‘It was quite dusty in the threshing barn,’ Caroline admitted, chuckling. ‘Even after I’d washed and washed, there was still dust on my bed sheets every morning. And you’re right about the eyes … They were so itchy, I hated it. Joe ought to give us goggles at harvest time.’
‘Goggles? Like the ones Spitfire pilots wear, you mean?’ Grace chuckled. ‘I can see it now … All us Land Girls stumbling about in goggles, unable to see a bleedin’ thing, grabbing men instead of wheat stalks and throwingthemin the thresher.’ She tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘What a shame that would be, eh? Those poor men.’
The three girls fell about, snorting with laughter.
Life on the farm was going to be very different with Grace there, Caroline decided, and then felt guilty. She realised she hadn’t thought about Selina that morning. Not once. Worse, the letter she’d started writing to her absent friend still lay unfinished. But now she would have so many funny new anecdotes to tell Selina, wouldn’t she?
The letter would be worth the wait.
CHAPTER THREE
High on the sunlit moors above Bodmin, Selina gripped the steering wheel and stared out over the gleaming black bonnet, frozen in panic. ‘I … I don’t know what to do next,’ she admitted.
‘Well, let’s take it step by step.’ William MacGregor smiled at her encouragingly. ‘You’ve pressed the starter button, so now you just need to select first gear, release the clutch slowly,veryslowly, while pressing down on the accelerator at the same time. And don’t look so worried, Miss Tiptree. This Wolseley is one of the safest, most reliable cars on the road today, and I have complete faith that you can drive it.’
The gear lever juddered under her gloved hand as Selina replied, a little caustically, ‘That’s the triumph of hope over experience, Mr MacGregor. We’ve been through this at least five times already … And every time I’ve managed to stall the blasted engine.’
William MacGregor’s stately black Wolseley was parked in a deserted Cornish lane several miles above Thornton Hall. In fact, peering down the long bonnet with its silvermascot, she could just see the hall chimneys rising above the trees below them, the wild moors their backdrop.
Thornton Hall had been her sister’s home, but Selina had lived there ever since Bella’s tragic death that summer, caring for her orphaned nieces and nephew. And it was because of them that she was here today. She’d never before felt the urge to drive, though once or twice had got the farmer’s tractor chugging up and down the muddy tracks at Postbridge Farm, back in Porthcurno where she’d been working as a Land Girl. But not being able to drive herself or her charges about had become a severe restriction, given how isolated they were at Thornton Hall. So here she was, determined to add driving to her short list of accomplishments.
William MacGregor – a handsome man in his early forties, with a distinguished streak of silvering hair at his temple – had been her late sister’s solicitor, and was executor of her large estate now. He lived in the nearby town of Bodmin but visited the hall at least once a week to make sure everything was running smoothly. She’d resented his visits as interference at first, but Selina had come to value his advice, as the complications of overseeing such a large and expensive household had become clearer to her.
‘Gently does it, remember.’ Mr MacGregor gave her a nod. ‘All right, clutch in. First gear. That’s the way. Now, slowly ease off the—’ The car shook violently and then died to silence. ‘Slowly, Miss Tiptree,’ he repeated with a sigh. ‘You can’t rush it.’
‘Oh blow.’ Selina buried her face in her gloved hands. She could have wept with frustration. ‘Perhaps the doctor’s right.’
‘I’ve very rarely found that to be the case. But go on … What has Dr Ford said now?’
‘When he dropped in the other day, I mentioned that you were teaching me to drive, and he said “females are not meant to drive”. Apparently, it was all very well during the war, when women had no choice but to drive ambulances and so on. But “the female brain is simply not capable of motoring”. ’
‘Surely he didn’t say that?’
‘I’m afraid he did. Indeed, he insisted that whenever womendotry to drive, we inevitably murder some hapless pedestrian or end up in a ditch. He was quite forthright on the matter.’
William MacGregor chuckled. ‘A chauvinist, eh? But a damn good doctor. So I suppose we must forgive his outdated views.’
‘And he looked after my sister with touching devotion,’ Selina conceded, and forced a reluctant smile to her lips. ‘How Bella would have laughed to see me behind the wheel of a car. She hated cars. Horrid, noisy things, she used to say.’ She swallowed down a sob, assailed by unexpected grief. ‘Goodness, I miss her.’
The solicitor waited discreetly before saying, ‘Look, don’t despair … I suspect it’s your footwear rather than your female brain that’s the cause of your problems.’ At her puzzled look, he nodded to her feet. ‘Those are very fetching, but I doubt the Wolseley clutch pedal was intended to be operated in high heels.’
Feeling foolish, Selina made a mental note to wear flats for her next driving lesson.
‘Now, shall we try it one more time? Clutch in, hit the starter button, and then …’ As the engine rattled back into life, he moved to select first gear at exactly the same timeas her, and their gloved hands tangled. His gaze shot to hers, and there was a brief, embarrassed hesitation before he withdrew his hand. ‘I’m ever so sorry. The car is yours to drive, Miss Tiptree.’
‘Oh, please call me Selina,’ she said, raising a shy gaze to his. ‘The housekeeper calls me Miss Tiptree. My nieces and nephew call me Aunt Selly. All my closest friends are miles away in Porthcurno. There’s nobody left in my life who calls me by my first name, and it’s too dreary for words.’
‘I suppose old habits die hard. Besides, I am a great deal older than you.’ Though his eyes twinkled as he said that.
‘That’s true. Any day now, I expect you to turn up at the hall with a long, white beard.’ Selina was joking, of course. Holding her breath, she selected first gear again, then let the clutch out as slowly as she could, while also pressing the accelerator pedal. To her relief, there was a sort of catch, and then the car started rolling forward, faster and faster. ‘Oh my gosh, I’ve done it!’
‘Don’t forget to steer,’ William exclaimed in alarm.
‘Oops.’ About to crash into the hedgerow, Selina wrenched the large steering wheel to the left with a grunt of effort, and promptly found herself heading for a gnarled tree on the other side of the lane. With another tremendous heave, she corrected her course again. ‘For goodness’ sake … It’s like wrestling with an elephant.’
‘You’re doing fine.’
She was only somewhat reassured by his calmness. Steering the big, heavy car took all her strength. Still, she managed to navigate a respectable middle course along the road for a good minute or so. But, as the car sped up, the engine was soon roaring like a beast.
