Letters To Alice

Eve was obviously mystified. ‘Where…where does it…I mean, after you’ve…been…what happens to everything…where does it actually…go? It can’t just stay down there, can it?’

‘Shovelled into a cesspit, my luvver, round the back there,’ Fay said practically. ‘But ’course –I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of cesspits in Bhaaaaaath Sphaaaaaa!’ She put on a posh accent. ‘Still, never mind. Any port in a storm, eh girls?’

After they’d all used the facilities – separately – the girls made their way back to the farmhouse and into the kitchen where Mrs. Foulkes was pouring their tea.

‘Ah there you are, luvvers,’ she said. ‘Glad yer lookin’ around and making yerselves at home. Now drink this while it’s still fresh.’ She handed them each a mug of tea. ‘Then I’ll get Roger to take up some hot water for you to wash. Supper’s almost ready.’

Chapter Two (#ulink_e7dea6bf-5bff-5794-80aa-06a9cd246e1f)

Farmer Foulkes emitted a sustained, satisfied burp, then stood up, pushing his chair back. His wife looked up at him sharply.

‘Now then, Walt…manners…we got company…’

Walter was unapologetic. ‘Jus’ my way of sayin’ thanks for a gert lush supper,’ he said. ‘That was a rare bit a’ goat, that was, and other un’s fattenin’ up nicely as well.’ He let his gaze slide to each of the girls in turn. ‘An’ anyway, these ain’t company – they’re our Land Girls an’ they might as well get used to our ways.’

Alice swallowed quickly. So they’d just eaten goat! She’d never tasted it before – had thought it was mutton… but it had certainly been delicious, accompanied by crisp roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, carrots, turnips, runner beans, and a massive Yorkshire pudding nestling in rich brown gravy. Followed by a crusty apple pie and mouth-wateringly sweet custard. The sugar in that must have used up everyone’s ration for the week! The table had groaned with what could only be called a surfeit of good food. Did everyone living on a farm have this much to eat every day, Alice wondered? It was something she had never even thought about.

Walter Foulkes was a huge man, with a rather churlish manner and an obviously cynical attitude regarding the employment of townie women on his land. But he knew he had no choice. The lads from the village who’d always worked for him had already been called up, but at least Roger was allowed to stay. At least until further notice.

The farmer had a head of greying, black hair and eyebrows to match, and Alice imagined that he’d probably been a handsome man in his youth. And his wife, too, would have been an attractive girl… Mabel’s hair, wound up in a big knot on top, was still a strong brown colour, though tinged with grey, and her eyes were large and expressive. The two would probably have been a golden couple, before life and weather and work had got to them.

And how would she, Alice, look at their age? How would the twins, and Sam look? She couldn’t imagine Sam looking anything other than he was now…or was, the last time she’d seen him. Tall and straight, with a mass of thick hair the colour of conkers polished smooth, swept back from an aristocratic forehead, his profile chiselled, his dark eyes meltingly soft…the epitome of distinctive, British masculinity.

And above all – he was clever and courteous. And kind…had been, to Alice, from the very beginning. Over the years he had taught her so much, passing on all sorts of important things he learned at his boarding school. Had shown her how to form opinions and hold her own in any discussion, to contrast and compare, to give due consideration to other points of view…to think…

And he’d shown her how to dance. The waltz and the quickstep. And the foxtrot – the foxtrot had an elegant, unhurried, movement. Alice liked the foxtrot best of all.

The farmer was staring down at the girls, now, sizing them up, and Alice noticed how red and fat and swollen his hands were as they gripped the back of his chair.

‘First thing t’morrer I want ee all up the field, diggin’ spuds,’ he announced. ‘Second crop’s ready, and I don’t want no ’angin’ about. But you’ll have to wear summat decent on your feet.’ His lip curled slightly. He’d noticed their sandals, what they were wearing. He glanced at his wife. ‘They boots did arrive, didn’t they, Mabe?’ he added.

Mabel nodded. ‘Came last week,’ she said.

The heavy boots were the one item which had been delivered to the farm separately. They certainly wouldn’t have fitted very well in a suitcase.

