Beneath a Frosty Moon Page 7

  Chapter Six

  She could hardly believe they had been living at the farm for over a year.

  Cora stood up straight to ease her aching back. The warm air, scented with the smell of freshly cut wheat, was bearable now that the heat of the day was past. It was gone ten o’clock at night but they were still harvesting; the clocks had been put forward two hours during the summer months to extend the hours of daylight and facilitate a longer working day. It was dirty work, sweat and dust combining into a mixture not unlike mud, but in spite of that Cora enjoyed being out in the open air. Once they returned to the farm she knew the little attic room would be stifling.

  Cora and the other girls had spent all day and the ones before it setting up the sheaves in stooks in the fields, ready to be taken to the rick yard to await the arrival of the travelling threshing machine. This had a crew of two men and four land girls, but the year before Farmer Burns had made it clear he expected them to help where they could. She remembered it had been pure bedlam from start to finish, but especially when the bottom two or three layers of sheaves were moved and the rats and mice left the ricks. She knew Farmer Burns hadn’t wanted the crew at the farm, she’d heard him talking to Mrs Burns about it, but due to the war and the output he was expected to achieve he had no choice in the matter. They had been forbidden to talk to the men and land girls, ostensibly because it would interrupt the flow of work, but that was ridiculous.

  She nodded at the thought as she stood gazing over the field. He just didn’t like anyone setting foot on his farm. Unconsciously her eyes went to Enid who was working some yards away, her big straw hat pulled well down over her face even though the sun had long since lost its power. Enid had never been talkative, but in the last few weeks since they had broken up from school for the summer holidays she’d barely said a word to anyone. And it was all to do with Farmer Burns, she knew it was. She had lost count of the number of times she had tried to talk to Enid about him since they’d been at the farm. Just last week, when she had seen Enid emerging from behind one of the barns, her face smeared with tears, only for Farmer Burns to follow her a moment or two later doing up the belt of his trousers, she had attempted to get to the bottom of things. But the other girl wouldn’t be drawn; instead she’d put on what Cora described to herself as Enid’s gormless face. But Enid wasn’t gormless, far from it. She was good at her lessons; bright, Mr Travis called her.

  She had spoken to Jed about it and he’d said it was possible Farmer Burns was interfering with Enid. She had a vague idea of what this meant, but as her mother had never explained the facts of life to her, any information had been picked up here and there from other children. But one thing was certain – if the farmer was making Enid do bad things that should only be done between married folk, Enid wasn’t about to say so. She’d said as much to Jed and he had shrugged his shoulders. ‘Then I don’t see what you can do.’

  She didn’t either. Cora sighed. But it left her feeling all at odds, nevertheless. What with Farmer Burns, the fact that her friendship with Jed had caused something of a rift between herself and Wilfred, and the worry about her mam, she didn’t know if she was coming or going half the time. Her mam had written nearly every week when they had first been evacuated to the farm, but now she was lucky if she had a letter every couple of months. With the Germans bombing Sunderland fairly regularly now she couldn’t help imagining all sorts of things when she was in bed at night. The trouble was, when a letter did eventually arrive it was never reassuring. Not that her mam was full of woe or anything, just the opposite. She was always bright and cheerful, too bright and cheerful. And detached. Yes, that was the thing that worried her the most, Cora thought. She was detached. As though she didn’t care about them any more.

  And then she admonished herself sharply. Enough, she was being stupid. Of course her mam cared about them.

  She started work again in the falling twilight, swallows swooping in the sky above her in their quest for flies, and a large flock of lapwings gleaning amongst the sheaves in the distance, in search of grain. Hard though life was at Stone Farm, she had come to realize in the last twelve months that she preferred the country to the town, which had surprised her. In the town, the seasons came and went with just the inconveniences of the weather being noted – cold and wind and deep snow in winter; rain and damp in the spring; heat and smells from the privies and docks and industry in the summer, and gales and storms in the autumn. Here, each time of the year possessed its own individual treasures, whether it be the first springtime primroses dotting the verges of the lanes on the way home from school; corn fields shimmering in a summer’s haze with scarlet poppies changing their radiance with every twist and turn of their silky heads; the smell of wild hops hanging thickly from autumn bine; or the woods and meadows thick with snow in a rolling frozen landscape that intensified the barest colour and shade.

