‘Well,’ she said gruffly, ‘I could stay for a week or two, I suppose.’
‘If you stay that long, you might as well stay until Christmas,’ her father said in a practical way, and winked at her mother. ‘Deirdre, I’ve put Caroline’s bag in her bedroom. Why don’t you show her what you’ve done in there, while I go down and put the kettle on? While my mother’s resting, the three of us could have a cosy chat downstairs.’
Caroline kissed her grandmother on the cheek, who was indeed looking exhausted, and allowed her mother to showher into her old bedroom. Like the downstairs of the house, her bedroom was just as she’d left it when she had gone to join the Women’s Land Army. She’d half expected to walk into a dusty tomb, everything covered in cobwebs. But her mother must have been dusting and cleaning; the place was spick and span. Even the books on her bookcase, some girls’ annuals from her childhood and a few favourite hardbacks, had been dusted. There was a new bedspread on the bed though, and her old china dolls had been neatly arranged on an upper shelf.
‘It does look nice, Mum,’ Caroline admitted, walking around the room and reacquainting herself with her old possessions. How small everything seemed though, she thought with a pang, feeling like a stranger in her own home. ‘Thank you for taking the trouble to get it ready.’
Her mother was standing by the window, looking out towards the allotments that sprawled at the back of the house. ‘It was no trouble, love. It’s marvellous to have you home again. I’ve baked a jam sponge as it happens. If you’re peckish, we can have a slice of that now, with a cup of tea.’
‘Yes, please, that sounds lovely. And I’m sure it will be good to sleep in my own bed again.’ Caroline joined her at the window and looked out at the snowy muddle of allotments. It was almost dark, yet she could see someone digging out there, wrapped up against the cold. ‘Goodness, it’s a bit late for working on the allotments, isn’t it? Who on earth’s that?’
‘That’s next-door’s youngest boy, Albert,’ her mother told her, with a curious sidelong glance. ‘You and he were friends, weren’t you?’
‘Of course. He enlisted early on in the war. So Albertmade it through?’ She felt relieved and thankful, recalling the smiling young man who’d often walked to and from school with her over the years.
Her mother nodded. ‘He came back from Germany a few months ago. His older brother Jimmy was killed in ’43, you know.’
‘Yes, you wrote to tell me.’
‘So terribly sad. His mother was beside herself when Albert was sent out to Germany, scared stiff they might lose him too. Even after the war was over too, for there’s still a few Jerries out there willing to take a potshot at our boys. They’ve got to be ever so careful on patrol. Pat was thrilled when he came home at last. And he’s such a good son, helping out around the house and working on the allotment. Pat’s not been well lately, and Kenneth’s got a dodgy knee, so neither of them can do much digging these days …’ She nudged her daughter. ‘I could ask Albert over to dinner tomorrow, if you’d like?’
Caroline stared at her. ‘Whatever for?’
‘Why, so you two can have a nice chat, of course,’ her mother said vaguely, bending to smooth out an imaginary wrinkle in her bedcovers, ‘and catch up with what you’ve been up to during the war. After all, you young people won’t want to spend all your time with your parents now you’re home.’ She hesitated. ‘Maybe Albert could take you to the pictures one evening? I could suggest it to his mum.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Caroline exclaimed, her cheeks flooding with warmth. ‘Goodness, Mum! I didn’t come home to start dating the boy next door. I came home to see Gran.’ Her eyes narrowed on her mother’s guilty face. ‘I hope you didn’t ask me back here just to start matchmaking. Becauseif so …’ She stopped, forcing herself to swallow the angry words on the tip of her tongue. She’d barely been home five minutes. It would be awful to start arguing with her parents straight after walking through the front door.
‘Stuff and nonsense, of course we didn’t. It was just a passing thought. I’ll leave you to unpack.’ Her mother dragged the curtains shut and hurried out. ‘We’re glad to have you home, love.’
Now she was back in her parents’ home, it seemed Caroline was to be given an endless string of jobs that needed doing before she could possibly return to Cornwall. After a few days spent sitting with her grandmother, reading to her from magazines, playing cards or chatting about her days as a Land Girl, her mother began to drag out projects to occupy Caroline’s time. ‘These tatty old curtains need restitching,’ she told her daughter, uncovering the sewing machine for her, ‘and maybe you could help your dad repaint the kitchen this weekend?’ Once those tasks were done, she encouraged Caroline to turn the frozen soil in the allotment. ‘There’s a sack of early seed potatoes that are nicely chitted and ready to be planted up,’ her mother said, handing her a spade. ‘You’ve been working on a farm for years. You must know all about growing vegetables.’
Out in the allotment, she soon bumped into Albert. ‘Hullo, Caroline,’ he said with a grin, resting on his garden fork. ‘The prodigal daughter returns!’
She laughed, her breath steaming on the chilly air. ‘How are you, Albert?’
‘Bert, please.’ He grimaced. ‘Albert makes me sound like I’m a hundred years old. And I’m fine. Made it through thewar unscathed, as you see. Now I’m back and wondering what to do next.’
‘Strange, isn’t it? You get used to being on your own, making your own decisions, and then you come home to live with your parents and … Well, get bossed around again.’ They smiled at each other in quick understanding. ‘By the way, I was sorry to hear about your brother Jimmy.’
His face fell. ‘Thank you.’
‘He was so sporty … I remember him winning all the athletics cups at school.’ There was an awkward silence. ‘And your mum’s not been well recently, is that right?’
‘She’s had a bad chest, yes. But the doctor thinks she’ll be better come the spring.’ He looked her up and down with interest. ‘You’ve sprouted at least a foot since I last saw you. Been in Cornwall, your dad told us. Working as a Land Girl? Sounds like hard work.’
‘Sometimes, yes.’
Happier to chat than struggle to turn the icy soil, Caroline perched on an upturned bucket and told him about Postbridge Farm and some of their near misses from bombing raids during the war. He seemed fascinated by the proximity of Eastern House, with its secret communications tunnels dug into the cliff, and laughed out loud on hearing about her antics with the other Land Girls.
A few nights later, Albert turned up on the doorstep in a clean new shirt and jacket and ate dinner with the family. Caroline glared at her mother on seeing him but politely said nothing. It wasn’t his fault, after all. Still, she resented such an unsubtle attempt at matchmaking, especially after she’d asked her mother not to interfere.
Gran, recovering nicely from what she’d now decided was‘a touch of bronchitis’, came down to sit with them, while Caroline’s father beamed approvingly at Albert, and even cracked open a prized bottle of French red wine he’d been keeping in a cupboard since before the war, saying, ‘Since this is a celebration …’
‘Of what?’ Caroline had a sinking feeling, as she watched him uncork the bottle.
‘Why, of our young people coming home safely after that awful war, of course,’ Gran supplied for him, and pushed forward her glass. ‘Just a little for me, please, Stan.’
Caroline had exchanged glances with Bert, who’d grinned but said nothing.
