Joan rinsed out the wine glass she’d been drinking from and set it upside down on the draining board. Then, with a sudden tremor, she stared out of the window across the darkening yard at Postbridge Farm and thought, I’ll never stand here again to wash up or fill a kettle. Or not as a single woman. I’ll certainly never live under this roof again. Never be a Land Girl again. This is the last time I’ll do any of this …
‘You not gone to bed yet, love?’ Mrs Newton asked, interrupting Joan’s thoughts as she came bustling in from the snug with a tray laden down with dirty glasses.
The whole household had spent a long, riotous evening celebrating the night before her wedding and talking of old times together, and Joan doubted there was a single clean glass left in the place. Except the one she’d just washed up, of course.
‘I’m heading upstairs now,’ Joan told her, quickly drying her hands. ‘Caro and Selly have already gone up, and I think Tilly’s in the bathroom.’
‘It’s been like old times, having Selina back at the farm with us,’ Mrs Newton told her, smiling. ‘She and Caroline were the first to come here as Land Girls, you know … I was just saying to Vi how much I miss them three evacuee kids too. Lovely Janice and Eustace, of course, and little Timothy, bless his heart. The house was so busy in them days. Now Selina’s moved away, and you’ll be gone tomorrow. I don’t know how Joe’s going to manage the farm with only two Land Girls to help out.’ She kissed Joan on the cheek. ‘Good luck, love. Being a housewife is a full-time job, as you’re about to find out. All the cooking and cleaning, and the bloomin’ ironing …’ She pulled a face. ‘I do envy you though, starting out on your married life, young as you are … It warms my heart to see you and Arthur so happy and in love.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Newton.’
Joan felt a pang for the older lady, knowing how much she must be missing her late husband. Although, judging by the gossip flying about the village about her and Mr Bailey, it seemed unlikely Mrs Newton would stay a widow much longer.
‘Call me Sheila, love.’ She sighed, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘You know, some folk say you’re never too old to fall in love, but it ain’t the same when you’re older. At least, not to my mind. When you’re young, everything’s so new and magical … But once you’re a bit longer in the tooth, you go into these things with your blinkers off, I can tell you.’ Sheila gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘Well, you must’ve heard about me and Bernard by now.’
‘Not much,’ Joan fibbed kindly. ‘Except that the two of you are … friends.’
Sheila gave her a wink. ‘I’ll tell you a little secret, shall I?’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘I went to visit Arnie’s grave the other day. I go regular, you know, to say hello to the ol’ fella, put down fresh flowers and clear the leaves off his grave. Only this time, I had a confession to make.’ She hesitated, looking almost guilty. ‘I didn’t think it was right not to let Arnie know I’m courting again. It sounds superstitious, but I couldn’t rest easy, not without having told him about me and Bernard. Anyway,’ she went on with a sweet smile, ‘after I’d made my confession, a little white blossom fell into my lap. No idea where it came from. It just bloomin’ fell from the sky. And I thought to myself, that’s Arnie, that is. Giving me his blessing to be happy again.’ She looked at Joan anxiously. ‘Do you think I’m soft in the head for thinking that?’
‘No, it’s a lovely thought … Sheila,’ Joan said softly, holding her hands. ‘Really, really lovely.’
‘Aw, bless your heart.’
‘And what you’ve been doing for folk in the village … That’s wonderful too,’ Joan told her earnestly. ‘Arthur and I saw the poster in the shop window. He’s asked his mother to donate some of his old clothes, and she said she’d sort out some good pots and pans too, ones she rarely uses. I believe his father’s already donated some money to the fund.’
‘Yes, the Greens have been very generous.’ Mrs Newton looked pleased. ‘I wasn’t sure how people would take it at first … But not a day goes by that someone doesn’t turn up with a bag of clothing or bric-a-brac for those in need. Why, only last week, my supplier dropped off a box of kiddy toys that his sister’s family don’t need anymore, along with the usual crates of fruit and veg. I’ve been bowled over by the response, I won’t pretend otherwise.’
‘People can surprise you, can’t they?’ Joan agreed, smiling. ‘Sometimes you just need to ask.’
Ernest Fisher interrupted this cosy chat, calling through the open door of the snug, ‘Sheila, are you bringing another bottle of that home-made gin or what? We’re dying of thirst in here.’
‘You’d better not be knocking it back on your own out there, Mum,’ Violet shouted, but the rest of whatever she said was drowned out as everyone in the snug fell about laughing.
Sheila’s sister Margaret appeared in the doorway with a shy smile. ‘Need any help, Shee?’ Having overheard a few arguments recently, Joan knew she’d been shunned by the family for the past few years, but she’d accompanied her sister up to the farm that afternoon and spent a good hour talking to Lily in the snug, who’d very kindly come over from Penzance for the wedding. Lily had wept, and so had Margaret, and Mrs Newton had bustled in and out of the snug while the two women cried and talked, fetching clean hankies and endless pots of tea. Now it seemed there was a truce of sorts between them all.
