you manage to meet him so often without her knowing?’
‘I tell a lot of lies, I’m afraid. I have to, Kath. I know what she’d say, you see. She’d stop me seeing him.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure. I know her better than you do. When you bring up someone else’s child, you’re just that bit extra careful. Gran’s always been like that, where I’m concerned. She’s been mother and father and guardian angel to me. She won’t ever change.’
‘Try her?’ Kath urged. ‘Just try her?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Promise?’
‘I said I would, Kath. Were you very frightened when the bombs dropped?’
‘Scared witless, for a couple of minutes.’ Okay, Roz. Change the subject, if that’s the way you want it. But it isn’t going to go away. ‘It’s times like that I wish I’d been born a man.’
‘Why, for heaven’s sake? Men can be afraid, too; they just can’t show it, that’s all,’ Roz countered hotly.
‘I know, love; I know.’ My, but she’d been jumpy today. Missing Paul, of course. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I know men get afraid. I shouldn’t have said what I did.’
‘And I shouldn’t have been so snappy, but it’s awful, sometimes. Gran, I mean. She really would like me to marry someone who’d be good for Ridings and right now Jonty fits the bill, poor love. I wish she wouldn’t go on about it.’
‘She’s only thinking about you, Roz. She’s brought you up and you can’t blame her for wanting to see you happily married. I wish I’d had someone like her, when I was growing up.
‘And that’s something else, you know. Does your grandmother know about me – really know, I mean? Does she know I was an unwanted child; that I grew up on charity, in an orphanage? Would I have been so welcome, if she’d known?’
‘What do you mean, if she’d known? She does know. I told her ages ago. I know she can be a bit funny sometimes, but your being brought up in an orphanage wouldn’t worry her at all. She’d say it wasn’t how you started out, but what you’d made of yourself that mattered.
‘But you’ve got a real chip on your shoulder about that place, haven’t you, Kath? You’d think orphanages were dens of iniquity, or something. What you’re really so miffed about is your mother having left you. That’s really your bête noire, isn’t it?’
‘My what?’
‘Your black beast, pet hate – your bugbear; just like Gran and her Germans.’
‘I suppose it is. And it wasn’t all that bad at the orphanage. It was just that I didn’t really belong to anybody.’
‘Well, you do now. You belong to Barney and to everyone at Home Farm and to me and Gran – right?’
‘Right.’ Kath smiled. ‘Sorry if I got a bit hot round the collar. I meant well and I’m still not going to take back one word about your telling your Gran. Just think about it, will you? She’s a lovely person; she might understand more than you think.’
‘I know. You could be right.’ Roz pushed open the gates then placed a kiss on Kath’s cheek. ‘It’s good to have someone to talk to and I’ll think about what you’ve said. Goodnight, Kath. Go carefully.’
Roz wouldn’t think about it, Kath brooded as she rode along Peddlesbury Lane. She’d go on meeting Paul and telling lies about it, nothing would change; except if anything were to happen, that was. And if it did, when it did, how was she to tell her grandmother, then?
‘Oh, you silly, muddle-headed girl, why do I worry so about you?’ she demanded of the darkness around her. ‘Just why, will you tell me?’
Alderby St Mary buzzed with bomb-talk. It ranged from the total destruction of RAF Peddlesbury, to ‘a lot of fuss about nothing; only one Jerry plane and all three bombs missed!’
Polly Appleby alone was in possession of the facts for she had got them from Home Farm’s landgirl when she left the milk. Peddlesbury had been hit; two bombs on the runway but, apart from a lot of broken window panes, no one hurt. And Kath should know, since Peacock Hey was nearer to the aerodrome than Alderby.
Polly said as much to Hester Fairchild. ‘Could have been a whole lot worse,’ she said, fastening her pinafore. ‘Kath knows all about bombing, poor lass; thought she’d be safe in the country, I shouldn’t wonder. But it only goes to show that nobody’s safe these days from them dratted bombers.’
‘It was only a hit-and-run,’ Hester observed mildly, ‘and this time no one was hurt. We should be thankful for small mercies. Did you know that Kathleen came to tea yesterday? A nice girl. She’ll be good for Roz. Roz needs more young company than she’s getting.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Polly frowned, filling the kettle, setting it to boil. Roz was getting more company than her grandmother supposed. Polly had thought a lot about what Arnie told her, first deciding that it was nothing at all to do with anyone, then wavering, because Roz had been gently reared and happen it would do no harm if someone were to have a word with the lass. Just a gentle reminder about – things.
At that point she had shut out such thoughts at once. Even though it was a known fact that blood ran hotter in times of war, it wasn’t for Polly Appleby to sit in judgement on anybody’s morals. And who was to say that young Roz’s morals were in need of judging? She was surprised, therefore, to hear herself say, ‘The lass doesn’t do so badly for young company.’ She bit hard on her tongue. ‘Well, she goes to the dances with the rest of the village and –’
Her cheeks were burning, she knew it. Mrs Fairchild was looking at her in that way, and if she wasn’t careful the cat would be out of the bag.
‘And, Poll?’
‘And nowt, ma’am,’ came the too-sharp, too-ready reply.
‘What do you know that I don’t – that you think I don’t know?’
Polly turned, arms folded defensively across her middle. She had said too much.
‘Gossip,’ she said truculently. ‘Nowt but gossip, ma’am.’
‘About whom?’
‘I don’t like, ma’am. You know me. I don’t tittle-tattle about what’s none of my business.’
‘Poll, something’s troubling you and I know it’s nothing to do with Arnie.’
‘No. Not Arnie.’ Drat the woman and her probing.
‘Then let’s sit down and drink our tea and have a talk about it.’
‘There’s nowt worth the telling.’
‘Oh, but there is! You and I have known each other a long time and you only call me ma’am when you’re cross or worried. Will you pour, Poll?’
Sighing
