A Scent of Lavender

‘So you believe in ghosts?’ Martha’s dark eyes prompted.

‘I believe some people think they can see them, but I’m not one of them. I feel sorry for Ursula, though. Must have been awful for her. Nice to think that Dickon cared for her – well, if legend is to be believed.’

‘It is!’

‘Load of old nonsense!’

Martha and Kate replied at one and the same time and they all laughed and the subject of the ghostly nun was dropped by mutual consent. It had served, though, to prevent her answering Martha’s questions. There had been a reason for leaving Liverpool and her Mam and Da and the good job she’d had. But that was nobody’s business but her own, and Martha could probe all she liked; it would get her nowhere. What had happened was in the past and to Ness Nightingale’s way of thinking, there wasn’t a better place than Nun Ainsty to make a fresh start. And to forget what had been.

‘Now what do you want me to do, Mrs Wintersgill?’ She rose reluctantly to her feet.

‘Well, you can call me Kate for a start, like everyone else round this village does. Me and Martha will see to the washing up; I don’t suppose you could get the washing in from the line before it gets too dry to iron?’

‘I could,’ Ness smiled. She liked the drying green from which she could look over towards the hills to her left, mistily grey in a haze of heat. The tops, people called them. And to her right was the back of the manor, where she would try to count all the chimney pots; and could see the stables that were now Jacob Tuthey’s joiner’s shop; and see, too, the many windows, uncleaned for years, and so she felt sad about the neglect of a once-fine house.

She kicked off her shoes, stuffed her socks in the pockets of her overalls, then walked deliciously barefoot to the long line of washing, curling her toes in the cool of the grass. Overhead, a black-bellied plane droned, flying low. A lot of them had taken off last night. Going bombing, Lorna said, from nearby Dishforth and Linton-on-Ouse. Whitley bombers, all of them, which Ness would come to recognize in time. Plane spotting was getting as popular as train spotting.

Not interested, Ness decided, as the plane dropped out of sight. Of much more importance was a letter from Mam, who should have got her new address by now, sent on a postcard bought in Meltonby post office; a view in colour of Nun Ainsty though only Ladybower’s chimneypots had been visible on it. Ness had scribbled her address and Will write soon on the back of it, and tonight, tired or not, she would let her mother know she was all right, that she had landed on her feet in a smashing billet – she would not mention William – and that she had spent her day haymaking.

Squinting into the sun, she took down sheets and pillowslips, towels and working shirts, folding them carefully into the wicker clothes basket. Then reluctantly she pulled on shoes and socks. Tomorrow, she must remember to bring spare socks with her; socks dry and sweet-smelling. Tomorrow, they would mow the second field, Kate had said, after which there would be days of turning the cut grass until it dried out and became winter fodder for milk cows that would spend the cold months in the shelter of the stockyard. And be fed and watered twice a day, and the stockyard cleaned, too.

In summer, Kate said, it was a joy to work a farm; in winter it was dreary, with mud up to the ankles and everything you touched cold and wet. Dark mornings, too, and night coming before five o’clock. Farming, Ness had quickly grasped, had its ups and downs and today was an up day, so she would enjoy it, even though her feet throbbed painfully and her arms ached. Tomorrow she would have to learn to turn hay which would make her arms ache still more – until she got the hang of it. And meantime, she would think of the evening cool at Ladybower and a bath and the cotton dress and sandals she’d had the foresight to bring with her. Tonight, maybe sitting on the bench in the garden, she and Lorna would chat, all the time listening through the open door for the ringing of the phone. Because surely William would phone tonight, to say he was sorry and of course the land girl must stay and that he missed Lorna something awful. And that a letter full of I-love-yous was on its way to her.

Ness dumped the clothes basket on the kitchen table, offering to do the ironing, but Martha said she would see to it, though maybe Ness would take a couple of jugs to the workers, if she would be so kind?

And maybe, Ness thought as she made her way to the hayfield with jugs of ice-cold water from the pump, ironing was too warm an occupation on days such as this; days when the sun beat down from a clear summer sky; days when you could forget that places like Liverpool existed. Almost forget, that was …

Two letters had been delivered to Ladybower House; one for Lorna and the other, propped up on the kitchen mantelpiece, for Ness – the one she had been expecting from her mother.

‘So did William mention me?’ Ness hesitated. ‘Did he –’

‘Not a word. But today’s letter would have been written before he phoned. And he’s sure to book a call tonight. It’ll be all right, Ness. I want you to stay.’

‘Ar, but does your husband?’

‘We’ll worry about William when I’ve had his next letter – or another phone call. Now, tell me about the haymaking. How’s it going?’

‘Like the clappers. Rowley was going to work as long as it was light, he said, so he could get the big field cut. Then tomorrow they’ll start on the ten-acre field. And I forgot. There’ll be a rabbit for me tomorrow. Goff shot ten in the big field; half for him, half for the farm. I said I couldn’t skin a rabbit, so Martha said she would do it for me. Said she’d ask Goff for a nice young one, then you could roast it.’ Ness wrinkled her nose. She had heard of rabbit stew but never roast rabbit. ‘Can you roast them, Lorna?’

