The Victory Garden(14)

“Don’t talk like that, please, Robbie. Of course I’m not going to forget about you. I care about you, you know. I’m not going to give up without a fight. Plymouth isn’t the end of the world. It’s only an hour on the train. I’ll come and visit you there. I told you I was determined to find some sort of useful work. And my parents really can’t object any longer. Now that I’m twenty-one, I’m supposed to offer my services to the country. I was thinking I might try to volunteer as a nurse at your naval hospital.”

He looked concerned. “You wouldn’t really want to be a volunteer nurse, would you, Emmy? It’s not the sort of thing you’ve been used to. They’ll have you carrying bedpans and taking off bloody dressings.”

“My friend Clarissa, whom you met at my party, had the same upbringing as I. We were at a posh girls’ school together. But now she’s working on the battlefield in France, in the worst possible conditions—rats and mud and awful wounds—and she’s thriving on it. So you see, it is possible.”

“I still don’t think—” he began.

“What’s the matter?” she demanded. “You don’t think I’d be able to handle it? Or are you hinting that you don’t want to see me any more?”

He winced. “You know that’s not true, Emmy. I can’t tell you how I feel about you. But it’s because I care so much that I want only the best for you. A happy life. The sort of life you deserve.”

Emily put her hand over his. “Let’s take it one day at a time, shall we? Let’s enjoy the fact that we’re both alive and you’re here right now and see what the future brings us.”

“Rightio,” he said. He grimaced and looked out beyond Emily. “Oh, stone the crows. There’s Nurse Hammond. I’ll catch it for running off like this. Look, I don’t want to get you in trouble with your mum. You slip off through the hedge. You can get through where I did that time. Behind that big oak. And I’ll go and face the music.”

“All right.” She gazed at him with longing, impulsively reaching out to stroke his hair back from his forehead.

“You didn’t mind it when I kissed you the other night?” he asked.

“Mind it? It was wonderful. I still think about it.”

“That’s good.” He gave a fleeting grin. “Because it was pretty special for me, too.” He gave her a little shove. “Go on. Stay hidden until I get to the nurse, then run for it.”

He came out of the arbour and started to hobble back towards the building. “Sorry, Nurse,” he called. “I had to stretch my legs. I was getting a terrible cramp from sitting in that chair.”

“A likely tale, Flight Lieutenant Kerr.”

“No. Fair dinkum. And I wanted to see the roses. Did I tell you my mum tries to grow roses at home?” His voice died away. Emily waited until he was walking back with the nurse, then she darted across the lawn and squeezed through the hedge.

By the end of the week, he had gone. Emily decided the time had come to make her own move. She raised the subject at the breakfast table. Her mother had emerged from her bed, looking pale and listless.

“Now that I’m twenty-one,” Emily said, “it’s time I did something useful. I’m supposed to report to the local volunteer headquarters.”

“I certainly hope you are not contemplating doing anything foolish like enlisting in the VAD like Clarissa?” Her mother’s voice was taut.

“I promise I’m not going to volunteer for overseas work, Mother,” Emily said. “I’ll stay right here in Devon for now, but I can’t sit at home being idle any longer.”

“Yes, good idea. I’ll drive you into Torquay if you like,” her father said. “I believe they have a recruitment office there. They’ll find you something to keep you busy.”

“I hardly think they’ll have many volunteer opportunities in a small town like Torquay,” Emily said. “What would they want me to do—act as a chambermaid in one of the hotels? Walk elderly colonels along the seafront promenade? No, I really feel I should go to one of the bigger towns like Exeter or Plymouth. So if you’d be good enough to drop me at the station, Daddy.”

“I’ll be going into Exeter tomorrow if you want to wait,” he said.

“No, thank you. I’d rather get moving as soon as I can,” she said. “I’ve been wasting my life for so long . . .”

“If only you’d paid more attention to one of the young men at the party, maybe you’d find yourself with a wedding to plan,” her mother said bitterly. “I’ve told you that Aubrey Warren-Smythe was quite smitten with you, and you couldn’t even give him the time of day. He has a good job, good prospects . . . he may not be the best-looking young man in the world, but you could do worse.”

“Mummy, he has weak ankles, remember?” Emily said. “Besides, I’m in no hurry to get married. I want to see a bit of life first. I went straight from boarding school to the middle of a war. I’ve never had a chance to travel, to spend time in London, to go to a play in the West End, even. I know those things won’t be possible until the war is over, but at least I want to gain some feeling of independence. You do understand, don’t you?”

“In my day, a young woman never needed to be independent,” Mrs Bryce said. “She was under the protection of her father until a suitable husband was found for her. That way, she was always safe.”