Down Daisy Street (24 page)
‘But we shall make sure, this time, that the authorities do not simply talk about sea defences but actually build them,’ he told his tenants. ‘Why, this time, some of the best farming land in this area has been ruined and some of the finest beasts are now dead.’ He raised his voice. ‘This must not happen again!’ he thundered and everyone present wholeheartedly agreed with him.
But so far, things were still moving very slowly. Builders came, examined the land and said it was still too wet to sink foundations or to use the existing ones to build upon. Between them, Bob and Alec and the farmhands rebuilt the stables and the pigsties but there was no question, as yet, of restocking. The horses were repatriated to their stable block, as was the dairy herd, and were fed hay, mangolds and supplements, which were brought round to the farms in a wagon three or four times a week. However, it soon became obvious that the beasts could not be put out to graze and, regretfully, Alec and Bob took them inland to a farm whose fields had not been affected by the flood. The new grass was not yet coming on but would do so over the course of the next few weeks and the farmer, appreciating their plight, said he would graze the horses free until the storm damage was all repaired and grass grew on their meadows.
Alec and Bob opened up the potato clamp. The first layer of potatoes was smelling and turning bad already, but when they delved deeper they found good, sound vegetables. Every day they carried a basketful back to Betty, who cooked them over an oil stove and served them, well peppered and salted, with any meat or other vegetables which she had managed to buy. Then the farmhands and the family gathered round the large wooden table – salt stained but otherwise much as it had been before the flood – and ate their midday meal before returning to work once more.
On the day Alec’s papers arrived, they worked as usual, but during their dinner break Bob told the farmhands gruffly that they would soon be a worker short. ‘Young Alec’s had his papers for the air force, but the truth is, fellers, that we’re gettin’ through the clearing up and soon enough there won’t be a lot we can do except wait. I’ve no doubt that Mr Rumbold mean well and intend to do all he can to get Honeywell Farm straightened out, but there’s bound to be a period where there’s nothing to do and no money to pay wages. I’ve asked around and you’ll get work in the neighbourhood – some farms will even give you accommodation for a short while – but I’m afraid it’s going to mean families splitting up or moving right away.’
There was a short silence and then Bert Brister spoke. ‘Are you givin’ us the sack, Mr Hewitt?’ he asked bluntly. ‘None of us will blame you if ’tis so, but we’ve gotta know. Thass bin a hard time for ev’ryone, but we’re all in it together, high and low, and the parish money don’t cover everything, not by a long chalk it don’t.’
Bob grinned at the old man. He knew, none better, how sturdily independent was the Norfolk countryman and appreciated how his men had hated taking what they thought of as ‘charity’, but he also knew there was no help for it. They had to live and to live they must eat and that meant accepting the relief money with what grace they could. ‘Trust you to come right out with it, Bert,’ he said resignedly. ‘Of course I int sacking anyone, least of all fellers who’ve stuck by me and done me proud over the years. But you know I’m on relief, same as you are, an’ that don’t allow for no payin’ of wages. What I
am
doing is trying to get you some sort of employment, just temporary like, while we wait for the land to recover. Mr Rumbold will rebuild your cottages just as soon as he can and they say folks in the big cities have been handing in all sorts – tables, beds, chairs, rugs – anything they think might help folk what’ve been flooded out. But of course this’ll all take time, and while we wait we might as well earn whatever money we can.’ He turned and grinned at his son. ‘Young Alec here’ll be pretty independent, and Mrs Hewitt and meself . . .’ he hesitated a minute and ploughed on ‘. . . are accepting her father’s kind invitation to live on his farm and give a hand when needed. He’s give me a couple of meadows so’s I can start rearin’ a few calves and my old woman says she’ll buy day-old chicks – good ones, you know. Mr Agar has agreed to look after the herd in return for the milk until we’re back agin, so by the time Honeywell’s ready for occupation we’ll have something, at least, to start with.’
am
doing is trying to get you some sort of employment, just temporary like, while we wait for the land to recover. Mr Rumbold will rebuild your cottages just as soon as he can and they say folks in the big cities have been handing in all sorts – tables, beds, chairs, rugs – anything they think might help folk what’ve been flooded out. But of course this’ll all take time, and while we wait we might as well earn whatever money we can.’ He turned and grinned at his son. ‘Young Alec here’ll be pretty independent, and Mrs Hewitt and meself . . .’ he hesitated a minute and ploughed on ‘. . . are accepting her father’s kind invitation to live on his farm and give a hand when needed. He’s give me a couple of meadows so’s I can start rearin’ a few calves and my old woman says she’ll buy day-old chicks – good ones, you know. Mr Agar has agreed to look after the herd in return for the milk until we’re back agin, so by the time Honeywell’s ready for occupation we’ll have something, at least, to start with.’
