Windflower Wedding

The sea cook spoke with a Liverpool accent and it made Keth think of Daisy.

‘Whatever is going, thanks.’ It would all taste the same.

‘Mustard on your beef?’ The cook was buttering large slices of bread.

‘Please.’ The man was trying to be kind, Keth thought; sorry for the poor stupid sod they would soon put ashore. Rather him than me, mate!

Keth carried the plate to his bunk. He would never forget this bunk nor the fuggy, blankety smell of it. It had been his womb and soon now they would cut the umbilical cord.

‘They’re looking after you, then?’ Selene’s skipper, wearing canvas pumps, creased trousers and a navy-blue sweater, appeared. ‘You’re okay?’

‘Fine.’ He was not fine.

‘We’ll go further inshore about midnight when the tide turns. A leading seaman will be in charge of the dinghy. You’ll take your orders from him. He’s all right – done it before.’

‘Good,’ Keth shrugged.

‘Sparks has just had a signal from your lot. Everything’s okay at this end. No problems.’

Keth thought about Castle McLeish and the stone house. Of course there would be no problems. How could there be? Slab Face did not tolerate problems.

‘You’ve got your stuff handy, Captain?’

‘Ready and waiting.’ One suitcase; one brown paper carrier bag.

‘And you’ll go through your pockets beforehand? No duty-free cigarettes …?’

‘I don’t smoke.’

‘Nor submarine lollies?’ The lemon-flavoured sweets a submariner sucked when cigarettes were forbidden.

‘Nothing at all like that, but I’ll check.’

‘I’ll leave you then. You’ll want to get your head down for a couple of hours.’

‘Might be an idea. Thanks a lot.’ Sleep? Oh, no!

Think of Daisy, then? No, no, no!

Think instead of dit-da-dit, and hibou and hirondelle; think of Gaston Martin and the leading seaman who had done it before.

He chewed on his sandwiches. They were tasteless and hard to swallow.

All at once, Keth wanted it to be midnight.

‘I thought you’d be alone.’ Julia offered a spoonful of tea in a twist of paper. ‘Tom home-guarding again? Put the kettle on, there’s a love.’

‘You on your own too? Is Nathan out then?’

‘About the Lord’s business. I suppose you’ve got to accept that when you marry a parish priest.’

‘Tell me,’ Alice arranged cups on a tray, ‘I’ve often wondered: what’s going to happen when the war is over – to you and Nathan, I mean? When he took holy orders he couldn’t have known he’d inherit Pendenys.’

‘No. Nor half of his mother’s money either. But when it’s all over and the Army give back Pendenys, I’ll worry about it. I couldn’t live there, not for anything!’

‘Drew’s going to want Rowangarth,’ Alice persisted.

‘I know. He and Kitty living there will make me feel better about leaving it. I suppose Nathan and I could live in the bothy – when the land girls go home,’ she said absently.

‘Had you thought –’ Alice filled the small earthenware pot, ‘there’ll be a second-generation Clan for you. Drew’s children, I mean, and Daisy’s.’

‘And Bas and his brood.’ Julia’s eyes took on a yearning look. ‘Coming over every summer and Christmas …’

‘Bas isn’t married yet. Give the lad a chance!’

‘He will be,’ Julia smiled smugly. ‘And talking about courting – Tilda’s got a follower!’

‘What? Our Tilda?’

‘Oh my word, yes! Name of Sydney. She met him in Catchpole’s garden. He’s with the Green Howards, guarding Pendenys – and he’s single, would you believe! His father was killed in the last war and he looked after his mother till she died two years ago.’

‘Then here’s to Tilda and Sydney.’ Alice raised her teacup. ‘She was always a romantic; always had her nose in a love-book, as Mrs Shaw called them. I’m glad for her – even if nothing comes of it. Tilda was very kind to me when I came home from France – till Miss Clitherow put her foot down, that was.’

‘But wasn’t everyone kind?’

‘Not exactly. I’d been a servant at Rowangarth, like themselves. You couldn’t blame them for being a bit wary – Miss Clitherow, especially. She put me very firmly in my place. I was no longer Alice Hawthorn; I was the future mistress of Rowangarth. But how is Miss C? Haven’t seen her lately.’

‘Her rheumatism is bad – and it’ll get worse when winter comes. When she came back from Scotland I thought she’d be just fine in one of the almshouses, but now I think she’ll be better staying at Rowangarth – after all, she’s got every right. She’s lived there longer than I have. But what news of Daisy?’

‘She’s fine. Had a letter this morning. Drew rang her. You’ll know Kitty has gone to London?’

‘Mm. Another for Sparrow to fuss over.’

‘Daisy was a bit puzzled. Said Keth’s letters are arriving all higgledy-piggledy; completely out of date order. But maybe some of them were posted in Kentucky, she thought.’

‘Probably. Amelia is always glad to see Keth. And I still think he’ll get home sooner than anyone expects.’

‘Doing a Jinny Dobb, are you?’ Alice laughed. ‘By the way, Daisy has written her first cheque! Made her go all over queer, she said.’

‘What did she buy?’

‘Nothing, it seems. She thought about all that money in the bank and nothing in the shops to buy, so she drew out five pounds; just about as much as the Wrens pay her in a month! She’s taking Lyn out when she gets back from leave, she says.’

‘I liked Lyndis,’ Julia murmured, ‘what bit I saw of her, I mean.’

‘But you like Kitty better?’

‘Kitty is adorable! I shall hand Rowangarth over to her with never a qualm.’ She jumped to her feet as the dogs outside set up a barking. ‘There’s Tom back, and just look at the time! Eleven o’clock.’