‘Yes, indeed. Fill the ribcage with thyme and parsley stuffing, then roast them gently on the middle shelf of the oven. Carefully carved, rabbit has a texture like chicken. William says half the chicken you get in restaurants is rabbit.’

‘Fancy that, now.’ Oh dear, they were back to William again. ‘You got any news, Lorna?’

‘Yes, I have. Heard it on the one o’clock bulletin, then had it again from Nance. There’s going to be recruiting for a Home Army. They’re going to call it the Local Defence Volunteers and Mr Churchill wants one in every town and village. Made up of civilians, it’ll be, and they’ll be trained to shoot and put up tank traps and generally make things awkward for the Germans – if they come. Seems there’s no end of things they can do to help out. I think it must be very serious if they’re asking older men to fight. Every man who is able-bodied is expected to join.’

‘And what about women? Can we join, an’ all?’

‘Afraid not. Nance says her husband is going to organize the Nun Ainsty men, and they’ll team up with the men from Meltonby and do their parades together. Gilbert Ellery will be taking his orders from Nance, I shouldn’t wonder. Bet she was real put out it was a men-only affair. But things must be serious, Ness, if the older men have to fight. I mean, Goff was in the last war. He’s done his bit for King and Country.’

‘What about the farm? Does farming exempt Bob and Rowley Wintersgill from joining?’

‘Seems not. All able-bodied men, it said on the news.’

‘Then I suppose me Da’ll have to join. Mam won’t like that. The letter was from Mam. I’ll write to her, tonight. Have I time for a wash before supper?’

‘You have. And when we’ve eaten we’ll sit in the garden and leave the back door open so we can hear the phone. Away with you!’

Lorna sighed deeply. The news about the LDV had troubled her, but Ness didn’t seem one bit bothered when told about it. Overreacting, she had been; looking for things to worry about when all she needed to hear was that William was sorry for the things he had said on the phone and of course it was all right for Ness to be at Ladybower. That they could be invaded at any time would seem less frightening then. And anyway, she argued sternly, surely Hitler’s soldiers, if they came, wouldn’t be making a beeline for Ainsty; wouldn’t be hell bent on destroying the village stone by stone, then pillaging and raping as the Vikings had done around these parts a thousand years ago? She was not their priority target! She was one of many women who had to get on with things as best she could, invasion or not, because her man had gone to war. What was so special about Lorna Hatherwood, then?

She prodded a knife into the potatoes. Two more minutes, then they’d be done and the cabbage, too, to eke out what was left of yesterday’s stew, more gravy than meat. A rabbit would be very handy. Two more days’ supper taken care of. She wished she could go to York, hunt around, find a fish queue. Fish wasn’t rationed; only the petrol to take her to the faraway shops where there was more chance of finding unrationed food. There was the bus, of course, but buses nowadays seemed to arrive and depart at their own times. It was awkward, she sighed, living in so out-of-the-way a place. And then she thought of the invasion – if it happened – and thought that living in Nun Ainsty far outweighed a piece of off-the-ration fish.

‘On the table in two minutes!’ she called from the bottom of the stairs, then smiled because tonight William would be lucky and be able to phone her, she knew it. Only for three minutes, mind, but you could say a lot of I-love-yous in three minutes. ‘Shift yourself or it’ll go cold!’

Sitting in the garden, her bare feet on the cool grass, was a sheer delight. The sun was in the west now, and would soon begin its setting, dropping lower in the sky, glowing golden-red. On the twilight air came the scent of roses and honeysuckle, and on the highest oak in Dickon’s Wood a blackbird sang sweetly into the stillness.

Ness closed her eyes, hugging herself tightly as if to hold to her this moment of complete peace. Peace? But for how much longer? Was this suddenly-precious country to be occupied by jackbooted soldiers? It couldn’t happen to this tiny island that once ruled half the world? Nun Ainsty couldn’t be taken, nor her lovely brash Liverpool? Imagine German soldiers billeted here in the manor house, because they would take it, soon as look at it if the fancy took them!

She stirred, wanting to know why all at once she was feeling like this. Had it been today in the so-English hayfield that the love of this island had taken her or had she, when she boarded the train at Lime Street station, uniform in two suitcases, decided that this cockeyed little country was worth fighting for and being a land girl was the best way she knew to do it?

No, she told a red rose silently, the day she boarded the York train she had felt only relief to be getting away to a fresh start, and sadness, of course, to be leaving Mam and the terraced house she had grown up in. And pain. A tearing pain that jabbed deeper if she let herself think of what she had lost and could never find again.

She shook her thoughts into focus and began to read through the letter she was writing.

Dear Mam and Da and Nan,

You’ll know by now where I am, but it is ten times better than the picture on the postcard. You can’t see my billet on it but it’s a lovely house, with big windows and a beautiful garden with a wood all around it. The lady I live with is called Lorna. Her husband is in the Army, and I think she is pleased to have a bit of company.

Best not go into detail about William’s outburst nor the phone call Lorna was waiting for that would put it right, she hoped.

