Alice's Girls (16 page)

Alice had leant across the table and taken his hands in both of hers. She was shocked by what he had told her. Mixed with that reaction was the knowledge that she had been right to suspect that some major experience had damaged him and was responsible for his reaction to Christopher’s problem.

‘You must tell him, Roger!’ she said, gravely. ‘All of it.’

‘I have thought about it, Alice.’

‘And decided what?’

‘To say nothing. What would be the point? All this goes back too far. It’s history. Just as the horrendous events that triggered it all are history. I’m damaged goods, Alice. I’ve been experiencing these moments of disequilibrium more frequently lately. They had almost stopped and then, when that Italian fellow was injured, and again and more seriously when poor Margery died … Well, you saw what happened. When Chris cracked up I had some bad days. Kept them pretty much to myself but they happened just the same.’

‘It was probably Christopher’s breakdown that sort of reactivated it all. But now that it’s over … and when you talk to him about it … won’t it—?’

‘No, Alice,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m convinced that my
relationship with Chris is beyond recovery. I don’t want his pity. I have to let him go.’ Stunned, Alice let the seconds pass before she spoke.

‘Without telling him why? Without giving him the chance to let you know he understands? Without him knowing how you feel about him? Without giving him your blessing?’

‘Well, I daresay I’ll manage that!’ Roger said, almost amused. ‘I’ll go and dance at their wedding, if that’s what you mean. It’s in three weeks time, by the way. I was summoned to dinner by the Webster parents. All very civilised. It’s to be a quiet, family affair. You’re on the guest list, I gather. They consider that you’ve been a good influence on Georgina. I don’t think I would be so sanguine were I in their shoes and my daughter was off to the other side of the world.’

‘I think that’s more your responsibility than mine!’ Alice said, and he looked sharply at her, surprised by her tone.

‘Driving him away, you mean?’

‘In effect, yes. You are so stubborn, Roger! Can’t you see it?’

‘And now you’re cross with me!’ He was concealing his concern behind a show of innocent confusion.

‘No! You fool!’ she said. ‘I’m not cross! Just …’ She struggled unsuccessfully for the right word and only managed, ‘Sorry!’

‘Sorry?’

‘Yes! And more than sorry, Roger! Desperate! For
Chris. For you. And, heaven help me, for me!’ She got up from the table, stumbled up the riverbank and wove her way between the tables on the terrace. Roger saw her go through the open french doors at the rear of the pub and disappear into its shadowy interior. As he settled the bill he could see her through the lobby window, standing beside his car. The wind had risen and she was pulling her jacket more closely round her.

They drove for some miles without speaking.

‘Try this,’ Alice began. ‘Try putting the past out of your mind. Try thinking about what happens now and what happens next. To you, to Christopher, to Georgina … to all of us, Roger. Don’t think about how things got locked into this state. If you want to tell him about what happened to you and Rob, then tell him! If not, confine yourself to letting him know how much you value him. How you’ve always valued him. How it was the difficult events in
your
life that shocked, disappointed and depressed you, not him, or his life! And if you feel it’s best to let him go to New Zealand, then let him! But don’t let him leave believing you don’t care!’

They had arrived at the farmhouse gate and as Alice reached to open the car door Roger put his hand on her arm to stop her.

‘No,’ she said. The door was open and she was easing away from him. ‘Let me go, Roger. Please, my dear. I don’t want to be involved in this … this unhappiness anymore. I’m sorry.’

Since she had opened what she called her ‘tea room’, Rose’s work in the hostel was officially reduced to three hours each morning, when she would help Alice with the clearing up of the kitchen after breakfast, clean the bathroom and spend what remained of her time with mop and broom wherever they were required. Most mornings she met the postman at the farmhouse gate and scanned the letters before propping them on the dresser where the girls would find them when they arrived back from work.

‘’Nother letter from the sergeant for our Marion! I don’t know what ’e finds to say to her!’

‘It’s love, Rose!’

‘Is it, though? Or is ’e just stringin’ ’er along?’

‘I think it’s pretty serious,’ Alice said, preparing to cross
the yard to the barn where half a dozen hens had established themselves amongst the disused mangers, and where, with any luck, she might find enough eggs for a batter for the toad-in-the-hole she had planned for tonight’s supper.

It had occurred to Alice to wonder how Marion and Winnie would resolve their ambition to be joint landladies of their own pub if ‘the little sergeant’, as both the girls called Marvin Kinski, was to propose marriage to Marion, who seemed, from Alice’s observations and the almost daily letters between the two of them, to be very attached to him. How would Winnie take it if her best friend and potential business partner was to become a GI bride, board a ship and vanish into the uncharted territory of the United States of America?

Kinski, originally from the Bronx, was a professional soldier and had consequently spent most of his adult life in army accommodation on a succession of military bases scattered across his vast country, without forming an allegiance to any particular part of it.

Aside from appearing to be slightly preoccupied, neither Marion or Winnie had sought Alice’s advice on the subject and she, with other things on her mind, was content not to involve herself in it.

