casually, after a few moments. No point in making the boy think you were nervous about him. ‘I mean, we might be able to organise a spot more leave, if you feel you need it. They’ve been driving you pretty hard these last few months.’ Christopher swallowed a gulp of the whiskey, shook his head and assured his father that he was perfectly fine.
‘Too much grog, Dad! Makes the old heart go pitter-pat!’ They both chose to ignore the fact that Christopher was, at that moment, adding considerably to the amount of alcohol in his blood. They drained their glasses in silence.
‘Think I’ll pop down and check the kitchen,’ Roger said. ‘Reckon we’ve got a marauding tomcat!’ Christopher mimed picking off the cat with a shotgun. They smiled at each other and, relieved that an awkward moment had been painlessly passed, parted for the second time that night.
Chapter Four
Over the next four weeks the occupants of Lower Stone Post Farm settled into something approaching a routine. A spell of icy easterly winds was followed by a heavy fall of snow that caused the lorry to slither into a ditch, where it remained for three days, forcing the girls to make the ascent to the Bayliss farm on foot, trudging in single file through fields parallel to the lane, which was filled to hedge level with soft snow.
A land girl called Iris Butler took Chrissie’s place as roommate for Mabel, whose odour was diminishing daily due to pressure put upon her by the other girls who encouraged her to bathe each night, insisting bluntly that she took the last turn in the second filling of the tub, thus ensuring that no one had to use the bathroom after she had – at least not until it had been well ventilated.
Alice and Rose, despite the farmhouse being briefly snow-bound, managed to keep the girls fed, the hostel clean, reasonably warm and mostly dry. Edward-John arrived happily each Friday night and stoically returned to his school early on Monday mornings. To begin with, the attention he received from the girls overwhelmed him but he soon began to respond, developing an almost flirtatious relationship with them, which made Rose frown and left Alice slightly uneasy. Almost certainly the girls’ risqué jokes and bawdy laughter went over his head but on more than one occasion his mother had cautioned them to watch their language in his presence. He made friends with the ploughman, Jack, who allowed him to ride the carthorses when they were driven along the short lane to the paddock into which they were turned out at midday each Saturday. Once, after a morning spent at the pig-pens and over Sunday lunch, Edward-John delivered a graphic account of the birth of a litter of piglets.
‘The mother pig has this special place,’ he announced, his eyes moving from face to face as he addressed his captive audience around the table. ‘It sort of opens up and out comes the piglet and blood and things!’ The girls howled in disgust and Alice was dismayed.
‘It won’t do him no harm, Mrs Todd!’ Mabel assured his mother, mopping gravy from her plate with a second wedge of bread. ‘He’s gonna learn sooner or later, i’nt ’e!’ Alice confined herself to suggesting to her son that infuture he must chose his topic of mealtime conversation more carefully.
One night, as Alice tucked him into his bed, he asked her what a ‘monthly’ was and remained only partly satisfied when she explained that it was anything which happens every month.
On the coldest nights, before the snow fell, it had proved impossible to adequately heat the recreation room and the girls had spent their evenings in the kitchen, sprawling round the table, taking it in turns to press their feet against the hot metal of the range while Alice sliced up loaves for the next day’s sandwiches and Rose mashed up canned sardines before levelling the result thinly over the margarine-spread slices. Some of the girls helped her, taking knives from the cutlery drawer and spreading
‘Too much grog, Dad! Makes the old heart go pitter-pat!’ They both chose to ignore the fact that Christopher was, at that moment, adding considerably to the amount of alcohol in his blood. They drained their glasses in silence.
‘Think I’ll pop down and check the kitchen,’ Roger said. ‘Reckon we’ve got a marauding tomcat!’ Christopher mimed picking off the cat with a shotgun. They smiled at each other and, relieved that an awkward moment had been painlessly passed, parted for the second time that night.
Chapter Four
Over the next four weeks the occupants of Lower Stone Post Farm settled into something approaching a routine. A spell of icy easterly winds was followed by a heavy fall of snow that caused the lorry to slither into a ditch, where it remained for three days, forcing the girls to make the ascent to the Bayliss farm on foot, trudging in single file through fields parallel to the lane, which was filled to hedge level with soft snow.
A land girl called Iris Butler took Chrissie’s place as roommate for Mabel, whose odour was diminishing daily due to pressure put upon her by the other girls who encouraged her to bathe each night, insisting bluntly that she took the last turn in the second filling of the tub, thus ensuring that no one had to use the bathroom after she had – at least not until it had been well ventilated.
Alice and Rose, despite the farmhouse being briefly snow-bound, managed to keep the girls fed, the hostel clean, reasonably warm and mostly dry. Edward-John arrived happily each Friday night and stoically returned to his school early on Monday mornings. To begin with, the attention he received from the girls overwhelmed him but he soon began to respond, developing an almost flirtatious relationship with them, which made Rose frown and left Alice slightly uneasy. Almost certainly the girls’ risqué jokes and bawdy laughter went over his head but on more than one occasion his mother had cautioned them to watch their language in his presence. He made friends with the ploughman, Jack, who allowed him to ride the carthorses when they were driven along the short lane to the paddock into which they were turned out at midday each Saturday. Once, after a morning spent at the pig-pens and over Sunday lunch, Edward-John delivered a graphic account of the birth of a litter of piglets.
‘The mother pig has this special place,’ he announced, his eyes moving from face to face as he addressed his captive audience around the table. ‘It sort of opens up and out comes the piglet and blood and things!’ The girls howled in disgust and Alice was dismayed.
‘It won’t do him no harm, Mrs Todd!’ Mabel assured his mother, mopping gravy from her plate with a second wedge of bread. ‘He’s gonna learn sooner or later, i’nt ’e!’ Alice confined herself to suggesting to her son that infuture he must chose his topic of mealtime conversation more carefully.
One night, as Alice tucked him into his bed, he asked her what a ‘monthly’ was and remained only partly satisfied when she explained that it was anything which happens every month.
On the coldest nights, before the snow fell, it had proved impossible to adequately heat the recreation room and the girls had spent their evenings in the kitchen, sprawling round the table, taking it in turns to press their feet against the hot metal of the range while Alice sliced up loaves for the next day’s sandwiches and Rose mashed up canned sardines before levelling the result thinly over the margarine-spread slices. Some of the girls helped her, taking knives from the cutlery drawer and spreading
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