‘Albert, you’re injured,’ she said.
‘Oh, ’tis nothing. Just a scratch. He’s worse off than me,’ he replied nodding his head towards a dead rat lying on the wood shed floor.
Kate was not the squeamish sort but she was glad that it was Albert who had encountered the rat and not her.
‘I don’t think he’ll be causing any more damage,’ Albert said.
* * *
It was one afternoon when the first of the snowdrops came peeping through the cold dark soil to light the winter days that Albert was summoned to the farmhouse by Nora Taylor. As he collected kindling from the woodland floor, to dry out in the barn, the delicate white flowers nodded at him as he passed by. He took a moment to take in their delicate beauty, their sweet heads bowed down against the freezing winds. He looked across the fields to the leaf-bare woodland on the eastern boundary of the Taylor land and thanked God for bringing him here.
‘Ah! There you are, Albert. My sister wishes to see you on a matter of utmost importance,’ Nora explained. ‘I’m not permitted to give the details but, suffice to say, the matter is a delicate one.’
He threw down the bundle of kindling inside the barn and followed Nora to the kitchen door, his heart beating enough to scare the crows. All manner of ideas went through his head. He couldn’t recall having missed any instructions that day. The farm manager had complimented him on the quality of his work, said he never saw a man move so many potato sacks before tea break.
Albert removed his cap and stood on the mat looking down at his boots which carried all the evidence of a day in the muddy yard. He just hoped that the odour of his sweaty shirt didn’t reach the delicate noses of the sisters.
‘Never mind the muddy boots, Albert. The kitchen flags will clean up well enough. Would you like to wash your hands and take some tea with us? There’s Nora’s fruit cake too.’
Albert thanked Florence and cleaned himself up at the deep kitchen sink. She poured him a cup of tea and passed it to him across the scrubbed kitchen table. Albert’s hand shook as he took it and Florence smiled to set him at ease.
‘Now, Albert, Ted Graves tells me what a good worker you are, says you learn quickly and put in more than a day’s work in the time you’re here.’
‘Thank you, Miss Taylor. I’m obliged to him,’ Albert replied taking his cake but leaving it on the plate.
‘No, Albert, we are obliged to you for being such a reliable worker on our farm. Where would we be without you? You will make some lucky young woman a very good husband one day. Is there anyone special, Albert, a sweetheart perhaps?’
‘No one, Miss Taylor. I’ve not long been discharged from the army. I’ve been too busy earning for courting. Besides there’s my . . . er . . . disability,’ Albert said lifting his left hand to his cheekbone.
‘Your injury is a badge of honour that you wear to show you’ve fought for your country and it certainly doesn’t impair your ability to work, Albert. We can all testify to that,’ Florence said. ‘Now, do eat your cake, Albert, please or there’ll not be time for a second slice before you need to get back to work.’
Albert nodded. The cake was very nice but rather stuck in his throat, for Miss Taylor had not yet told him of the purpose of this exchange. He knew it couldn’t be purely to commend him for hishard work. They asked politely after his parents and how he was adjusting to being back home.
He realized that the two women were staring and smiling at him with fixed expressions. What did they want of him? What could it be?
‘I expect you’re wondering why we’ve asked you here to take tea with us,’ Florence finally said.
‘Yes . . . yes, I was,’ Albert fumbled.
‘Albert, no doubt you have spoken to Kate, our young helper who has returned to the village after some time away. She’s a very pretty girl from a good family but has fallen upon difficult times and needs a friend. I won’t go into any details. It is for her to explain things to you, when she’s ready,’ Florence announced.
‘Ah . . . yes, Kate and I have met and talked a bit. She has two sisters and a brother, I believe, likes to read and sew and such like, when she has time. Used to be in service, she tells me. People talk, I know, and I don’t usually listen to tittle-tattle, but there’s a child, I believe.’
‘The child’s father was killed in battle,’ Florence said. ‘It’s hard for women during a war, Albert. Hard for the soldiers too, I’m sure. You would know all about that.’
‘She’s a very hard worker, like yourself, Albert,’ Nora interrupted.
Florence gave her sister a firm stare.
‘Do you like her, Albert?’ Florence asked.
‘Yes, I do, she seems a kind person,’ Albert replied.
‘And you have no sweetheart at all?’ Florence probed.
‘No, Miss Taylor,’ Albert said fumbling with his cap on his knee.
‘Good. Well, we were wondering if you would consider inviting her to walk out with you? She’s such a lovely girl and she needs a friend. You do seem to get along quite well,’ Florence said.
