Turning up her collar Reenie, hurried across the square. Now the all-clear had sounded, another queue had formed outside the shop and she hoped those waiting would be able to get enough to keep them going, but she doubted it. By afternoon, the shelves had usually been picked clean, and they’d be lucky to get a dab of marge and a tin of spam. Which was why she needed to be at the allotment. She’d neglected it over the last few days, and she must never forget how important the vegetables she grew there were.
It was now well past midday, so she doubted any of the other women would be there, which meant she’d have to do it alone. Still, the exercise might help clear her head. And as soon as she’d finished, she’d try to track down Jimmy.
As she was approaching the steps by the Market Hall, someone called her name. Glancing back, she was surprised to see Wilf. He was dressed in a thick navy-blue fisherman’s jersey and brown trousers, his black hair messy and windblown.
She hesitated for a moment. He’d been so sweet to her yesterday, comforting her after Jim had walked away . . . but as soon as Jim had arrived, he’d reverted to type: moody and taciturn. Sighing, she stopped and waited for him to catch up with her.
‘Twice in two days?’ she said. ‘You’ve barely spoken to me in years and now you can’t stay away. If you’re not careful, folk’ll start to gossip.’
Wilf flushed. ‘I just wanted to check you’re all right. After yesterday.’
‘I’m fine. How’s Fred?’
He shrugged. ‘All right, I think.’ He shook his head. ‘To be honest, I’m worried about him – about all the kids. They seem to be fine, but being surrounded by so much death and destruction . . . It’ll always be there at the back of their minds. The question is, how will it affect them?’
Reenie was surprised; it wasn’t like Wilf to talk about his feelings, especially to her. ‘He’ll be OK,’ she said. ‘He has you and your mum and dad. And me, of course. We’ll see him through.’
He smiled. ‘I know. But I’m not there much. None of us can watch him all the time . . .’ His lips pursed and he stuck his hands in his pockets, as though he, too, was surprised he’d confided in her.
‘You’ll just have to trust him,’ Reenie said eventually when Wilf didn’t seem inclined to say any more. ‘Anyway, I have to get on. The veg won’t harvest itself.’
‘Need a hand?’ he asked. ‘I’m a dab hand with a shovel.’ He flexed his arm.
‘Why?’ Reenie asked bluntly.
Wilf looked away for a moment. ‘I . . . I need to speak to you.’
‘You spoke to me yesterday. So we’re not due another chat till 1951.’
Ignoring her facetious comment, he strode ahead, leaving her no option but to follow.
When they arrived, Wilf looked over the allotment with approval. ‘I’ve missed this place,’ he said.
‘It’s always been here.’ She almost added, ‘As have I,’ but she didn’t. It sounded needy and that wasn’t how she meant it.
She looked out over the neat rows of leafy vegetables, separated by small planks of wood and felt a glow of satisfaction. It hadn’t been easy, even before the war, to cultivate this large patch of chalky earth. Since her uncle had purchased the land around twenty years before, the two of them had worked hard to make it productive. He’d left it to her to manage for the last few years, and she was proud of it. Since the war had started, she’d got rid of the flowers and extended the vegetable patches. And in the summer she had managed to grow red and blackcurrants, raspberries and strawberries. Despite the strong winds that blew in from the sea, despite the inhospitable soil, despite the shells and bombs, somehow it was still here, and if she was honest, it was where she was happiest. Maybe because it was the only place she felt completely confident.
‘And you do all this by yourself?’ he asked.
‘Well, I have a lot of help from the Dig for Victory group. But yes. It’s mostly me.’
Wilf stripped off his jersey and turned to her. ‘What can I do?’
‘Parsnips are ready to come out.’ She unlocked the shed, took out a couple of forks and handed them to him. Then she wheeled the wheelbarrow out and headed uphill along a narrow path between plots until they reached a row of deep green leaves. ‘You fork, I’ll pull,’ she said.
Obediently, Wilf started to dig, while Reenie got down on her hands and knees and began to pull them out and throw them into the wheelbarrow.
‘How well do you know Terence Carter?’ she asked after a while.
