and young men who didn’t join up …’
‘Like Jonty?’
‘Yes. I haven’t told Barney about Jonty, you see, and if I told him about Marco, Lord knows what would happen. And as for telling him about what happened on threshing day – well –’
‘You’re afraid of him, aren’t you; you’re scared to tell him in case he gets upset, and nothing must upset Barney, must it? Queen Victoria’s been gone a long time, y’know. You should stand up to him.’
‘Roz, no! You’ve got it all wrong. Barney is good and kind – it’s just that he has strong views about certain things.’ She laid aside her brush and took a cigarette packet from the pocket of her dungarees. ‘Oh, let’s have a smoke! Go on, I can spare it. The WVS ladies came to the hostel last night and they let me have ten. No, it’s just that I want him to be proud of me for joining up, that’s all. I wanted to be a landgirl so much.’ Sighing, she struck a match.
‘And so he should be proud of you. But your trouble, Kath Allen, is that you think you owe Barney something for marrying you – but you don’t need me to tell you that, do you? And d’you know what I think you should do? I think you should take a long, smug look in a mirror, then tell that Barney of yours to grow up.’
‘Roz!’ Oh my goodness, hadn’t Marco said much the same thing?
‘I mean it, Kath. You could have married any man you wanted but you settled for someone like Barney. When are you going to accept that what happened when you were a baby wasn’t any of your fault? And that’s something else. You said you’d go to the Friday-night dances at Peddlesbury, and you haven’t been. Wouldn’t Barney like that, either?’
‘I honestly don’t know. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I feel it isn’t right for a married woman to go to dances without her husband; not right for me, that is. Yet there are married girls at the hostel who go and nobody bothers about it.’
‘So why don’t you come on Friday and meet Paul? You’d enjoy yourself, and a good night out with the girls might stop you feeling so guilty about nothing, or maybe,’ she grinned, ‘with a bit of luck it just might give you something to feel guilty about.’
‘You’re wicked, Roz Fairchild, and I’ll go to that dance, just to show you!’
‘Great. You’ll have a smashing time. The band’s really good and there’s loads of partners.’
‘You’ve persuaded me. I do like dancing and I miss not going. And as long as I’m wearing my wedding ring, I suppose it’ll –’
‘Oh, wear the thing through your nose if it’ll make you feel any happier, but come! Promise you will?’
‘Promise.’
‘And you don’t have to tell Barney, you know.’
‘The way he’s acting now,’ Kath tilted her chin defiantly, ‘I don’t think I will.’
‘Great! A bit of sense at last! But let’s get on with it. Leaning on shovels isn’t going to get this war won.’
Kath did not reply. She was thinking about the dance, wishing she’d thought to bring just one nice dress with her, and her dancing shoes. She could, of course, send stamps to Aunt Min and ask her to post them, but Aunt Min might want to know why she needed her gold slippers, and that would never do.
‘I think,’ she murmured, ‘that when I’m due for some time off, I’ll look out a few civvy clothes to bring back with me.’
Sneakily, of course. So Aunt Min wouldn’t know.
They were walking through the orchard when Kath saw the little white flower. It stood small and frail beneath the holly hedge.
‘Roz! A snowdrop. Isn’t it beautiful?’
‘It is, and a sure sign that winter’s on the way out. Think I’ll take it in for Gran – cheer her up.’ She bent to pick it carefully. ‘She’s been a bit quiet these last few days. I’ll put it in an egg cup in the kitchen window. Come in and say hullo. She’d like that.’
‘It was good of Mr Ramsden to let us help the men this afternoon, wasn’t it?’ Kath kicked off her boots at Ridings’ back door.
‘It was. He’s a lovely man.’
‘An older edition of Jonty, I suppose. They say,’ Kath murmured obliquely, ‘that when a man chooses a wife he should take a long, hard look at her mother, because that’s how his bride might look in about twenty-five years.’
‘Ah, but I don’t intend marrying Jonty, so it doesn’t apply, does it?’ Roz filled a blue and white egg cup with water. ‘And where is everybody? We could make off with the sugar ration and they’d be none the wiser. Still, can’t wait.’ She placed the little flower on the window sill. ‘Polly’ll think the little people have left it.’
Polly Appleby thought no such thing. They were only half way across Ridings’ cobbled yard when a cry of rage made them turn to see a blue and white egg cup being deposited on the doorstep.
‘Who was it, then?’ Polly pointed to the flower. ‘Who brought that thing into the house?’
‘But, Poll, it’s only a little snowdrop.’ Roz laughed.
‘Aye. One snowdrop. I thought you’d have had more sense, Roz Fairchild. Asking for trouble, that’s what. And the times I’ve told you!’
‘It was a surprise,’ Kath insisted, wondering at Polly’s dismay. ‘To cheer up Mrs Fairchild.’
‘Cheer her up? She can do with cheering up when you invite death into the house!’
‘Oh Lord, I’d forgotten,’ Roz whispered. ‘I really had, Poll. I’m sorry, I truly am.’
‘And so you ought to be.’
‘I’ll go and find another. Two would make it all right, wouldn’t it?’
‘Find as many as you will. The damage is done now, you foolish girl. Oh, be off with you. I’ll get rid of it. And next time just think on, will you? Your gran has enough to worry over without you adding to it.’
Indignantly Polly slammed the door; white-faced, Roz whispered, ‘How could I have been so stupid?’
‘But what did we do?’ Kath demanded. ‘A little flower; a pretty little flower and Polly gets herself all het up.’
‘A snowdrop – one snowdrop on its own – is bad luck brought into the house. Poll even goes so far as to say it’s a death sign, but she’s so superstitious you wouldn’t believe it.’
‘Well, I don’t believe it,’ Kath countered hotly. ‘I never heard of such a thing. One tiny flower, that’s all it was.’
‘I know. One. You can bring in two snowdrops, you can bring in a bunch, but one – never. I should have remembered.’
‘I’m surprised at you, I really am,’ Kath chided. ‘Of course a flower can’t
