Lost Angel
‘All right, we’ll go to the village, but we can’t stay long.’
Hilda busied herself with feeding Wilfred. Yes, she had talked Gertie into going, but her feelings of isolation, of being trapped here, were growing ever stronger. Please, please, let there be a reply to her letters, because if she didn’t escape soon, Hilda feared she’d go out of her mind.
Ellen was happy as they rode to the village, the sunshine warm on her back, but wished she could say the same about her mum. She was well again now, but so quiet and moody. Gertie was always giving her mum hugs in an attempt to cheer her up, but if anything that just seemed to make it worse.
‘Now remember, we can’t stay long,’ Gertie warned as Ned trotted along. ‘I’m not only planting, I’m weaning the piglets.’
‘All right, there’s no need to nag. I just want some shopping, a newspaper, and to see if there’s any mail.’
Ellen wished Gertie hadn’t mentioned the pigs. Like last year, and the year before, she knew there’d been a large litter. All but one would be sold again, a part of living on the smallholding Ellen still didn’t like.
Gertie took one hand from the reins, leaning across Ellen to lay it on her mum’s leg. ‘Cheer up, Hilda.’
‘I’m fine,’ she snapped, impatiently pushing her hand away.
Gertie then patted Ellen’s leg, too. ‘Your mum might be a bit short-tempered, but it’s nice to see her looking so well now.’
Ellen glanced at her mother, but she was staring straight ahead, her lips tight; sensing her mood, Ellen remained quiet for the rest of the journey.
When they arrived at the general store, Gertie made no attempt to climb down, only saying, ‘Don’t be long, Hilda.’
‘I’ll be as long as it takes,’ she retorted angrily.
Ellen clambered down and inside the shop, Mrs Brandon returned their greetings. ‘Hello, and it’s nice to see you both. There are two letters for you, Mrs Stone.’
Ellen saw her mum’s face light up as she took them. ‘This one’s from my husband, but as I only wrote to him ten days ago, they must have crossed in the post.’
‘What else can I get you?’ Mrs Brandon asked. Hilda passed her a list, chatting to Mrs Brandon as she gathered the goods together, while Ellen ogled the few sweets on offer, thrilled when her mum said they had enough coupons to buy some. The sherbet lemons looked sticky and clung to the jar as they were shaken onto the scales, but Ellen’s mouth watered with anticipation.
‘There you are, Ellen,’ said Mrs Brandon as she passed her the paper bag.
‘I’m sorry I can’t stay longer to chat,’ her mum said, ‘but Gertie is anxious to get back to the smallholding.’
‘Yes, it’s a busy time of year.’
Calling goodbye, they left the shop.
‘It’s about time,’ said Gertie as they returned to the cart.
‘I’m going to the butcher’s, so you’ll just have to wait.’
Ellen didn’t like his shop. Sometimes he had whole dead rabbits hanging from hooks and the sight sickened her. ‘I’ll wait here,’ she called as her mum hurried off, and then, climbing up beside Gertie, held out the bag of sherbet lemons. ‘Do you want one?’
‘No, you eat them. I haven’t got a sweet tooth.’
Ellen pried one sticky sweet from another and popped it into her mouth as her eyes roamed the small village. To her it was beautiful, the thatched cottages, the stone walls behind which lay pretty gardens. She loved it here, the countryside, and living on the smallholding. She sighed with happiness, hoping they’d never leave.
When Hilda returned again to the cart, Gertie asked, ‘Did you get everything we need?’
‘Yes,’ Hilda said shortly, and as the horse ambled along she pulled out Doug’s letter, anxious to read it. She smiled at first, loving his cheeky innuendoes, but when she got to the second page her expression changed. Doug must be out of his tiny mind, writing about how much he’d enjoyed working on the smallholding and going on to suggest that after the war they move out of London. No way, Hilda thought as she stuffed the letter back into the envelope. She’d had enough of living in the back of beyond with hardly any amenities other than a few village shops. In London you could jump on a bus, a train, or the tube and go anywhere without a problem. Here there wasn’t any transport and all they had to rely on was a flaming, cantankerous horse.
