Selina’s lips twitched. ‘It might be more pertinent to askwhat she thinks ofyou,’ she murmured, glancing about as though to check nobody was listening. But they’d left Joe and Violet deep in conversation in the farmhouse kitchen, and there was still no sign of the others returning from the pigsty. ‘Grace is a lively girl, for sure, with a strong sense of humour. But I’ve seen the way you look at her …’ She hesitated, her smile lopsided. ‘You will be careful, Caro, won’t you?’
Caroline chewed on her lip, not sure how to respond to that. ‘What … What do you mean?’
‘Oh, come on.’ Selina took her by the hands. ‘I know you like her, so there’s no point pretending.’ Her look was compassionate. ‘I remember how upset you got when I had to leave the farm this summer. I haven’t forgotten what you said that day.’
‘Please, don’t,’ Caroline mumbled, pulling her hands free. She felt horribly embarrassed, recalling how badly she’d behaved when Selina left, the emotional way she’d declared her feelings, the tears she’d shed as they parted. She’d been half hoping that Selina had forgotten, or would at least pretend to have done so, for both their sakes. But clearly not.
‘Look, it’s all right,’ her friend assured her. ‘I didn’t mind then, and I don’t mind now. But I don’t want to see you hurt by being too … let’s say,friendly?’
Caroline swallowed. It was on the tip of her tongue to defend the other girl and insist that Grace would never do anything to hurt or upset her. But she knew that wouldn’t be entirely true. Grace had joined Tilly in mocking her for being an ‘old lady’, even saying something about getting her a walking stick for Christmas, hadn’t she? They’d been joking,of course; there were only three years’ difference between her and Grace. But it had hurt at the time, and made her wonder if Grace, with her lively ways and sparkling humour, did in fact feel closer to nineteen-year-old Tilly than her. Also, Caroline had deliberately held back from being too open about her feelings this time, fearful of saying the wrong thing and landing herself in hot water. It would be disastrous if Grace were to take offence and make a complaint about her to the farmer and his wife. She could lose her position at Postbridge Farm and be forced to return to her parents in disgrace, a horrible thought.
‘Nothing’s happened,’ she whispered, for Peter was already striding back across the yard, Tilly and Grace following in his wake. ‘But I’ll be careful. I promise.’
‘Good.’ Selina embraced Tilly and shook Grace’s hand, and then turned to give Caroline one last hug. ‘I’m going to miss you all. I hope you have a marvellous Christmas. Think of me from time to time, won’t you?’
‘Always,’ Caroline choked.
‘Well, better jump in, Peter,’ Selina told her nephew cheerfully. ‘It’s time to go.’
Within a few minutes, Caroline found herself waving a tearful goodbye as her best friend disappeared down the hill into Porthcurno village, knowing it might be months, maybe even years, before they saw each other again.
Grace bumped her from behind. ‘Eh, don’t cry,’ she told her. ‘It’s bread and butter pudding tonight. And I helped make it.’ She was smiling when Caroline turned to go back inside. ‘Though maybe that’s enough to put you off. You know I can’t cook for toffee.’
‘No, it … it sounds delicious.’
Grace hesitated, glancing up at the gloomy skies. ‘Want to nip out for a walk along the cliffs before the snow starts falling again?’
‘I shouldn’t, sorry,’ Caroline told her cautiously, not meeting her eyes. She would have liked nothing better than to say yes to an hour spent walking out alone with Grace, but she recalled Selina’s warning about being too friendly. It was better to avoid dangerous situations like that, at least until she knew the girl well enough to trust her. ‘Now Selina and Peter have gone home, I need to strip their beds and put fresh linen on. Mrs Newton’s due back from Penzance soon and she’ll play merry hell if it’s not been done.’
And she hurried back inside the farmhouse before the other girl could protest.
Mrs Newton came home late afternoon, accompanied by Mr Bailey in his swanky car and bursting with news about Lily and Tristan and the others at the farm in Penzance. ‘Oh Joe, they’ve got a telephone,’ was almost the first thing she could be heard telling Mr Postbridge, her voice high and breathless with excitement. ‘I spoke to Alice for nearly half an hour on it, and to Ernest too. They’ve been working ever so hard in London, he says. Patrick’s in fine form and had a promotion recently too, so he and Alice are thinking of moving from their flat to a house with a garden. Only think, Vi, our little Alicebuyingher own home, and her still so young. She’s done bloomin’ well for herself, ain’t she?’
Caroline, seated at the kitchen table with Tilly, both girls sponging mud off their green Land Army jerseys to save them being washed again, glanced across at the other girl with a grin. Mrs Postbridge and her mother were alwaysgoing on about Alice and how well she’d done for herself. That young woman could do no wrong in their eyes, it seemed.
‘Of course she has, Mum, and a house with a garden does sound lovely,’ Violet agreed, ‘but I’m not sure about having a telephone here. Sounds expensive to me.’
‘Lily says all the farmers have telephones in Penzance,’ Mrs Newton dropped in, with a cunning glance at Joe. ‘Makes it easier to call the vet in an emergency, she told me, and to keep in touch with other farmers when livestock goes missing.’
‘Eh?’ Joe, still struggling with his boots in the porch, stopped to stare round curiously at his mother-in-law.
‘And Bernie here has a telephone himself and knows all about how to go about getting one rigged up, even all the way out here.’ Mrs Newton winked at Mr Bailey, who gave a supportive nod. It was obvious she was keen to have a telephone installed at Postbridge Farm. ‘Besides, just imagine being able to speak to Alice any time you like, Violet. On Christmas Day, say, or your birthday.’
‘Hmm.’ Violet looked unconvinced.
‘I’d be interested to look into that,’ Joe rumbled, and began a low-voiced conversation with Mr Bailey.
Her mission accomplished, Mrs Newton smiled and bustled over to the range to keep warm, holding out her hands to the iron hotplate. ‘It’s bloomin’ perishing out there, Vi,’ she told her daughter, glancing out the window with a dramatic shudder. ‘Snow everywhere, nasty bitter wind, going right through to my bones … I stopped to speak to Margaret at the shop on our way through the village, and she says they’ve barely seen a soul these past few days. Peoplemust be staying home to keep warm. I swear, we ain’t had such a cold winter in decades.’
Caroline finished sponging her jersey and got up to hang the green monstrosity over the range rail to dry. It would only take an hour or two, she estimated.
‘The fire’s lit in the snug. You go through, Mum, and take Bernie with you,’ Violet told her mother, setting a tray with teapot and cups. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
Once they’d gone into the snug, Joe whistled for the dogs and limped after them, only pausing to give the girls a friendly nod. ‘Good work today, you two. It’s not easy, being out in these freezing temperatures all day. Make sure to keep warm and not catch a chill, won’t you?’ And with that, he followed the others into the cosy back room and shut the door.
Tilly also hung her jersey over the range rail, smoothing out the damp creases. ‘Caro, if the weather improves next weekend, would you like to make up a foursome with me and Benny?’ Benny was the name of the village lad she’d been dating. ‘We’re taking the bus to Penzance for the Saturday matinee, so long as Joe doesn’t need us, and always assuming we’re not snowed in by then.’
Taken aback, Caroline stared at her. ‘M-Make up a foursome?’ she stammered. ‘You mean, a double date?’
