LITMIR.BIZ

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how pretty she was until they’d met yesterday. ‘And before I forget, Jack, Mother is coming to see you – something about keeping a few hens, she said.’

      ‘Hens! Me? Nay, Drew. Hens in my garden wouldn’t do at all!’ Hens would be bothersome, like cats. Just think of the damage they could do if they got out. They’d be scratching and picking everywhere.

      ‘She’s very keen to have some. Where do you suggest they should go then?’

      ‘Don’t know, and that’s for sure.’ Anywhere, but in his garden!

      ‘I like hens. Before Grandad came to live with us – he came when Gran died – he used to keep hens in his back garden,’ Gracie offered. ‘Well, bantams, actually. Pretty little things. Laid ever such tiny eggs. Mind, he had to keep an eye on them. Bantams are flyers – always trying to get out – but if you were to get some like Mrs Purvis has at the hostel, they wouldn’t be a lot of trouble. Hers are Rhode Island Reds. They’re very placid – not like bantams or Leghorns.’

      ‘For a town lass you seem to know quite a bit about hens, Gracie Fielding.’

      ‘Not all that much, Mr Catchpole, but I like them and if Mrs Sutton wants some hens of her own, I’d like to look after them for her. You have to give up your egg ration, though. You take your ration book to the Food Office and they cancel your egg coupons and give you chits to buy hen meal instead. It’s by far the better way. You get a lot more eggs and they’re lovely and fresh. You save all the scraps and potato peelings and such like, then boil them up and mix them with the meal. Hens lay well on it.’

      ‘Then I reckon you and Mrs Sutton should have a word about it, lass. You’m welcome to her hens.’

      ‘Would you mind, Gracie?’

      ‘Not a bit, Sir Andrew.’

      ‘Good. Well, that’s tomorrow night settled, and the hens,’ he smiled. ‘And, Gracie, please call me Drew. Most people do.’

      Catchpole drained his mug, observing the couple and saying not a word. Seemed it wasn’t only the lads from Holdenby Moor who’d be taking a fancy to his land girl. Young Drew seemed smitten an’ all. And he must remember, if Miss Julia ever did get her dratted hens, to ask Gracie to keep the droppings for him when she cleaned out their coop. Hen muck made good manure; brought tomatoes along a treat.

      He sucked on his pipe. Happen a few Rhode Island Reds mightn’t be such a bad idea after all. As long as they were well away from his garden, that was!

      

      ‘Do let her go, Aunt Anna,’ Drew urged. ‘There’ll be a transport laid on to get us there and I’ll take good care of her. Tatiana does so want to come.’

      ‘I’m sure you would take care of her, but a dance at the aerodrome …?’

      ‘Dada says I can go if Drew’s there,’ Daisy offered. ‘It’s all very proper. There won’t be any rowdiness. The aircrew boys are very nice.’

      ‘But it would be all blacked out and goodness knows what might happen,’ Anna murmured, feeling guilty for even thinking what could take place should her daughter be enticed from the dance floor to heaven only knew where.

      ‘But everywhere is blacked out, Mother! And I know what you are thinking,’ Tatiana flung. ‘You think I’ll get up to mischief, don’t you, necking round the back of the hangars with some bloke who’s after what he can get?’

      ‘Tatiana – do not speak like that! I thought no such thing!’ Anna’s cheeks flushed pink. ‘It’s just that feelings run high when there’s a war on and –’

      ‘Don’t worry. Tatty wouldn’t be able to leave the dance. There’ll be a guard on the door, most likely,’ Drew hastened. ‘The Air Force couldn’t allow people the freedom of the aerodrome, if only for security reasons. Tatty will be fine with Daisy and me.’ And girls of eighteen weren’t so naïve as Aunt Anna tried to make out, he thought, though he was careful not to say so. ‘I’d see her back home.’

      ‘Mother, please? You know how I love dancing!’

      Anna gazed down at her feet, knowing just how high feelings could run. Desperately in love with Elliot Sutton she had been at eighteen; besotted by him, desperate for his glance, his touch, his mouth on hers. But Elliot had been dead these many years and she had not shed a tear at his graveside. Nor since.

      ‘Very well. You may go, since Drew will be with you. But you must not stay out late, remember.’

      ‘We can’t, Mrs Sutton,’ Daisy was quick to point out. ‘Gracie has to be back in the hostel by eleven.’

      ‘And I won’t be creeping out of the dance, don’t worry. I wouldn’t even have thought of such a thing if you hadn’t put the idea into my head!’ Tatiana flung, angry to be so humiliated before Daisy and Drew.

      ‘Now listen to me, young lady!’ Anna was becoming angry. ‘If you continue to be impudent you’ll not only not go to the dance, but you’ll be gated for the remainder of Drew’s leave. I mean it!’

      ‘Mother, you couldn’t! You wouldn’t!’ Tatiana wailed, her eyes filling with tears.

      ‘I could, but I won’t. I said you might go and you shall. That you don’t do anything foolish is surely not too much to ask?’

      ‘It isn’t!’ Tatiana flung her arms around her mother. ‘And I will be good!’ She was smiling now, tears forgotten, because she could twist her mother round her little finger – had always been able to. She gave a skip of delight, then grasped Daisy’s hand, pulling her towards the stairs.

      ‘Let’s go through my wardrobe,’ she demanded when her bedroom door was firmly closed. ‘I just love those aircrew boys and I’ll die if no one asks me to dance!’

      ‘They will. You’re very pretty, Tatty. Just like Anne Rutherford. And I think,’ Daisy took an emerald-green dress from the rail, ‘that you should wear this one. Green really suits you. And I’d wear the gold dancing pumps with it.’

      The green it would be and oh! Tatiana sighed inside her, she couldn’t wait for tomorrow night. Just her luck, she thought, suddenly sober, if most of the aircrews were flying. She crossed her fingers and wished for the thickest, heaviest pea-souper there was, because only fog could ground the bombers.

      And wasn’t she the stupid one? Pea-soupers, in July?

      

      The RAF transport, driven by a Waaf corporal, came to a stop at the entrance to the sergeants’ mess.

      ‘Okay, you lot! Out you get!’ She let down the tail-flap with a clatter. ‘And mind how you go.’

      Drew jumped down first, glad to be out of the gloomy interior of the canvas-covered truck. He was the only man there and had been met with wolf-whistles from the land girls when he’d arrived with Tatiana and Daisy at the crossroads.

      ‘Shut up, you lot!’ Gracie had stepped out of the huddle of waiting women. ‘This is Drew Sutton and he’s on leave, so give over being so stupid. Anyone’d think you’d never seen a sailor before!’

      ‘Not as tall and fair and handsome as this one!’ someone quipped. ‘Where’ve you been hiding him, Gracie?’

      ‘Stop it, I told you, or you’ll get me the sack! Drew’s my boss – well, sort of …’

      Drew’s embarrassment and Gracie’s protests had been cut short by the arrival of the transport from RAF Holdenby Moor, and they climbed aboard, laughing.

      Over Brattocks Wood, a full moon was rising. It was round and white but tonight on the way home it would shine silver, help light their way, pick out shapes and ditches – even potholes in the narrow road.

      ‘Everybody okay?’ the driver asked. ‘Get yourselves settled. Just one more pick-up to make. Soon be there.’

      She

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