The Farmer's Daughter (27 page)

‘Gordon will be back from his honeymoon soon and Don will come home for Christmas and we'll be six again,' Jean said. Gordon and Rosemary were going to live at the farm and Doris had been decorating his room and replacing his single bed with a double one. Good furniture was never given away and they thought the little bed might come in handy, so it was consigned to a box room along with a baby's cot and a lot of other clutter which Doris could not bear to throw away. How mother and daughter-in-law would get on under one roof, Jean did not know, but it made her feel even more isolated.

‘Just like old times.'

‘Yes and no.'

‘You are thinking about Karl?'

‘Yes.'

‘Has he heard from home?'

‘No, I don't think so. He's very worried. He says the Russians are bent on revenge for what they suffered and are brutal to those they conquer.'

‘You can hardly blame them.'

‘He says they take everything and what they don't take they destroy, not to mention raping the women. He has a young sister …'

‘And you are worried he'll go home and not come back.'

‘He might not be able to, that's the trouble.'

‘There's nothing you can do about it, Jean. And maybe it's for the best.'

‘Mum, how can you say that?'

‘I'm sorry, love, I'm just trying to be practical.'

‘I don't want to think about it. He says he is unlikely to go for some time.'

‘Then we shall have to wait and see.'

‘He tells me he's coming to work on Christmas Day.'

‘Can't you manage without him?'

‘Of course I can.' She meant the farm work, not anything else. ‘He knows we don't do much except feed and water the animals and do the milking, and Gordon and Donald can help with that, but he is adamant. He says he wants me to have a good time and not have to worry about the livestock.'

‘That is kind of him. I would ask him to have Christmas dinner with us, but I don't think Gordon would approve and I don't want to upset him now he seems more cheerful.'

That was indicative of how it was going to be, she supposed.

Gordon and Rosie came back from their honeymoon, full of the beauties of the Lake District and the walking they had done.

‘I must go over and see Mum,' Rosemary said, after they had unpacked and eaten the meal Doris had cooked for them. ‘She'll want to know we're back.'

Gordon elected to go with her and afterwards they called in at the Plough and Harrow. Bill was there, along with the usual regulars.

‘How is married life?' Bill greeted them. ‘You look well on it.'

‘We are,' Gordon said. ‘I can recommend it.'

‘All well at home?'

‘Yes, apart from having to put up with the Jerry. You don't know of any labourers looking for work, do you?'

‘I'll ask around, but men who've travelled and seen a bit of life, aren't so keen to settle down. I'm having to pay top wages for my men.'

‘I've yet to get to grips with the accounts. Pa still likes to do those, but I wonder how many mistakes he's made. Jean says he doesn't, but what does she know?'

‘How is your father? Is he any better?'

‘No. I doubt he will improve now. Do you know, they never even let me know he'd had a stroke? I couldn't believe what he was like when I saw him, so weak and shrivelled, petulant too, like a big child. He's nothing like the man he was.'

‘Are any of us?'

‘He and Mum are talking about retiring and moving to a cottage, leaving me to take over the farm. It's Mum's idea really, but he seems to go along with it.'

‘That will be better for you, won't it? Two women in one kitchen is not a good idea.'

‘Three, if you count Jean.' Gordon smiled wryly. ‘It's about time you took her in hand, Bill.'

Jean had knitted Karl another jumper to replace the one he'd had stolen and decided to give it to him on Christmas Eve, after they had finished the milking and were waiting for his transport. ‘It's to make up for the other one,' she said, putting the parcel into his hands.

He took it from her and stood looking down at the thick jumper without speaking for a moment. Then he said, ‘You didn't have to do this, Jean. I shouldn't have told you I lost the other one.'

‘I would have noticed you weren't wearing it. And I loved doing it. Every stitch was made with love.'

‘Thank you and bless you.' He leant forward and kissed her. It was a gentle, undemanding kiss, a feather-light brushing of his lips against hers, but it started such a tumult inside her she felt she would explode if he didn't kiss her properly. She took his face in her hands and kissed him back. It was getting harder and harder to exercise the restraint they had promised each other. He was the first to draw away.

‘I must go before I do something we will both regret.'

‘I won't regret it, Karl.'

He smiled. ‘I think you might. I will be here tomorrow.' He wrapped the paper round the pullover again and put it on the bench next to the dungarees he had taken off. ‘I will leave this here, it will be safer.'