‘I don’t,’ he replied. ‘He’s a nasty piece of work, always has been.’
‘What about Lou?’
‘Nope. Give her a nod when I pass her stall, but that’s about it. Although, come to think of it, June used to like a natter with her. Why?’
She’d not known that, but she shouldn’t be surprised they’d got on – they both had sharp tongues, though she suspected Lou had a better heart.
Wilf stopped working for a moment. ‘Reens, have you got yourself mixed up with the Carters somehow?’
‘Course not. Just Lou said something odd when I spoke to her earlier, that’s all.’
‘What did she say?’
Reenie kept her eyes on her task. She wasn’t about to tell him that June had been sleeping with men behind his back, nor would she ever mention that Lou thought her sister had taken him from her – as she had reminded herself so often over the years, Wilf had never been hers to steal. ‘Nothing important,’ she mumbled.
‘Seriously, steer clear, all right?’
She squinted up at him. ‘What’s it to you?’
He shrugged. ‘All right then. Do what you like; it’s no skin off my nose,’ he muttered, stabbing the fork into the ground with more force than necessary.
‘Right.’ Reenie grasped a handful of leaves and tugged, swallowing down the hurt and anger.
They continued working in tense silence, the only sounds Wilf’s grunts as he dug, and the thrum of the sea breaking on the shingle out of sight.
But finally, Reenie couldn’t hold back the anger that had been bubbling since his remark. Sitting back on her heels, she looked up at him. ‘Why are you actually here, Wilf?’ She swiped a lock of hair out of her face with a muddy hand.
Wilf didn’t stop what he was doing. ‘Like I said, I wanted to make sure you were all right.’
‘And you did. So why are you still here?’
Sighing, he dropped the fork and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking out over the neat rows of vegetables. Reenie stood and put her hands on her hips.
‘I’m waiting,’ she said impatiently.
He looked at her and smiled. ‘You’ve got mud . . .’ He gestured at her face.
Reenie scowled and wiped at her face with her sleeve, before realising that it, too, was covered with dirt.
‘You always were a bit of a mucky pup,’ he chuckled.
‘So you came here to insult me?’
‘No! No, that’s not why— I really did want to make sure you were all right. Last night, one of the guys on the lifeboats told me what you did – lying over that child to keep him safe. It was a brave thing to do, but Jesus, Reens, you could have been killed!’
Reenie wished he hadn’t reminded her. It was a scene that would haunt her for a long time to come.
‘Any one of us could have been,’ she pointed out. ‘We were lucky, unlike some of the others.’ She swallowed at the memory of the bodies littering the field.
Wilf nodded sombrely. ‘I thank God you made it out alive – Marge too.’
Flustered by the genuine concern in his eyes, Reenie dropped back to the ground and started work again, hoping he couldn’t see the tremble in her hands. ‘Well, all’s well that ends well. And anyway, Jim sheltered both of us, so he’s the hero, not me.’ She flung another parsnip into the barrow.
‘So, yesterday . . . You and Jimmy seem very close?’
Reenie sat back again. ‘We are.’
Wilf hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘I-I’m glad for you. If it’s what you truly want.’
Reenie bristled. ‘Obviously it’s what I want, otherwise I wouldn’t be with him, would I?’
‘Are you sure he’s right for you?’ Wilf blurted.
Reenie felt the anger rise again. ‘Are you joking?’ she asked. ‘Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?’
Wilf looked down and scuffed at the earth with his boot. ‘I mean, he’s quite a bit younger than you, isn’t he?’
Reenie threw her hands up. ‘Why does that matter? If he was five years older than me, no one would blink an eye. And for your information,’ she said, jumping to her feet, ‘he asked me to marry him yesterday, and I said YES!’ She shouted the last into Wilf’s face, then shoved at his chest, leaving a smear of mud on his shirt.
Immediately, she regretted telling him. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘But please, keep it to yourself. What with everything that happened yesterday . . . It didn’t seem right to mention it, so we’re just gonna slip away to the town hall and do it quietly.’
Wilf stared at her in astonishment. ‘Married?’ he gasped. ‘But you barely know him.’
