SHE HADN’T GOT ANY rest worth its name; the baby had been doing somersaults all night long. Was that normal, or was it sending out a distress signal? Mam would have known.
Connie shut the thought firmly away and picked up the pace, trying to march away that empty feeling that came when she first woke and remembered. The early mornings were light these days, the path into the woods buttery with sun. The baby was quiet now after her night-time acrobatics and Connie had a full day of hardwoods ahead. Every Monday she wondered privately if this might be the week she needed to fake an illness before anyone found out about the baby, but either the men of the forest were paying her no mind at all or she was doing a better job than it felt of arranging her clothes as best she could and carrying on regardless.
‘Off to work early, aren’t you? My Frank’s still polishing off his bacon and eggs.’
Connie looked round as Joyce strode up the path, headscarf firmly in place, an empty basket over her arm.
‘You’re not exactly dawdling yourself.’ She did like Joyce; there was a solid certainty about her and she’d taught Connie a lot when she’d given her those cooking lessons.
‘Tuesday’s the day they stock back up at the grocer’s. Need to get there and get queuing by eight if you want half a chance.’
‘I’d have thought you got everything you needed from the garden.’
Joyce winked. ‘Aye, but we use our coupons like you city folk so that the government don’t cop on to how much we’re growing and send someone down to dig our own gardens for victory.’ Joyce looked across at Connie as they kept pace up the hill towards the ridge. ‘Our Frank give you that bit of bread and cheese, did he?’
Connie dropped back a pace or two so that she faced the back of Joyce’s coat. Was this going to be the talk she thought it was? She couldn’t bear to look at Joyce if so, was suddenly small and worried. Deep breaths. ‘He did, ta very much. That was good of you, Joyce.’
‘Aye, well. Thought you might need the extra for a bit.’ Joyce didn’t make any attempt to turn round and Connie’s step missed a beat. Did Joyce mean what Connie thought she did?
‘If there’s anything else you need, you get word to me, all right? Surrounded by them men up there all day, you are; they may as well be blind, but you can always come and find me if you need me.’
Joyce turned and Connie held her look. ‘Thanks, Joyce.’ And she meant it. A load lifted.
Joyce nodded, and was gone.