Catching Falling Stars (17 page)

“So, Lillian … what brings you here?” Auntie Sylvia asks, now pouring tea into the dainty china cups. She’s glancing warily at my sister, unsure if she likes her manners, I worry.

“Well,” says Lil, talking with her mouth full, “I’m finished my training with the Land Army now—”

“Was it fun?” Rich interrupts.

“No! It was not!” Lil laughs loudly. “It’s hard work, Squirt. Look at my hands! And my nails! Thank God I can still do my hair and wear lipstick, or I’d look like a
complete
country bumpkin. Ha!”

I feel like shushing her. Doesn’t Lil realize that could seem like slur on Auntie Sylvia, who lives here in a little village – in the country?

“So, are you on your way to a farm?” I ask her, hoping Lil will answer me and talk normally, more politely.

I don’t want Auntie Sylvia to get the wrong impression of her. Though it’s probably too late for that already…

“You bet!” Lil says with a grin, taking out a mirror compact and checking her lipstick for crumbs. “Me and my chum Sally were all set to be sent to this
awful-
sounding place. Get this: it was halfway up a hill, miles from anywhere, with only a farmer’s wife for company. Not a handsome man in sight – ha!”

She snaps shut her mirror compact case.

“So me and Sally said no thank you very much to
that
. And then I’m talking to the officer in charge about other farms looking for help, and –
ta-nah!
– here I am!”

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

“Me and Sally; we’re only working up the road from here – at Eastfield Farm!”

“Yay!” yells Rich, jumping off his seat to hug Lil.

Meanwhile my head is reeling at the surprise. And I spot Auntie Sylvia flinch at the mention of Eastfield Farm, as if she’s been slapped.

“Well, I … I … do you think that’s appropriate?” she asks Lil. “I mean, Mr Wills has no wife. You girls will be quite unchaperoned.”

“Ha!” Lil laughs in Auntie Sylvia’s face, as if that’s the silliest thing she’s ever heard. “Me and Sally don’t need chaperoned, love. We’ll manage very well, don’t you worry.”

My toes curl at hearing Lil call Auntie Sylvia “love”. What is she doing? I love Lil. I’m so pleased she’s here. But I wish she’d shut up. She’s gone from comforting me to
embarrassing
me in just a few minutes flat.

“But how can you stay at the farm, Lil?” frets Rich. “
We
couldn’t. They have a broken roof and not enough bedrooms.”

“Don’t you worry, Squirt,” says Lil, ruffling Rich’s hair till it’s messy. “Me and Sally are in Mr Wills’ son’s room. Do you know Harry? The oldest one? He’s bunking down in the hayloft.”

“We’ve, um, met him,” I tell her. I glance quickly across at Auntie Sylvia and see that her lips are pursed into that tight line she does when she’s disapproving or agitated. She’s probably remembering the last time she spoke to Harry, when he was haranguing her on the doorstep, trying to get her to take us in.

“Well, how lovely for your brother and sister to have you so close,” says Auntie Sylvia, remembering her manners, even if Lil hasn’t. “Will you stay and have dinner with us, Lillian?”

“No, ta!” says Lil, getting to her feet and grabbing herself another shortbread biscuit. “Mr Wills is expecting me back. Got to unpack and get a tour of the farm with Sally.”

“Perhaps you might come and eat with us on Saturday, then?” Auntie Sylvia suggests instead. “About six o’clock?”

“Oh, yes, please. Say yes!” Rich begs Lil, jumping up and down as she walks towards the front door, scattering crumbs in her wake.

“Yes – great. See you then. Ta ta!”

With kisses blown, Lil leaves in a fug of sugar-sweet perfume – and leaves Auntie Sylvia with a distinctly cold expression on her face.

And me? I’m left feeling cross with Lil for being almost cheeky to Auntie Sylvia.

But I’m cross with Auntie Sylvia too, for looking at Lil as if she’s the most common girl she’s ever set eyes on.

Thank goodness for my darling Rich
, I think, wrapping an arm around him.

He may be odd, but he’s the most straightforward person in this muddlesome world I’m now living in…

“She’s good fun, your sister,” says Lawrence.

“Yeah, she’s
r-r-really
good f-fun!” Archie joins in.

I’m feeling muddled again.

Me and Rich have come to the common to have a walk and muck about with Lawrence, Archie and Jess. I couldn’t wait to get here.

But now I’m irritated and a bit jealous. Lil came to see us on Monday, and now it’s Thursday. I know she’s coming for dinner on Saturday, but it’s hard hearing what fun someone
else
is having with your sister in the meantime.

“What’s wrong with
you
, Hope ’n’ Glory?” asks Jess, spotting something’s up.

Not that I’m going to tell her; Rich is missing Lil madly now that she’s so close but yet so far.

“I’m all right,” I say, as I stroll and watch Rich skip-hop in zigzags through the long grass just ahead of us. “Just a bit tired.”

That much is true. I sat till late at the bedroom window last night, my eyes fixed on the faint orange glow on the dark horizon, my nails digging in my palm as I watched London burning again, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do except keep my fingers tightly crossed that it hadn’t affected Mum and Dad.

“You’ve got a face on you, that’s all,” Jess comments, putting her own face uncomfortably close to mine.

I’m still a little scared of Jess. In their different ways, I like easy-going Lawrence and shy and sweet Archie a lot now that I know them better. But Jess…

“Leave Glory alone,” Lawrence tells Jess now, seeing my predicament and wrapping an arm around her neck in a jokey stranglehold.

“Get off!” she yelps, but looks like she’s loving it.