‘I’ve known him all my life,’ she snapped. ‘And why do you care? Or do you think I’m not good enough for him too? Marianne’s the same. Is it cos he’s better looking than me? Is it because he’s younger than me? Why am I not good enough?’ She almost sobbed the last, but more from frustration and anger than sorrow.
Wilf caught her upper arms. ‘No. You’ve got it wrong, Reenie. Listen to me.’ He gave her a little shake. ‘I think he’s not good enough for you.’
Reenie’s eyes widened as she stared up into his face. ‘Why would you think that? I mean, for the last twelve years you’ve behaved as if you don’t even like me!’
Wilf let go of her arms and shook his head. ‘Of course I like you! You were my best friend. Do you honestly think I don’t care what happens to you?’
Reenie swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen to her throat. ‘Then why—’ She shut her mouth and shook her head. ‘I don’t understand you. But it really doesn’t matter because your opinion is no concern of mine. And who I choose to marry is no concern of yours. But if there’s something about Jimmy that you think I should know, then that is my business.’
‘I just think you could do better,’ Wilf muttered, looking uneasy.
‘Oh, I could, could I? Like who? If you were anyone else, I’d say you were jealous, but that’s clearly not the case. Because I was never good enough for you, was I? So why am I suddenly too good for a lovely, caring, sweet man like Jimmy?’
‘Good enough for me?’ His dark eyes bored into hers. ‘You were too good for me as well, Reens,’ he said softly.
With a groan of frustration, Reenie knelt down again, pulling furiously at the loosened parsnips and throwing them at the wheelbarrow, not caring whether they went in or not.
Wilf knelt beside her. ‘We’ve never talked about it, have we?’ he said quietly. ‘And that’s my fault.’
‘It was a long time ago. And June’s been dead eight years now. You’ve had plenty of time to talk to me about it. Or about anything come to that.’ She yanked at another parsnip and threw it towards the wheelbarrow, though she couldn’t really see it through the sheen of angry tears.
When he didn’t reply, she added, ‘Anyway, why are you dragging all this up now?’
Wilf ran his hand through his hair and opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. Finally, he said, ‘I want you to know that I’m sorry. For everything that happened. I was young and foolish and . . .’ He shrugged. ‘I made a mistake. I can’t regret it entirely, because it gave me Fred, but . . .’ He paused. ‘I did regret it.’
Reenie’s heart leapt and her throat tightened. These were the words she’d longed to hear for years; words that just a few months ago would have made her want to run into his arms and tell him she could forgive him anything, if only they could go back to the way they were.
But it was too late. She loved Jimmy now. Yes, she had some questions for him, but whatever his faults, she was pretty certain that he wouldn’t suddenly run off with another woman.
She shrugged and turned her attention back to the parsnips. ‘Water under the bridge,’ she said, though a small part of her heart was dancing.
Reenie could feel Wilf’s gaze on her, but she refused to look up. Finally, he sighed, picked up the fork and resumed digging.
They continued to work in silence, and as soon as they reached the end of the row, Wilf turned to her with a sad smile. ‘Reenie, if you need me for anything . . . You know where I am.’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘Why would I need you?’
‘Just, I know what marrying the wrong person is like. It . . . it’s the loneliest place in the world. It strips away your happiness and makes you doubt everything about yourself. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.’
‘Christ, Wilf! I’m not marrying the wrong person! Everyone knew June was a cow! It wasn’t as if you didn’t know before you married her. Jimmy’s not like her. He’s sweet, caring and he loves me. Everyone likes him. You’ve got no right to insult me – or Jim – like that!’
Wilf regarded her steadily, seemingly unmoved by her outburst. ‘All I’m saying is if you have doubts, then listen to them. But if this is really what you want, then I’m happy for you. He’s a lucky man.’ Then he turned and walked away.
Reenie resisted the temptation to throw the fork at him with an effort. How dare he patronise her like that! Didn’t he think she knew her own mind? Picking up the handles of the wheelbarrow she pushed it back to the shed, cursing Wilf with every step.
Once inside, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her breathing. Why, after years of barely speaking to her, had he decided to start now? Whatever his reasons, though, it had been a very long time since she’d cared what he thought.