be living in Battersea. We’re going to Clapham. From what Mabel told me, it’s a nice house. She lives upstairs, and we’ll be downstairs. You’ll love it there, and it’s close to the Common with a nice school too.’
‘I … I’d rather stay here.’
‘I know you would, but it’s time you went to a proper school and mixed with girls of your own age again.’
‘I could go to the one in the village,’ Ellen suggested in a desperate attempt to change her mother’s mind.
‘You know it’s too far away. Now come on, buck up. We’ve a train to catch and a long walk ahead of us to the village. To start with, grab that carving your dad made for you from the windowsill.’
Ellen did as she was told, but as she picked up the cat and looked down onto the smallholding, she frowned. ‘Mum, what’s wrong with Gertie?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look,’ she urged.
‘Oh Gawd,’ her mother said when she saw Gertie on her knees, the dog frantically scrambling all over her and trying to lick her face. ‘Stay here and take over the packing.’
Ellen didn’t do as she was told, but remained at the window, watching as her mum rushed outside. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but moments later Gertie was on her feet, reaching out to drag her mum into her arms.
Hilda had been worried about Gertie, but was now more worried about herself as she fought the vice-like embrace.
‘Gertie, leave off. I know you’re upset, but let me go.’
‘Don’t leave me, Hilda. Please don’t go.’
‘Stop it!’ she yelled, writhing with panic as Gertie’s lips sought hers. With her arms clamped, Hilda did the only thing possible and stamped hard on Gertie’s foot. ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare kiss me!’
At last she was free, sickened by what had happened as she stared at Gertie in disgust. ‘And you wonder why I’m leaving!’
‘Hilda, please, I’m sorry, it … it’s just that you haven’t objected when I’ve touched you, and … and I was beginning to think …’
‘Well, you thought wrong! I took it as just friendly affection, a sort of sisterly affection, so of course I didn’t object.’
‘Oh, Hilda, what I feel for you is more than that. I … I love you … I’ve always loved you and can’t bear the thought of losing you.’
Hilda stood rigidly in shock and indignation. ‘Losing me! You never blinking well had me. I’m a married woman – married to a man! I don’t fancy women and you know that!’
‘Of course I know and I was stupid, mad, to hope. Honestly, it was just a moment of madness, that’s all. If you stay I promise it’ll never happen again.’
‘Too bloody right it won’t. The sooner I get out of here the better.’
Gertie seemed to deflate before Hilda’s eyes, her tone desolate when she spoke. ‘All right, I understand, but don’t leave like this. Can’t we at least part as friends?’
Ellen came running out of the back door, white-faced and calling, ‘Mum, what’s wrong? Why are you fighting? Why did you stamp on Gertie’s foot?’
Hilda drew in a deep breath, fighting for composure. ‘We’re not fighting. It’s just a bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all.’
Ellen didn’t look convinced, but then Gertie knelt down and beckoned her over. ‘It was my fault, Ellen. I wasn’t very nice, so no wonder your mother stamped on my foot.’
‘Does it hurt?’
Gertie’s laugh sounded forced as she said ruefully, ‘Yes, a bit, but I forgive her and I hope she forgives me. Don’t worry, we’re friends again now. Isn’t that right, Hilda?’
Hilda paused before answering, yet saw the concern in her daughter’s eyes and knew she’d have to go along with it. ‘Yes, but come on, Ellen, we’ve still got packing to do.’
‘What about Socks? We can’t leave Socks.’
‘Sod it, I forgot about the cat. With our luggage, I don’t know how we’re going to manage him too.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Gertie. ‘I’ve got a basket somewhere and he’ll be fine in that. You won’t have to walk. I’ll take you to the station.’
Hilda knew that Ellen would kick up a fuss if they left without the cat so it wasn’t practical to refuse the offer. Her thanks were begrudging as she urged Ellen inside and she dreaded the long ride to town. At least Ellen would be with them so they wouldn’t be alone, but if Gertie laid another finger on her, bigger in stature or not, she’d flatten the unnatural cow.
With a spurt of energy, Hilda threw their things into the cases. She had used every excuse in her mind to return to London: the need for her own home, to find some sort of work that would help the war effort, along with Ellen’s education. Mabel said it was safe, so she’d chosen to ignore Gertie’s warnings of more air raids. Now, after what had just happened, she no longer had to find excuses to leave – her conscience was at last clear.
Gertie reluctantly harnessed the horse, her emotions in turmoil as they set off. Hilda wouldn’t look her in the eye, her expression implacable as they left the smallholding. She cursed her own lack of control. If she’d kept her hands to herself, maybe Hilda wouldn’t be so intent on leaving, yet, even as this thought crossed her mind, Gertie knew that it wouldn’t have made any difference. Hilda hated it in Somerset, and though living with her for well over two years, she’d never adapted to country life.
Sadly, Gertie glanced at Ellen and saw she was close to tears. Ellen had come to Somerset a pale, stammering, nervous wreck, but now she had blossomed, glowed with health and had been a pleasure to teach.
‘Ellen, did you pack your books?’
‘I wanted to, but Mum said they’d make my case too heavy. Will … will you look after them for me?’
‘I’ll do my best, but as I too might be leaving, perhaps I should parcel up our favourites and post them to you.’
Hilda’s head shot around. ‘Leaving! What do you mean? I hope you’re not going to follow me back to London.’
‘No, Hilda, but I feel it’s time for me to wake up, join the world again. I’m thinking about enlisting in one of the armed forces.’
‘Yeah, well, the uniform would suit you,’ Hilda said derisively. ‘Mind you, I’m not sure that as a woman, you’d be allowed to wear trousers.’
‘Hilda, don’t be like this. I’d kept away from you for years, and you seem to be forgetting that it was you who asked to stay with me. I wasn’t sure how I’d cope, but knowing you were in danger, how could I refuse?’
‘I
