Where Bluebells Chime

‘There was a queue for the phone boxes and you know how long it takes to get through these days. Anyway, what about your petrol coupons?’

‘Blow the petrol!’ Drew was home. Nothing else mattered.

‘Shall we all have tea?’ Helen smiled. ‘And will someone tell me – where did Cook find glacé cherries for the scones?’

Such things – dried fruit for cakes, too – had disappeared completely since war came, she had thought. People were even hoarding the last of their prunes now, to chop finely into pieces and hope they would pass for currants.

‘I think, Mother, she has some squirrelled away in a screw-top jar – for special occasions.’

‘Good old Tilda,’ Drew laughed.

A cherry-scone tea in the conservatory. All at once, his war was a million miles away.

Later, when Drew had collected his kit and returned the wheelbarrow to its proper place, Julia took her son’s cap and regarded it, eyebrows raised.

‘HMS, Drew? HMS what?’

‘Barracks is known as HMS Drake, Mother, but we can’t use a ship’s name now. It would tell the enemy which warships are in port, for one thing.’

‘So you’ll only ever have HMS on your cap?’ Julia felt mildly cheated.

‘Afraid so – for the duration. That’s why all the signposts have been removed. We don’t want to let paratroopers know exactly where they have dropped, now do we?’ He was careful to make light of it, to smile as he said it, because most people thought that the invasion, if it came, would be airborne – after a softening-up of bombing, that was. ‘But don’t worry. The south coast, if you could see it, is thick with ack-ack guns and barrage balloons, and there are a lot of fighter stations all along the coast and around London. You’d be surprised the way we’ve got ourselves organized so quickly after Dunkirk,’ he supplied with the authority of one who had seen almost six months’ service in the armed forces.

‘So do you think there’ll be an invasion, Drew?’ Julia was eager for any small word of comfort.

‘Not until I’ve had my leave,’ he grinned. ‘I specially stipulated not until Drew Sutton had had his ten days …’

‘They say it won’t be yet. More like September-ish, when the tides are right,’ Julia pressed, refusing to make light of it.

‘I heard that, too. The old hands in barracks seem to think so. And by then we’ll be ready for them. They’ve got to cross the Channel, remember.’

‘They could fly men across it, Drew.’

‘They could, but only in isolated pockets. They’d soon be mopped up.’

‘By the Home Guard!’ Julia’s apprehension returned. ‘But the Holdenby lot haven’t been given rifles yet!’

‘Mother! We’ve got an army, too. We got the best part of it out of France, don’t forget.’ It came as a shock to him to realize how worried the civilian population had become. ‘Now tell me – where is that nurse who went to France? The Germans didn’t frighten you and Lady then!’

‘Alice and I didn’t go to France to fight. We went to nurse the wounded. And you’ll have to pop over to Keeper’s – let her know you’ve arrived. Daisy won’t be home from work yet, but Alice will be expecting you.’ Julia reached up to place his cap jauntily on the back of his head. ‘There, now you look very smart. Dinner’s at seven, so don’t be too long.’

Drew shifted his cap to the more orthodox position, low on his forehead, then saluted his mother smartly. Determinedly, Julia pushed her fears from her thoughts. She would not spoil her son’s leave by worrying about what Hitler would do next. She had longed to see Drew since the day he’d left home, and the invasion could wait – until September!

Drew stood at the gate of Keeper’s Cottage, gave a low, slow whistle then called, ‘Hullo, there! The fleet’s in!’

Alice dropped the log basket she was carrying across the yard, spinning round in amazement.

‘Drew! It is you!’ In no time she was in his arms, tears brimming. Then she pushed him away from her, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her pinafore, reaching up to cup his face in gentle hands. ‘You’ve grown, I swear it – and you’re thinner,’ she accused.

‘Tilda will soon feed me up,’ he laughed, kissing her fondly. ‘And don’t cry – please don’t cry.’

‘I’m not crying,’ she sniffed, shaping her lips into a smile, ‘but it seems no time at all since you were a little thing, gazing up at me, saying, “Hullo, lady …”’

‘And I’ve called you Lady ever since, haven’t I?’

