The Victory Garden(52)

“I couldn’t lie to them!”

“It might make things easier. Tell everyone you were secretly married. Just call yourself Mrs Robbie Kerr. So many men are dead, who’s to know the difference?”

“I don’t know.” Emily hesitated, chewing at her lip. “My father is the sort who would contact Somerset House and demand to see the wedding certificate.”

“They might find it easier to go along with the lie, for the sake of respectability,” Alice said. “Are you going to tell the other girls?”

Emily shook her head. “I can’t. Especially not Miss Foster-Blake. She’d despise me. So please don’t say anything.”

“You’ll have had some of them putting two and two together and making four if they’ve heard you in the lav throwing up,” Alice said. “And the fainting.”

“I suppose so. But we haven’t much longer, have we? If I can just keep going until we’re released for the winter, then I’ll have time to work out what to do next.”

“Miss Foster-Blake said we will have a free weekend coming up after we’ve finished the planting,” Alice said. “Why don’t you go home then, test which way the wind is blowing, you know? See if you’d be welcome or not. I’m betting they’ll welcome their only daughter home with open arms.”

“If only you are right,” Emily said.

Alice put a tentative hand on Emily’s arm. “And if not, we’ll be here for you.”

Emily nodded, swallowing back tears. Until recently, she had never allowed herself to cry. Now tears were always just below the surface.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Autumn came on with a vengeance. Leaves turned to yellow, then brown, and soon they swirled in the wind. Luckily, the ploughing was done and the last of the winter crops planted.

“Well done, girls,” Miss Foster-Blake said. “You can be proud of what you have done for these farmers and for England. Not long now, I suspect, before we are given permission to send you home, at least for the winter. And with any luck, the war will be over when the spring comes, and we can all return to our normal lives.”

An old bus took those who were going home to the station. Alice and Daisy were staying behind, as were some of the others. Ruby was in tears at the thought of seeing her mum and dad again. Emily felt something akin to panic. She still didn’t know if she was doing the right thing in going home. How could she tell her parents the truth? What would they say? She had no idea. She alighted from the train at Torquay station and caught a bus to her parents’ village. It was a grey, blustery day, and the wind swept her along as she walked up the lane to her house. As she passed the convalescent hospital, she heard the sound of men’s voices and laughter. She peered through the gate. Some of the patients were having an impromptu football match. One had a bandage around his head, another an arm still in plaster, but they were playing with enthusiasm. As she stared down the gravel drive at the front of the house, she saw a figure crossing the lawn—a redheaded man on crutches. An absurd hope leapt in her heart. He hadn’t died, just been badly wounded. She opened her mouth to call out his name, but he turned to look in her direction and she saw that it was a stranger.

She made herself keep walking until she pushed open the front gate of her parents’ house and started up the perfectly raked drive. Old Josh came around the side of the house, pushing a wheelbarrow. “Well, it’s never Miss Emily! Welcome home,” he said. “My, but you’re looking smart in your uniform.”

“Not really, Josh,” she said. “The uniform is in sore need of cleaning. I’ve worn it for the past three months.”

“Ask Mrs Broad to take care of it for you,” he said. “Your mum and dad will be so surprised to see you. I reckon they both miss you a whole lot.”

“I hope so,” she said. Instead of opening the front door, she rang the bell. Florrie answered it, and her face broke into a beaming smile.

“Miss Emily. It’s you! What a treat. Come on in.”

“Who is it, Florrie?” came her mother’s strident voice from the drawing room.

“It’s Miss Emily, come home to us at last,” Florrie called.

Emily’s mother emerged, paused in the doorway and stood looking at her. Emily sensed her indecision, as if she wanted to rush forwards and embrace her daughter, but she wasn’t going to give that daughter the satisfaction of knowing she had been missed. Instead she said, “So, you’ve returned to the fold, have you? Expecting a warm welcome?”

“I didn’t quite know what to expect, Mummy,” Emily said. “But I had a couple of days off, so I thought you might like to know how your daughter was faring.”

“So you’re not home for good then?”

“No, I have to be back on Monday morning,” Emily replied.

Her mother still stood poised in the doorway. Then she said, “Well, I suppose you’d better come in. Florrie, you may bring us some tea. And tell Cook to see if she can rustle up some meat. I don’t suppose Miss Emily has had a decent meal in months.”

“Actually, we’ve been eating quite well,” Emily said as she followed her mother into the sitting room. “Lots of stews. And plenty of rabbit.”

“Rabbit? How disgusting.”