The farmhands murmured amongst themselves for a moment and then Joel spoke for all of them. ‘We’re rare grateful, boss,’ he said, twisting his cap round and round in both hands. ‘And we’ll take any job what’s offered and be glad of it. There int much use hangin’ about here, ’cos we’d soon starve and we don’t want to outstay our welcome wi’ the folk what’ve taken us in. If you’ll give us the details we’ll take ourselves off as soon as we possibly can. And we’ll be back as soon as we possibly can an’ all,’ he finished, with a rueful grin.
The men’s cheerful acceptance of what must have been a blow to them touched Alec and he knew it touched his father too, saw him turn away to hide his emotion. But then he turned back, shook hands with each of his men in turn and handed them a scruffy sheet of paper on which he had set out the names and addresses of those employers who had agreed to accept them whilst Honeywell Farm was unworkable. ‘We won’t forget you an’ I hope you won’t forget us, so keep in touch,’ he said gruffly. ‘And remember, there’ll be a place for you at Honeywell as soon as I’m on me feet again.’
‘We shan’t forget, boss,’ Joel said, once more speaking for all of them. ‘You’re bin a good boss to us and my old woman won’t ever forget the way Miz Hewitt comforted her when she lost her first littl’un, nor how your missus could always find up a foo treats for the kids come Christmas. I int much of a hand at letter writing but my Annie, she’s a real scholard. She’ll drop you a line whenever she’s a moment to spare.’
That evening as they were making their way back to Stalham, Alec asked his father how long he thought it would be before Honeywell would be fit for occupation once more. He did not mention the astonishing fact that his parents meant to move in with his grandparents. He thought it must have been the hardest blow Bob had ever suffered, almost like admitting defeat, and guessed that his father would not want to talk about it. The prospect of moving back into Honeywell Farm, however, was one which could only cheer and Bob seized on it joyfully. ‘The builders say, if they get good weather, it’ll be habitable again by autumn,’ he told his son. ‘An’ Joel int the only one whose letters will be watched for. I expect your ma told you to write every day; well, I int that daft, I know you’ll be busy, but a weekly letter would give us suffin’ to watch out for. I int much of a letter writer meself but your ma will write an’ I’ll mebbe add a line or two.’ He gripped his son’s shoulder as they turned into the short drive which led up to Irene’s house. ‘Don’t forget now, boy, send the letters to your granddad Grainger’s place, ’cos we’re movin’ in there the day after you leave.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Alec promised. ‘But what’ll happen to Patch and Cherry, Dad? They’re miserable at the Agars’, good though they are to have them. They’re not young dogs and they’re longing to get back to you. I know you go up and visit them every so often, but it’s not the same. Patch is a one-man dog, and you’re that man.’
They had reached the back door of Aunt Irene’s house and Bob turned to his son, his eyes lighting up. ‘Your granddad says they can come with us,’ he said joyfully. ‘He’s even offered to lend us the pony and trap, so our next job will be to get that cleaned up.’ He chuckled. ‘It’ll be a deal easier on your ma and myself to ride in the trap instead of on these dratted bicycles.’
Chapter NineMay 1939
Kathy and Ruby were heading for home, though at a very leisurely pace. As they walked, they were taking it in turns to hear each other’s French verbs. It was May, and in less than a month they would be embarking upon examinations. Last year they had both gained their School Certificate with flying colours and now they were in the Lower Sixth and coming up to the end of year tests. They had another year to go before they took their finals, of course, but these exams would decide what subjects they took in their Higher and were consequently important. Both girls had agreed that modern languages were likely to be needed since they were sure – as was everyone else – that sooner or later a full-scale war would break out on the Continent, a war in which Britain would almost certainly become involved. Already there were unmistakable signs; the school had arranged for the Lower and Upper Sixths to go on a study week in France, but as soon as school started after the Easter break this had been cancelled. It had been too dangerous, their headmistress had decided, and in a way it had been a relief to Kathy since it meant she did not have to admit that the Kellings could not possibly afford such luxuries as trips to the Continent.
