Her mother was waiting for her at the school gates, a battered leather suitcase in her hand. She gave Rusty an awkward wave.
Rusty stood on the pavement holding her grip.
‘We’re staying at Exeter tonight with one of the W.V.S. ladies,’ said Peggy. ‘There’s a train in half an hour. Let’s hope we don’t have to wait too long for a bus.’
They crossed over the road and stood by the bus-stop.
‘Did you come straight from Devon?’ asked Rusty quietly.
‘No, I went back to Guildford after the funeral.’
‘Does Charlie know about...?’ She stopped.
Peggy nodded. ‘I had to tell him in stages.’
‘What did he say?’
Peggy remembered only too clearly. ‘Has she gone away like Uncle Harvey?’ he had asked. Peggy had attempted to explain, but how could she tell him that Beatie could never come back, whereas Uncle Harvey still could but that he wouldn’t.
Peggy had believed that once Harvey had gone, she would be able to shut him out of her mind and pick up the strands of her marriage. She should have realized that Charlie would always remind her of him. Perhaps if she had allowed Harvey to write to them, it would have made it easier for Charlie. And for her.
‘I guess he took it badly,’ said Rusty.
Peggy nodded again.
After five minutes a double-decker came crawling over the hill. They hopped on to it and sat in the long seats near the door.
‘Does the train go all the way to Exeter?’ asked Rusty.
‘No. We have to change at another station first. Then tomorrow we’ll catch the Plymouth train from there to Totnes.’
Rusty nearly fell off the seat. Plymouth!
Later, when they had squeezed into a seat in one of the crowded compartments of the train, her mother commented on her appearance. ‘Are you eating properly?’ she asked.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘You’ve probably grown a little. I expect that’s what it is.’
Rusty wanted to ask her mother about Beatie.
‘So we’re staying with the W.V.S.?’ she asked instead.
‘With one of their helpers. Yes.’
‘Don’t you miss helping them out?’
‘Yes. I’ve been thinking about contacting the local headquarters, but Charlie is still so unsettled, I don’t think it would be fair to him. And also, your father will be home soon.’ She smiled bleakly. ‘Then we’ll be a proper family again.’
Rusty attempted to smile back, but the sadness in her mother’s eyes made it impossible.
When it was time for them to change trains, they pushed their way through the crowded corridor and stepped on to the platform.
‘We have a bit of time before the Exeter train,’ said Peggy. ‘Do you fancy tea and buns?’
To Rusty’s surprise, the currant buns were wonderful. When the taste of the tea was too awful, Rusty just drowned it in another bite of bun.
After they had finished eating, Rusty couldn’t remain silent about Beatie any longer. ‘Mother,’ she blurted out, ‘I think Beatie knew she was going to die. Don’t you?’
Her mother paled. ‘Yes. She’d known for some time.’
‘So why do you think she kept telling everyone it was indigestion?’
‘Because she didn’t want us tiptoeing around her and fussing. You know how much she loved excitement and noise.’
Rusty nodded. ‘Are we...’ She hesitated. ‘Are we going to be staying at her house?’
‘I’m not too certain we can now. I’m sure no one will raise any objections to us staying at least the one night.’
‘Does that mean we’ll be going back to Grandmother’s on Sunday?’
‘I think we’d better leave that decision till we get there.’ Her mother looked intently at her for a moment. ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘you were hoping to see Beth.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Have you still not made any friends?’
There was Lance, but she couldn’t mention him. ‘Not yet. They hate my accent.’
‘Perhaps if you made an effort to lose it, they’d be more friendly.’
‘But I’d still be the same person, so what’s the difference?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, Beth’s mother has very kindly invited us round to their house for supper tomorrow.’
‘Oh boy!’
‘But before that, we have to go to Totnes,’ said her mother, looking sad again. ‘Beatie arranged to have the reading of the will there.’
‘Were you with her when she died?’
