‘That’s because this isn’t Postbridge Farm, silly.’ Peter jumped out of the car, and then turned to help Faith clamber out too. ‘We’re staying with Aunt Selly’s friend tonight, remember? We won’t go to the farm until after the old lady’s wedding tomorrow.’
‘Old lady? That’s Mrs Newton to you,’ Selina exclaimed, stifling a horrified laugh. ‘Soon to be Mrs Bailey, of course.’
Jemima got out of the car, staring past Selina. ‘Is that your friend, Aunt Selly? Look, she’s got a baby!’
Selina turned hurriedly to greet her hostess, who was indeed cradling a baby in her arms. ‘Joan!’ she cried, kissing the curvy, dark-haired young woman on the cheek. ‘Goodness, don’t you look marvellous? Such a glow in your cheeks … And is this your little one? Caroline wrote to tell me you’d had your baby in June.’
‘Yes, this is Felix.’ Joan beamed, showing Selina the soft-cheeked young baby she was cuddling. ‘He’s nearly two months old now.’
‘Congratulations!’ Selina stroked the baby’s tiny fist, feeling again that tug of longing to be a mother herself. ‘And how’s Arthur? Has he taken to parenthood or is he still wondering what hit him? All those broken nights …’
‘Oh, we couldn’t be happier,’ Joan assured her, looking tired but ecstatic. ‘Even with having to wake in the night to feed and change him … He’s the most adorable little soul.’
Selina smiled, feeling thrilled for her. ‘I’m sorry we’re so late. Poor William doesn’t know this part of Cornwall very well. I said I’d drive, but he insisted on taking the wheel.’
‘Is that him?’ Joan whispered, looking past her.
Selina turned, smiling. William was indeed coming around the Wolseley, rolling down his crumpled shirtsleeves that had been pushed to his elbows in the summer heat.
‘Yes, this is my fiancé, William MacGregor,’ Selina introduced him shyly. ‘William, this is my good friend Joan, a former Land Girl from Postbridge Farm. We’ve shared many adventures together.’
‘Very good to meet you,’ William said, smiling.
They shook hands. Joan’s eyes were twinkling. ‘Fiancé?’ she repeated. ‘I must be behind the times.’
‘Not at all, we’ve hardly told a soul yet,’ Selina reassured her, and glanced back at the children. ‘In fact,’ she added, lowering her voice, ‘we haven’t even told the children. So if you could keep it under your hat for the time being? I was planning to tell them before this visit, as it’s going to mean some changes. Only, the household has been chaotic as usual, and I’ve barely had time to sit down with them for a proper discussion.’
‘Of course.’ Joan smiled down at Jemima, who was standing a little forlornly on the grassy track. ‘You must be Jemima. Your aunt has told me all about you. I’m Mrs Green, but you can call me Joan.’ She gazed about at the three children. ‘Would you all like to see your rooms?’
As they all headed towards the house that belonged to Joan’s in-laws, Mr and Mrs Green, Selina said quietly, ‘By the way, thank you for agreeing to this. You’re a brick. There was no room at the farm, and I’m trying to keep a tight rein on the budget. So this is a lifesaver.’
‘It’s my mother-in-law who’s the brick, since we’ve no room in our little cottage. I’m only sorry I couldn’t find a bed for your Mr MacGregor as well.’
Selina bit her lip. ‘Oh, William’s staying in a pub outside the village. We thought it best. You know how people gossip.’
Joan laughed. ‘Don’t I just?’ She threw a glance back at William, who was retrieving their suitcases from the back of his car. ‘I say, he’s rather distinguished-looking. You’ve landed on your feet there. Something of a military bearing too?’
‘He served in a local regiment in the war. Came out of it with a commendation. But he doesn’t like to talk about it.’
‘Arthur’s the same. Though you can hardly blame him. Poor lamb, he had a dreadful time of it. But that’s all in the past.’ Joan smiled. ‘Now we have Felix, we’re both looking to the future.’ She paused. ‘By the way, I daresay you’ll discover this tomorrow, but Violet Postbridge is also in the family way.’
‘Again? Sounds as though the farm will be busier than ever soon.’ Selina chuckled. ‘You know, it seems only yesterday we were all scrambling about Postbridge Farm in those horrid mustard breeches, getting mucky and exhausted. Terrible times, I suppose. We were always worried about getting blown to bits or Hitler invading, and eating the most disgusting stuff just to stay alive. Yet it’s strange … When I look back on those days, I only remember the good times, all the laughs we had together.’
‘Me too,’ Joan agreed, smiling softly.
‘Though I was rather catty to everyone, I’m afraid,’ Selina admitted guiltily. ‘I hope you can forgive me.’
‘I don’t remember you ever being catty,’ Joan assured her, with more tact than truth, Selina felt sure.
‘Where is Arthur, by the way?’ Selina hesitated. ‘I was hoping he might have time for a proper chat with Peter while we’re here. The boy likes cars, if that’s any use as a starting place.’ They were nearly at the Greens’ comfortable-looking detached house, which stood in its own grounds with a neatly clipped, low privet hedge leading to the front door. ‘You remember I wrote to you about his expulsion from school?’
‘Yes, and I read your letter out to Arthur, who quite understood.’ There was sympathy in Joan’s kind face. ‘PoorArthur, he’s been staying out of my way today while I’ve been madly baking cakes.’ She glanced at Peter, who was bringing up the rear, his hands in his pockets. ‘I say, Peter … Your aunt tells me you know a thing or two about engines. My husband’s messing about with a sidecar that won’t start.’ She pointed out their little cottage down the lane opposite. ‘I don’t suppose you’d mind giving him a hand?’
Peter’s face brightened. ‘Rather,’ he agreed readily, and hurried off.
Joan and Selina shared a conspiratorial smile.
‘I’ll carry your bags upstairs, shall I?’ William was peering through the open doorway of the house. ‘Then I’ll go and find that pub where I’m staying tonight.’
