Joan felt as though she were walking on air. Yes, she could barely look Violet or Joe in the face now, but she didn’t regret what she and Arthur had done. She had simply followed her instincts, realising herself to be in love with Arthur and knowing with every fibre of her being that he loved her back. So, she’d seen nothing wrong in consummating their love, even if finding them in the hayloft had shocked Violet to her bones.
After leaving the hayloft, Arthur had asked Joan with surprising calm, ‘If you’re all right staying here with the Postbridges, I’d better head home and face the music. No doubt my parents will be furious too that I was out all night.’ His gaze had searched her face, worry in his eyes. ‘But I’ll come back soon. We’re going to be married, I promise you that.’ He’d hesitated. ‘Assuming you can stomach me as a husband?’
Joan, who hadn’t even thought as far as marriage, felt her heart swell with joy. ‘I’ll manage somehow,’ she’d whispered, smiling at him. ‘But your poor feet …’ She’d lent him an old pair of boots and a coat to get him home, since he’d come out with neither the night before, and stood at the gate to wave him off.
In the snug, the Postbridges had tried grilling her for information about her and Arthur, and Violet had even said a few harsh things about her morals.
Ruffled by some of Violet’s remarks, Joan had resisted the urge to be rude in return, merely apologising for having shocked them before heading up to her room for a proper sleep. ‘Anyway, I don’t know what you two are so upset about,’ she’d said defensively when they stared at her. ‘You’re not my parents.’
‘That’s as may be, but this is my property,’ Joe had told her gruffly, banging his stick on the floor. ‘You Land Girls are here to work. Not mess about with boys in my hayloft.’ He’d shaken his head. ‘And I thought you were such a nice girl too.’
Boys? There’d only ever been one boy, Joan had thought crossly.
‘I am a nice girl,’ she’d said through gritted teeth.
‘Give over now, Joe,’ Violet had said, perhaps seeing how dangerously close to tears Joan had become. ‘It’s probably best she takes the day off anyway. We can talk again after supper.’
Joan had sloped wearily off upstairs, meeting Tilly on her way down and saying, in response to the girl’s look of blank astonishment, ‘Please don’t ask. I’ve had a long night. See you later.’
After a wash, she’d changed into her night clothes, and then slept heavily for hours. In fact, she probably would have slept all day, if it hadn’t been for a sudden commotion outside in the farmyard late afternoon. She’d heard a vehicle coming up the hill, its engine note unfamiliar, and sat up groggily, thinking it must be Arthur coming back with his parents.
Joan leapt out of bed, splashed her face with water, dragged a comb through her hair, and got dressed again before dashing downstairs.
In the kitchen, she found Violet Postbridge with little Sarah Jane tugging on her skirt. She was talking to a young man whose face Joan couldn’t see, as he was facing the other way.
He was wearing an army uniform, so she knew at once it wasn’t Arthur. But, having only just woken up, it took a few seconds of baffled staring to realise who she was looking at.
At that instant, the young man turned, smiling, and stretched out his arms to her. ‘Hello, Joanie.’
She threw herself at him with a shriek. ‘Graham. Oh, you’re back from Europe at last! It’s marvellous to see you.’
She hugged her brother tightly, and felt his strong arms close about her. She’d missed him so badly, and was so much in need of a friend at that moment, she felt almost as though he’d come to rescue her. As though she had somehow psychically communicated her need to him across the miles, and her younger brother had heard her plea and magically arrived at her door.
‘Have you been demobbed?’ She looked him up and down, noting his smart uniform. ‘Or are you on official leave?’
He shook his head. ‘Demobbed. I’m back for good. Though still in uniform for now.’ He laughed when she squealed again with excitement. ‘I should get my official papers through in a few weeks. I shipped over with a load of other chaps and thought I’d come see you first before heading back to London.’ He held her by the shoulders, smiling into her eyes. ‘Mrs Postbridge has just been telling me you’ve been in bed all day. Are you unwell? Though you look healthy enough to me. Look at the roses in those cheeks!’
Catching Violet’s glare over his shoulder, Joan said hurriedly, ‘Perhaps we could go for a walk and I’ll explain properly,’ she suggested. ‘If that’s all right with you, Mrs Postbridge?’