Peggy nodded and took out a crumpled cigarette packet. Rusty noticed her fingers were shaking as she lit a match. She had hardly inhaled her cigarette when a voice from the loudspeaker announced the Exeter train. Her mother hurriedly stubbed out the cigarette and automatically put it back into the packet.
It was a slow journey to Exeter. The train seemed to stop at every tiny station. Rusty leaned back and drifted into a headachy sort of sleep, but was jolted violently out of it every time the train screeched into a station. She could hardly see out, for the dust on the windows was so thick that it created a filter over the glass.
‘Don’t they ever clean these trains?’ she commented. ‘Looks like it hasn’t had a good cleaning in years.’
‘That’s probably because it hasn’t,’ snapped her mother.
Boy, thought Rusty, I knew it was too good to last. She felt hurt by her mother’s sudden irritation. ‘I guess,’ she said smugly, ‘I’m used to a higher standard of cleanliness.’
Her mother, aware of the other people in the compartment, was acutely embarrassed.
‘I’d like to remind you that there’s been a war on.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me,’ said Rusty grumpily.
‘And keeping trains clean,’ continued her mother, ‘was not considered as important as building aeroplanes, working in munitions, and repairing bombed docks.’
‘But that’s all over now,’ Rusty protested.
‘There are still,’ her mother emphasized, ‘more important jobs than spring cleaning. Just be grateful that there are trains running at all.’
At that, her mother sank wearily back into her seat and closed her eyes. How she had longed for the war to be over, and how she, like her daughter, would love to return to no rationing, plenty of food and clothing, and pretty surroundings. The constant grime and drabness got her down, too, and what with her mother-in-law’s continual carping, Charlie’s distress, a complaining daughter, and now Beatie’s death, she felt as shocked and uprooted as she had four years ago, when she had first evacuated herself to Devon to have Charlie. She realized now that her daughter must be feeling the same, and she felt guilty for snapping at her. She opened her eyes. Rusty was staring sulkily out of the window.
‘I’m sorry if I sounded a little harsh,’ she said. ‘I’m just tired.’
‘Yeah,’ answered Rusty. ‘I guess I’m a little pooped, too.’
At Exeter Station a young woman was waiting to greet them on the platform. ‘Good Lord,’ she said. ‘You both look done in!’
They smiled gratefully as she snatched the suitcase and grip from them. ‘There’s a nice hot meal waiting for you. Come on.’
The following morning Rusty was shaken awake by her mother. As she drew aside the curtains, sunlight poured into the room.
‘It’s a beautiful day,’ Peggy commented. Not the sort of day, she thought, for hearing a will read out. She turned. ‘Come on, sleepy-head. We’ve another train to catch.’
Rusty watched her leave the room. She pushed herself up slowly to a sitting position. She knew that if she didn’t, she could easily fall asleep again. She crawled out of bed and shuffled over to the window. In the distance she could see a beautiful old cathedral with its windows smashed in.
She rubbed her eyes vigorously with her fingers. They would be catching the Plymouth train that morning. It was vital that she remain alert so that when she ran away she’d know what to do.
The train she and her mother caught was a local one. Her mother was right about the weather. In spite of its being November, the sun seemed to light up everything. Rusty gazed intently out of the window. In the distance she could see pink-sided cliffs. On the other side green hills sloped upward to a clear sky.
‘Virginia,’ said her mother, ‘look.’
Rusty turned to her mother’s window. ‘Oh,’ she murmured.
Beside the railway lines was a long stretch of water where several small boats lay anchored. On the other side of the water, houses stood higgledy-piggledy on a hill. The water was so still, it was like a pale-blue mirror. Seabirds sat motionless on the surface.
‘Do you remember this?’
Rusty nodded. ‘But it seems prettier now,’ she said. ‘We’ll be coming out to the sea soon, won’t we?’
‘That’s right.’