Sarah Kelling was worried about money and shared her worries with Kathy, though she was still insisting that her daughter remain at school and then go on to university. But Billy’s fits had not disappeared as the doctors had hoped and expected, though they were infrequent and very mild. The teachers at school, however, would only accept Billy as a pupil if his mother was near at hand in case of an emergency, so she had not felt able to take on full time work again. They still had both lodgers, but Sarah had told Kathy only the previous day that in the event of war she believed both men would join the armed forces. Sarah was on good terms with both their lodgers and still went out from time to time with Mr Bracknell, but he had already made it plain to her that he meant to join up as soon as war was declared. ‘They’ll probably put me in the perishin’ pay corps,’ he had said gloomily. ‘But I’ve always been good wi’ me hands and I used to drive a delivery van, a big one, so I reckon when war comes I’ll apply for a driving job.’ He had grinned at Sarah’s obvious dismay. ‘It’s all right, queen, I’ll see you get me allotment . . . there’s nobody else it can go to . . . so you won’t be that badly off, and when I get leaves I’ll come here and pay the full whack, o’ course.’
Sarah had pretended that this would be fine, that the withdrawal of Mr Bracknell’s weekly rent would not affect her, but he had seen that she was worried and had given her a quick hug. ‘If things had been different, I meant to axe you if – if you and I might name a date,’ he had said, reddening slightly and pulling at his moustache. ‘But as things are, Sarah, it wouldn’t be fair to neither of us. I might get sent abroad – I reckon they’ll want troops on the Continent any time now – or I might get killed and widder you twice over. Besides, you might meet someone else when I’m not on the spot, so I think it’s best that we don’t commit ourselves to nothing.’
Sarah had told him bracingly that she and the kids would be just fine and that whenever he came on leave he would find a great welcome waiting for him, and he had appeared satisfied with her assurance and had mentioned the matter no more. But when Mr Philpott had blushingly admitted that he, too, meant to join the Forces when war was declared, Sarah told her daughter that she had felt a shiver down her spine. She still could not return to the tearooms – and in the event of war they might not want her – and guessed that folk would not be searching for lodgings at a time of national crisis. ‘I’ve always been determined that you shall have your chance and go to university,’ she told Kathy almost tearfully. ‘But I just don’t see how we’re going to manage, chuck. What’s more, the last time I had an interview with your headmistress, she told me that even if you got a scholarship, it would still cost quite a bit for you to take a degree. At the time, with the two lodgers and wi’ me hoping Billy would improve, I reckoned I could manage, but as things stand . . .’
Kathy had assured her mother that she quite understood and would leave school tomorrow if it would help, but Sarah Kelling had shaken her head. ‘I won’t have you missing out on your good education,’ she had said firmly. ‘Something may turn up, though I can’t imagine what, which would mean we were in the money again. So just you work as hard as you can and get the Higher School Certificate under your belt. After all, if you do have to work, the more qualifications you have the better. I know we’re all suffering a bit because I’m not working, but I have to keep a nice house and a good larder for me lodgers. If only Billy does outgrow the fits, then life will be so much easier. Mr Bracknell pays a decent rent – the same as Mr Philpott – and he often brings home little extras. Oh, I’m managing pretty well really, with the money from your Saturday job an’ all, but there’s never a penny to spare and I know you’re growing out of your school uniform again – how you do grow! But if war does come . . .’
She left the sentence unfinished but Kathy had known what she meant. If war did come, life would change for all of them, though she was not yet sure what course such a change would take. The Spanish Civil War had been raging for three years and shocking stories had filtered through to Britain, brought back by the many young men who had joined the rebels in their efforts to overpower Franco’s cruel and wicked forces in order to give themselves some hope for the future. The German air force – the Luftwaffe – constantly bombed Madrid, causing horrendous damage in that great city, though despite the facts Franco still obstinately repeated that he would never allow the capital to be razed to the ground nor threaten the lives of innocent
madrileños
. Photographs of the damage appeared in British newspapers and the stories of those who managed to escape had sickened and disgusted everyone who heard them. Kathy knew that the British were building up their own air force as fast as they could, for Chamberlain’s ‘peace for our time’ was looking less and less likely as Hitler’s troops rampaged across Europe and his air force ‘blitzkrieged’ the Spanish Republicans.
madrileños
. Photographs of the damage appeared in British newspapers and the stories of those who managed to escape had sickened and disgusted everyone who heard them. Kathy knew that the British were building up their own air force as fast as they could, for Chamberlain’s ‘peace for our time’ was looking less and less likely as Hitler’s troops rampaged across Europe and his air force ‘blitzkrieged’ the Spanish Republicans.
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