‘You do what you want, love,’ Violet said sharply, and turned to sit Sarah Jane down at the table again, where it seemed the little girl had been crayoning while her mother baked. ‘I’m sure it’s no concern of ours,’ she added tartly, ‘seeing as how I expect you’ll be leaving us soon anyway.’
‘Eh?’ Graham glanced at Joan in surprise.
‘Not here,’ she whispered, pulling on her boots and dragging him outside with a tight smile.
In the farmyard, the light was a soft warm gold as afternoon tipped towards evening. Tilly and Joe were presumably still out in the fields, while Caroline had not yet returned from her trip to Bodmin, leaving Joe grumbling at her continued absence.
But how to explain everything to Graham?
They walked across some rough pasture and stopped under a tree for shade. Unable to hide her anguish, she sank down on the grass, fists clenched, and her brother threw himself down beside her, removing his cap.
‘Now then, Joan, let’s hear what’s been going on,’ he said easily. ‘Whatever it is, I’m still your brother. I’ll support you, no matter what.’
This was too much for her. Joan burst into tears and couldn’t speak for several minutes. He waited patiently until her tears had slowed, and then squeezed her hand.
‘Come on, spit it out, Joan. I’m worried about you now. All these tears …’
Graham was so much more mature than Joan remembered. But then, he’d been away fighting in a war. It had been some years since she’d seen him. Small wonder he struck her as older and wiser. And right now, she valued that wisdom.
Rubbing damp cheeks with the back of her hand, she explained what had happened. How she’d met Arthur, how they had spent so much time together sorting out books at the Grange, his awful fit on the night of Alice’s wedding, and how his parents had forbidden them to see each other … Finally, between bouts of fresh tears, she touched on how she and Arthur had spent the night in the hayloft, and been discovered by Violet in the early morning.
Graham, having listened in silence, though with a gathering frown, gave a low whistle. ‘Good God … I had no idea it would be something so serious. You were always the sensible one, Joan. Now this …’ He didn’t meet her eyes as he added, ‘And he claims he wants to marry you, does he? He sounds like an odd fish to me, this Arthur chap. I don’t like the idea of it, to be honest, you and this fellow … Sounds like Mrs Postbridge was right when she told you he’s not the full shilling. Do you really want to shackle yourself to him for the rest of your life?’
Joan stared at him in horror. Hadn’t Graham heard a word she’d said? ‘But I’m in love with him,’ she stammered, ‘and there’s no question of being shackled. Yes, all right, we jumped the gun a bit. But this is 1946, for goodness’ sake. We’re not living in the dark ages.’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose times have changed since before the war, you’re right. But people are still judgemental. I wouldn’t want you to be gossiped about. You need to be sensible.’
‘That’s my business though, isn’t it? I love you dearly, Graham, but I’m still your big sister. You don’t have the right to tell me how to live.’ Perhaps she had expected too much from her brother, who had come home and walked slap bang into this dreadful situation. But he’d said he would support her, no matter what. Instead, he was siding with the Postbridges and Arthur’s parents. ‘I was so happy when I walked in and saw you. I was thrilled that you were back in one piece, that you’d survived. Please don’t be horrid now …’
She couldn’t help it, she burst into tears again, and this time he sat up and drew her into his arms. ‘Don’t cry, Joanie … I’m sorry. You’re right. I said I wouldn’t judge you. Now I have. But this chap, he’d better marry you straightaway. I mean, what if … You know, what if you and he …’ He stopped, looking embarrassed.
‘Sorry?’
‘Come on, you’re a woman of the world. Or you certainly are now. What if you’ve got a bun in the oven?’
‘Oh!’ Her cheeks flared with heat as she realised what he was trying to say. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. But since we’re getting married, nobody would know.’
‘Only if it happens quickly,’ Graham pointed out. ‘His parents don’t approve though. What if you never see him again? Then you’ll be in a right pickle, my girl.’
She hadn’t considered what would happen if she fell pregnant after last night. Perhaps he was right and she was being naïve. The thought filled her with trepidation. But she was still willing to give Arthur the benefit of the doubt. ‘Shall we walk back? It’s ever so warm …’
They started back towards the farm at an unhurried pace.
‘I didn’t properly say,’ she added, ‘but I’m overjoyed that you’re back, that you made it. I was so scared for you, Graham. I used to lie awake at night worrying about you.’
‘So did I,’ he said frankly, and they both laughed.