They dipped into a tunnel in the cliffs, came out briefly, caught a glimpse of the sea, dipped into another, out, in, and then the train remained out in the open. It was breath-taking to be able to lean out of the window and look out at a great expanse of sea and sky, and the cliffs stretching like craggy fingers into the water.
‘I’m afraid it’s all land from now on,’ said her mother.
When the train drew in at Totnes, Mrs Hatherley was waiting for them on the platform.
‘I’m sorry Ivy couldn’t be ‘ere to meet youse,’ she said, as they walked out of the station. ‘I ‘ad a message from her early this morning. She’s feeling a bit on the rough side.’ She paused. ‘Actually, she’s asked me to tell you her good news.’
‘Has she managed to get an early posting to America?’
‘Oh no. She’s still gotta wait a bit yet. No. She’s going to ‘ave a baby.’
‘Oh,’ cried Peggy. ‘That’s wonderful! Oh, I’m so pleased for her.’
They began walking.
‘Where’s Beth?’ asked Rusty suddenly.
‘She’s up at the school farm, helpin’ out.’
‘Does she have to go to school Saturdays?’
‘No, but you try and keep her away, my love. Once term starts, I hardly see any of’em, what with rehearsals for this, and choir practices for that, and making scenery, and then there’s Pets’ Corner and the farm, and country dancing, and helping out and, you see,’ she added, ‘some of their friends are boarders.’ Mrs Hatherley could see that Rusty was disappointed. ‘You’ll see her this evening, though.’
Beatie had arranged for the will to be read in the sitting room of a friend’s flat, above one of the shops in the main street. At the back of the room on a low table were a dozen assorted glasses and several bottles of sherry.
‘Where on earth…?’ began Peggy, astounded.
‘Beatie’s secret supply,’ explained Mrs Hatherley.
At the end of the table stood a bottle of Coca-Cola. A small label was hanging round its neck. It read, FOR RUSTY.
Aside from Mrs Hatherley, the doctor and a couple of other people, it was almost like a W.V.S. reunion. As soon as Peggy entered the room, there were wild whoops of joy. ‘I suppose this isn’t quite the way to behave at the reading of a will,’ commented one of the women.
‘I don’t know,’ said Peggy wryly. ‘I rather think Beatie planned it this way.’
The lawyer – a gaunt, elderly man with thinning white hair – had to clear his throat several times before anyone paid any attention to him. Eventually, everyone sat down on the sofa, in the armchairs or on cushions on the floor. The lawyer stood awkwardly by the mantelpiece. Behind him a log fire burned in the grate.
‘This will, I must inform you,’ he began, ‘is rather unorthodox.’ He looked down at the papers in his hand. ‘Dear everyone,’ he read. ‘First of all, please have a good time. I didn’t save all this good sherry so that you could blub over me.’
He cleared his throat again and then proceeded to read out what had been left to whom.
Mrs Hatherley had the chickens. Someone else had the Singer sewing-machine; Ivy, a set of suitcases and trunks; the doctor, the decanters; someone else, the table and chairs and beds; Charlie, some picture books and other books for when he was older, and so on. Then to Rusty’s surprise she heard her name being called out.
‘That’s me!’ she exclaimed.
The lawyer frowned and cleared his throat again.
‘To Rusty Dickinson,’ he read, ‘I leave my husband’s carpentry tools. These include a handsaw, a tenon saw, a hammer, plane, three chisels, file, screwdriver, mallet square, gimlets, vice, brace and bits, cramp, nail punch
Rusty gazed open-mouthed at him as he continued reading the list.
‘Are you sure?’ she said when he had finished reading.
The man frowned again. ‘Quite sure.’
‘But,’ stammered her mother, ‘perhaps she meant them for Charlie.’
‘No, madam,’ said the man firmly. ‘She meant them for a girl called Rusty.’
‘I see.’ She glanced aside. Rusty’s face was flushed with excitement. How on earth could a daughter of hers look so ecstatic at being left carpentry tools? Really, it was too awful of Beatie.