  Yes, she loved the country and Jed was the same. Only the other day he had confided in her that he dreaded the war not being over by the time he was old enough to fight. His two older brothers had chosen to join up as soon as war had been declared. He wasn’t afraid to fight the Germans, he had said in the next breath as though she had voiced it, but it was the fact that he would be away from the farm and everything he loved that would be the hardest to bear. He had looked at her intently as he’d spoken and their eyes had held for a long moment, causing Cora to shiver inside. He had left school for good at the beginning of the summer holidays but they had arranged to meet every Sunday afternoon whereupon they walked and talked in the fields and down by the river. They were still just friends – he hadn’t asked her to be his lass or anything or tried to kiss her – but she knew she was in love with him. She just wasn’t sure how he felt. And then there was Wilfred.

  Cora’s eyes narrowed. The friendlier she’d grown with Jed, the more awkward Wilfred had become, which apparently caused tension at Appletree Farm. Jed had tried to stay pally with Wilfred, but Horace had told her on the quiet that Wilfred wasn’t having any of it and picked quarrels whenever he could. Horace had taken Wilfred to task after the older boy had ‘accidentally’ let the bull out into a field where Jed was working, causing Jed to vault a five-bar gate in the nick of time. Wilfred hadn’t admitted anything to Horace, but he had finished the conversation muttering that he wasn’t about to touch the forelock to anyone, be they the farmer’s son or no, which was ridiculous because Jed never looked down on anybody. It was all horrible.

  She gave a mental shrug. Her da had always said that worrying about things you couldn’t change was wasted effort and he was right. And Wilfred wouldn’t have meant to actually physically hurt Jed, he wasn’t like that, but perhaps scare him a little? Not that that was acceptable. But the only way that Wilfred would be himself again, the old Wilfred she’d grown up with, was if she stopped her Sunday walks with Jed and told the farmer’s son their friendship was over. She would rather die than do that.

  A sudden longing to see her father, to hear his voice and look into his face, swept over her so powerfully it brought tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. She’d been euphoric when she’d read her mam’s letter telling her he had survived Dunkirk, but she had found herself wishing he could have been injured – not badly, just enough so he could have stayed with her mam and not had to go away again, and not just for his sake. For her mam too. There was something wrong with her mam, she knew there was.

  The others were downing tools and Cora followed suit, but as she walked back towards the farmhouse with Maria’s arm in hers and her sister nattering away ten to the dozen, she was only half listening. Nothing in life was straightforward these days and it was all down to the war turning everything on its head; how she hated Hitler and his Nazis.

  It was the last week of a blazing hot August and the threshing machine and its crew had arrived at the farm. It was a different group to the year before, but still consisted of two burly farm workers and four land girls. By now, much of the initial hostility to land girls h
ad been overcome as the women from all walks of life had proved themselves by their physical as well as their mental ability to be tough and resilient. Indeed, some land girls delighted in rivalling men at their jobs by taking on the hardest work, often under atrocious conditions, despite being born and bred in towns and cities. The compulsory working week of fifty hours in the summer and forty-eight in winter with little chance of time off was taken in their stride, and woe betide any male who talked down to them.

  One such girl was Phoebe, a ravishing blonde from a well-to-do family if her upper-class accent was anything to go by, who despite her tall, slim figure and small hands and feet was as tough as old boots. She had told Cora the story of how, when she had first been trained and sent to a farm in the middle of nowhere, the farmer had instructed her to stand in a shallow, smelly dyke and then put her arm down a nearby rat hole to find out which way the hole ran. The farmer, standing safely on top of the bank, had then started pumping Cymag gas into another exit hole, causing a huge rat to run out of Phoebe’s, shocking her into falling on her back in the fetid stinking mud. ‘And do you know,’ Phoebe had drawled, ‘the wretch actually laughed. Believe me, sweetie, the worst rats in the world are the two-legged ones. I’ve actually got a lot of respect for the rodent kind, for their tenacity and will to live, but men . . .’