They sat facing each other in a café in Exeter with a steamy windowpane between them and the rainy street outside. Their hands were clasped on the stained tablecloth, their teacups were empty and there were only cake crumbs on
their plates. A small box, its lid open, exposing a modest diamond set in gold, lay between them and Marion’s eyes were anxiously searching the sergeant’s face. This was the third time he had proposed marriage and each time a similar discussion had taken place.

‘But what sort of a wife would I be, though, Marvin, if I was someone as broke their promises? Someone who didn’t keep her word?’

‘But what if it was the other way about?’ he asked her. ‘What if it was Winnie who wanted out of this plan of yours? Suppose she was the one who’d found herself a fella? What would you have done? Hey?’

‘I dunno!’ Marion sighed. ‘But anyroad she ’asn’t, ’as she!’ Marvin was chewing gloomily on the damp stub of his cigar.

‘Seems like it was a pretty weird arrangement for two lookers like you and Winnie to make! Most girls like you dream of meeting Mr Right and living happy ever after!’

‘Like our mums did, you mean? With too many kids and no money? Workin’ all the hours God sent? Livin’ in cold, poky little ’ouses. Dad down the pub! Not much “’appy ever after” in our street, Marvin!’ She looked at him and her expression softened. ‘Win and me weren’t much good at our lessons in school but we wasn’t stupid! We wanted summat better than what our mums ’ad!’

‘It won’t be like that with me, babe!’ he said, stroking the back of her hand. ‘I promise you it won’t be! We’d have
decent married quarters right from the start; then, after a bit I’d buy us a house of our own.’

‘It’s not that, lovey! I’d live in a tent if it meant bein’ with you! It’s Winnie I’m thinkin’ of. Winnie and our plan we made!’

Marvin’s cigar was beyond redemption and he abandoned it in his empty teacup.

‘Reckon we should talk to her. She’s your buddy, Marion. She won’t want to stand between you and your happiness.’

‘’Course she won’t, Marvin! She’d say I’m to wed you! She’d smile as she waved us goodbye! She’s a good egg, is my Winnie! But I can’t do it to her, Marvin, I just can’t!’

For weeks the situation remained unchanged. Winnie insisting that Marion shouldn’t let their arrangement regarding the pub influence her response to Marvin’s proposal and Marion determined not to let down her oldest and best friend. Marvin continued to write affectionate letters and, whenever he could, visited his girl. The solution to the problem came from an unexpected quarter.

Dear Marion and Winifred,
the letter began. It was from Marion’s uncle Ted, whose advice the girls had sought, more than once, about the practicalities of realising their dream.

Another letter had arrived at the farmhouse that day and was lifted down from the dresser shelf and read by its recipient.

‘You ought to be pleased,’ Gwennan told Evie. ‘Having your bloke come through the war without a scratch on ’im!’ But Evie clearly was not happy with the news of the imminent demobilisation of her husband.

‘’E wants me to leave ’ere and go back ’ome,’ she said, without any enthusiasm at all.

‘Well of course ’e does!’ Marion said, impatiently. ‘And it’s just as well he can’t see the look on your face, Evie! What’s wrong with you?’

Evie got up from the table without finishing her pudding.

‘Nothin’’ she said. ‘I’m goin’ for a bike ride before it gets dark.’ Avoiding the inquisitive looks and the raised eyebrows of the other girls, she left the kitchen.

‘I reckon she’s seein’ someone!’ Marion announced. ‘All this traipsin’ about the countryside on her own and goin’ for bike rides!’

‘She likes the countryside, Marion, you know that,’ Alice murmured, stacking the pudding plates. ‘That’s why she chose to join the Land Army.’

‘There’s more to it than that,’ Winnie announced, carrying a stack of plates and following Alice out to the scullery. ‘What you don’t know, Mrs Todd, is that when us girls gets a lift into Ledburton for a drink at the Maltster’s, Evie often comes with us and then slopes off on her own.
She turns up at the pub in time to come back ’ere with us lot. So where does she go to, eh? We reckon she’s meeting up with some bloke!’

‘While that poor husband of hers is fighting for king and country!’ Gwennan, who was eavesdropping, declared. ‘Disgraceful, I call it!’

‘And no business of ours!’ Alice said, firmly.

‘That would depend on who it is she’s seein’, wouldn’t it, Mrs Todd?’

On the following Saturday night, when the few girls who had been into the village came home as usual together, in one noisy group, Evie, who had left the hostel when they had, was not with them.

‘She came with us as far as the church,’ Annie told Alice, ‘and then she went off on her own. For a stroll, she said. We waited for her at closing time, so we could all walk home together, but when she didn’t show up, we thought she might have started back on her own. But she hadn’t, had she? And we don’t know where she is.’

With Edward John asleep, Alice sat reading in the light of her bedside lamp. By midnight she was nodding over her book when the click of the latch on the farmhouse gate brought her back to full attention. She was in the
cross-passage
by the time Evie had quietly pushed open the unlocked front door.

‘Come into the kitchen,’ Alice said, and when they were sitting, facing one another across the table and tears were
rolling down Evie’s face, she asked her, quite gently, what the matter was.