She watched his back as he walked down the drive to the waiting transport, then turned and went indoors to the bright light and warmth of the house where the jollity had already begun. Don and Rosie were decorating the tree, Gordon was sitting by the kitchen fire opposite their father; they had a glass of cider each. Doris and Elizabeth were preparing the evening meal. She stood looking at them all. Here was home, family and love and she ought to be grateful for it.

Karl did not need telling what needed doing and it was after breakfast when she went out to him the next day, taking a mug of tea and a mince pie on a paper napkin with her. He was wearing his new pullover with dungarees over his trousers, filling the water troughs outside the stables from the hosepipe. ‘Happy Christmas,' she said cheerfully.

He turned off the water and smiled at her. ‘Happy Christmas to you too, but you need not have come out. I have fed the chickens and the pigs.'

‘I know, I heard them.' She handed him the tea and mince pie. ‘These will warm you up a bit.'

‘Thank you.' He bit into the hot pie and waved his hand about his open mouth to cool it.

She laughed. ‘I should have told you it was hot.'

‘It is delicious. Did you bake it?'

‘No, Mum did.'

‘Thank her for me.'

‘I will.'

‘I have something for you.' He went to the pocket of his coat which he had hung on a hook in the stable and brought out a small package. ‘It is for your dressing table,' he said, as she unwrapped a small wooden bowl with a lid which had a point on it. ‘It is for a powder puff and the spike is for your rings.'

‘It's beautiful.' She wrapped her arms about him. ‘Hold me, Karl. Hold me tight. Never let me go.'

He hugged her, then gently put her from him. ‘It's Christmas Day, my love. Go back to your family. I can keep myself busy.'

‘I ought to help.'

‘No need. You will make that lovely skirt and jumper dirty. It suits you, brings out the lovely green of your eyes.'

She gave a tremulous laugh. ‘Thank you, kind sir. We are just off to church. Would you like to come too?'

He smiled. ‘It is a nice thought, but I think not. I would not want to start a riot, today of all days.'

She sighed, recognising the wisdom of that. ‘Aren't you lonely?'

‘Sometimes, but I have my thoughts to keep me company.'

‘They are not always happy ones, are they?'

‘No, but then I tell myself I am luckier than some and I think of all the good things in my life: a childhood I can treasure, family, good friends and you. What more can a man ask …?' Instead of elaborating on that, he added, ‘Please go back to your folks.'

There was a full congregation in church, all anxious to give thanks for the first Christmas in peace. Afterwards they loitered in the churchyard gossiping and wishing each other a happy Christmas and talking about the men who had come home, and those who never would. Happiness mixed with sadness.

‘How are things?' Bill dropped into step beside Jean. Gordon
was wheeling her father ahead of them, her mother and Rosie walked alongside.

‘OK.'

‘It can't be easy with Rosie living with you.'

‘We get along.'

‘I'm sure Gordon would rather have the house to himself when your parents retire.'

She turned sharply to look at him. ‘What makes you say that? Have you been talking to him about it?'

‘No, of course not, but it stands to reason.'

‘The farm is my home. Where else would I go?' It was a question that had been bothering her and she supposed that, sooner or later, she would have to find a job and somewhere to live, but it was not a decision she was in a hurry to make. It really all depended on Karl.

‘Marry me. You'll have a good home with me.'

He didn't understand why she burst out laughing. ‘What's so funny about that?' he asked.

‘Oh, Bill, that is about the least romantic proposal anyone could possibly have.'

‘Well, you know me. I tell it as it is. Do you want me to get down on one knee with a red rose in my teeth?'

‘No.' She stopped laughing. ‘Hadn't it occurred to you that if I married you, I'd be sharing a home with your mother, so what's the difference?'

‘It wouldn't be the same. You would be a married woman, my wife. Ma would understand that.'

Knowing his mother, she doubted it. ‘Perhaps I don't want to marry. Not every woman does, you know.'

‘I can't believe that. Why, I seem to remember you grumbling not so long ago that I would not commit myself, and now I have, you laugh.'

‘That was ages ago and things have moved on. I'm sorry I laughed. That was unkind of me.'

‘OK, point taken. Forget I spoke.'

Not a word about being in love, she noticed, as he left her and she hurried to catch up with her parents.

They were all trooping across the yard to the house when Doris spotted Karl through the open door of the stable, grooming one of the horses. ‘We can't leave him out here in the cold with no dinner while we stuff ourselves,' she said. ‘Gordon, you wouldn't mind if I ask him in, would you? After all, he used to have his meals with us before you came home.'