  It was this same land girl who now came and sat by Cora on a straw bale during their lunch break. Cora had chosen the spot to be by herself and go over in her mind the latest development in the feud Wilfred seemed determined to have with Jed. According to Horace, who had turned up at Stone Farm the night before specifically to have a word with her about the matter, Wilfred had – again ‘accidentally’ – sprayed artificial fertilizer in Jed’s face the day before. Fortunately, after washing out his eyes in water, Jed seemed to be suffering no ill effects apart from redness and itching, and Wilfred insisted it was unintentional.

  She’d been so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed Phoebe until the other girl said, ‘Your friend, the quiet one. Got a beau, has she?’

  ‘What?’ Cora stared into the beautiful face.

  Phoebe motioned with her head towards Enid who was sitting stolidly eating the bread and cheese Mrs Burns had brought them all, Maud by her side. ‘Her, the oldest one. Seeing a boy, is she?’

  ‘Enid?’ The idea was ridiculous. ‘No, no, of course not.’

  ‘There’s no “of course” about it. Lots of girls have a beau about her age. I know I did.’

  ‘At thirteen?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Phoebe smiled. ‘Algernon Braithwaite, his father was an earl or something. He was home from school in the summer hols and we met every afternoon in the walled garden until Daddy’s gardener got wind of it. Anyway, that’s by the by. Are you sure she hasn’t got a pimply-faced boy calling on her? I mean, she’s out from under her parents’ eye, isn’t she, and while the cat’s away, the mice will play, and all that.’

  ‘I’m absolutely sure.’

  ‘No shadow of a doubt?’

  Cora shook her head.

  ‘Oh, dear. I thought you might say that.’

  Cora was nonplussed and it showed. Phoebe smiled, kindly. ‘You’re such an innocent, aren’t you. I don’t think I was ever like you.’

  ‘Phoebe—’

  ‘No, no, it’s all right, I’ll deal with this. Of course, I could just go on my merry way and forget all about it but if he—’ She stopped abruptly. ‘There’s the rest of you to consider. Oh, why are some men so foul? If it is that, of course. I might be putting two and two together and making ten. She could have a tumour or something.’

  Cora was completely at sea, but later that night she saw Phoebe take Mrs Burns aside as the crew were preparing to leave, and casting her scruples aside she hid in a doorway to eavesdrop unashamedly. She was still some distance away, but she heard Phoebe’s high, clear voice say something about being an abnormal shape for a girl of her size and age. She couldn’t catch Mrs Burns’s reply, but then Cora heard every word as Phoebe said sharply, ‘I do not accept that, Mrs Burns, and I insist you take the girl to a doctor immediately. Do you hear me? I have never known puppy fat to consist of a round mound in the stomach. There’s something there for good or ill and it needs to be investigated. I won’t let the matter drop, believe me.’

  Cora’s eyes opened wide as the penny dropped. Phoebe suspected Enid was in the family way, and if she was then Farmer Burns . . . She felt physically nauseous. Jed had been right. Farmer Burns had indeed interfered with Enid which had resulted in a baby. A baby. Thinking about it, for the last two or three months Enid had made sure she washed alone, but then so did she, so she hadn’t thought anything of it.

  She watched as Mrs Burns turned on her heel and walked swiftly away, her face white and grim. Phoebe joined the other land girls, saying something that made all their faces stare after the farmer’s wife.

  Her heart thudding hard in her chest, Cora wondered what to do. Should she tell Enid what had been said? It didn’t seem right not to warn her. Perhaps it was all a mistake? Enid had always been rotund, after all. Oh, Enid, Enid. And Maud too. If Enid was expecting a baby and Farmer Burns was the father, what was going to happen?

  In the event, the decision of whether or not to tell Enid was taken out of her hands. When she entered the farmhouse it was to find that Mrs Burns had taken Enid into the main house without any explanation to anyone, and Enid didn’t return to sleep in the attic room with Maud. A tearful Maud came into Cora’s room and while the younger two slept, Cora and Maria sat up with her till gone midnight waiting for Enid. When it became apparent Enid wasn’t coming back that night, they made room for Maud in their bed and tried to get some sleep. Cora said nothing of what she had overheard.