Then, suddenly, Joan stopped dead in the centre of the farmyard, at the sight of Arthur there with his parents, getting out of their car. Her heart thumped wildly and she felt almost faint, seeing the grim look on her beloved’s face. Whatever had transpired between him and his parents, it hadn’t been good.
Graham took in the scene with one quick glance. He said tensely, ‘Is that him?’
‘That’s Arthur, yes,’ she whispered.
To her surprise, her younger brother strode forward with a determined air until he came face-to-face with Arthur, who looked at him blankly.
Graham drew himself up to his full height, glaring into the other young man’s face. ‘I know what you did,’ he said from between gritted teeth. ‘You’re damn lucky I don’t smash your teeth down the back of your throat for it. How dare you? My sister’s a good girl, you had no right to interfere with her like that. I hope you’ve come here to propose to her. Because otherwise—’
‘Of course I want to marry her,’ Arthur threw back at him, back straight, his hands clenched into fists, automatically standing up to this unknown opponent. ‘But it’s not that simple.’
‘I knew it … You’re backing out, aren’t you? You snivelling coward.’ Looking him up and down with contempt, he pushed Arthur backwards, so that he stumbled, almost falling. ‘As soon as she told me about you, I knew what kind of man you were. Came home early from the war, did you? Couldn’t handle it? I’ve known men like you. They’ll do and say anything to get out of uniform.’
‘What’s going on here? Who is this young man?’ Arthur’s father came around the car in a hurry. He and Mrs Green had been speaking to Violet and Joe outside the farmhouse, but now he’d noticed the two men arguing, and there was a look of thunder on his face. ‘Arthur, come here.’
But it was too late.
‘I’m no c-coward,’ Arthur was insisting, his voice fierce. ‘You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’
‘Yellow-bellied coward,’ Graham said deliberately.
Arthur lurched forward, a hot flush in his cheeks, and slammed his fist into Graham’s face, who fell backwards with a gasp.
Recovering, Graham rushed forward with fists raised. He thumped Arthur in the face, and Arthur thumped him back, following this up with a roaring charge, head down.
Joan shrieked, ‘No! Stop it, both of you!’
Her shouts fell on deaf ears. The two of them were already on the ground, rolling about in the dirt of the cobbled farmyard, while chickens squawked and ran about hysterically. Joe’s working dogs crouched in defensive mode, not quite daring to bark without permission but growling at these intruders with blood-curdling snarls.
‘Do something, pull them off each other,’ Mrs Green cried, clasping her cheeks in dismay.
‘No, let them get it out of their systems. No point interfering.’ Joe leaned on his stick, watching the fight with interest.
Mr Green ignored him and waded in, perhaps driven by his wife’s shrieks, somehow managing to drag Arthur away. Joan felt sick, seeing that Arthur’s nose was bleeding copiously, and his lip was badly split. Graham wasn’t looking too good either, one eye partially closed and already swelling, where no doubt he’d soon be sporting a large shiner.
Joan loved both these men equally, but she was furious with them too. ‘Couple of idiots,’ she snapped, and strode into the farmhouse kitchen in search of something to clean their cuts.
Muttering something under her breath about men and fighting, Violet followed her and reached up to the medicine cupboard at the same time as Joan. ‘Best let me do it, love,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘I’ve more experience of dealing with cuts and bruises than you.’
There was no arguing with that. Joan, desperate for something useful to do, took charge of Sarah Jane instead, fetching the little girl some orange squash and overseeing her colouring. Meanwhile, Violet dabbed TCP on the young men’s faces and knuckles, which were badly cut and grazed. Joan wanted to launch into a tirade at them both, but since Mr and Mrs Green were doing all the talking, it was impossible to get a word in edgeways.
‘Arthur’s told us everything, and I think it’s disgusting,’ Mrs Green said in her well-modulated voice, arms folded, throwing a furious look at Joan. ‘She clearly lured him in. Arthur’s not the sort to do anything like this otherwise.’
‘Don’t you talk about our Joan like that,’ Violet snapped over her shoulder, almost as though Joan were her own daughter. ‘More likely your boy seduced her, not the other way round. He’s a man, ain’t he? It’s always men who do the seducing.’
‘That merely shows how few good men you know,’ Mrs Green remarked in acid tones.
‘Why, you …’ Violet gasped, a flush in her cheeks.
‘My dear,’ Mr Green murmured in mild reproof, casting a wary glance at Joe.
