The Watercress Girls (19 page)

‘We only get it wrapped round meat from the butcher,’ Kay told her. Then, ‘That was meant to be a joke, Meg.’ She added, to mollify her, ‘My mom says I can go to the Saturday-morning kids’ club at the cinema, with my brothers – d’you want to come?’

‘Depends what’s on.’ Megan was still huffy.

‘
Our Gang
– kids who get up to all sorts of mischief.’

‘Like us?’

‘Like us, if we got half a chance!’

Mattie bought a gramophone with her earnings, and some big-band
records. The woodblock floor in the living room came into its own now; they rolled up the shaggy rugs, and on Saturday evenings, when Sybil was invited out for dinner by her friend Lloyd, and Megan was in bed, she and Griff danced cheek-to-cheek. She thought: No one would know we’re an old married couple.

Megan, listening to the music, in bed, with her eyes closed in case Mom or Dad checked whether she was asleep, knew, of course, but although she wouldn’t tell anyone their secret, even Kay, because they were too old, surely, she liked the thought of them being all silly and romantic.

To her surprise Sybil discovered that, despite her being over forty, romance was back in her life, too. Lloyd was proving an ardent suitor. He’d been a widower for several years, and he couldn’t believe his luck at meeting a woman like Sybil when he was in his late fifties. No point in hanging about when you were older, they both believed that. They announced their engagement in September, and later that month there was more excitement when the family heard that Christabel and Walter had their daughter, Dolly.

I
t was yet another hot, dry summer and dust storms were creating havoc on the prairies. It was enervating in the city, too, so the Parry family were nostalgic for the wide open spaces, forgetting the
drawbacks
.

Mattie was delighted when the newspaper editor suggested she should pen something along the lines of
A Return to the Prairie
. It was the summer vacation and Megan, who would not be fourteen until Christmas, had so far not been lucky with finding a holiday job. Kay and her brothers were picking peaches on a relative’s farm, but Mattie thought Megan was too young to join them, unaccompanied by an adult.

‘What is there to do?’ Megan lamented loudly each morning. She loved high school, the course work and the sport. She and Kay were hoping to become cheerleaders for the football and basketball teams. Megan practised her moves in front of the long mirror in her parents’ bedroom. ‘She’s obsessed with it!’ Griff said wryly, when once they were wakened from slumber to see her twirling Mattie’s feather duster.

Megan cheered up when Mattie suggested they might drive out to their old home and see Gretchen. It was hard to imagine her the mother of four children under seven.

When Sybil and Lloyd married six years ago he’d given up his
apartment
and moved in to her house. Lloyd was now her business partner as well as her husband, and the beauty salon was thriving. They made a good team. Sybil, now she was no longer in need of a chauffeur,
generously
donated her car to Mattie. Mattie was grateful for, as she said, ‘Megan has a busy social life, and needs me to ferry her back and forth!’ This was her chance to drive a longer distance, and to see old friends.

‘I wish I could come with you,’ Griff said, ‘but it’s not possible on a weekday. Try to be home before dark. The roads haven’t improved out there – it’ll be a rough ride.’

‘Mom’s a good driver, and knows the way,’ Megan reminded her dad.

They left early and arrived mid-morning. Gretchen was plumper but
so dear and familiar, with her long, braided blonde hair, though now she had little ones clinging shyly to her apron. She came to greet them with a welcoming cry of, ‘Here you are, at last!’

Kjetl came out from the barn and gave them both a hug. He smells like Griff used to when we lived here, Mattie thought: of hay, sour milk from spills, manure on his boots. Griff now smells pleasantly of fresh laundered shirts and shaving cream; he polishes his shoes, but he was doing a real man’s job then, and I know he misses that.

‘Aunt has made a fresh pot of tea,’ Gretchen said.

‘Oh good,’ Mattie said. ‘We drink too much coffee nowadays!’

The house was much the same. Megan went up the ladder into the loft, now a bedroom for the three young sons, who wanted to show her their toys.

‘Uncle and I are hoping to add two rooms on to the house; we need more space now our family has grown.’ Kjetl said. He jiggled the fat little baby on his lap. ‘Well, we got our girl at last, our Wenche.’ He pronounced the name ‘Vinka’.

Mattie sipped the hot tea, reflecting: it won’t be the same house then. She said aloud, ‘I like her name. It seems ages since Megan was that small.’

‘We pasteurize the milk, it is the law, and we sterilize the bottles,’ Uncle told them. ‘Times have changed, Mrs Parry. Since we got real
electricity
, we have machinery and refrigeration – no more ice to cut and store.’ He noted her expression. ‘Ah, we still deliver by horse and wagon. Mama can crack a whip, but not drive a motor.’

