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second week Lou came to regret her objection to cheese when she opened up her lunch packet to find a kipper, complete with bones and tail, stuck between the two slices of bread. ‘Lord, I can’t eat this.’
    Some of the girls valiantly tried, picking out the bones with painstaking care. Lou tossed hers into the hedge and, grabbing Gracie, made her do the same. ‘Come on Titch, I spotted a pub down the road. Let’s sweet talk good old Tom-Tom into keeping an eye out for the Super, while we go and get a proper feed.
    Keeping a wary eye out herself for the supervisor, Lou threaded her way through the trees, Gracie close behind. Reaching the edge of the woods unobserved, the two girls lay flat on their stomachs and wriggled through a gap in some prickly hawthorn bushes, squealing in agony every time they were stabbed by the sharp thorns. Giggling uncontrollably by this time, they slithered and rolled down the high Cornish hedge, lost their footing and cannoned right on top of a rider and bicycle that had just soared round the corner.

Chapter Three
     
    Rose lay on the ground beneath a tangle of bent wheels, arms, legs and prone bodies, Tizz’s anxious barking ringing in her ears, wondering how much worse the day could get. Even as the three girls sorted out which bit belonged to whom, her mind wasn’t taking in a word of their abject apologies, or their offers of a stiff drink. She couldn’t even find it in herself to calm the poor dog down. She was too busily occupied examining the extent of the damage to the bicycle, worrying about lunch and how on earth she was going to get home now in time to make it. Worst of all, what Eddie’s reaction would be to this further evidence of failure on her part.
    The day had got off to a bad start already with her being late with his breakfast. He’d paid no heed to her excuses at having overslept because of a prolonged weeding session in the garden the day before. He’d been too busy complaining about his toast being cold and the fact that it was boiled egg again. Couldn’t he have bacon for a change? Rose had longed to remind him that there was a war on and bacon impossible to find, unless they had a pig to kill, which they hadn’t. She’d wanted to say that if he wasn’t in such a fortunate position as to keep hens, or at least to have a sister who kept hens, he would have had to get through the war on dry toast and home made jam with very little sugar just like everyone else. But she’d somehow managed to hold her tongue.
    Perhaps she held her tongue too often but such arguments carried little weight. Eddie was far too selfish to care about how other people suffered. He only concerned himself with the war so far as it affected himself, which was hardly at all. Apart from being rather old, at thirty-four, for the armed forces, he’d avoided being called up by taking this job as estate manager though he did precious little work on the estate, leaving that to others, in particular his little sister. Nor did he actually do much in the way of managing. Since the major part of Clovellan House had been requisitioned by the government, there was little for him to do beyond act as a sort of caretaker of the west wing. The Clovellan family had retired to Canada for the duration.
    There were times when Rose longed to speak her mind, to point out that she was a person too, with wishes and dreams of her own, yet she rarely did. Rose knew herself for a coward where Eddie’s temper was concerned. He was not a man to cross. It was vital that he be kept in a good humour, because she would be the one to suffer if he wasn’t.
    She noted the familiar hump that was Gertie beside him in the brass bed huddled beneath the bedclothes. Not that Rose had any objection to Eddie courting the housekeeper, though whether he’d ever wed her was another matter and not her concern. Bored with having too little to do, the pair seemed a good match and were able to keep each other amused for hours, or so