Wish Me Luck (19 page)

‘Well, maybe we could,’ Betsy said tartly, ‘if only Kenny would come home when he’s supposed to. Where is he now, I’d like to know? Dashed off out as soon as you all got home. He’s missed helping you with the evening milking again. I’ll clip his ear for him when he gets back.’

‘It’s all right, love. Fleur helped me tonight. I think she quite enjoys keeping her hand in when she’s on leave.’ It was the wrong thing to say and Jake could have bitten his tongue off the moment he’d said it, for it prompted his wife to say tartly, ‘She’d have been better “keeping her hand in” all the time instead of swanning off to become an officer’s ground-sheet.’

‘Betsy! I won’t have you talking about our Fleur like that or any other WAAF, if it comes to that. They’re a grand lot of lasses.’

Betsy pursed her lips and said no more but the loud clattering of dishes in the scullery left Jake in no doubt of her feelings.

Supper was ready on the table by the time the back door opened and Kenny burst into the house, his face wreathed in smiles. ‘I’ve done it! I’ve joined up!’

Betsy gave a little scream, covered her mouth with her hand and sat down suddenly, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, but Jake and Fleur stared at him in puzzlement.

‘What are you talking about, lad? You’re not eighteen till next year.’

‘I know.’ Kenny was still beaming.

‘But . . . but they won’t take you till you’re at least eighteen,’ Fleur said.

Kenny’s grin widened even further – if it were possible. ‘No – but the Home Guard will. They’ll take you at seventeen. I’ve joined the South Monkford Home Guard.’

Everyone in the room relaxed and Betsy was so overcome with relief that she almost fell off the chair. ‘You bad boy – giving me a fright like that.’ She pretended to smack him and then was hugging him and kissing him.

‘Leave it out, Mum,’ the young man said, red in the face whilst Jake and Fleur, relieved too, smiled at his embarrassment.

‘So,’ Betsy said gaily as they all sat down at the table and she began to serve out the rabbit pie, ‘you won’t need to join the forces now, will you? If you’re in the Home Guard, you can stay here.’

There was a moment’s silence as Kenny glanced at Jake and Fleur. ‘It . . . it doesn’t work quite like that, Mum,’ he told her quietly. ‘I’m still going to volunteer for the RAF when I’m old enough.’

The plate Betsy was holding trembled slightly, and though she said no more, the light that had been in her eyes died instantly.

Determined to change the subject, Jake said, ‘I think Blossom’s going to calve any day now and I reckon she’s carrying two.’

Robbie saw the three of them standing together at one end of the platform. Quickly, he shrank back into the carriage lest Fleur should glance in his direction. He sat well back, watching them. Strangely, it wasn’t Fleur who captured his interest this morning, but her father. So this was the man who had perhaps loved his mother. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see him clearly, but the distance between them was too great. Robbie sighed. He’d dearly love to meet Fleur’s dad, but . . .

The whistle sounded and uniformed men and women from all the services jostled each other good-naturedly as they rushed to board the train. Last farewells were said, hugs and kisses exchanged. Robbie stayed back until he saw Fleur look up and down the train, deciding which carriage to climb into. Then he moved to the open door of the carriage and leant out, calling her name and waving to attract her attention amongst all the hustle and bustle. She glanced round and, seeing him, hurried along the platform towards his carriage. Her father, carrying her bag, followed. Robbie held out his hand to her and hoisted her up into the carriage and then leant down again and held out his hand to take her bag. In that brief instant, he looked into the dark brown eyes of Fleur’s father. Recognition was instant. Jake knew who he was. Robbie saw the older man catch his breath as, almost in a trance, he handed up the bag.

Fleur, standing beside Robbie, leant out too. ‘’Bye, Dad.’ Then she waved to the woman standing like a statue on the platform, her gaze fixed upon Robbie. Fleur’s wave faltered as her heart sank.

Her mother had seen him too.

The guard was moving along the platform, slamming doors and blowing his whistle. As the train began to move, there was no answering wave from her mother, nor, to Fleur’s disappointment, from her father either. Though not together, they were both standing quite still, their gaze on Fleur, yet neither of them waved goodbye.

She ducked back into the carriage and sat down suddenly, her eyes filling with tears. Robbie sat beside her and took her hand.

