‘On what?’
Maggie smiled. ‘On whether you love him or not.’
‘Love?’ Sheila gave a derisive snort. ‘I ain’t got time for love. I’ve got this bloomin’ shop to run, and the charitable fund to administer, and council business to attend to.’
Maggie hesitated. ‘Or maybe youareready to get married again, Sheila, and you can’t bring yourself to admit it. Because you’ve been different since Christmas. You had a light in your eyes when Bernie was courting you, and that light’s gone out.’
‘Oh, don’t talk nonsense,’ Sheila exclaimed, and spun around as the shop door jangled, never so happy to see a customer in her life. ‘Good morning, Mrs Penhallow. Howare things up at the Grange? They not sold that old place yet? That’s a shame …’ Rattling on like this, she hurried to fetch the lady’s usual order of veg, piling early spuds into a paper bag for her and barely letting her get a word in edgeways. ‘It’s been on the market a fair few months, ain’t it? But it’s bound to sell now we’re headed into summer, then I suppose you’ll be looking for a new housekeeping job.’
The lady replied, but Sheila wasn’t listening. Not really. Instead, she was trying to pretend she didn’t give two hoots about Bernie’s proposal, too busy keeping the village ticking over to bother with romance.
You had a light in your eyes when Bernie was courting you, and that light’s gone out.
She wished people would leave her alone to make this important decision on her own. Because the more she thought about getting married again, the more she didn’t have a blessed clue what to do.
Spring gave way to summer, and a lovely summer too, Sheila thought, happy to have abandoned her winter woollies at last for frocks and sandals. Violet’s salad vegetables were growing nicely in the garden, and Joe had finally received a grant from the government to help him rebuild his stock, including a dozen young ewes in prime condition and a sturdy ram. The bank had also agreed to loan him money to replenish his stocks of seeds and tubers for planting out, since he’d lost these to rot during the dreadful winter weather. This had improved Joe’s mood considerably, and he went about the farm whistling these days instead of frowning, while Violet too was forever smiling, albeit secretively.
One Saturday afternoon, putting on a hat as she preparedto walk down to the village for a special summer event to which everyone in Porthcurno had been invited, Sheila remarked to Violet, ‘Come on, spill the beans. You’ve had a smile on your face for weeks now. And don’t bother telling your old mum there ain’t nothing going on, because I know when my daughter’s keeping secrets.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘Let’s hear it, then.’
Violet blushed, glancing over her shoulder to where the Land Girls were washing their hands at the sink, ready to accompany them down to the village. Sheila didn’t know what the big event was all about, since nobody had thought to inform her, despite her being a councillor, she thought caustically. But it seemed that everybody was going, including Joe, who surely had better things to do on a summer’s afternoon.
Violet shook her head, smirking. ‘As a kid, I thought you had eyes in the back of your head, Mum. You always knew what I was up to. But you’re so busy these days, you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose.’ And she dropped a protective hand to her belly.
‘Gawd, Vi …’ Sheila clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘How long have you known?’ she whispered.
‘A few months now, but I wanted to keep it quiet until I was sure.’
‘I’m so happy for you, love. When’s it due?’
‘October, most likely. It’s been hard to keep the news to ourselves, I can tell you.’
‘Joe must be as pleased as Punch.’
‘Yes, bless him. He was worried when I first told him. But it’s gone like a dream this time round. Barely a day’s sickness.’ She laughed at Sheila’s expression. ‘You never even noticed, did you?’
Sheila stared, thinking back. There had been a few mornings over late spring and early summer when Violet had struggled to get up in time for breakfast, but she’d put that down to weariness. They’d all been working so hard to get the farm back on its feet.
‘I had no bloomin’ idea,’ she agreed. ‘You’re right, though, I should ha’ guessed. You ain’t been in such a good mood for years.’
Thankfully, Joe came into the kitchen before Violet could respond to that dig. He looked surprisingly smart for a trip down to the village, wearing his Sunday best. ‘We ready for the off yet?’
‘You’re looking very handsome, Mr Postbridge,’ Sheila remarked, and wished she could congratulate her son-in-law on being a prospective father again. But she knew Violet wouldn’t welcome that in front of the Land Girls, not until the news was out.
‘I told him to dress up today, just for a change,’ Violet said hurriedly, and Sheila noticed she too was wearing a smart frock and had set her hair in a stylish manner. ‘I’m glad you’re wearing that new summer dress I ran up for you on the Singer last week. Fits nicely, does it?’
‘Rather too snug,’ Sheila admitted as they headed out of the door. ‘I shouldn’t have had that second bowl of puddin’ last night. Though why we all have to be dressed up so smart for a village do, I can’t imagine. What’s it all about, anyway?’
Nobody answered, and Joe soon changed the subject, talking about the ewes that had arrived to replenish livestock lost in the deep snows. ‘Those new farmhands I’ve taken on since the spring need training up, though. They know next to nothing about how to care for sheep,’ he said grumpily.‘Even Caroline’s an expert compared to them.’ The Land Girls were walking ahead, just out of earshot, chatting merrily to each other. ‘It’s a pity,’ he added quietly, ‘but I’ll need to let those three girls go after harvest time. I’d forgotten how much easier it is to do a job with four or five men about the place instead. Shearing was a doddle this year. These girls are great, but they just don’t have the strength of a man, and now most of our boys are home from abroad, there’s no longer any call for the Women’s Land Army.’
Sheila sighed, shaking her head. ‘Ah now, that’s a crying shame. They’ve put their hearts and souls on the line for this country, them lovely girls have.’ But she knew Joe was only doing what was best for the farm.
Down in the village, Sheila was amazed to find dozens gathered about the stretch of common land they called the village green. There was a refreshments table and a makeshift platform strung with bunting.
Bernie was there, also in his best suit and sporting a natty polka-dot tie with tiepin. He raised a hand in greeting. ‘Sheila, could I have a quick word?’
Once he’d led her aside, Sheila asked bluntly, ‘What’s going on, Bernie?’
Bernie smiled. ‘Sorry about the subterfuge. The truth is, everyone was under strict orders not to let on to you about this event.’
