The Victory Garden(50)

“I can manage on my own,” Maud said.

“Of course you can’t,” Emily replied. “It’s almost too much for two of us. I’ll be all right. I didn’t fancy much breakfast this morning, so I’m probably just hungry. Come on, let’s get going again. It looks like rain.”

They started back again across the field. Other women were already breaking up clods, hoeing up weeds and raking the turned furrow smooth.

“Nice work, ladies,” the farmer called to them. “I know that old plough is a bit of a bugger to steer. I meant to get me one of them fancy tractors after the war. Now I’m not sure we can even keep the farm. My oldest boy is only ten. I’ll have to wait a while until he’s big enough to help with the big chores, although they’re all good little helpers in their way. My wife, too, bless her.”

Emily wanted to say that she’d had enough, but she couldn’t.

“Should I take over for one of you?” Daisy asked.

“No, I can keep going,” Maud said, “but I don’t know about Emily here. She doesn’t feel too well.”

“I’ll be all right,” Emily said. She started off down the third furrow. There was a strange singing noise in her head. Lights flashed in front of her eyes and her legs buckled under her.





CHAPTER TWENTY

When Emily opened her eyes, she was in a strange kitchen, sitting with her head between her knees. As she sat up, she saw children staring at her with fascinated, worried expressions. A woman with a fresh, friendly face was standing over her. “Here, my love,” she said. “Have a cup of tea. That ploughing were too much for you. I told Bert that he couldn’t expect young women to do the job, but it were our only chance to get the fields planted, see.”

“I’m so sorry.” Emily tried to sit up. “I just haven’t been feeling too well. If I can drink the tea and maybe have a piece of bread I’ll be all right again, ready to go back to work.”

“You’ll certainly do no such thing,” the farmer’s wife said. “I can see you’re from a good family, not brought up for hard work like we are. I told Bert that I’d try to handle the ploughing, but he didn’t want me to, seeing as I’m in the family way again. I always feel terrible the first few months—dizzy, off my food, can’t stand the smell of cooking . . .”

Emily stared at her. Dizzy, off her food—was it possible? Why had she been so naive that she had never considered it before? But it was over a month since she and Robbie . . . and during that time, she had not had a return of the little monthly visitor.

I’m pregnant, she realized. I’m going to have Robbie’s baby. She felt a fleeting moment of elation—that the baby would be something to remember him by—before reality and panic set in. What was she going to do? Where was she going to go? If she went home, what would her parents say? She sat, sipping at the big blue-and-white-striped mug of tea, trying to calm her racing thoughts. She couldn’t tell anybody. They would only have a few more weeks at the most before they were dismissed for the winter, and then she’d decide what to do next.

The farmer’s wife wouldn’t let her leave the kitchen until the others came in for their midday meal. Then she ladled out big bowls of split pea soup, which the others ate with relish. Emily couldn’t stand the smell and only pretended to eat.

“What’s the matter?” Alice asked.

“I think I must have some kind of stomach grippe,” Emily replied. “Something I ate.”

“I’m not surprised, with what we’ve been fed recently. I wish we were back with Mrs Trelawney’s cooking again. I’d even face the old lady and that cold, damp cottage for a big helping of her shepherd’s pie.”

Emily’s stomach churned at the mention of shepherd’s pie, but she found herself thinking of Lady Charlton and the cottage. Yes, she had been happy there.

After they had finished their meal, Emily was feeling better, and went outside to work with the others. She opted to plant the onion sets, bending to press them into the moist ground. She felt quite well again, and wondered if perhaps she had been wrong after all. Maybe it was some kind of stomach upset and she was getting over it. That evening, she ate a hearty meal of steamed meat pudding and cauliflower, followed by stewed rhubarb and custard, and fell asleep easily enough.

The next morning, she had to rush to the lavatory, where she threw up last night’s meal. This confirmed her suspicions. She didn’t know much about having babies, but she had overheard one of their friends complaining about morning sickness and how she felt right as rain by midday.

I have to know, she decided. But she could hardly leave the other women to do the work. She did her share all week, and then on Friday afternoon they were released early. The farmer was pleased with their progress and said he’d take them into Tavistock to give them a chance to do some shopping or have a cup of tea at a cafe. They were all pleased about this, although it was too bad there was no cinema in Tavistock, and they couldn’t go all the way in to Plymouth. Once there, they split up, some to the haberdashers for new handkerchiefs, some to the chemist for sweet-smelling soap.

“Where are you off to?” Alice said to Emily as the latter tried to slip away. “I’ll come with you.”

“I thought I’d go to the bookshop,” Emily said. “I don’t have anything to read.”