I work at Glebe Farm for Mr Wintersgill. His wife, Kate, is lovely and they have a son Rowland, but I don’t see a lot of him.

Best not say over much about young Rowley. A bit sly, Ness thought, and cocky with it. Fancied himself no end.

Today we were haymaking and I was glad I was not in the field with them, but I was on the go all the time, trying to be useful. There’s a lot to learn about being in the Land Army, but I don’t regret joining so you are not to worry about me. I’m fine, and I’ll be given leave, just as if I’d joined the Armed Forces, and be given a rail ticket, too, so you’ll be seeing me before long. And Liverpool is easy to get to from York.

A bomber flew over, and another. Best not mention the aerodromes all around Nun Ainsty. Careless talk, that, and you never knew who just might get hold of her letter. There were spies all over the place it said in the newspaper. Ordinary people you’d never suspect.

‘Looks as if the lads are flying tonight.’ Lorna looked up from her magazine. ‘Wonder where they’re off to.’

‘Dunno.’ Ness hoped they would drop one slap bang in the middle of Berlin, but the bombing of open cities was not allowed, it seemed. Very gentlemanly this war was at times. ‘Think William will manage to get through?’

‘Yes, fingers crossed. But if he doesn’t, there’ll be a letter in the morning and everything will be OK. He’ll ring, though …’ Of course he would. Shouting at her wasn’t a bit like him and he’d be only too eager to put things right between them. ‘Writing home, are you, or to your boyfriend?’

‘I told you, didn’t I, that I haven’t got a boyfriend. Told Martha Hugwitty, an’ all, and that I wasn’t lookin’ either!’

‘Then you told the right person! Martha will make it her business to let Nun Ainsty know that the land girl at Glebe isn’t courting. And she’ll read your palm, if you let her, and find a nice young man for you in it! By the way, what do you think of Rowley Wintersgill?’

‘Not a lot. Why?’

‘He’s got a reputation around these parts for being a bit of a lady’s man.’

‘That a warning, Lorna?’

‘We-e-ll, not exactly. Been a bit spoiled, being an only child. Thinks the world’s his oyster.’

‘You mean I’m not to encourage him?’

‘Something like that,’ Lorna said uneasily, though glad, for all that, that she’d put out a warning.

‘Well, don’t worry. I can look after meself, queen.’

‘Good. And I’m disturbing you?’

‘No. This letter is just a quickie to let Mam know I’m all right and liking it here.’

‘Good – that you like it, I mean. I want you to stay here, Ness.’

‘But will I be allowed to?’ There was still tonight’s phone call or tomorrow’s letter, either of which could land her in the hostel.

‘I said I wanted you to, didn’t I?’

She said it, Ness thought, with a surprising firmness – for Lorna, that was. Maybe there was more to her than wide blue eyes and a gentle nature.

‘Then I want to, an’ all.’

The phone rang, and Lorna ran to answer it. Ness turned back to the letter she was writing.

Sorry this isn’t much of a letter but I’m tired and plan an early night. Will write a longer letter tomorrow. Just to let you know I’m fine and I don’t regret leaving Liverpool. It was for the best, Mam. You’re not to worry …

All done now. Carefully Ness addressed the envelope to 3, Ruth Street, Liverpool 4, Lancashire. Tomorrow, or the next day, she would write again. Tomorrow, or the next day, she would know how long she would be staying at Ladybower House, because determined though Lorna was, Ness wouldn’t take bets on her getting her own way. The cut of William’s jib told her that.

‘Oh, damn!’ Lorna said, back from her phone call. ‘It was Nance Ellery, would you believe. I was so sure it would be my trunk call. And Ness – guess what? The Germans have invaded the Channel Islands. It was on the nine o’clock news and we missed it, sitting out here as if it didn’t matter!’

‘Just like that? Was there any fighting?’ Ness whispered.

‘Doesn’t seem so. It was a peaceful takeover, by all accounts. Nance said it looks as if we’re going to need the Local Defence Volunteers now. Oh, she upsets me sometimes. Always the first with bad news! She seems to attract it!’

‘Well, we’d have heard it for ourselves, queen, sooner or later. Had you thought them islands are a part of us, sort of. British, and not all that far away, either. I’ll bet Churchill’s goin’ to have sumthin’ to say about it! He vowed Jairmans would never set foot on British soil, but they have!’

‘Technically they have, I suppose. Perhaps that’s why William hasn’t phoned.’

‘Ar, I wouldn’t worry, Lorna. He’s a long way from there, though it might have affected the telephone lines with calls buzzing all over the place once the high-ups heard about the Channel Islands. I wouldn’t worry too much, girl. It’s getting a bit chilly. Let’s you and me wait inside, eh? If your feller can’t manage to get through, there’s sure to be a letter in the morning.’

‘You’re right. It’s nearly ten. I’ll go round the house and see to the blackouts; you be a dear and make us some cocoa.’ Cocoa thankfully wasn’t rationed.

So they left the enchantment of the garden to the blackbird, a tiny creature that didn’t know there was a war on. Lucky little bird, Ness thought.

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