The Victory Garden(41)

Emily hadn’t looked. “Maybe.”

“You don’t want to try tackling them stairs at night. You’ll break your ruddy neck,” Alice said.

They reached the cottage door. Its opening creak now sounded unnaturally loud and ominous. They closed it with some difficulty, pushing against the wind.

“You won’t get much reading in tonight,” Alice tried to joke. “Take them stairs carefully, won’t you?”

Emily felt her way across the hall and up the stairs, reluctant to leave the others so far away. She heard them talking and giggling as they got ready for bed, banging her head more than once on the ceiling. Then she undressed and climbed in between her own icy sheets. The wind rattled at her window and moaned down the chimney. Witch’s cottage. Only women have lived here, and every one of them came to a bad end. The words echoed around inside her head.

“This too shall pass,” she said. “It’s only for a week or so, and then Robbie will be coming home and I’ll be with him in sunny Australia.” And she pictured herself lying in bed beside him, the sweetness of his kisses, the way he had made her feel when they had made love.

In the morning, she would write to him and tell him about the cursed cottage and the visit to the pub, and he would laugh when he read it.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The wind had not died down by morning. It blustered, hitting them full in the face as they made their way up the path to the big house. Mrs Trelawney let them in, saying, “Come in quickly, and close the door, or my bread won’t rise properly.”

She didn’t bother to greet them, and Emily got the feeling she resented the extra work. She ladled out three bowls of porridge, which seemed to have become the standard breakfast fare everywhere they went, but there was also a jug of cream to go with it, and sprinkled with brown sugar, it was quite palatable. Then there was toast and marmalade and plenty of tea, so they felt ready for the day when they went to work.

“I don’t think we want to try and push the lawnmower around in this wind,” Emily said. “Maybe we should start on the flower beds beside the drive.” They brought out hoes and forks and started digging up weeds. They had been allowed to grow unchecked, and it was hard to sort out the flowers that struggled to grow between them. Rose bushes had sent out long suckers that now tangled with bindweed. Emily muttered as thorns dug into her hand. She picked up a pair of shears and cut back the rose. Then she decided that the only thing to do was to prune it right back and let it start over. She had just snipped off a stem when she heard a voice behind her.

“You, girl! What are you doing?” Lady Charlton was standing there, today wearing a woollen shawl over her black dress. She peered through a lorgnette at the rose bush. “You are ruining my roses.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, “but the roses are so tangled with the weeds that this seemed the only way to tackle things.”

“That’s no way to prune, young woman.”

“We’re doing our best,” Emily retorted. “None of us is a trained gardener. Before this, we’ve only been digging up potatoes and cutting hay. If someone can show us, we’ll be happy to learn how to prune properly.”

Lady Charlton blinked with surprise then frowned as she was aware of Emily’s upper-class accent. “And who are you, exactly?” she asked, peering at Emily through the lorgnette. “Not a land girl, surely.”

“Yes, I am,” Emily said. “My name is Emily Bryce.”

“Good gracious,” Lady Charlton said. “I thought the land girls would be all farmworkers’ daughters.”

“Not in the least,” Emily said. “One of us is from London, Daisy is a servant from a stately home and I myself am the daughter of a judge. And amongst our squad there is a dancer from a show on the pier, a well-spoken middle-aged widow and only two girls who were in any way connected with agriculture before.”

“I stand corrected,” Lady Charlton said. She raised the lorgnette she wore around her neck and studied Emily. “Emily Bryce, you say?”

“Yes, my lady,” Emily replied.

“From these parts? I don’t recall running into a Bryce.”

“My family lives near Torquay,” Emily said.

“You say your father is a judge?” The old lady continued to study her. “What does he think of his daughter becoming a land girl?”

“Not very much.” Emily grinned. “But I’ve actually been quite enjoying it.”

Lady Charlton nodded, as if she approved. “Then I appreciate your coming to help with my poor garden. As you can see, it is in desperate need. You’ve settled in all right, have you? Is the cottage comfortable?”

“I wouldn’t call it comfortable, I’m afraid,” Emily said.

“What did you expect, the Ritz?” The haughty tone returned.

“No, Lady Charlton, but it would be nice to have some furniture that doesn’t break when we sit on it. There are only two old chairs, and one of them collapsed. Apart from that, there is almost no furniture at all.”

“I see,” Lady Charlton said. “I have to confess I haven’t visited the place in many years, but I always seemed to remember it was furnished. Come to think of it, I don’t think anyone has lived in it for quite a while. Tell Simpson what you need, and he can round up things that are not in use here.”