‘You can carry the nuts and pickled herrings, Maggie,’ Mrs Newton said, and handed a tray to her sister with a wink. ‘I’ll keep hold of the bottle, ta.’
Grinning, Joan said goodnight to them all, left the hardened drinkers to enjoy yet more of Mrs Newton’s infamous home-made concoctions, and climbed wearily up the stairs to bed.
That is, her physical body was tired, but her mind was on fire with excitement. She was getting married in the morning, finally able to show off the beautiful cream dress she’d bought new from a boutique in Penzance, despite the extravagance and all the coupon stamps it had cost her. But ‘you only get married once’, as the shop assistant had told her. And thank goodness for that, she thought, as she’d been run off her feet getting ready for the big event. At last, there was nothing left to organise. Everything was prepared for her wedding day. All she needed now was her beauty sleep.
But on the threshold of the bedroom she was to share with Tilly that night, she found Caroline and Selina camped out, still drinking and chatting.
She stopped in amazement on seeing them, not quite sure she could manage more fun and chatter that night. ‘I thought you rowdy lot were going to bed early.’ She gave an extravagant yawn. ‘I don’t know about you, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve been so busy these past few days, getting everything ready … Now I’m shattered.’
‘We won’t keep you up much longer,’ Selina promised, coming to kiss her on the cheek, which surprised Joan, for she and the other Land Girls had never been that close. ‘I wish you all the best, Joan. I’m so glad I was able to come back for your wedding day. It’s going to be marvellous. And you and Arthur will be ecstatically happy together, I’m sure of it.’
‘Fortune teller, are you?’ Joan said a little flippantly, for everyone had been saying the same thing over recent days, and she was beginning to worry they might be tempting fate.
‘Well, you can’t have a worse marriage than Selina’s sister had,’ Tilly remarked, standing before the mirror as she brushed her hair before bed.
Joan frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I was just telling these two about my late sister, Bella. I’ve been reading her journals,’ Selina explained reluctantly, ‘and it seems her husband Sebastian had an affair with one of their neighbours once, a woman called Helen.’
‘How awful!’ Joan was horrified.
‘He was much older than her, so I suppose he probably seduced her. Though if you ask me, she’s exactly the kind of woman who would deliberately try to steal another woman’s husband.’
‘That won’t happen to you though, Joan,’ Tilly hurried to assure her. ‘I wasn’t saying that at all. Quite the opposite. You and Arthur will be deliriously happy.’
‘I’m not sure how deliriously happy we can be,’ she admitted, ‘living so near his parents. The cottage they’ve given us is practically at the bottom of their garden. Though I’m thrilled and grateful to have a home of my very own, of course. We’ve been so lucky.’
Actually, she was secretly in love with the ramshackle cottage. It was tiny and needed a great deal of work, but, in her mind’s eye, she already saw it drenched in white roses in the summertime, with fragrant jasmine and red-hot pokers in a charming cottage garden, and it seemed to her a perfect haven of happiness.
‘Arthur’s the lucky one, to be marrying you,’ Caroline said firmly, and also surprised her with a hug. ‘But listen to this … You remember Cameron? He’s the brother of the woman who had the affair with Selina’s brother-in-law … He made a pass at her sister Bella too, years ago, and recently tried it on with Selina herself. She sent him off with a flea in his ear, of course. But he and his sister sound like a pretty horrid pair, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes.’ Astonished, Joan stared at Selina. ‘How dreadful for you. Gosh, and he was so kind towards Arthur too. I’m sorry you’ve been stuck there on your own with them.’
‘It was quite unpleasant for a while,’ Selina agreed, a little pale. ‘But Caro’s been very supportive,’ she added, shooting the other girl a grateful look, ‘and the children have been keeping me so busy lately, I’ve had no time to brood.’
‘Yes, Caroline told us you’d sacked the nanny. She sounded awful. I don’t blame you at all. Have you found a replacement yet?’
‘No … In fact, I’ve decided to look after the kids myself.’
‘Yourself?’ Perhaps unfairly, Joan had always thought of Selina as rather superficial and boy-mad, not someone who would easily take on such a heavy burden as child-rearing. She even recalled Selina mocking her once for being a ‘maternal’ type around children, rejecting that instinct as a bad thing. But losing her sister and gaining an instant family must have changed her. ‘Goodness me.’
‘Honestly, it’s not so hard once you get used to their routines.’ Selina looked round at their astonished faces, and grimaced. ‘Though it can have its drawbacks. The housekeeper volunteered to mind the kids while I came to the wedding, but I’ll have to dash back right after the wedding tomorrow, I’m afraid.’
Caroline’s eyes were sad, though she said quickly, ‘Of course. We understand. They need their aunty.’
