The Victory Garden(8)

“Galahs?” she asked.

“Pink cockatoos,” he said. “Pretty birds, but a bloody nuisance. They’d strip the wood off the porch if you let them. But when you see a flock of a thousand of them landing at the waterhole . . . my, but that’s a lovely sight. I’d love to show you . . .” He broke off, as if he might have gone too far. “So did you just have the one brother?” he asked.

Emily nodded. “Yes. He was four years older than me. There was a sister in between, but she died of diphtheria when she was a baby. So now it’s just me.”

“So you can understand why they want to hang on to you, can’t you?”

She nodded. “I suppose so. But I can’t be cooped up forever. In my mother’s day, a girl stayed home until she was married. But that can’t happen any more, can it? How many girls will never marry because there are no young men coming home?”

“Then you have to stick up for yourself and do what you want.”

On another occasion, he asked, “What would you have done if there hadn’t been a war? Apart from getting married, I mean.”

Emily gave him a shy smile. “My teachers at school said I had a good brain and wanted me to go to university, but my mother thought it was a silly idea. She said too much education was not good for women. They needed to know how to run a home and a family, and being educated only made them discontent. I’m afraid she’s hopelessly old-fashioned in her ideas.”

“Would you have wanted to go to university?” he asked.

Emily considered this. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I’d have wanted to be a professor or even a teacher. I told you I’d like to try being a nurse. I don’t know whether I’d be any good, but at least I’d know I was doing something worthwhile.”

“You’re chatting with me. That’s something worthwhile,” he said. “Raising a poor, wounded bloke’s spirits. I count the minutes until you come every day, Emily.”

“I do, too,” she said. “You’re certainly raising my spirits, too, Robbie. My mother noticed it yesterday, but of course she got it wrong. She thought I was excited about my upcoming party.”

“You’re having a party?”

“My twenty-first. My mother’s in a full planning frenzy.” She hesitated, wondering if she could find a way to invite Robbie. An image swam into her head of dancing with him, his arms holding her tightly. “I should be getting back,” she said. “The dressmaker is coming round for my fitting. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

But dry and summery spells never last long in England, and the weather broke that night with a vengeance, with driving rain and gale-force winds. There was no question of going out for a walk. Mrs Bryce revised her party plans to include an option for an indoor event. She also revised down the numbers as it became evident how few young people were available.

“We can’t have a party with so few men,” she said. “I have twenty girls who have accepted, but only four men, and two of those are still schoolboys.”

“We could invite some of the officers from the convalescent home,” Emily said, as if the idea had just occurred to her. “You said yourself the other day that there are some well-mannered chaps amongst them.”

“Now, that’s not a bad idea,” Mrs Bryce said. “Some of them are ambulatory and fit enough to dance, and the others can sit and make polite conversation. As soon as this rain abates, I’ll have a little talk with Matron and see which young men she thinks will do.”

They went on their weekly visit to the convalescent home in the motor car because the weather was still so unsettled.

“I must speak to Matron about letting some of the young officers attend your party,” Mrs Bryce said. “I’m sure she can’t object. We’ll send a motor car around for them.”

As she disappeared towards Matron’s room, Emily darted quickly to see Robbie. He was sitting up in bed, writing a letter.

“Hey, Robbie, wake up. Here comes your young lady,” one of the men further down the ward called out.

Robbie looked up, startled, then his face broke into a big smile. “My word, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said. “I was just writing to my mother and telling her about you. I was trying to describe you, but I couldn’t get it right.”

“How about elegant, sophisticated and dazzlingly beautiful?” she said, her eyes challenging him.

“All of the above, naturally.”

This made her blush. “Look, Robbie, I wanted to invite you to my party next week.”

“I don’t think your mother would want me there, would she?”

“I want you there, and besides, I’ve squared it away with Mummy. We were horribly short of young men, so I suggested we should invite some of the officers. She’s up with Matron now obtaining permission.”

“I might not know how to behave—speaking to people I haven’t been introduced to and that sort of thing.”

“Rubbish, you’ll be fine. I’ll tell them your parents are big land owners in Australia, which is true. Around here, we’re very impressed with people who own big farms.”

“Can I bring a couple of my mates?” he asked. “I’ll need a bit of moral support.”

“Anyone would think I was inviting you to an expedition to a lion’s den,” she said. “Look, if you don’t want to come to my party, I’ll understand, but I’d really like to have an ally there myself amongst all the dreadful bores that Mummy has invited.”