‘And finally’ – and the lawyer looked visibly relieved that it would soon be all over – ‘I leave my dilapidated house to Mrs Peggy Dickinson.’
There was an astounded silence.
‘Mother!’ whispered Rusty.
‘Are you sure?’ stammered Peggy.
The man raised his eyes. ‘Quite sure.’
Suddenly someone said, ‘Well, Peggy, you joily well deserve it.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ added one of the women wryly. ‘Have you seen the roof?’
‘I haven’t quite finished yet,’ said the lawyer loudly. ‘With the ownership of this house, there are certain conditions. One: That the owner cannot sell the house until seventeen years have passed. Two: After seventeen years, if Mrs Dickinson then wishes to sell, she must only sell it to a woman. And three: If she dies before the seventeen years are up, the property must be passed on to a younger female of her own choosing.’ He lowered his sheaf of papers and looked at her.
‘I can’t quite take it in,’ she said. ‘I…’ She shook her head. How could she explain? The Bomb was the first thing she had ever owned. As a young woman she had never been allowed to work, and she had lived under her parents’ roof until she married. When her parents died, their house was sold to pay off debts, and the house in Guildford was solely in her husband’s name. And now she owned her own house! She just couldn’t believe it. And to own one with such wonderful memories in it...
Just then a voice came thundering from the back of the room.
‘What about this sherry then?’ It was the doctor.
Whereupon everyone started talking and moving towards the table.
‘I’d like to walk back,’ said Peggy, when it was all over and they were standing in the main street.
‘It’s a long walk,’ said Mrs Hatherley. ‘Are you sure I can’t give you a lift somewhere first? I’ll take your suitcase, anyway.’
‘Perhaps just up to the entrance of the Estate.’
‘Is that where Beth’s school is?’ asked Rusty, suddenly alert.
‘Yes.’
‘Can I come with you?’
‘You can’t go and see her there,’ said her mother.
‘Because it’s just not done.’
Rusty took a deep breath. ‘O.K.,’ she muttered. ‘But can I take a walk with you anyways?’
‘All right.’
Mrs Hatherley drove them in her spluttering Morris past the railway station and dairy, and down the road to a tiny dirt-track. By the time they stopped, Rusty’s mother had already offered to take a look at the Morris’s insides before leaving.
Mrs Hatherley was delighted. ‘I drive this car on a hope and a prayer these days.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll see you this evening,’ she said.
Peggy and Rusty headed down the track past a small lodge house and along a tiny road. At the foot of a steep, grassy slope to their right ran a river. The road sloped upwards. For a long time they followed its twists and curves, passing vegetable allotments and strawberry patches. They stopped briefly at a group of grey stone buildings so that Rusty could peer through an archway and take a look at the rows of arched doors and small-paned windows.
They hurried on silently past more buildings, till eventually the road narrowed and they found themselves staring at an open field. Beyond it were a small grey church, a farm, fields and woods.
Just then, Rusty heard some children laughing. They were roller-skating on a small dirt-track. From a clump of bushes two others were blowing tiny orange balls out of peashooters made of reeds.
‘You little beasts!’ yelled one of the roller-skaters, grinning. ‘I’ll have your guts for bloody garters!’ And she began speeding towards them on her roller-skates, waving her arms wildly. The children in the bushes shrieked with laughter and then started running. Rusty noticed that they were all wearing rough old clothes.
‘I expect they’re boarders,’ said her mother.
‘Boarders!’ said Rusty, amazed. ‘But they…’ She stopped. But they all seem to be having such a good time, she wanted to say. She stared at the rectangle of buildings up on the slope. So that was Beth’s school. Suddenly she felt very jealous. She looked up to find that her mother had gone ahead. She ran to join her.
They were just walking beside a grassy mound when the sun appeared. It must have been there before, thought Rusty, but it was as if it had been hiding somewhere and had sneaked out while her back was turned. Tinged with a fiery red fringe, it hung low, sending vast shadows across the grass.
