie's friends, and a beige blouse for Doris which she wore with a new skirt. The beige was accomplished with a large bottle of camp coffee. Doris and Elizabeth had spent days and days sewing. Afraid the wearers would be cold, they combed the second-hand shops in Wisbech and King's Lynn and as far afield as Norwich and managed to find a white fur cape for Rosemary and coloured shawls for Jean and Doreen. Everyone else had coats.

Bride and groom gave their responses in firm clear voices and afterwards left the church between a guard of honour made up of friends from Gordon's old squadron and two airmen who had been in the prison camp with him. He introduced them as Squadron Leader Alexander Jordan and Flying Officer Jeremy Brewster. Jean became aware of Karl standing behind one of the larger tombstones, with his chin buried in his upturned coat collar. It was an old coat of Pa's she had given him, not his uniform, but she hoped fervently that no one would see and recognise him. He had gone by the time everyone began to disperse and make their way to the farmhouse for the reception.

It was a noisy, happy affair. Alex, the best man, stood up to toast the bride and groom. His speech was full of jokes about life in the camp, which he referred to as their long holiday, but no one was under any misapprehension about that, especially Jean and her parents, who had seen the darker side of Gordon when he first came home. There were still things he could not talk about, perhaps never would. Gordon's reply was short, his jokes the ones most bridegrooms make, but he ended on a more serious note. ‘My good friend Alex has spoken of the lighter side of camp life,
but there were, of course, many who did not make it back, and we must not forget them.' He raised his glass. ‘On this happy day, the happiest of my life, I raise a glass to absent friends. We will remember them.' The guests echoed that and Gordon sat down. Alex patted him on the back and whispered something Jean could not hear.

The cake, without icing, was cut and distributed and everyone was soon laughing and joking again. Jean sat back, happy to see her brother happy, but there was, deep inside her, a pool of misery. The man she loved was excluded from the occasion. Would he ever become accepted? Would she ever sit at this table in a wedding dress with him at her side?

After Gordon and Rosie had left to catch a train to the Lake District for their honeymoon, Jean changed out of her dress in order to help Karl with the milking. She took a piece of wedding cake out to him and asked him why he had gone to the church.

‘I wanted to see you in your dress,' he said. ‘All that sewing was certainly worthwhile. You looked beautiful.'

‘So did Rosie.'

‘Of course. Brides are always radiant. One day it will be you.'

‘Only if you come back to me.'

‘God willing.'

His way of saying that put a tiny doubt in her mind. As if he was doubtful himself. He had told her that he did not trust the Russians and that many of his compatriots, whose homes were in the Russian zone, had asked to stay in England. He would not do that, she knew; his bond with his parents was too strong. Stronger than his with her perhaps.

‘How silly of me,' Doris said, looking down at the cutlery in her hand. ‘There's only three of us now, but I've got knives and forks out for six.'