Now Roger Foulkes stood as well. He was a tall, good-looking lad in his late twenties, with a twinkle in his dark eyes and a readiness to laugh if anything remotely amusing was said by anyone. Of course, Fay, who’d sniggered at the piece of human behaviour just now, was already on his wavelength, and Alice noticed how easily the girl had got Roger’s attention.

Alice had also noticed Eve’s reaction to Mr. Foulkes’ crudeness…she’d seemed thoroughly embarrassed, keeping her eyes on her plate. Poor girl, Alice thought, this was going to be a completely different world from the one she obviously knew in dignified, cultural, Bath, and maybe she just would not be able to stick it. Land Girls giving up on the job before they’d barely begun was not unheard of – but Alice hoped Eve wouldn’t give up. For some reason that she couldn’t really explain, Alice wanted them, the three of them, to get through this together.

The farmer clumped his way to the back door and went out without another word, and Mabel said as she started clearing the table –

‘’Ee’s gone to look around last thing for the night,’ she said. ‘Always does.’ She piled the pudding dishes one on top of the other. ‘And don’t mind ’im,’ she added. ‘’Is arthritis always plays him up in the heat, but ’ee’s all right, really.’ She turned to Roger. ‘Now Rog – why don’t you just show them…Alice and Fay and Eve…around for a few minutes…’fore it gets too dark? Give ’em some idea about what we’ve got ’ere? An’ what they might be going to do…’

The three got to their feet, and Alice said – ‘But can’t we help with the washing up, Mrs. Foulkes?’ Alice had never been used to leaving chores to others.

Mabel smiled broadly. ‘No, that’s a’right, luvver. You just go out, now, with our Rog. And then it’s ’eads down for all of you! Tis gonna be a long day tomorrer!’

Doing as they were told, the three girls followed Roger out of the farmhouse. It was not quite dark, and still very warm as they made their way around the immediate precincts…Roger pointing things out as they went. The chicken enclosure was huge, all the birds roosting quietly, and Alice said tentatively –

‘How many chickens are there, Roger? It’s an enormous pen, isn’t it?’

Roger grinned. ‘Hundreds and hundreds,’ he said cheerfully. ‘They have the life of Riley, and they’re all my mother’s babies – though there are far too many for her to give them all names! And when her geese have their goslings you can’t keep her away from the nursery!’

The farm was larger than it had seemed at first glance as they walked around the cow sheds and milking parlour, past the goat pen, and the pig sties where the animals were still shuffling and rooting around for food. Three massive barns were already stacked right up to the top with hay and straw, and as Roger began leading them further away up to the crop fields, Alice couldn’t help thinking how hard and relentless working on a farm must be. Well, they were about to find out, weren’t they, but it was all right for them. They were only going to be here temporarily, while for Roger – and his parents – it must be a gruelling lifetime’s work.

But Roger wasn’t grumbling – and certainly not today. Thanks, Mr. Hitler, he thought, there’d never be another time when three gorgeous girls would be living on their farm! He glanced down at them as they all made their way across the fields.

‘I bet you all groaned when you were told what you were going to be doing for the war effort,’ he said lightly. Then, after a moment, he added, ‘I should have thought they could have found something a bit more…well…lady-like – tidy – for you than sloshing around in mud. Because it does rain here, you know. And then it’s not nice.’ He looked down at their pretty sandalled feet. ‘You’ll certainly be needing your boots.’

‘That’s why they’ve been provided,’ Fay said smartly, ‘and don’t you worry about us, Roger. We’re perfectly prepared for what’s ahead – aren’t we, girls? – and it’s insulting of you to think we’re only fit for “lady-like” jobs! What do you think we are? A trio of pointless twerps?’ She strode on ahead a few steps. ‘Just lead us to it! We’ll cope with whatever you throw at us!’

Roger caught her up, longing to hold her hand but not daring to. ‘OK, OK, sorry I spoke,’ he said teasingly. It stirred something in him to be challenged by a woman.

Eve, who’d been rather quiet, spoke up. ‘Could we turn back now?’ she asked plaintively. Well, they seemed to have been walking for ages, with Roger pointing out which crops grew in which fields and when, and her feet were tired.