He needn’t have worried that Joe would be offended. The farmer, having sent his dogs outside, was more focused on keeping the peace. ‘Now, ladies,’ Joe said uneasily, ‘let’s try to keep things civil, eh? There’s a lot of bad feeling in this room. And this is where it’s led. To a bunch of bruises.’
Joan didn’t know what to say. But she felt grateful towards Violet for standing up for her. She’d seen Tilly looking out of the kitchen window during the fight, but there was no sign of her now. The other Land Girl must have gone up to her room to stay discreetly out of the way. For that she was thankful, as Joan was certain Tilly had no idea that she and Arthur had spent the night together. Mrs Newton had been around when Violet and Joe had cornered her that morning, demanding answers. But the fewer people who knew, the better.
Arthur, slumped on a kitchen chair while Violet dabbed at his cuts, caught her eye and said thickly, ‘I don’t care what they say, Joan. I still want to marry you.’
‘Don’t worry, mate, you’re going to bloody marry her,’ Graham told him crisply, ignoring Violet’s pursed lip at his coarse language.
‘Not if we send him away, he’s not.’ Mrs Green was looking coldly triumphant.
‘Excuse me?’ Graham shot back at her, his frown ferocious.
‘That’s what I was trying to tell you outside,’ Arthur threw in bitterly, ‘when you thumped me in the face.’
‘I pushed you, in fact.’ Graham glared at him. ‘You thumped me first.’
‘Oh, shut up, for goodness’ sake, both of you,’ Joan exclaimed, and everyone looked round at her in surprise as though they’d forgotten she was still in the room. ‘There’s no question of anyone sending Arthur away. We’re getting married, and that’s an end to it. Though where we’re going to live afterwards, I have no idea.’
The Greens looked at each other uncomfortably, saying nothing.
‘Where on earth were you planning to send your boy?’ Violet demanded, straightening to stare at the couple.
‘To a sanatorium,’ Arthur admitted through gritted teeth. ‘They were talking about having me committed. Like I’m mad. All to stop me marrying Joan.’
‘Nobody’s sending you to a sanatorium, Arthur.’ Joan decided it was time to nip this nonsense in the bud. ‘Once we’re married, I’ll look after you. Though I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you that a few months away from your parents wouldn’t cure.’
‘Excuse me?’ Mrs Green was glaring at her.
Joan took Arthur’s hand. ‘Well?’
Their eyes met, and he nodded. ‘I’ll do whatever you say, Joan.’
Violet merely shrugged, putting away the medicaments in a brusque manner. Joe tapped his stick on the floor approvingly.
Mr Green laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Son, you’ve made your bed and now you have to lie in it. I hope you and this … this girl can make a go of things. And I suppose you can live with us once you’re wed.’ His wife made an angry noise but Mr Green shook his head. ‘No, I’ve decided. We’ll have to make the best of a bad job. No more arguing.’
Graham got up and came to stand over them. He touched Joan’s cheek. ‘You sure about this, Joanie? I know I lost my temper earlier but I was just caught off guard, that’s all. If you’d rather not marry him, we’ll find a way to hush it up.’
Joan almost laughed. ‘You silly thing,’ she said affectionately, not bothering to answer that. ‘And since we missed out the introductions earlier, what with you two being too busy punching each other in the face, Graham, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Arthur.’ She smiled as the two men eyed each other uncertainly. ‘Arthur, this is my little brother, Graham. Now, please shake hands and stop being so utterly ridiculous.’
Graham laughed and stuck out his hand. Arthur shook it, smiling ruefully.
‘Welcome to the family then, I suppose,’ Graham said, and slapped his assailant on the back. ‘Just don’t treat her badly, that’s all.’ He paused. ‘You’ve not got a bad right hook,’ her brother added grudgingly. ‘Though you’ve a lot to learn about defence.’
‘Maybe you could teach me,’ Arthur suggested. ‘For next time.’
The two men grinned at each other.
The introductions over, Arthur pulled Joan irreverently onto his knee, an act which silenced everyone in the room for a moment, including Joan herself. But to her surprise it seemed to break the ice too, even Mrs Green looking amused at last.
‘We’d better set a date, I suppose,’ Arthur remarked, an arm about her waist. ‘And, erm, the sooner the better.’ He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, ‘Just in case.’
Joan blushed.