‘They didn’t even wave,’ she gulped.

‘Darling – I’m so sorry. I should have stayed back out of sight. But . . . but I so wanted to travel with you. I couldn’t wait a moment longer to tell you . . .’

Fleur’s head shot up and her eyes widened as she saw that he was beaming, it seemed, from ear to ear.

‘Oh, Robbie,’ she gasped. ‘Is it . . . is it really all right?’

He nodded and then she was in his arms, and behind them in the carriage there were whistles and catcalls and ribald laughter. But neither of them cared. They were laughing and crying and hugging each other.

As the train gathered speed and passed by the waving onlookers on the platform, through the window Jake saw it all. He sighed. Whatever Betsy wanted, he thought, nothing was going to keep those two apart. For a fleeting moment, he’d seen the joy on his daughter’s face when she’d first caught sight of Robbie and hurried towards him.

It was the same joy he’d always felt when he saw Meg. And, deep in his heart, he knew that if she were to step onto the platform right this minute he would feel it again.

‘What did you say to her? What did
she
say?’

As the train sped through the countryside towards Lincoln, Fleur was anxious for a verbatim report.

Robbie, all his anxiety gone now, laughed. ‘This is like a debriefing. You sound just like Ruth.’

‘True,’ Fleur said, trying to adopt a stern tone. ‘So get on with it Flight Sergeant Rodwell.’

He gave a mock salute. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Robbie recounted, word for word, what had passed between him and his mother. ‘She pretended to be a bit indignant that I’d even thought such a thing of her, but I could tell she was only teasing me. It was strange,’ he mused. ‘When I first broached the subject she was very edgy, but when I asked her straight out who my father was – was it your father - she laughed. Yes, Fleur, she actually laughed, and like I said she pretended to be indignant.’

‘But she denied it?’

‘Oh yes – and it was the truth. I could see it was. But there was still – well –
something.’

Fleur patted his hand. ‘Maybe she doesn’t like to be reminded of your father. Perhaps his death still affects her,’ she said gently, referring to Meg’s husband.

‘Mmm. Maybe.’ Robbie chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. ‘She doesn’t very often talk about him, come to think of it.’ Then he smiled, determined to put it all out of his mind. They had the news they wanted – why worry about anything else? ‘I’m sure you’re right, sweetheart,’ he murmured and, oblivious to the other passengers, he kissed her firmly on the mouth.

Two weeks later, Fleur was busier than ever with the garden. The Anderson shelter had been constructed with the earth from the hole they’d dug placed back on top of it.

‘Mek it a good thick layer, lass,’ Harry had advised. ‘And then you can plant summat on top.’

‘Can I?’ Fleur had eyed it sceptically.

‘Aye, you can,’ Harry had nodded. ‘Lettuce or marrers. Summát that doesn’t need a great depth of earth to grow in.’

So the area on top of the shelter was drawn in on Fleur’s plan of the garden that she’d sketched out and kept on the shelf of the little table beneath Mrs Jackson’s precious wireless.

The gifts of seed and small plants from the old lady’s neighbours had been overwhelming, and now Fleur was anxious to get everything planted as soon as possible. ‘These plants’ll shrivel up if I don’t get them in the ground,’ she’d said, and had been working in the garden every minute of her spare time. Robbie still joined her whenever he could, but when a longer bit of leave came due, he said, ‘Darling, I must go home and see Ma and Pops.’

‘Of course you must,’ Fleur said at once. ‘And I should go home too, but I just can’t leave here until everything’s planted. I’m late with some of it now and it’d be so unfair to all the people who’ve been so generous not to use it all. Plants and seeds are very precious just now.’

‘I’m sure your mum and dad will understand.’

Fleur grimaced. ‘Dad will, but I’m not so sure about Mum. Mind you,’ she added as an afterthought, ‘Dad did promise to come over sometime and see what I’m— Sorry’ – she grinned – ‘what
we’re
doing.’

‘I should think so too!’ Robbie pretended indignation. ‘Like you said I would, I’m still aching in muscles I didn’t know I’d got.’ His face sobered. ‘But I hate not seeing you for days on end.’

They gazed at each other, their love spilling over. ‘I know,’ Fleur said, ‘but we’re luckier than most. We see each other nearly every day.’

