All Things Undying (25 page)

Before long, Lilith was back. She seated herself across from me. I had planned to show her the shawl I was making, using our mutual love of knitting as an ice-breaker, but I found myself diving right in instead. ‘I heard a rumor about you the other day, Lilith.'

Lilith glanced up from her cucumber sandwich, a bemused look on her face. ‘Oh? I hope it was a good one. I could use a little excitement.'

I grinned. ‘I understand that once she gets it going, you're going to be curator of Cathy Yates' museum at Slapton Sands.'

Lilith nodded. ‘Fascinating project, don't you think? Although I hadn't been born yet when it happened, I've always been interested in the evacuation. I've written several articles about it for some of our better historical journals. You can find them in the public library here, if you're interested, and at BRNC, too, of course.'

I reached into my bag, rooting around under the knitting until my hand closed on a yellowish green pamphlet. ‘I have one of them here. I bought it at the Harbour Bookshop the other day, and was pleased to see your name in it.'

‘Lovely bookshop, isn't it? Did you know that for many years it was owned by Christopher Milne, the son of A. A. Milne who wrote the Winnie the Pooh stories?'

‘Christopher Robin, yes, I did.'

‘He disliked Americans, you know.'

‘That I didn't know.'

‘I gather the Winnie the Pooh stories were much more popular in America than they ever were over here. And after the Disney movie came out?' She cast her eyes toward the sturdy, fourteenth-century rafters. ‘Americans kept coming in and asking for Christopher Robin. Eventually, whenever he heard an American accent, poor Chris would scurry upstairs and hide out until they were gone.'

I laughed, and tried to use the opportunity to get Lilith back on track. ‘My friend Alison Hamilton's father doesn't think much of Yanks, either. I figure it has something to do with the American occupation. Stephen Bailey, do you know him?'

‘Of course. Until Cathy Yates bought it, Three Trees Farm was owned for centuries by Stephen Bailey's family.' She paused, chewing thoughtfully. ‘Stephen must have been, what, sixteen or seventeen when the war broke out?'

‘That's right. Tragically, his older brother was killed at Dunkirk, so he stayed home to work the farm. Even so, my friend Alison says that after Teddy's death, her grandfather was often ill. She thinks the old man died of a broken heart.'

Lilith had finished her lunch, and pushed her plate aside. ‘I can understand that. If anything happened to one of my sons . . .' She shivered. ‘It doesn't bear thinking about.'

I'd finished eating, too. I picked up my knitting, arranged the nether end of the shawl on my lap, and began working a row. ‘What I'm wondering, Lilith, is how one boy and one sick old man were able to manage such a large farm by themselves?'

Lilith hauled out her knitting, too. ‘There were a couple of local lads helping out, of course. Fourteen or fifteen years old, too young to be called up.' She held up a needle like a baton. ‘Do you know about the Women's Land Army?'

‘A little. Wasn't it like our Civilian Conservation Corps in America?'

‘Not exactly. During the war, so many young men were called up that there was a severe shortage of labor on farms all over England. As a rural community, Devon was particularly hard hit. So, the government called on women to fill the gap.' She smiled. ‘As they tend to do.

‘A lot of the girls were sent out here from the cities,' Lilith continued. ‘They were just sixteen or seventeen, leaving home for the first time. Manual labor from daybreak to dusk was a new thing for them.' She studied me thoughtfully. ‘As I recall, four Land Army girls were assigned to Three Trees Farm. They were billeted along with half a dozen other girls at a small hotel in Strete.'

‘So, what happened to the girls after the evacuation?'

‘In general, they either transferred to some other area of the country, or they went back home, if they had a home to go back to.' She shook her head. ‘Much of London had been destroyed, as you probably know.'

‘I did.'

‘But, lighter note! After the war, one of the girls who had been assigned to Three Trees Farm came back to Strete. She'd fallen in love with Adam Wills, you see, whose father owned the farm adjacent to Three Trees. Eventually they married, and she stayed in the area.'