  In the morning, they trooped downstairs to milk the cows and found Mrs Burns waiting for them in the kitchen. ‘Enid is unwell,’ she said without any preamble, ‘and I’m taking her to see the doctor in Rochester. You all know what you have to do so get on with it as normal, and you, Cora, see to the food and drink for the threshing crew midday if I’m not back.’

  They nodded silently. Something about the farmer’s wife’s rigid posture and tight voice forbade questions.

  Mrs Burns and Enid were gone by the time Cora, Maria and Maud finished the milking. Farmer Burns was seeing to the cows his wife usually dealt with and was still in the barn when the girls left, and the milking was done in silence. Shortly after the breakfast of cold ham, hard-boiled eggs and crusty bread which Mrs Burns had left for them, the threshing team arrived at the farm. Cora saw Phoebe walk purposefully towards Farmer Burns as soon as she climbed down from the vehicle. She said something which the farmer answered with a shrug, leaving Phoebe staring after him, hands on hips. As soon as the land girl reached Cora, she said, ‘Mrs Burns has taken Enid to the doctor then?’

  Cora nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, she whispered, ‘You think she’s going to have a baby, don’t you?’

  Phoebe made a small movement with her head which could have been taken as affirmation but did not speak.

  ‘I think Mrs Burns does too. After you’d spoken to her yesterday she took Enid into the main house and we haven’t seen her since.’

  Phoebe sighed. ‘Look, Cora, if this goes the way I think it will the police will be involved. Enid’s only thirteen, after all. They’ll probably ask you some questions, all of you, and you must tell them anything you know. Are you sure Enid didn’t have a boyfriend?’

  Cora drew in a deep breath. ‘I’m sure, but—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ever since we got here Enid’s been frightened of Farmer Burns. Enid and Maud were here a year before us and Maud once said—’

  ‘What? What did Maud say?’

  ‘That Farmer Burns made Enid do things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘I don’t know. Enid denied it and I think she told Maud not to say anything else.’

  ‘Have you ever seen anything? Think hard. Anything at all.
’

  Cora told Phoebe about the time she had seen Enid coming out from behind the barn. ‘She was crying. She often cries but you can’t get a word out of her.’

  ‘The dirty swine.’ There was no doubt as to the conclusion Phoebe had come to. They stared at each other and then the land girl took Cora’s arm. ‘Come on, we’d better get to work. It’ll all come out in the wash now, don’t worry.’

  Cora was to think of Phoebe’s words often in the ensuing weeks. Enid didn’t come back to the farm but the only explanation they received from Mrs Burns when she returned was that Enid was unwell and had been sent somewhere to be looked after. The police visited the following day and spent some time with Farmer Burns and his wife in the farmhouse. The threshing team had finished their stint at Stone Farm the day before and Cora would have given the world to be able to talk to Phoebe, but it wasn’t to be.

  A few days after Enid had been taken away, the police came back to the farm and Mrs Burns called Cora and the others into the kitchen. Maud had been in tears on and off since her sister had gone and was clearly terrified, but refused to say anything to Cora beyond that Enid had told her to keep her mouth shut no matter what. When Cora had asked what she had to keep quiet about the girl wouldn’t reply and had become hysterical when Cora had asked if it was anything to do with the farmer.

  Mrs Burns stared at each one of them in turn but her eyes rested longer on Maud who was white and trembling. ‘Farmer Burns’s friends, Inspector Shaw and Sergeant Irvin, want to talk to you,’ she said at last, a slight emphasis on the word ‘friends’. ‘As you know, Enid has gone and she won’t be coming back.’

  This prompted fresh sobs from Maud which the farmer’s wife ignored. She cleared her throat, her face grim and her eyes unblinking. ‘Enid has got herself into trouble. Do you know what that means?’ she said flatly.

  Anna and Susan stared wide-eyed at Mrs Burns, clearly at a loss. Whether Maria and Maud realized what the farmer’s wife meant Cora didn’t know, but something inside her was saying, You say it, you spell it out, because the more she had reflected on the situation the more sure she had become that Mrs Burns had known exactly what was going on with poor Enid and hadn’t lifted a finger to help the girl.