Roger nodded, turning around reluctantly. He’d liked to have gone on walking for another hour – in the present company! He looked down at Alice, sizing her up. Of all of them, it was she who seemed to be really taking in her surroundings, he thought, seemed really interested in everything she was being shown, and had been asking him questions as if she was preparing for an exam.

Roger took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet country air. He hadn’t felt so up-beat for years.

Later, the girls made their way up the narrow, dark wooden staircase to their room. As they went inside, Fay flicked the switch on the wall and the one bulb hanging from the ceiling struggled to emit a pale yellow beam.

‘Oh dear, there’s not much light in here, is there,’ Eve said slowly, going over to her bed and sitting down. She looked around her. ‘It makes everything look, well, eerie, doesn’t it,’ she added, giving a little shiver of distaste.

‘Spooky, you mean,’ Fay agreed. ‘Hey – perhaps there’s a resident ghost lurkin’ about! I’d love to see a ghost, I really would! This whole place is ancient enough for all sorts of weird goings-on!’

‘You don’t really think there is one, do you?’ Eve began worriedly, and Alice interrupted, laughing.

‘Don’t be daft, Fay,’ she said, shooting the girl a warning glance. Eve didn’t need anything more to unsettle her.

Just then there was a tap on the door, and Mabel stood there holding three saucers, some candles and a box of matches.

‘I just thought maybe these might be useful,’ she said. ‘The light’s not so good up ’ere, is it?’ she added.

After she’d gone, the girls each melted the end of their candle until the wax dripped, then stuck it onto a saucer. And soon the room glowed even more atmospherically, throwing strange, moving shadows into the corners and walls.

Eve shivered again, putting her candle down on the floor by her bed. And thinking of her home, her room, of the life she’d left behind her…for who knew how long? Thinking of her parents.

This was the time they’d be getting ready for bed, deciding whether they wanted Horlicks or Ovaltine last thing…or whether to have a pot of tea for a change if they thought the evening meal had been a bit heavy for a milk drink. And Eve supposed that by now they’d be lining up their tablets…four at night for her father, three pink, one white, two for her mother, both pink, then two white ones for both of them next morning, the glasses of water at the ready on the bedside tables. Eve sighed inwardly. They were perfectly capable of sorting out their tablets by themselves, but they’d always insisted on her doing it for them. And it wasn’t as if they really needed them…they just bought packets of the things each time they went to the chemist – laxatives, sedatives, anything for aches and pains and sore throats and headaches – convinced that every advertisement they read was genuine.

Well, they’d have to rely on each other without her now, Eve thought. They would have to try and think for themselves for a change. But she hoped they’d enjoyed the tin of pilchards and the salad she’d prepared and left for their supper.

Getting up, she went over to the cupboard where she’d put her nightdress and wash bag. The sooner she got ready for bed and went to sleep – if she was going to be able to manage a single wink – the better. She glanced over her shoulder.

‘Although the meal was very nice, and very appetizing, I did think there was far too much food on the table tonight for everyone, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘It was rather – well – extravagant, wasn’t it.’ Although nobody was starving in Britain, the rationing system had made people more careful with what they had, no one expecting huge portions of food at meal times any more. And obesity in the population was virtually unknown. Eve had certainly been very circumspect with helping herself from all the dishes on the long kitchen table earlier.

‘Well, I wasn’t complaining,’ Fay said flatly. ‘It’s a long time since I had a jolly good old blow-out, and as far as I’m concerned we can have more of the same tomorrow.’ Holding her candle aloft, she marched across the creaking floor to the basin. There was still plenty of water in the jug left over from their earlier wash, and she swilled her face and hands quickly, then started doing her teeth. Dipping the brush in and out of one of the tin mugs of water on the table, spitting into the bowl, then tipping everything into the bucket beneath. It was all a bit laborious and a lot more inconvenient than having access to taps and flushes, she thought – they’d made their second walk past the cabbages after Roger had said goodnight – but they’d get used to it. They’d bloody well have to.

Finally, she cleaned the bowl around vigorously with her flannel and squeezed it out, then turned to glance at the others.