‘What did Dad say?’ Ellen asked again.
‘He misses us, he’s fine, and he sends you his love.’
‘When’s he coming home again?’
‘I don’t know,’ Hilda said sadly.
Once outside the village the road became uneven and they bounced as the cart hit an occasional hump, but despite this Hilda managed to scan the newspaper. Her mood lightened. There hadn’t been any raids over London, and she dared to hope. She wanted to be away from Gertie, to have her own home again, somewhere to settle and for Doug to return to when this rotten war was over. Keeping her thoughts to herself, Hilda folded the newspaper. She didn’t want to talk about her plans in front of Ellen, and, anyway, with the way Gertie was behaving lately, she might kick up a fuss. Hilda wondered yet again if she was imagining things; yet recalling the many times Gertie found any excuse to touch her nowadays, she doubted it. There’d been so many hugs, so many occasions when she’d caught Gertie looking at her with a strange, almost lustful expression.
Hilda shivered. Maybe she was imagining it, maybe not, but, just in case, she wanted to be away from Gertie; the thought of her wanting a love affair nauseating.
Gertie knew that Hilda was fed up with life in the country and there’d been times when she’d talked about going back to London, yet, despite this, she wasn’t worried. Hilda was a loving and protective mother who would never put her daughter at risk, their stay with her assured until the war was over. ‘I saw you had two letters,’ she said. ‘Who was the other one from?’
‘Mabel. I’ll read it when we’re back at the cottage.’
‘Was there anything interesting in the newspaper?’
‘There’s no mention of bombing raids on London and, as Hitler has turned his attention to other targets, there’s speculation there might not be any more.’
‘You said it, speculation, and no guarantee.’
‘Look,’ Ellen said, pointing to a farmer’s field. ‘It’s full of Land Army girls.’
‘Lucky farmer,’ Gertie said. ‘I wouldn’t mind a few of them helping out on my smallholding.’
‘I’ve offered to get stuck in, but you won’t let me,’ Hilda said curtly.
‘Once you’re fully recovered, I’ll welcome it.’
‘I am fully recovered, and I’ll tell you something else, I’m fed up with you telling me what I can and cannot do.’
‘All right, calm down. It’s just that you were so ill and I’m worried about you over-exerting yourself.’
‘I’m a grown woman, not a child, and if I say I’m up to giving you a hand, then I am.’
‘Fair enough,’ Gertie said. ‘You can start tomorrow.’
‘I’ll start when I’m good and ready – not when you decide to give your permission.’
Gertie shook her head. When Hilda was in this mood there was no pleasing her. Her chest infection had been serious, so bad that Gertie had feared she would lose her. Maybe she had been a bit bossy, over-protective, but it was time to loosen up. They needed to get back to normal, to return to their old routine, and once that was achieved, Hilda was sure to brighten up.
Chapter Twelve
When they returned to the cottage, it wasn’t long before Gertie and Ellen were working outside again, while Hilda read Mabel’s letter, her mind racing. Mabel wrote that South Clapham was still lovely, hardly touched by the Blitz, or any of the infrequent bombing raids that followed. The next bit of the letter was more exciting. By an absolute fluke, Hilda’s letter to Mabel had arrived at an opportune time. Apparently the old lady who lived downstairs was unable to look after herself any longer and was going to live with her daughter. Mabel had already spoken to the landlord on Hilda’s behalf and he was willing to let her have the place, but to secure it she’d have to travel back to London as soon as possible.
Gertie was sure to kick up a fuss, and Hilda didn’t want Ellen to hear what might develop into a row, so going to the back door she called, ‘Gertie, can you come in for a minute? I need a hand with something.’
Thankfully Hilda saw that Ellen remained where she was, and as soon as Gertie reached her, she beckoned her inside, saying curtly, ‘Gertie, we’re going back to London.’