Like a bird taking flight, my spirits soared. ‘Is she still alive?'

‘My, yes.'

‘Do you think I'll be able to talk to her?'

‘I don't see why not. She's widowed, living in Stoke Fleming now. I'll get you her number, shall I? Her name's Audrey. Audrey Wills.'

‘I'd really appreciate it. I first heard about the Land Army girls while watching an episode of
Foyles War
, and since then, I've been fascinated.' I tapped the pamphlet that lay on the table between us. ‘And I've read your article, of course.'

She beamed, accepting the compliment. ‘Fortunately, Audrey's farmer was able to move himself, his family and his livestock to another farm outside the American Zone, up near Harbertonford.' She shook her head. ‘Many farmers weren't so lucky. They had to sell everything, and you can imagine with everyone selling their livestock all at once, the prices were at rock bottom.'

I thought about Stephen Bailey's cows – Feckless, Graceless, Pointless and Aimless – and how hard it must have been for him to see them go.

‘They were only given six weeks to clear out,' Lilith continued. ‘Six weeks! Can you imagine? And just before Christmas, too.'

‘I can hardly pack for a two-week vacation in that little time.'

Lilith shook her head. ‘Isn't that the truth? Now, don't let me forget to get you Audrey's number.'

‘I won't!' I gave Lilith my cell-phone number, and the telephone number at the B&B.

‘Now that that's settled, Hannah, it's time to show me what you're working on so industriously.'

TWENTY-TWO

Pat Kemp,
Ministry of Food: Women's Land Army: Index to Service Records of the Second World War 1939–1948, Series: MAF421,
National Archives, Kew, Richmond, Surrey

I
arranged to meet Audrey Wills at the Singing Kettle Tea Shoppe in Smith Street, just around the corner from St Saviour's. She was already there when I arrived, chatting with one of the owners – Darren, or it could have been Brian – at the foot of a narrow wooden staircase that led up to the first floor.

I recognized her at once from Lilith's description. Tall, impossibly thin, with cropped hair the color of tar – a color that would have been startling on a woman half her age – sticking out in spikes like an electrified hedgehog.

I introduced myself to Audrey and to Darren, who showed us to a small round table near the window, covered with a scrupulously clean white tablecloth. After studying the menu, and consulting with Audrey, I ordered the cream tea for us both.

‘Thanks so much for seeing me, Mrs Wills,' I said, after Darren left with our order. ‘Since my visit here, I've become very interested in the evacuation of the South Hams during the Second World War. Lilith Price told me that you were one of the Land Army girls stationed here. I was hoping you could tell me what it was like.'

Audrey laced her fingers together and rested her hands on the table. ‘The Land Army, yes. It turned out to be a life-changing experience for me, but I really wanted to join the WAAF.' She winked. ‘My father wouldn't let me.'

‘The WAAF?'

‘The Women's Auxiliary Air Force. It's part of the RAF now. Back in 1943, to a young girl barely seventeen, it sounded like the most exciting thing in the world. Some of the WAAFs worked on codes and ciphers, which I thought would be much more interesting than slaving away as a seamstress in a sweatshop like my mother.'

Brian brought our tea – Earl Grey – along with warm, homemade scones served up on a crystal cake stand decorated with whole strawberries, segments of clementine, and slices of kiwi. Pots of proper Devonshire clotted cream, lightly crusted with yellow, and strawberry jam were delivered on a separate plate.

Brian set a silver egg timer on the table in front of me. ‘When that's done, your tea will be perfectly brewed.' He waggled a finger. ‘And not one second before!'

While we waited for the sands of time to tell us that the tea was ready, Audrey continued with her story. ‘For some reason, Father didn't object to my joining the Women's Land Army, so I went off to be interviewed.' Audrey picked a strawberry off the plate and ate it in three tiny bites. ‘They quizzed me on my experience, of course, and I had to admit to the woman who interviewed me that the only thing I knew about country life was what I'd read in books, but that it had always appealed to me. So she asked me what books I had read, and I had to invent something on the spot. “Friendly Animals of Forest and Fen”, I told her.' Audrey giggled like the schoolgirl she had been at the time. ‘She had to know I was green as grass, Hannah, but in spite of that, I was accepted and they dispatched me off to Herefordshire for training.'