‘I know, I know. I shouldn’t grumble. I’m not doing really, it’s just . . .’

Now it was Fleur’s turn to say, ‘I know. I know just how you feel.’ She reached up to touch him, but then, realizing her fingers were grubby, she smiled ruefully and dropped her hand.

‘I can’t bear to be away from you – not even for a moment. Fleur,’ he said impulsively, grabbing her hands, oblivious of the earth clinging to her fingers. ‘Fleur – let’s get married. Now. Let’s not wait any longer. Oh, darling, do say “yes”.’

Fleur’s eyes widened and she gasped in surprise. ‘Are you – are you proposing?’

‘Of course I am. Oh, I’m sorry – it’s not the most romantic setting, but . . .’

Fleur’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, darling, it is, it is.’

He dropped to one knee, not caring if his uniform got dirty. ‘Darling Fleur, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me – please?’

‘Oh yes, yes!’ She flung herself at him, knocking him over so that they rolled on the ground together, laughing and crying and hugging each other.

‘’Ere, ’ere, what’s all this, then?’ Harry’s voice came over the fence. ‘Well, I niwer. I know the ground wants a bit of a roll when you’ve planted seeds, but I’ve never seen it done that way afore.’

Fleur and Robbie buried their faces against each other and roared with laughter.

‘Come on,’ Robbie said at last, still spluttering with mirth. ‘We can’t lie here all day.’ Then he murmured against her ear, ‘Much as I’d like to.’ He got up and held out his hand to her to pull her to her feet, then drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. He turned towards the old man, still leaning on the fence.

‘You shall be the first to know, Harry. This lovely girl has just consented to be my wife.’

The old man nodded and Fleur was touched to see tears shimmer in his eyes. ‘That calls for a celebration, lad. You go and tell Mary to get the glasses out. I’ll be round in a jiffy . . .’

‘What’s he up to now?’ Fleur wondered.

‘I don’t know, but we’ll do as he says.’

They went towards the house, hand in hand. In the back scullery, Fleur washed her hands quickly whilst Robbie brushed down his uniform. Before she could step into the kitchen to speak to Mrs Jackson, Harry was opening the back door with Ruth on his heels. She had been in his cottage ironing the old man’s sheets.

‘What’s going on? Harry’s dragged me round here just when the irons are hot.’ Ruth looked disgruntled. ‘What’s all the excitement?’

‘Here we are then, lass,’ Harry interrupted. ‘Last bottle of my elderflower wine. Sparkling, it is. Nearest I can get to champagne.’

‘It’ll be better than champagne, Harry. But are you sure you want to use it? I mean . . .’

‘Course I am.’ He winked at her. ‘Been looking for an excuse to open it up. I can always mek some more. I used to enjoy me wine making, but to tell you the truth, I haven’t had the heart since Doris passed away. But now, well, I feel I might have another go. Now this lass has got me all straightened out in the house, I can see the wood for the trees, as they say. Come on, has Mary got the glasses ready?’

‘I haven’t had time to tell her yet.’

‘Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?’ Ruth asked again, but Harry still ignored her, saying to Fleur, ‘You go in and tell Mary and get the glasses ready. Come to think of it, I’d best open this outside. It might make a bit of a mess. Bring a glass, lass. Don’t want to waste any . . .’

‘What
is
going on?’

Shyly, Fleur said, ‘Robbie’s asked me to marry him and I’ve said “yes”.’

Ruth stared at her. ‘Oh no. You can’t,’ she burst out. ‘Not now. Not while there’s a war on. Oh Fleur!’ She gripped Fleur’s arm. ‘Think about it. Please. What if—’

Fleur blinked. ‘I don’t need to think about it, Ruth,’ she said stiffly, hurt that her friend didn’t seem to be pleased for her. ‘I love him and he loves me.’

‘But . . .’

Squashed together in the tiny scullery, Harry could not help but overhear all that was being said. Gently, he touched Ruth’s arm. ‘Listen, love, I know what’s troubling you. You’re afraid that if anything should happen to that young man out there . . .’ Harry jerked his head towards the back yard, where Robbie was still trying to remove the earth stains from his uniform. ‘That she’ll be terribly hurt. You’re trying to protect her from that, aren’t you?’