‘Come and see your garden,’ Gretchen said quickly. ‘I try to keep it the same.’

The garden seemed smaller, less flourishing than Mattie remembered. She told herself: Gretchen is not responsible for this torrid weather, the dust that coats petals and leaves. The air is still, but the sky above is grey, not blue, despite the heat.

‘See,’ Gretchen pointed out the yellow rose, now tall and spindly. ‘We call it Mattie’s rose.’ It’s nice, Mattie thought, she calls me by my Christian name now.

As they walked back to the house for lunch, fresh fish from the lake cooked by Aunt Lotte, Mattie thought: I shouldn’t have come back. I suppose I knew that really, and that’s why I always made excuses not to do so before.… It’s not my home any more, and I would rather remember it as it was. But I’m glad my friends are happy here.

Just before they went inside, Gretchen asked, ‘Do you ever hear from Bert?’

‘He’s not one for writing letters, I guess you know that. But Anna gives me news of the family. Bert is doing very well in his job.’

‘Has he married?’

Mattie said quietly, for her friend’s ears alone, ‘No. I don’t think he could find a girl to match up to you, Gretchen.’

‘He took too long to say it.’

‘You were both so young … you are happy with your lot, aren’t you?’

‘We are well-suited, Kjetl and me, everyone says so!’

‘He adores you, anyone can see that.’

‘Dear Mattie, I love and respect him. But I don’t forget that summer, you see.’

It was later than they intended before Mattie and Megan began the journey home. By the time they had driven through the little town and were travelling along in the open, it was suddenly dark, as a dust storm gathered momentum. They were still on the stony road, with all its hazards, including the cattle grids. Mattie stopped the car. ‘Keep the door closed, don’t open the window whatever you do, and leave the headlights on,’ she cautioned Megan.

She stepped out to get their bearings. She could just distinguish a light glimmering to her left. Was there a track to a farm, where they might wait out the storm? She missed her footing and plunged down into a deep ditch, where she collided with a fence pole, to which she tried to cling as she scrambled up. Thank God, she thought, we didn’t go over the edge in the car, it would have rolled sideways, and we’d have been trapped, and it could be hours before we were found….

There was an excruciating pain in her right shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fall, as she crawled, clawed her way up hard-baked mud, towards the car beam.

‘Mom, where are you?’ Megan yelled, hammering on the closed window, as Mattie pulled herself up by the door handle with her sound arm. Megan screamed when she saw her, covered in dust and debris from the ditch. She was a tall, strong girl for her age, and she managed, somehow, to pull Mattie inside, where she slumped in the passenger seat. By then, like her mother, she was choking from the dust.

‘Mom – are you … hurt badly?’ Megan took off her jacket and put it round her mother’s slumped body. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘I’ve put … my shoulder out, I think.… We’ll have to sit the storm out here.’

Even as she spoke, the car shook alarmingly. They were both too scared to say anything, but Megan clung grimly to her mother’s good hand. Thick dust dimmed the headlights. They were all too aware that the car could be bowled over and they would end up in the ditch, anyway.

Mattie moaned, then was silent again. Megan felt her mother’s face: her eyes were closed. Mattie was unconscious.

Megan felt desperate. She knew how to drive, having observed her mother at the wheel often enough, but despite her pleas Mom had never allowed her even to move the car up the drive into the garage between their house and Sybil’s.

‘It’s against the law, you know that, Megan. It doesn’t concern us what other kids do,’ she’d said firmly.

The engine was running, but she couldn’t see the road ahead. She would have to drive blind. The car went in fits and starts at first, then she gained confidence. She had to get help for Mom’s sake. Keep to the middle of the road, she told herself grimly.

It seemed like hours later when they lurched down the rough drive towards the light that Mattie had spotted earlier.

Mattie was conscious again, in a haze of pain, but aware of what was happening. She muttered a simple prayer: ‘Dear God, save us please.…’

Then she was lifted gently from the car and carried into the
farmhouse
.

Mattie spent three days in hospital. Her collarbone was fractured and her shoulder dislocated, but these would heal in due course in the comfort of her own home. The article she was writing for the paper would be late, but she certainly had more material, she thought. Young Megan was the heroine of the hour, of course, the story of her
resourcefulness
was headlined: DETERMINED DAUGHTER DRIVES THRU DUST STORM. Far from getting into trouble, she was presented with a certificate of bravery by the mayor, no less, and three dollars, which she spent on a wristwatch. Alas, it never went, because she overwound it when she took it home.