Jean held her breath because it looked as though her brother was going to refuse, but he was in a benevolent mood and said, ‘OK, but talk of the war is banned.'

‘It would be anyway.' Doris went over to Karl to issue the invitation. Jean resisted the temptation to go too and continued with the others to the house. A little while later, minus the dungarees, Karl came into the kitchen with Doris and was given a glass of cider while the women finished cooking and serving the dinner. Gordon was inclined to be terse and unfriendly, but everyone else accepted Karl as they had done for over a year and a second glass of cider mellowed her brother. Jean allowed herself to relax.

Karl did not stay long after the meal was finished but went back to work. Jean covered her good clothes with an overall and joined him at milking time. ‘Thank you for today,' he said.

‘It wasn't my doing. You came to work and Mum invited you for dinner, nothing out of the ordinary in that, is there?'

‘On Christmas Day, there is. You have made me feel almost one of the family.'

‘Good. Your transport is here.' They went to the gate together.
The sound of men's voices singing
‘O Tannenbaum'
rang out from the canvas-covered lorry. ‘The men are in good spirits by the sound of it.'

He bade her goodnight, climbed in with them and was borne away. She turned and went back indoors.

The new year came and went. The Nazi leaders who had survived and those running the death camps were put on trial and the country listened to the reports on the BBC in horror and disgust. It didn't help the popularity of the German prisoners of war. Jean knew some were being treated very badly, while others were accepted. And relations between Western Europe and Russia were worsening.

Churchill, no longer Prime Minister, travelled to America in March 1946 where he made a speech outlining his fears about Russian dominance in Eastern Europe where the alliance of wartime was rapidly turning into hostility. Having praised the Russian people as staunch allies, he went on to say: ‘From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent.'

Karl, listening to a report of it in the kitchen of Briar Rose Farm during a tea break, was cast into gloom. Churchill was only saying what he had told Jean months before. Poland, under Russian dominance, had shifted its borders westwards and he was afraid Hartsveld might soon be swallowed up. Even if it were not, it was now deep inside the Russian zone. If he were sent back there, would he ever be able to leave again? And could he get his parents out, even supposing they consented?

Occasionally, resting under a hedge during a lunch break, he and Jean might touch upon the future and speak about what they would like to happen, how and where they would live, but they
could not make any real plans. And peace was bringing its own problems. There was austerity and hardship and bread was rationed for the first time, something that had never happened during the war. There was a chronic shortage of housing, too. Her parents had had no luck finding a cottage to suit them. They wanted one in the village which made the search more difficult. Jean suspected they were not trying very hard.

After protests were made in Parliament, a start was made on sending some German POWs home, beginning with the ‘whites', but it was a slow process. Karl was not a ‘white', though in hindsight he supposed he could have been, nor was he a builder or a miner, who were desperately needed to rebuild his shattered country and were being given priority. Added to that, his spells in the cooler had been set against his record, so he was not among the early leavers. Those left behind in the camps were subjected to a programme of re-education, destined to teach them about democracy and fit them for life when they went home. They were told about the hardships facing them; everything in the garden would not be lovely. Of a population of seventy million in Europe as a whole, they were told, thirty million were searching for someone. A missing persons' bureau in Hamburg was receiving thousands of enquiries every day. It depressed Karl, who had had no news of home.

‘The trouble is that the names of towns and streets in the Russian zone have been changed to sound more Russian,' their lecturer told him when he spoke to him after one session. ‘If you sent letters to the old name, they would not have been delivered.'

‘How can I find out what the new name is?'

The man shrugged. ‘It's difficult. The Russians are not very forthcoming. Are you planning to go to the Russian Zone?'

‘Yes, that's where my parents are, if they are still alive.'

‘They might have left. Thousands have fled from east to west, hoping to find shelter somewhere. Have you any relations in the west, they might go to?'

‘Cousins, I suppose, but I do not think my parents would leave their farm.'

‘If you want my advice, you'll try them first. Don't venture into the Russian zone unless you are very sure that's what you want. Have you been given any idea when you will go?'

‘No.'

‘Then you must be patient.'

Karl talked to Jean about it. ‘Some of us have already been sent home,' he told her one day while they did the evening milking. ‘I don't know when my turn will come, and I cannot even guess what I will find when I get there, or how easy it will be to move about. I might be gone some time.'

‘I will wait. Forever if I have to.' She rose from her milking stool, measured the cow's yield and poured the milk into the churn.

‘I hope and pray it will not come to that.' He joined her at the sink to wash his hands.