‘Look who’s talking,’ Caroline muttered.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The weather in Porthcurno continued cold and snowy all that week, though salt air meant snow fell less heavily along the coast. Selina woke each morning with a sense of déjà vu, listening to the sounds of a busy farm: the Land Girls thumping sleepily down the stairs at an unholy hour, sheep baaing in the distance, and the dogs barking excitedly, no doubt responding to Joe pulling on his boots in the porch. It was only six months since she’d left here, and yet it felt like a world away from her new life at Thornton Hall. Everything had changed since Bella’s letter about her sickness had taken Selina to Bodmin, and she still could not quite believe that her sister was gone forever.
If such a thing were possible, would she go back to being a Land Girl, to dawns spent out in the fields, later traipsing home after dark, muddy and exhausted? Definitely not, she thought wryly. Though she missed the camaraderie of the farm, giggling and messing about with her fellow Land Girls. Now that Nancy had come to Thornton Hall, she did at least have a companion nearer her own age. However, she didn’tknow her cousin well enough yet for her to be a friend. Besides, seeing Caroline again had reminded her of the good times they’d had together, and there was no denying that she missed her.
Before returning to Porthcurno, she’d been secretly worried that Caroline still held a torch for her, which would have been awkward, especially in front of Peter. But, to her relief, Caroline’s affections now lay in a new direction. Her partiality for Grace had not been as difficult to spot, but the Liverpudlian girl was as different from Selina as chalk from cheese.
But what did Grace think of Caroline? That was the real question. Selina knew how hard Caroline found it to conceal her feelings, and she didn’t want her friend to be left wounded, her private life exposed to the world, by an unwise emotional declaration. That would be too awful. But Selina didn’t feel as if she could wade into the matter. She wanted her time at the farm to be as peaceful and content as possible, for everyone’s sake, not least her nephew.
At breakfast a few days into their visit, she noticed that Peter kept yawning and rubbing his eyes. He had been on his best behaviour at first, apart from his difficult question about men taking over again for the Land Girls. But he seemed oddly distracted now. She hoped he wasn’t sickening for something.
‘Didn’t you sleep well, Peter?’ Selina asked, passing him the milk jug. ‘You look a bit peaky.’
Peter yawned extravagantly before shaking his head. ‘I’m fine, Aunt Selly,’ he insisted. ‘The thing is, I didn’t put the light out until gone midnight.’
Violet, who had been washing up the breakfast dishesnow that Joe and the girls had gone off about their duties, turned to stare at him in amazement. ‘Gone midnight?’ she repeated, looking shocked. ‘Goodness me, no wonder you keep yawning.’ Her gaze moved to Selina in silent reproof, but she didn’t say anything more, merely returned to her task. Her small daughter Sarah Jane glanced up from her crayoning, as though aware of an atmosphere, and giggled when Peter winked at her.
Feeling judged, Selina said testily, ‘From now on, Peter, you must go to sleep earlier than that. It’s not healthy to be up so late. I sent you up to bed at nine o’clock as usual. What on earth were you doing all that time?’
‘Reading,’ he said promptly.
Violet turned again, her eyes bulging, and tutted loudly before returning to the washing-up. ‘Comics, I daresay. Or one of them Boy’s Own Annuals?’
‘Oh, I wasn’t reading anything like that,’ Peter declared, looking offended. ‘I found a shelf of books in my room – novels and travel guides and so on – and guess what? Some of them are written inGerman. I learned a little German at that ghastly school, Aunt Selina,’ he added, turning to her. ‘Didn’t get very far with it before I left, of course. But it was fun, flicking through the books and trying to pick out words I recognised. Next thing I knew, the clock on the landing was striking twelve.’
‘Books in German?’ Selina was baffled, but then recalled that he was sleeping in Ernest Fisher’s old room. ‘Of course, that was Mr Fisher’s room. He’s German, you know.’
‘I say, I think you told us about him once. The man who was a spy?’ Peter sat up enthusiastically.
‘Do you mind?’ Violet demanded, glaring round at themwith soap suds dripping from her hands. ‘We don’t talk about that sort of thing here, remember?Loose lips sink ships.’
‘But that’s daft … The war’s over,’ Peter exclaimed. ‘What harm can it do?’
Selina sucked in her breath. ‘Peter! Don’t speak to Mrs Postbridge like that. Apologise at once.’
‘But … Oh, very well.’ Peter pulled a face, but said reluctantly, ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Postbridge.’
Violet dried her hands on her apron, shaking her head. ‘Well, I never … These young people!’ Grabbing up a trug of cleaning materials, she stamped out of the kitchen in search of something to clean.
Once they were alone, Selina gave her nephew a furious stare. ‘That was very rude of you, Peter. I know it seems like it’s not important to keep secrets anymore. But Mr Fisher still works for the government, and so does his daughter Alice. We’ve all had it drummed into us that we’re not to talk about work like theirs. And it could make a difference, you know. Just because the war’s over, that doesn’t mean there aren’t bad people out there who’d like to see it start up again. Enemies of Britain and her allies. So take care what you say, understand?’
Peter toyed with his breakfast, not meeting her eyes. ‘Yes, Aunt Selly.’
She finished her cup of tea, which was lukewarm, and sighed. This visit to the farm was not turning out to be as relaxing as she’d hoped. Quite the opposite, in fact.
‘Perhaps you could show me these books,’ she suggested, trying to lighten the mood. The last thing she wanted was for Peter to slip back into the sullens when he’d been so well-behaved these past few days at the farm. ‘I don’t knowmuch German. But perhaps you could teach me a few words, since you’re such an expert.’
‘Rather,’ Peter said, his grin returning, and he jumped up, scraping his chair back so violently that it fell over. ‘Oops. Mum used to say that I don’t know my own strength.’ He bent to pick up the chair, blushing fiercely. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’ve certainly got the fidgets today.’ But Selina couldn’t find it in her heart to be annoyed with the boy. He’d had a difficult year and was trying his best. She ruffled his hair, and then put an arm about his shoulder. ‘Let’s see these books, then.’
They spent an hour poring over Mr Fisher’s books, and laughing as they tried to pronounce some of the impossibly long German words.
‘I’m glad the war is over,’ Peter confided at one point, flicking through the pages in search of more words that he recognised. ‘I wanted to enlist when I was younger. I thought it would be smashing to be a soldier with a gun and a uniform. But I’m glad now that I don’t have to. I think war is rather horrid, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Peter, it is.’
