‘That’s settled, then! Mind if I use your phone – tell the warden at the hostel that Miss Nightingale can come?’
‘Be my guest. You know where it is.’
She knew when she was beaten, and even as she heard Nance Ellery ask for the Meltonby number, Lorna found herself wondering if her new lodger’s name would be Florence. Just to think of it made her want to giggle hysterically.
The land girl was not in the least bit Florence Nightingal-ish. She was, in spite of the pale blue shirt and overalls she wore, strikingly beautiful.
‘Is this Ladybower House, and are you Mrs Hathaway?’
‘Hatherwood.’ Lorna held out a hand. ‘And your name isn’t Florence – is it?’
‘Nah! Though a lot of people call me Flo! Actually, me Nan wanted me to be called Ariadne. “They’ll never shorten that to Flo,” she said. But me Mam hit the roof and said I’d have trouble for the rest of me life with a name like Ariadne and said it was to be Agnes, after me auntie. So if you don’t mind it’s either Ness or Flo.’
‘Will Ness do?’ Lorna smiled.
‘Smashin’. Now, mind if I leave these cases? There’s a couple more I’ll have to go back for. You’d be surprised how much kit they give you.’
‘It’s a long way. Surely you didn’t walk?’
‘Nah! They gave me a bike. It’s at your front gate. Won’t be long.’
‘I’ll be making tea at three-thirty, Ness. That should give you enough time, there and back.’
Ness Nightingale. Lorna stood at the gate and watched her go. Hair black as the night, eyes dark and mischievous, and the loveliest smile you ever did see. Maybe it would turn out all right. Maybe she and Miss Nightingale – Ness – would be able to get along fine, given time of course, and a bit of give and take. After all, there was a war on and, if Nance Ellery was to be believed, it wouldn’t be long before everyone, civilians included, would know about it. Granted, Nun Ainsty was a tucked-away little place, but the war was only at the top of the lane, the whistling soldiers were proof of it! So best she count her blessings, take in the land girl, dig like mad in the garden for Victory and write every day to William, Somewhere in Wiltshire. That, and keeping cheerful as the government wanted everyone to do in times such as these, would be sufficient to be going on with.
‘Right, then! Airing cupboard!’
There was the spare room bed to be made up and towels put out, and the wardrobe and drawers checked for dust and clean lining paper laid in them. She would do all she could to make her lodger comfortable, even though she wasn’t at all sure she wanted another woman in her house so soon after William had gone.
But she couldn’t be sure of anything just now. Strange, that only this morning William had sat at the kitchen table, eating his breakfast in the most normal way, yet now they were miles apart, and she had a lodger.
‘Oh, damn Hitler and damn the war!’
Lorna heaved the mattress over, letting it fall with a thud and a bounce, feeling better for doing something physical. Then she gave all her attention to Ness Nightingale and her black, shining hair and thought how very unfair life could be at times.
‘Would you like to see the village?’ Lorna asked when supper had been eaten. ‘I could show you who lives where. It won’t take long, and it’s such a lovely night and – and …’
And she felt so restless, truth known, and almost certainly the cause of it was the woman who had taken over her spare room, eaten supper in her kitchen and was now saying that yes of course she would like to see the village and would it be all right for them to walk as far as Glebe Farm – just so she would know how long it would take her to get there in the morning?
‘I’m to start at seven. Better not be late on my first day, had I?’
‘You won’t be late, Miss Nightingale. It’s only a cock’s stride away. I’ll show you. Leave the dishes. I’ll do them later.’
‘We’ll do them later. And could you call me Ness? Miss Nightingale’s a bit formal, innit? You do want me here? It wasn’t my fault the hostel was full.’
‘Miss – Ness – I do want you here. It’s just that this morning I had a husband at home, and tonight I’ve got a land girl, and it’ll take me a little time to get things sorted in my head. And I think you had better call me Lorna – if it’s all right with you?’ she whispered uneasily.
‘Mm. Better’n Mrs Hatherwood – especially as you’re younger than me.’
‘Am I?’ Lorna was unused to such directness. ‘I – I’m twenty-three.’
‘I’m twenty-five – just. And I promise to try not to be too much of a nuisance. And you mightn’t have to put up with me for too long. I’m sure they’ll take me into the hostel as soon as there’s a place.’
‘Would you prefer that – being with a crowd of girls?’
‘Nah. Being here’s going to be better than that old hostel. Me bedroom’s lovely and it’s smashin’ being able to look out and see nothin’ but trees.’
‘That’s Dickon’s Wood.’
‘Oh, ar. And who’s Dickon when he’s at home?’
‘Tell you later. This village has quite a history, you know.’
‘An’ it’s got a funny name, an’ all – funny-peculiar, I mean.’
‘Nun Ainsty? We mostly call it Ainsty. But I’ll tell you how it got its name as we do our tour of inspection. It won’t take long, that’s for sure. There are only ten houses – eleven if you count the manor. But the manor’s been empty for years and years. So, if you’re ready …?’
They walked around the village, past Dickon’s Wood and the White Hart public house and the Saddlery. And Throstle Cottage.
‘Throstle?’ Ness wrinkled her nose.
‘It’s the old name for a song thrush. There are a lot of them in the wood. They’ll probably wake you early with their singing.’
‘Don’t think I’ve ever seen a thrush – not even in the park. Sparrows, mostly, and pigeons down at the Pierhead.’
‘Pierhead? I thought you were from Liverpool.’
‘S’right. Good old Liverpewl. I love it to bits, but I couldn’t wait to get out of the dump. There’s a big munitions factory being built outside Liverpewl and people reckon there’ll be work for thousands, when it’s done. But I decided on the Land Army. Always wondered what life was like in the country.’
‘And you’ll soon know. You’ll be living in the country for the duration.’
‘I