Suddenly Rusty’s mother said, ‘Let’s turn back and go through the woods.’
They crossed over the field in front of the school, up the muddy lane beside the farm, and veered right. Rusty gazed stupefied at the ploughed fields. They really were the most extraordinary ruddy colour, and the earth was so moist that it was almost as if someone had oiled the long, curved furrows.
They climbed over a wooden fence and up a sloping field towards the woods. They had hardly reached the trees when Rusty heard the faint sound of a river.
The more beautiful she found the wood, the more it hurt, and the more she hated its beauty. It was too tame, she told herself, too sickly pretty. But as she and her mother walked like tightrope walkers along dead branches to avoid the mud, she couldn’t help but enjoy it a little.
Presently they stepped out on to a road and came to a stone bridge. As they crossed, Rusty glanced down and saw bright yellow and russet leaves floating along the water. They walked on a little before turning left, past the small railway station where she and Beth had stood with the bicycles.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hardly noticed her mother’s silence. Gradually the dusk closed in around them.
‘We really need torches,’ her mother muttered. ‘I’d forgotten how dark Devon lanes can be.’
By the time they reached the Hatherleys’, they were both exhausted. Mrs Hatherley was sitting with Anne on her lap, listening to the wireless.
‘I’ve dropped your luggage and that at Beatie’s place,’ she said. ‘Oh. I s’pose I should say your place, now.’ She turned to Rusty. ‘I wish I’d known you was comin’ here sooner. I went and sent on some of them American letters for you last week.’
“Ello, Rusty,’ said Anne. She stared, fascinated, at her green gymslip and striped tie.
‘Looks a proper little schoolgirl, don’t she?’ remarked her mother.
‘Do you have to wear those clothes all the time?’ said Anne.
Rusty slid on to the bench by the table. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘Even when you play?’
‘We don’t play much.’
‘Oh, come on now, Virginia,’ said her mother. ‘You have lacrosse, don’t you?’
Rusty raised her eyes. ‘Lacrosse!’ she muttered.
‘I thought you’d like the game. After all, it originated from the North American Indians, didn’t it?’
‘I hate it. It’s a lousy game.’
‘Virginia!’ said her mother. ‘Don’t use such language. You’re a guest here.’
‘Oh, don’t worry ‘bout that,’ said Mrs Hatherley. ‘My children use much worse words. I’ve given up with ‘em.’ And she laughed. ‘Sit down, Peggy. Put yer feet up.’
From outside came the sound of bicycles whirring up to the house. Within minutes Beth’s brothers, Ivor and Harry, ran in, red-faced.
The quiet one smiled at Rusty and gave a nod before sitting at the table. Harry, his ears as big as ever, stood and gaped at her.
‘Bloody hell!’ he exclaimed. He slid in beside her. ‘You look as though you’ve walked out of a girls’ storybook!’ And he burst out laughing.
‘See what I mean,’ remarked Mrs Hatherley to Peggy.
Rusty didn’t find his remark funny. She turned aside, wishing she was a million miles away. Harry didn’t seem to notice. He began talking about some incident at choir practice. Occasionally Ivor added the odd remark. He was really smart, thought Rusty. He didn’t say much, but when he did he managed to make everyone laugh.
‘Is dinner going to be long?’ said Harry.
‘I bet you two ‘ave bin eatin’ with the boarders,’ said Mrs Hatherley suspiciously.
‘Well,’ said Harry, attempting to look innocent, ‘we felt we ought to help them out a bit.’
Anne hopped offher mother’s lap and snuggled next to Ivor on the bench.
Rusty could feel a pain at the back of her throat. She longed to be part of a noisy family again. The room began to go out of focus as she resorted to what she had started doing back at Benwood House. She made her eyes go backwards into her head until all her surroundings became blurred, and the blur was like a soft wall that wrapped itself around her.
