– at the moment I’m afraid I’m not looking forward to letters. I’m afraid that I – well, I deceived my husband, and –’
‘Deceive him? You have a lover?’
‘No! Nothing like that!’ Why had she started this conversation?
‘You tell him lies, then?’
‘Not even lies. I’m just not, I suppose, telling him the truth.’
‘There is a difference?’
‘There’s a difference, Marco.’ She had said too much; talked about things that should be private between man and wife, talked about them what was more to one who was an enemy. ‘Five minutes, Grace said. I’d better go. Bring the jug back later, will you?’
‘No, Kat. Wait!’ He took her hand and she didn’t know whether to snatch it away, or leave it. ‘You must tell me why you do not speak the whole truth. If you have sadness it is best you talk about it.’
‘All right, then.’ She took a deep, defiant breath. ‘When I write to my husband it isn’t what I write but what I don’t write. I don’t tell him things because he’d be annoyed with me. I haven’t told him about you, yet. I can’t, because he doesn’t like –’
She pulled in her breath sharply, wincing at her stupidity, closing her eyes tightly as if to block out the words.
‘He does not like Italians and I am Italian, and working here?’
‘Something like that.’
‘And?’ he prompted softly, his eyes on hers.
‘And I can’t tell him that Jonty isn’t in the forces; that a man so young is still a civilian. He thinks all young men should be called up.’
‘Your husband is a strange man, Kat.’
‘No! That isn’t true. It’s just that he feels strongly about things. And I’ve upset him, too, because I joined the Land Army without asking him. He doesn’t like to see women in uniform. Well, you wouldn’t like it either, would you?’
‘If I had a wife and she went to work in the fields for her country, I would be proud of her. Your man spends much time being angry. It is not good.’
‘No,’ she whispered, eyes downcast.
‘It is not good that he makes you sad; not good he does not trust you, though that is to be understood. He is jealous, you see, because his wife is beautiful and he fears other men will admire her.’
‘I’m not beautiful! I’m – oh, we shouldn’t be talking like this!’
‘No, we should not. This morning, you see, I have a letter from home. My mother is much sad. She writes that my cousin Toni is missing. Toni is a soldier, fighting in the desert. My aunt fears he is dead.’
‘Marco, I’m so sorry. Wars are wrong, and cruel!’ And that was a strange thing to come out with, wasn’t it, to one who was her sworn enemy. But what else was there to say – that they should have stayed out of the war, not thrown in their lot with the Germans nor invaded Abyssinia, either. But young men like Toni and Barney and Paul and Marco didn’t start the wars – only fought them. ‘I’m truly sorry,’ she whispered, ‘and especially for your aunt. My worries are nothing compared to hers.’
‘Si. Is called making a big hill from a little hill, yes?’
‘A mountain out of a molehill,’ she said, smiling gently. ‘And you will forget what I told you? It’ll work out. I know it will.’
He watched her walk away; watched her until she was out of sight.
‘If you were my wife, Katarina,’ he said softly, ‘I would treat you good. If you belonged to me –’
He shrugged and refilled his mug. She did not belong to him; she never would. She was a married English woman and he was Italian. They were enemies. It was as simple as that.
Roz whistled loudly and cheerfully.
‘Grace says you’ve had your tea, Kath, so can you give me a hand in the milking parlour? I’ve fed the calves and filled the trough in the foldyard. There’s only the mucking-out to do, then Mat might let us give the men a hand this afternoon. It’s such a lovely day to be outdoors.’
‘Marco could do with some help. He’s there alone. Will Jonty be long away?’
‘No. The smithy’s only half a mile the other side of the village. He’ll be back by dinnertime. Oh, Kath, this day is dragging so.’
‘When are you meeting Paul?’
‘Tomorrow night. God! I’ve missed him. I’m grateful he’s been away from flying, but it hurts like hell when he isn’t near me. Why isn’t it nineteen forty-four?’
‘Is that when the war’s going to end?’
‘Wish I knew. It’s Leap Year I’m talking about. That’s when I’ll propose to Paul, and he won’t be able to refuse me.’
‘Idiot! In nineteen forty-four you’ll be twenty-one, and no one can stop you marrying him. Which date in April is it?’
‘The twenty-fourth. St Mark’s Eve – or so Polly says.’
‘And does that make it special?’
‘Not really. It’s just that on St Mark’s Eve – oh, it’s a long story! I’ll tell you some other time. Let’s get the milking parlour brushed out and then we’ll have done a fair morning’s work for King and Country. Let’s work like mad, Kath, then tomorrow will come sooner. And just think – they’re saying it’ll be a week at least before they can use the runway again.’
‘Wonder why they’ve never thought to take off over the grass,’ Kath reasoned, ever practical, if they really had to, that is.’
‘Couldn’t be done, especially now with the ground so soft and wet. Those Lancasters weigh a lot. Bombed-up and with a full fuel load on they’d get bogged down if they tried it. Oh no, Kath. Paul’s off flying for another week, thank heaven, and if I’m being unpatriotic, then hard luck!’
Whistling, she picked up brush and shovel and Kath watched her go, eyes sad.
She’s so happy. Don’t let her get hurt. Please, God, look after Paul and Barney. And all husbands and sweethearts and sons.
Poor God. His ears must be ringing with prayers.
‘Roz. I think I’ve just done something stupid. It – it’s about Marco.’
‘Oh, yes. And what has Signor So-So been up to, then?’
‘That wasn’t kind, Roz, and he hasn’t done anything. It was me; something I said that I shouldn’t have.’
‘Like Italians go home?’
‘All
