Here in Norfolk. Not London.
Idly Elizabeth reached for the Land Army form and turned it over. A smudge of blue ink stained the blank sheet. It looked as if numbers had been scribbled there, but she could barely distinguish them. The form appearedto have been soaked by rain, washing out what might actually be a telephone number.
Excited at the prospect of another clue, Elizabeth held the sheet of paper under the lamp. The figures were so faint and smeared that she could only make out some of them. At least two of the numbers were illegible. Tomorrow, she decided, she would ring the various combinations and hope she connected with the right one.
Tomorrow, which now seemed full of possibilities.
With everything that was on her mind she really didn't expect to sleep well and was quite surprised when she woke up to find the morning sun streaming through the leaded windows. Anxious to begin her plan of action, she hurried through her usual routine. After much thought, she picked out a cream silk shirt to wear and her best linen skirt. Then she picked up the application form and stuffed it into her skirt pocket.
When she ran down to the kitchen, she found Violet sitting at the table, enjoying a cup of tea with the newspaper spread in front of her.
"What are you doing up with the lark?" she demanded when Elizabeth cheerily greeted her. "Got trouble sleeping?"
"I've got a busy day," Elizabeth reminded her. "I've been neglecting my duties. I still haven't paid the last week's bills, I have letters to write, and I should try to get down to the town hall this afternoon for the Ladies' Sewing Group meeting."
"Not to mention the meeting with the grievance committee."
Elizabeth stared at her in surprise. "What grievance committee?"
"I forgot to tell you." Violet folded the newspaper. 'Ted Wilkins called early this morning. He wants to talkto you about a problem in the village. He's bringing Dierdre Cumberland and Rosie Finnegan up here this afternoon."
Elizabeth pulled a face. "Oh, Lord. I can imagine what that will be about. It seems there's only one grievance on everyone's mind lately."
Violet got up from her chair. "Just wait until they find out the Yanks are moving in here."
Deciding to ignore her flash of irritation, Elizabeth sat down at the table. "Is there any tea in the pot?"
"Just made it. Read the paper while I get you a cup. Not that there's any good news. Looks like the Yanks are still fighting for their lives in them Pacific Islands."
Elizabeth scanned the headlines. It was hard to realize that the war was being fought on the other side of the world. It was all too easy to isolate oneself, concerned only with what happened on one's own doorstep. This madness wasn't confined to Europe anymore. The entire world was at risk, and that included a country as vast and as powerful as the United States of America. It was a sobering thought.
What was it Churchill had said after the Battle of Midway? The end of the beginning, and the beginning of the end. At times that end seemed very, very far away.
"I suppose you'll want me to prepare a meal for Major Monroe?" Violet placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Elizabeth. "We don't have much in the way of meat, but I could ask John Miller if he'd let me have one of his chickens. If you don't mind me indulging in a spot of black marketing, that is."
Noting the sarcasm in her housekeeper's voice, Elizabeth rattled the newspaper. "Not if you take him some of Daddy's best gin. Exchanges among friends are quite acceptable, I should think."
"Unless they're Americans, I take it."
Elizabeth sighed. She wasn't quite sure why she made such a sharp distinction between the locals and the Americans. Maybe it was the way the young girls threw themselves at the airmen, forsaking their boyfriends who were overseas, fighting for their lives in the trenches.
Maybe it was the resentment in the village from some of the older women, and especially from the men who were left, who considered
Idly Elizabeth reached for the Land Army form and turned it over. A smudge of blue ink stained the blank sheet. It looked as if numbers had been scribbled there, but she could barely distinguish them. The form appearedto have been soaked by rain, washing out what might actually be a telephone number.
Excited at the prospect of another clue, Elizabeth held the sheet of paper under the lamp. The figures were so faint and smeared that she could only make out some of them. At least two of the numbers were illegible. Tomorrow, she decided, she would ring the various combinations and hope she connected with the right one.
Tomorrow, which now seemed full of possibilities.
With everything that was on her mind she really didn't expect to sleep well and was quite surprised when she woke up to find the morning sun streaming through the leaded windows. Anxious to begin her plan of action, she hurried through her usual routine. After much thought, she picked out a cream silk shirt to wear and her best linen skirt. Then she picked up the application form and stuffed it into her skirt pocket.
When she ran down to the kitchen, she found Violet sitting at the table, enjoying a cup of tea with the newspaper spread in front of her.
"What are you doing up with the lark?" she demanded when Elizabeth cheerily greeted her. "Got trouble sleeping?"
"I've got a busy day," Elizabeth reminded her. "I've been neglecting my duties. I still haven't paid the last week's bills, I have letters to write, and I should try to get down to the town hall this afternoon for the Ladies' Sewing Group meeting."
"Not to mention the meeting with the grievance committee."
Elizabeth stared at her in surprise. "What grievance committee?"
"I forgot to tell you." Violet folded the newspaper. 'Ted Wilkins called early this morning. He wants to talkto you about a problem in the village. He's bringing Dierdre Cumberland and Rosie Finnegan up here this afternoon."
Elizabeth pulled a face. "Oh, Lord. I can imagine what that will be about. It seems there's only one grievance on everyone's mind lately."
Violet got up from her chair. "Just wait until they find out the Yanks are moving in here."
Deciding to ignore her flash of irritation, Elizabeth sat down at the table. "Is there any tea in the pot?"
"Just made it. Read the paper while I get you a cup. Not that there's any good news. Looks like the Yanks are still fighting for their lives in them Pacific Islands."
Elizabeth scanned the headlines. It was hard to realize that the war was being fought on the other side of the world. It was all too easy to isolate oneself, concerned only with what happened on one's own doorstep. This madness wasn't confined to Europe anymore. The entire world was at risk, and that included a country as vast and as powerful as the United States of America. It was a sobering thought.
What was it Churchill had said after the Battle of Midway? The end of the beginning, and the beginning of the end. At times that end seemed very, very far away.
"I suppose you'll want me to prepare a meal for Major Monroe?" Violet placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Elizabeth. "We don't have much in the way of meat, but I could ask John Miller if he'd let me have one of his chickens. If you don't mind me indulging in a spot of black marketing, that is."
Noting the sarcasm in her housekeeper's voice, Elizabeth rattled the newspaper. "Not if you take him some of Daddy's best gin. Exchanges among friends are quite acceptable, I should think."
"Unless they're Americans, I take it."
Elizabeth sighed. She wasn't quite sure why she made such a sharp distinction between the locals and the Americans. Maybe it was the way the young girls threw themselves at the airmen, forsaking their boyfriends who were overseas, fighting for their lives in the trenches.
Maybe it was the resentment in the village from some of the older women, and especially from the men who were left, who considered
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