Evie, back in England, eventually learned of these exciting events, but the family there was undergoing great changes, partly caused by the threat of another war.

They had been looking forward so much to seeing Mattie and Griff again, and meeting Megan for the first time, for the Parrys had been due to visit home after seventeen years in Canada and the States. This visit would have to be postponed.

Evie was worried about Sophia’s decline in health; her mother was becoming vague and forgetful since Will had passed away earlier in the year. She knew how much Mattie regretted not seeing her father again. It was decided that Sophia needed full-time care herself now that the Jacksons had left; the old lady was in a nursing home near her son in Norfolk, her daughter had recently retired and bought a cottage near her brother’s house. Sophia was now living with Fanny and Ronnie in their home.

Out of the blue, Evie received a letter from the Amy Able College, informing her, that in the event of war, the Amy Able had agreed to accommodate youngsters evacuated to a safer area with their schools. More staff would be needed: some of these students were in the throes of preparing for matriculation. Would Evie be prepared to join them for the duration? It would certainly be classed as war work.

I need a fresh challenge, she thought. But what about the Plough? Everything seemed to fall into place. The Plough was requisitioned by the authorities; it would become a wartime hostel for refugees. In due course, as Evie had learned, when her father’s will was read, the
property
would be inherited eventually by herself. Her brother had insisted on this because, he said, he and Fanny would have saved enough to buy a house of their own after he retired on a good pension. The only proviso was that the Plough would pass down to Robbie, his eldest son.

In September, two days before the official announcement, Evie was back in Lincolnshire, and reunited with her old friend, Rhoda, home from the mission field.

They were even accommodated in their old dormitory, which made them smile and reminisce about their college days as Amy Able students.

This was no longer a sleepy backwater. The fertile fields were still there, the wide open spaces, the vast skies overhead, the watery places; but now there were runways on the flat land and young men being trained to fly aeroplanes in combat and defence.

‘I was sure you would marry, not be a spinster like me,’ Rhoda observed. Evie looked youthful and pretty with her curly hair and laughing face, but they were both thirty-one. ‘I always had the feeling I’d end up back here!’

‘D’you know, so did I!’ Evie admitted. ‘What about Noreen?’

‘Noreen? Oh, we wrote for a bit, then I heard she had married and gone to China.’

‘China, eh? So I don’t suppose she’ll turn up here.’

It was a surprise to Evie and Rhoda when she did, accompanying her class of fourteen-to-sixteen-year-olds evacuated from a grammar school in London. Noreen, much slimmer than they recalled and now confident in her caring role, had returned to England two years previously when her husband had tragically died young. She had no children of her own. ‘Which is all to the good, I believe, because I can concentrate on my girls, who need me even more now they are parted from their families,’ she said.

‘She’s a good egg,’ Rhoda observed to Evie. They applauded her
attitude
.

The three of them were together again, and still there was the
morning rush for the hot water in the bathroom, and back to the diet of good food, but not too much of it.

Even the hierarchy was the same. Dr Anne Withers had postponed her retirement and was still at the helm. Miss Vanstone was now college bursar, and the little ‘Sergeant-Major’, Miss Dodds, the games mistress, still blew her whistle and screamed, out in the playing field.

‘The only difference is,’ Evie said, defiantly applying Tangee Natural lipstick, which was too orange to look anything like natural, ‘I don’t have to torture my mop of hair into a tight elastic band nowadays!’

‘Once an Amy Able girl always an Amy Able girl. Where’s your breastplate?’ joked Rhoda.

‘I’ve got so skinny I discarded mine long ago!’ Noreen said smugly.

War in Europe: the papers were full of it, and Mattie was concerned about her family back in England. They had recently enjoyed a surprise call from Tommy, Grace’s son, now twenty-seven, and a flying instructor in the Canadian Air Force. He had literally made a flying visit to the American air base at Minot, but he’d not told them more than that.

‘I couldn’t go back to Moose Jaw without looking you up,’ he said. ‘I’ve got two days free, so I would like to spend them with you, if that’s OK?’

Megan, of course, wanted to know all about life in Canada, as she’d been born in North Dakota. ‘Is Mom’s friend Ollie still at the trading post?’

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t know her, Megan, I’m afraid. Mum saw Mungo, my old teacher, for the first time since I left school, though. I’m sure she wrote to tell you, Mattie, that my stepfather had died? I’m afraid he took to the bottle after the horses were sold, and he lost his job. He stayed on there, because of Mum and Lydia.’

‘What is Lydia doing?’ Mattie asked. ‘She must be getting on for eighteen now.’

‘She says she’ll join the forces like me, if war breaks out.’