‘What! No, Hilda, tell me you don’t mean it.’
‘Mabel said a flat has come up, and if I go back I’ve got a strong chance of getting it.’
‘You’re being selfish. Ellen loves it here, but you’re going to drag her back to London where it isn’t safe.’
‘It is safe and I am not selfish.’
Gertie’s stance became rigid, her lips set in a tight line. ‘You’re not going. Despite what you say, London is too dangerous. I insist you stay here.’
Anger flared in Hilda and she yelled, ‘Who are you to tell me what to do? If I want to go back, I will. In fact, we’re going right now!’
‘And how do you think you’re going to get to the station? I’m not taking you.’
Hilda fumed. It was miles to the village, let alone Crewkerne, but even if it took many hours, somehow she’d get there. ‘And you call me selfish. It won’t work though, Gertie. You can’t keep me a prisoner and if you won’t take us, fine. We’ll walk to the village and I’m sure someone there will give us a lift to Crewkerne.’
As Hilda stomped outside, Gertie almost doubled over in anguish. She’d said all the wrong things, been too forceful, and her stupid threat that she wouldn’t take them to the station had rebounded. She’d wanted to delay Hilda, to have time to talk some sense into her, but instead it had made Hilda even more determined to leave. Gertie wanted to chase after her, to beg her to stay, but Hilda was now so angry that there’d be no getting round her.
Poor Ellen, she’d be so upset, but that thought gave Gertie a smidgeon of hope. Seeing her daughter’s distress might be enough to sway Hilda, and Gertie now hurried back outside, hearing Ellen’s voice high in appeal as she drew closer.
‘No, Mum! I don’t want to go.’
‘It’s safe in London now and we’ve no reason to stay here. Now get a move on. We’ve got packing to do.’
‘No,’ Ellen said mutinously.
‘You’ll do as I say, my girl.’
‘I want to stay here!’
Gertie laid a hand on Hilda’s arm. ‘Please, at least leave Ellen with me.’
‘No!’ Hilda spat, pushing a protesting Ellen ahead of her to the cottage.
Gertie knew she had lost and, heartsick, she stood unmoving, watching them go. Before they’d arrived she had become used to living on her own, adapted to the loneliness by burying herself in working the smallholding. She’d found a contentment of sorts, but their arrival had changed all that; her way of living, of thinking, had been transformed and Gertie knew she couldn’t face the life of a recluse again.
She had loved teaching Ellen, had seen how she enjoyed the lessons, her mind absorbing so much. Gertie knew she was a talented teacher, a wasted talent now, and with that thought came a yearning to teach again. With her past record she doubted it would be possible and for the first time in years Gertie felt tears flooding her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional woman, but Gertie cried now, cried at the thought of losing Hilda, of losing Ellen, and for the loss of her career.
Sobs racked Gertie’s body and she folded at the waist, clutching both arms around her stomach. Oh Hilda, Hilda, please don’t leave me, her mind screamed, until her knees gave way and she sank onto the ground.
Ellen didn’t want to leave, couldn’t bear the thought of going back to London, but her mother was so angry that she found herself almost shoved upstairs and into the bedroom.
‘Do … do we have to go?’
‘Yes, and I can’t believe that selfish bitch. We’ve worked like bloody dogs since we’ve been here, outside in all weathers, and what thanks do we get? None! She won’t even take us to the station.’
‘I … I didn’t mind doing the planting, Mum. I like seeing things grow.’
Ellen was ignored, her mum opening drawers and stuffing things into a case, but she tried again nevertheless. ‘Mum. I … I’m scared. Ger … Gertie said there still might be bombing raids in London.’
At last her mum’s face softened as she beckoned Ellen to her. ‘Now listen, I wouldn’t take you back to London if I didn’t think it was safe, and not only that, we won’t be living in Battersea. We’re going to Clapham. From what Mabel told me, it’s a nice house. She lives upstairs, and we’ll be downstairs. You’ll love it there, and it’s close to the Common with a nice school too.’
