Alice's Girls (27 page)

They returned to the cross-passage and entered what had become known as the recreation room. The three large sofas, warped by heavy use, their cushions faded and flattened, stood round the wide fireplace where the land girls had used them. The piano, its keys yellowing, was as Annie had left it on the previous evening, with sheet music propped open on its stand. Glen Miller, George Gershwin,
Cole Porter. The low ceiling was heavily beamed. The windows at one end gave onto the farmyard, and at the other onto the overgrown front garden with its tangle of unpruned roses and clumps of marguerite daisies. Each had wide, oak window seats. The large Persian carpet had once been beautiful. Now it was threadbare, its vibrant colours faded almost completely to a uniform mottle of dull greens, pastel blues, pinks and golds. Georgina and Christopher stood, visualising what the room might look like as a family sitting room.

Through the open door to Alice’s room, her possessions were visible. Her books. The small writing desk which had been her mother’s – the only item of furniture she had brought with her to the farm – together with two large, paisley shawls which were thrown across the divans on which she and Edward John slept, he at one end of the room and she at the other. There was a model aeroplane on his bed and a scatter of comics. Alice’s was tidy, with its row of cushions arranged neatly against the wall.

Georgina and Christopher did not intrude into the room but stood in the doorway, looking into it.

‘Dear Alice,’ Georgina murmured. ‘Whatever we do to this house, this room should always be known as Alice’s, don’t you think?’

‘I do,’ he agreed. ‘Nice idea.’

They left the farmhouse, conscious of the fact that, although Alice, Edward John, Gwennan and Winnie
would return to it that night when the celebrations at the higher farm were over, it was only a matter of days before it would be deserted.

‘What an adventure it’s been for the old place,’ Georgina said, pensively. ‘Will it miss us, d’you think?’

‘Probably be glad to see the back of you all. Ten great girls lumbering about, clattering up and down the stairs …’

‘Fighting over the bathroom!’ Georgina said. ‘Quarrelling over the hot water! Wolfing our food in the kitchen. Caterwauling round the piano!’

‘Listen!’ Christopher said. They stood, quite still, while the silence settled round them and the half-light thickened. Then they began to hear the small sounds of the country evening. Sounds which for so long had often been drowned by the clatter and hum of the overpopulated hostel, by the rise and fall of the girls’ voices, the comings and goings of the farm trucks and the GIs’ jeeps, the rumble of the carts, the thud of the shire horses’ hooves and the rattle of the oily tractor. Now they heard only the occasional distant bleating of sheep, grazing the short, wiry grass on the high ground above the valley. Jackdaws and house martins fidgeted drowsily round the chimneys and from somewhere, way down the valley, a pheasant’s alarm call briefly reached them. Christopher took Georgina’s hand and kissed it.

‘It’ll still be here,’ he said. ‘I promise you.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know. I know it will be.’

J
ULIA
S
TONEHAM
began her career as a stage designer before moving into writing. She was a regular writer on
The House of Eliott
and her radio series,
The Cinderella Service,
was nominated for a Sony Award and was commissioned by Granada TV.

Muddy Boots and Silk Stockings

The Girl at the Farmhouse Gate

Alice’s Girls

PREVIOUSLY IN THE LAND GIRLS TRILOGY

‘A wonderful tale of courage, self-discovery and outstanding friendship in trying times’
People’s Friend

‘Its a slice of wartime life written with great insight and subtlety’
Historical Novels Review

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