‘That you have, love, and you’ve grown up into a – a man to be proud of.’

She never called him son. From the day he’d been born, almost, he had been Julia’s; had belonged to Rowangarth, his inheritance.

‘And you, Lady, are very special to me. You’ll keep sending letters, you and Daisy? They’re very important to sailors.’

‘We’ll keep them coming,’ she smiled, in charge of her emotions again. ‘Daisy won’t be in for an hour yet, and Tom’s out setting up snares. Catches as many rabbits as he can. They’re like gold dust now. Everybody’s after them – rabbits not being on the ration. Are you coming in?’

‘Later. I’ve got to do the rounds first. Orders from Mother. But I’ll call later on, when Daisy is home.’

‘Tomorrow’s her half-day off. You’ll have a lot to talk about, the pair of you. The silly young madam’s gone and – but she’ll tell you herself.’ She reached on tiptoe to kiss him again. ‘You’re so like Giles, you know. You get more like him every day.’

She lifted her hand, a blessing almost, as he turned at the gate to smile a goodbye.

So very like Giles Sutton, her first husband, that it made her believe there really was a God in heaven. There had to be, or Drew would have looked like the man who fathered him – and that would have been nothing short of a tragedy.

She lifted her eyes to the late-afternoon sky. ‘Thanks, at least, for that …’ she whispered.

‘No more uniform, no more war, for nine days.’ Drew pulled a stem of grass, then nibbled on the soft white end. ‘Duty done, Daiz. Mother insisted I visit Reuben, Mrs Shaw and Jinny Dobb – by which time the entire village would have seen me in my uniform. I think she’s rather proud of me, but it’s good to get into civvie clothes again.’

He gazed lazily into the dapple of leaves and sunlight above him. Hands behind her head, Daisy lay beside him in the wild garden.

‘Remember, Drew, when we were kids? We used to lie here, all six of us, in the long grass, just talking – sometimes not even talking.’ Just glad to be together, she supposed.

‘The Clan. And now there’s only you and me.’

‘And Tatty, don’t forget. She’ll be along later. She’s gone to Creesby to get her hair trimmed. She’ll come, though, now she knows you’re home.’

‘The whole Riding knows I’m home,’ Drew sighed contentedly. ‘It’s as if I’ve never been away – well, it seems like it, lying here. Wish Keth and Kitty and Bas could suddenly appear – oh, Daiz! I’m sorry!’

‘Don’t be. And you don’t wish it half as much as I do. But I’m feeling good today. Four letters came this morning – two of them from Washington. Keth’s got a job there, but not one word about what he’s doing. I miss him, Drew. Half of me wants him home; the other half wants him to stay safe in America so they can’t call him up. And that’s an awful thing to say, isn’t it, when you’ve been called up for six months, almost?’

‘Do you think he’ll manage to get back home? It’s a pretty dicey crossing from America these days, and difficult for civilians to get a permit to sail, I believe. Between you and me, Daiz, we’re losing more shipping in the Atlantic than the Government tells us about. And there’s no chance at all of him flying over.’

‘I know. There’s nothing I can do about it, I suppose. If he manages to get back – well fine. If he doesn’t, at least I won’t have to go through what Mam and Aunt Julia went through in their war – and, oh! I shouldn’t have said that, either – not when you’re already fighting, Drew. I’m sorry.’

‘’S all right, Daiz. And I’m not fighting – not just yet. When my leave is over, though, I think I’ll get a ship pretty quickly.’ He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, deeply; smiling contentment. ‘But right now, I’m enjoying being here and I’m not going to think of going back till next Saturday.’

‘Next Saturday is Mary’s wedding. You’ll miss it. She’ll be ever so disappointed.’

‘Yes, she said so. But we’d better not talk about weddings, had we?’

‘Best not. And next year, when I’m twenty-one, don’t even think of mentioning weddings. That’s when we’d have been getting married. Expect I’ll weep all day. On the other hand, though, I might not.’ She sat up, arms clasped round her knees, then turning to face him she whispered, ‘I might not be here, you see. I volunteered, three weeks ago, for the Wrens.’