‘I … I’d rather stay here.’
‘I know you would, but it’s time you went to a proper school and mixed with girls of your own age again.’
‘I could go to the one in the village,’ Ellen suggested in a desperate attempt to change her mother’s mind.
‘You know it’s too far away. Now come on, buck up. We’ve a train to catch and a long walk ahead of us to the village. To start with, grab that carving your dad made for you from the windowsill.’
Ellen did as she was told, but as she picked up the cat and looked down onto the smallholding, she frowned. ‘Mum, what’s wrong with Gertie?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look,’ she urged.
‘Oh Gawd,’ her mother said when she saw Gertie on her knees, the dog frantically scrambling all over her and trying to lick her face. ‘Stay here and take over the packing.’
Ellen didn’t do as she was told, but remained at the window, watching as her mum rushed outside. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but moments later Gertie was on her feet, reaching out to drag her mum into her arms.
Hilda had been worried about Gertie, but was now more worried about herself as she fought the vice-like embrace.
‘Gertie, leave off. I know you’re upset, but let me go.’
‘Don’t leave me, Hilda. Please don’t go.’
‘Stop it!’ she yelled, writhing with panic as Gertie’s lips sought hers. With her arms clamped, Hilda did the only thing possible and stamped hard on Gertie’s foot. ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare kiss me!’
At last she was free, sickened by what had happened as she stared at Gertie in disgust. ‘And you wonder why I’m leaving!’
‘Hilda, please, I’m sorry, it … it’s just that you haven’t objected when I’ve touched you, and … and I was beginning to think …’
‘Well, you thought wrong! I took it as just friendly affection, a sort of sisterly affection, so of course I didn’t object.’
‘Oh, Hilda, what I feel for you is more than that. I … I love you … I’ve always loved you and can’t bear the thought of losing you.’
Hilda stood rigidly in shock and indignation. ‘Losing me! You never blinking well had me. I’m a married woman – married to a man! I don’t fancy women and you know that!’
‘Of course I know and I was stupid, mad, to hope. Honestly, it was just a moment of madness, that’s all. If you stay I promise it’ll never happen again.’
‘Too bloody right it won’t. The sooner I get out of here the better.’
Gertie seemed to deflate before Hilda’s eyes, her tone desolate when she spoke. ‘All right, I understand, but don’t leave like this. Can’t we at least part as friends?’
Ellen came running out of the back door, white-faced and calling, ‘Mum, what’s wrong? Why are you fighting? Why did you stamp on Gertie’s foot?’
Hilda drew in a deep breath, fighting for composure. ‘We’re not fighting. It’s just a bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all.’
Ellen didn’t look convinced, but then Gertie knelt down and beckoned her over. ‘It was my fault, Ellen. I wasn’t very nice, so no wonder your mother stamped on my foot.’
‘Does it hurt?’
Gertie’s laugh sounded forced as she said ruefully, ‘Yes, a bit, but I forgive her and I hope she forgives me. Don’t worry, we’re friends again now. Isn’t that right, Hilda?’
Hilda paused before answering, yet saw the concern in her daughter’s eyes and knew she’d have to go along with it. ‘Yes, but come on, Ellen, we’ve still got packing to do.’
‘What about Socks? We can’t leave Socks.’
‘Sod it, I forgot about the cat. With our luggage, I don’t know how we’re going to manage him too.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Gertie. ‘I’ve got a basket somewhere and he’ll be fine in that. You won’t have to walk. I’ll take you to the station.’
Hilda knew that Ellen would kick up a fuss if they left without the cat so it wasn’t practical to refuse the offer. Her thanks were begrudging as she urged Ellen inside and she dreaded the long ride to town. At least Ellen would be with them so they wouldn’t be alone, but if Gertie laid another finger on her, bigger in stature or not, she’d flatten the unnatural cow.