Actually, does she sort of
like
Lawrence, I wonder? But then I think probably not. Jess just might be the most fearless and tomboyish girl I’ve ever met. I bet she’d think I was having a laugh if I suggested she liked Lawrence any more than Archie, or Popeye the pig, even.

“So are you g-g-going to see the film Saturday, G-G-Glory?” Archie suddenly asks me.

His cheeks are a little pink when he talks. I bet if boy-mad Lil was here, she would think he was about to ask me out. Ha!

“Yeah, come,” Jess says to me as she wriggles free from Lawrence’s grasp. “It’s a Western. Yee-ha! Stick ’em up, pardner!”

She acts like she has guns in her hands – Lawrence and Archie both grin and put their hands in the air. Rich turns to see what’s going on and starts neighing, pretending he’s on a horse.

“I don’t think we can come. I don’t think Auntie Sylvia would approve,” I tell them all.

Another ripple of muddle engulfs me.

I lied to Auntie Sylvia earlier, saying me and Rich would come here and gather her some damsons at last – and missed out the fact that we were meeting Lawrence, Archie and Jess.

“Ooh,
her
! She wouldn’t approve of anything that’s fun, would she?” says Jess, now putting on a la-di-dah pretend posh voice. “Probably thinks going to see a film is too common, the silly snob that she is.”

“She’s not
really
a snob,” I try to say in Auntie Sylvia’s defence. “It’s more that she’s a bit shy, I think.”

“Ha!” snorts Lawrence. “Pull the other one! When I was little, I remember that my dad used to try to say hello to her in church, but she just ignored him, like he was dirt. So he never bothers nowadays.”

Now I’m muddled again. Who’s right and who’s wrong here? Is Auntie Sylvia more snobby than shy?

“I don’t think she has a lot of spare money for things like films,” I say instead, though I don’t know what Auntie Sylvia’s situation actually is.

“But Dad gave us those sixpences, remember, Glory?” Rich stops skip-hopping long enough to say. “Couldn’t we tell Auntie Sylvia we can pay for ourselves?”

“I don’t think so,” I try to let him down gently. In truth, I think Auntie Sylvia has more of a problem with being so close to the people of the village than the cost of tickets.

Maybe she
is
a snob…

“Anyway, we’ve got Lil coming for tea on Saturday, haven’t we, Rich?” I say, as I remember another reason we can’t see the Western.

My brother’s expression instantly flips from disappointment to joy.

“Hey, Titchy-Rich,” Jess suddenly calls out to him. “Race you to that fence over there. Loser’s a smelly cowpat!”

“No! I’m going to win!” Rich giggles and hurtles off ahead of her.

Jess muddles me too. One minute she’s spiky, the next she’s sweet.

“She likes your brother a lot,” says Lawrence, nodding after Jess as she speeds to catch up with Rich.

“She didn’t always,” I can’t help myself saying. “The day we arrived, I was in the shop, and when I came out, she was teasing Rich.”

Lawrence and Archie swap disbelieving looks and frowns.

“You s-s-sure, Glory?” Archie checks with me.

“I remember Jess telling us about that day,” says Lawrence. “She said she was just playing around with him. He was chasing the butterflies, wasn’t he?”

I nod, remembering.

“Jess said he was cute, and reminded her of her kid brother, Tommy. Sort of …
different
from the rest of her brothers and sisters.”

“T-T-Tommy’s her f-f-favourite,” adds Archie.

So, Jess has a brother who’s a bit like Rich?

Now I’m more muddled than ever.

I got it wrong, didn’t I? Same as I was wrong about what happened in the farmyard the day Rich went up there. Jess doesn’t just like Rich, she might be one of the few people who actually understands him…

“Hey, want to go and see your sister, Glory?” Lawrence suddenly asks, brown eyes twinkling. “She’s working in the back field with Harry today. We can take a shortcut if we go over there, through the sprouts.”

He might be talking about something silly and smelly as sprouts, but it’s as if Lawrence has suddenly offered me a gift.

“Yes, please!” I say, grinning so wide I feel the tug of the scar on my cheek.

“Let’s go, then,” he says, and breaks into a run, following the direction Rich and Jess ran in. “Last one’s a cowpat!”

And so I run and laugh, and forget to feel muddled.

“Well, this is certainly easier with someone here to help,” says Auntie Sylvia, unravelling a man’s knitted blue pullover and wrapping the wool around my hands. “Thank you, Glory.”

“That’s all right,” I say, sitting on the footstool in front of her. “I do this for Mum sometimes too.”

The sitting room is very cosy this evening. Auntie Sylvia has lit a fire, and Rich is lying in front of it reading one of his comics and humming along to the song on the wireless.

“Your mother won’t mind me knitting a jumper for Richard, will she?” Auntie Sylvia asks.

“No, of course not,” I reply, surprised that she’s thinking that way.

“Oh, good. I don’t want Mrs Gilbert thinking I’m, you know, trying to take over from her. It’s just that this wool is so very nice, and since my father doesn’t exactly need his pullover any more…”

“Did he pass away a long time ago?” I ask softly, hoping my question won’t upset her.

“Oh, a long time ago, Glory! I was only twenty-one when he had a heart attack.”

I realize now, in the soft, warm light, that Auntie Sylvia must be around the same age as my parents. I used to think she was older, but it’s just because of the sober, old-fashioned way she dresses.

“He was a lovely man, but I didn’t see much of him when I was growing up,” Auntie Sylvia says, staring down at the wool as she talks. “He was the manager of a bank in Basildon, and worked very long hours. Even at weekends he’d often be at the writing desk here, working away. So I had to be a good girl and stay quiet for him!”