‘Tea's ready,' I said, with an eye on the egg timer. ‘Shall I pour?'

She nodded.

‘Black or white?'

‘White, with,' she said.

I passed the milk and the sugar bowl.

‘I didn't get on with the first farmer I was assigned to,' Audrey told me. Using the tongs, she dropped a lump of sugar into her tea, then stirred it vigorously. ‘There was never enough food for one thing, and I had to sleep in an unheated loft.' She shivered. ‘I've never been so cold in all my life.'

She wrapped her hands around her cup and took a long sip of tea, as if even the memory of the cold needed warming. ‘But the last straw came when I was asked to hold the piglets while he castrated them. That was no job for a woman, and he knew it. I can hear them squealing to this very day! So I hopped on my bicycle and cycled away!

‘The Women's Land Army was very cross with me, of course, but I already knew how to hoe, dig ditches and milk cows, so they forgave me and transferred me to Devon. I was bivouacked in a hostel in Strete, but I worked primarily on Three Trees Farm, along with three other girls.' As she spoke, her eyes lit up. ‘I loved the work, the fresh air, the sunshine. And even digging potatoes was fun when there were others to share the task.'

‘What can you tell me about the girls you worked with, Audrey?'

‘As I said, we were billeted in Strete, in a hostel with ten other girls.' She chuckled. ‘With all the American soldiers in the area, we were having the time of our lives. Dances every weekend. Big band music, jitterbug and jive. We taught the Yanks how to do the Lambeth Walk and the Paul Jones, which they must have found hysterical. And, oh, how we used to put it over on our supervisor!' She leaned forward and whispered, ‘There was a curfew, you know.'

Audrey reached down and retrieved her handbag from the floor. She pulled out a small packet of black and white photographs, held together by a rubber band. ‘I've brought photos along, if you're interested.'

‘I love looking at other people's pictures.'

Audrey removed the rubber band from the pack, cleared a small space on the tablecloth between us and laid down the first photo. It showed four girls standing in front of a tractor, arms thrown around each other's shoulders. Each girl's right leg was extended, as if they were executing a dance routine.

‘We wore uniforms, as you can see,' she said, pointing to each item as she named it. ‘Olive green gabardine breeches, a cream-colored shirt, green pullover, a tie.' She tapped one of the ties, which was askew as its owner leaned against her companions. ‘If you look closely, you can see the Women's Land Army insignia on the tie.'

In a second photo, it was winter, and the same group of four smiling girls stood in a village square wearing heavy double-breasted overcoats, beige knee socks and sensible brown shoes. Two of the girls wore soft felt hats at jaunty angles, strings tied in loose bows just under their left ears.

A third photo showed one girl riding a tractor pulling a reaper, while another stood just behind holding a pitchfork. In the far background, a farmer looked on. ‘The girl on the tractor is me,' Audrey said with a slight smile. ‘The supervisor was none too pleased when I cut the legs off my dungarees so I could get a good tan.'

I bent over the table to study the photo more carefully. ‘Is that Mr Bailey Senior in the background?'

‘Stephen's father? Yes. He was a handsome man in his day. Stephen favors him, I think.'

I had to agree. The abundant hair, high cheekbones, ruddy complexion, and laughing eyes that seemed to say:
Life is good in the country.

I slid the photos around on the tablecloth, until the country chorus line was again uppermost. ‘The girl on the left is you, I can see that now. Who are the others?'

Audrey smiled wistfully. ‘That's me, as you said, then Flo, Vi, and Mary.'

‘I know you married Mr Wills, but what happened to the other girls after the South Hams were evacuated?'

‘Mary got transferred to a farm in Exeter, and Flo went home to Birmingham. I don't know what happened to Vi. I've managed to keep up with Mary and Flo over the years, though.'