With a spurt of energy, Hilda threw their things into the cases. She had used every excuse in her mind to return to London: the need for her own home, to find some sort of work that would help the war effort, along with Ellen’s education. Mabel said it was safe, so she’d chosen to ignore Gertie’s warnings of more air raids. Now, after what had just happened, she no longer had to find excuses to leave – her conscience was at last clear.
Gertie reluctantly harnessed the horse, her emotions in turmoil as they set off. Hilda wouldn’t look her in the eye, her expression implacable as they left the smallholding. She cursed her own lack of control. If she’d kept her hands to herself, maybe Hilda wouldn’t be so intent on leaving, yet, even as this thought crossed her mind, Gertie knew that it wouldn’t have made any difference. Hilda hated it in Somerset, and though living with her for well over two years, she’d never adapted to country life.
Sadly, Gertie glanced at Ellen and saw she was close to tears. Ellen had come to Somerset a pale, stammering, nervous wreck, but now she had blossomed, glowed with health and had been a pleasure to teach.
‘Ellen, did you pack your books?’
‘I wanted to, but Mum said they’d make my case too heavy. Will … will you look after them for me?’
‘I’ll do my best, but as I too might be leaving, perhaps I should parcel up our favourites and post them to you.’
Hilda’s head shot around. ‘Leaving! What do you mean? I hope you’re not going to follow me back to London.’
‘No, Hilda, but I feel it’s time for me to wake up, join the world again. I’m thinking about enlisting in one of the armed forces.’
‘Yeah, well, the uniform would suit you,’ Hilda said derisively. ‘Mind you, I’m not sure that as a woman, you’d be allowed to wear trousers.’
‘Hilda, don’t be like this. I’d kept away from you for years, and you seem to be forgetting that it was you who asked to stay with me. I wasn’t sure how I’d cope, but knowing you were in danger, how could I refuse?’
‘I asked to stay with you because I saw you as a sister. I trusted you!’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened, wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been in such a state. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving and lost control.’
‘That’s enough! Ellen shouldn’t be hearing any of this. All I’ll say is that you shouldn’t have tried it on, and now just shut up about it.’
‘What did you try on, Gertie? Was it one of Mummy’s dresses?’
Gertie floundered for a moment, but then said, ‘Yes, my dear, I’m afraid I did try on your mother’s best dress and she wasn’t very happy about it.’
‘Why? Did you tear it?’
‘Well, darling, look at the size of me compared to your mother.’
Ellen giggled, and it was followed by a chuckle from Hilda before she said, ‘I suppose in a way I should be flattered, but I wasn’t, Gertie. I was just disgusted and in future, don’t you dare do that again.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t. Your friendship means too much to me and I won’t risk losing it. We are still friends, aren’t we?’
‘I suppose so, but only friends and no more.’
‘I’m happy with that,’ Gertie assured her. She’d been mad to want more – mad to expect that Hilda would feel the same, and though Gertie doubted her feelings would ever change, at least she had the compensation of Hilda’s continued friendship.
‘Are you really going to join up?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Will you sell the smallholding?’
‘It wouldn’t be practical to keep it. Unattended it would just go to rack and ruin and I have to think about the animals too.’
‘What about Bertie?’ asked Ellen.
‘I’ll have to find a new home for him.’
‘And Wilfred?’
‘Him too.’
‘Mum, can we have Bertie?’ Ellen appealed.
‘We can’t, love. We’ve already got Socks.’
‘Socks won’t mind. He likes Bertie.’
‘I’m not sure the landlord will allow one pet, let alone two. As it is, if we get the flat, we may have to sneak the cat in.’
‘But, Mum …’
‘That’s enough,’ Hilda snapped, her patience obviously wearing thin and her mood changing again.
‘Your mother’s right, Ellen, and anyway, I doubt Bertie would be happy living in London. Don’t worry, I’ll find him a good home locally,’ Gertie assured her as they neared the village. ‘Hilda, if you want to catch the train, we won’t be able to stop. If we do it’ll mean getting a later one.’
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