‘Yes.’ Selina smiled, her face lighting up. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been so content as these past few weeks without the nanny, just being a mum to them … They’re such lovely children. And little Faith is an absolute darling.’ She took Joan’s hands, her look pleading. ‘You and Arthur must come and meet them. Please say you will. It’s a lovely big house and I’d be thrilled to have your company.’
‘I’ll mention it to Arthur,’ Joan promised her. ‘Though we’ll be heading off ourselves straight after the wedding reception.’ She stopped, shocked to her core as reality struck her. ‘Gosh, I’m going on my honeymoon tomorrow … How strange that sounds.’ She giggled, and the other girls laughed with her. ‘I’m going to be a married woman. It’s hard to believe.’
‘I can believe it,’ Tilly said, beaming at her, ‘and I’m glad you’re going to be happy at last. Everything has been so hard these past few years. I’d started to believe nobody would ever be happy again. Then the war ended and everyone was beside themselves. People jumping into fountains fully clothed, getting drunk and dancing in the streets … Well, we all saw the photographs and read the stories. Only all that joy didn’t last, did it? Things just got harder and drearier. I sometimes think it’ll never end. The rationing, the hardships, slaving away all hours as a Land Girl …’
‘Tilly, you’ve barely been a Land Girl for five minutes,’ Caroline exclaimed, and they all laughed. ‘Wait until you’ve spent a whole winter trudging out in the dark at five in the morning to dig for mouldy potatoes or throw turnips at sheep. Then you can complain about hardship.’
‘Or when the pigs get out in a rainstorm, and you have to dash about the yard trying to catch them, and they’re so quick and slippery, and you end up covered in mud …’ Joan added, and they all laughed so hard they cried. Wiping tears from her own eyes, she said with a gasp, ‘Oh, I’m going to miss you all so much. Miss this farm, miss Violet and Joe, miss working on the land. I’m even going to miss the pigs.’ She shook her head, bemused. ‘I’m going to miss all of it, and I never thought for a moment that I would.’
‘What tosh!’ Selina burst out. ‘You’ll be far too busy being in love to spare a thought for us girls, and especially not for those muddy pigs.’ Selina gave her a hug, surprising Joan once again with her unexpected warmth. It seemed she really had changed since leaving the farm. ‘Now, get to bed and dream of your beloved,’ she whispered in Joan’s ear, ‘because tomorrow you’re going to marry him.’
The next day, Joan floated down the aisle on her brother’s arm in a sea of fragrance, clusters of white flowers everywhere, incense on the air mingling with the musty smell of hymnals, sunlight dazzling her eyes, and the organ playing so loudly, she could almost feel it in her bones.
Ahead of her, Arthur waited before the altar, his face aglow and yet sombre too, aware of the solemnity of the occasion.
His parents were seated in the front row, not happy that their son was getting married, but clearly determined to make the best of the situation. His cousins and aunt and uncle had turned up as well, and beamed at her from the next pew back, a friendly bunch whom she looked forward to getting to know better.
On the other side of the church, Mrs Newton – Sheila, Joan reminded herself – sat primly with her friend Bernard Bailey, with Violet and Joe alongside them, Margaret too, and the other Land Girls, Tilly, Caroline and Selina. Their heads all turned as she drifted down the aisle in her lovely frock, and she smiled back at them tremulously, her heart thudding. Behind them sat Lily and Tristan, who’d brought Morris with them, the little boy solemnly pointing out saints in the stained-glass windows. Alice wasn’t there, alas, too busy in London with her new husband to travel such a long way, but Penny had come on the train from Bude, and even dragged her husband John along too, the two of them winking as Joan sailed happily past.
A few feet ahead of her, Sarah Jane scattered fistfuls of rose petals over the stone flags, more confident in the role of flower girl since Alice’s wedding. The Reverend Clewson was frowning at Violet’s daughter in a vengeful manner, for he’d warned her most explicitly at the rehearsal not to strew rose petals in his church. Sarah Jane had ignored him, of course, being only tiny and most likely not knowing what ‘strew’ meant, and too mesmerised by the tufts of hair growing out of his ears to listen to what the vicar was saying to her anyway.
It was so beautiful, Joan thought, such a perfect moment. It was breathtaking to look about the church and see all these people who’d turned out for her wedding day, some of them like family to her in the absence of her blood relatives – except for Graham, of course, who was patting her arm with a reassuring smile – and she was simply overwhelmed.
She was also deliriously happy, exactly as her friends had claimed she would be. And to think, not so long ago, she’d thought the other Land Girls distant and hard to talk to, that they had little in common. Now she was sad to be leaving the farm and her dear friends behind.
But as her gaze returned to her husband-to-be, so handsome and full of love, a man who had suffered and come through it all to find her, everything else fell away and Joan couldn’t wait for them to be alone together at last, as man and wife …
‘Dearly beloved,’ the vicar began, and Arthur took her hand and smiled.
THE END