‘I bin seein’ someone,’ Evie said. ‘I know I shouldn’t of and I never meant to, even though things between me and my ’usband ’ave never been right.’

‘Never?’ Alice asked. ‘Then why did you—?’

‘Marry ’im?’ Evie paused. ‘Lookin’ back, I shouldn’t of, ’cos I never really liked ’im much. Mum and I was on our own, see. My dad left us when I was little and we never knew where ’e was after that and there was no money. Mum took in Norman as a lodger. He was a lot older than me and Mum’s a woman as needs a man to take charge of things. And that’s what Norman did, see. He sort of took control of everything and pretty soon, when I turned sixteen, he decided we should get married and Mum agreed with ’im. I know I shouldn’t of done it ’cos I weren’t properly in love with ’im or nothing but ’e was kind to me then. He bought me clothes and took us to the seaside for our ’olidays and that. I got pregnant pretty well straight off ’cos that’s what Norman wanted. But it turned out I couldn’t carry the baby, and when I lost it, the hospital said I wouldn’t be able to ’ave no more kids on account of my womb was messed up. After that Norman ’ad no time for me. ’E said I wasn’t a proper woman no more and Mum always took ’is side. ’E sent me out to work and made me give ’im me wages. When ’e got called up I was glad and I thought p’raps ’e’d find some other girl and leave me. I know it’s awful but I even hoped ’e might get killed like
so many of ’em did. I wanted to get away from Mum an’ all, so when I ’ad to do war work I come down ’ere to be a land girl. I wasn’t lookin’ for no trouble, Mrs Todd, honest! But then I met Giorgio.’

‘Giorgio?’

‘Yes.’ She hesitated, knowing the effect her next words would have on the warden. ‘He’s one of the Italian POWs … Oh, I know we’re not s’posed to talk to ’em, Mrs Todd, and I never. Not for ages. But there was this day when ’e was workin’ on ’is own. They trusted ’im, see, the guards did. ’E was fixing a drinkin’ trough and I’d broke me ’oe and been sent up to the ’igher farm for Ferdie Vallance to mend it, and there was Giorgio and there was me and … And after that we managed to see each other quite often. It weren’t easy, but since VE Day the guards ’aven’t bin that fussy, and quite a few of the prisoners sneak out of an evening. I’m that fond of ’im, Mrs Todd, I really am! I’ve never felt for anyone like I do for ’im! Not ever in me life! We made this plan. see, for when the war’s properly over. ’E’d apply to stay ’ere in England – they can, see, if they’re ’ard workers and their farmer wants ’em. Giorgio works for Mr Lucas and ’e thinks the world of ’im. I was gonna get work down ’ere and be with ’im. That’s all we want, see. Just to be together. Only Norman gets out the army in two weeks and in ’is letter ’e says if I’m not home when ’e gets there ’e’s comin’ down ’ere to fetch me! What’ll I do, Mrs Todd?’

Since Georgina had been released from the Air Transport Auxiliary and was dividing her time between her parents’ home and Christopher’s cottage it soon became necessary for her to arrange some form of transport other than her brother’s motorbike.

‘It’s just not on, Georgie,’ Lionel complained. ‘You use the blessed thing more than I do!’ The solution to the problem had been lying at the back of one of the Webster barns for the last twenty-odd years. The Brough Superior had once been the pride of the young John Webster. On it he and Isabel, during their courtship and the early years of their marriage, had ranged the valleys of the Exe, explored Dartmoor, and in the summers, visited favourite beaches on the South Devon coast. With the arrival of first Georgina and then Lionel the bike became redundant as a form of family transportation and had, because John had been unable to bring himself to part with it, stood ignored and almost indistinguishable from a clutter of disused farming equipment which had accumulated over the years. With the combined efforts of both his children, John set about restoring the basically sound machine and Georgina was soon roaring through the countryside, rejoicing in her independence.

During the weeks preceding her wedding and while officially living at her parents’ home, she frequently stayed overnight with Christopher at the woodman’s cottage.

‘You reckon ’tis proper?’ Rose enquired of Alice as the two women assembled the ingredients for a stew for the
land girls’ supper. ‘Them two, shacked up together and not yet wed? What be ’er folks thinkin’ of, I ask myself!’

‘It’s only a matter of weeks until the wedding, Rose, and these days—’

‘These days …’ Rose interrupted, blustering with
self-righteousness
, ‘all you get “these days” is excuses for bad be’aviour if you ask me!’ She clattered a saucepan or two to emphasise her disapproval. This seemed to relieve her and after a moment she asked Alice if she had been invited to the wedding.

The occasion was to be a quiet one which only immediate family members and a few neighbours would attend. Alice was included, but of the Post Stone girls only Annie, who had always been close to Georgina, together with Hector as her escort, had been invited. As Georgina had no young cousins, she asked Edward John to act as page boy.

‘Page boy?’ he asked, suspiciously. ‘What do I have to do?’

‘Not a lot,’ Georgina told him. ‘You just walk down the aisle behind me and hold my flowers while I’m being married.’