She was vaguely aware of the clatter of knives and forks and chattering voices, but it wasn’t until the kitchen door was flung open that the wall was broken. As she looked up she saw Beth stride in, her cheeks flushed from cycling, her short straight hair in a tangle. She was wearing an old blue hand-knitted jersey and faded navy-blue serge trousers tucked into a pair of Wellington boots. She slid the boots off by the door and walked over to the table in her stockinged feet. One of her big toes stuck out through a hole.
‘Move out of the way, Harry,’ she said bossily, and she wedged herself in between Rusty and her brother. ‘Sorry I couldn’t be here sooner,’ she said breathlessly, ‘but there’s so much work to do. How’s your new school? You look as if they’ve worn you down. Is it wretched?’
‘Didn’t you know I was going to be here today?’ Rusty said stiffly.
‘Yes, but I’d already promised to help out. I couldn’t just say, “Sorry, I’ve changed my mind, I’ve a friend coming down.” Anyway,’ she added, ‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’
Rusty nodded.
‘So what’s the woodwork like there?’
‘We don’t have it.’
‘What, not at all?’
‘Or art. I’m taking extra Latin and French and math instead, so that I can go to university.’
‘Oh,’ said Beth, puzzled. ‘I didn’t know you wanted to go to university. I thought you wanted to do something with wood or art.’
‘Well, actually, I’ve changed my mind,’ said Rusty haughtily.
Beth gazed at her outfit. ‘Do you have to wear those gymslips all the time?’
‘We can wear mufti in the evenings. I think a uniform is a good idea. It makes everyone the same.’
Beth looked astounded. ‘Who wants to be the same as everyone else?’
‘It’s – it’s,’ went on Rusty relentlessly, ‘useful for community spirit and all that stuff, working as a team.’
‘They don’t wave Union Jacks all over the place, do they?’ said Harry, joining in. ‘And have those awful assemblies with endless hymns and all that rot, do they?’
Rusty could feel herself growing angry. ‘Some of the hymns are pretty neat!’ she exclaimed heatedly.
Harry smote his chest melodramatically. ‘King and Country, let me die and kill for thee!’
‘Oh, stop teasin’ the girl,’ said Mrs Hatherley. ‘It’s nice to think she likes her school. The ones from America in your school aren’t settling in so easy.’
Rusty turned, surprised. ‘Are there kids from the States in your school?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. They’re the ones that are always grumbling, or going on about the food or the cold.’
‘They’re not used to rationing and the English climate yet,’ said Mrs Hatherley. ‘Give the poor things a chance.’
Rusty could feel herself blushing. Even as everyone returned to chattering, she kept hearing Harry’s comments in her head about flag-waving ‘and all that rot’, for every day for the last few weeks she had been silently pledging allegiance to the flag of the United States.
She turned to Beth. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘I’ve promised to help out with the pigs. I’m sorry,’ Beth said. ‘I didn’t know that you were coming down here until a few days ago. I can’t let them down now, not after I said I would.’
See if I care, thought Rusty. ‘Oh well,’ she said, giving a shrug. ‘I think we’re going back tomorrow anyway.’
After everyone had started on the vegetable pie, followed by a rare treat of dried bananas and junket, Rusty was introduced to another ‘delicacy’. The Hatherley children were still hungry, so they proceeded to spread margarine on slices of bread and sprinkle sugar on top.
It was growing late and her mother wanted to leave.
‘I’m sorry I can’t see you much,’ said Beth.
‘Oh, that’s O.K.,’ said Rusty blithely. ‘I have such a lot to do tomorrow. Beatie left me a bunch of carpentry tools, and I want to sort them out. Maybe sharpen them up a little, too.’
‘You’ll be doing no such sharpening,’ interrupted her mother.
Rusty scowled. Trust her mother to open her mouth and spoil everything. She climbed over the back of the bench and picked up her Beanie from one of the hooks on the wall. As she put it on, she could hardly bear to look at anyone in the room. She turned briefly, muttered a goodbye, and followed her mother out through the door into the black Devon night.