Land Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A

Lawrence came in with a pot of stew. It was rabbit. She was followed by her husband who carried a dish of mashed potatoes and roast turnips. The girls exchanged private looks. Prue, behind the Lawrences’ backs, imitated someone being sick. But she took the piled plate Mrs Lawrence handed her.
    ‘Where’s Joe?’ Mr Lawrence asked his wife, an enormous plate of food in front of him. Mrs Lawrence, the last one to sit, had taken a tiny helping herself.
    ‘Went to deliver that feedstuff to Robert. Said they might have something to eat at The Bells.’
    Mr Lawrence sniffed.
    There was a long silence, but for the subdued chink of knives and forks in thick gravy. Prue, despite herself, was eating hungrily. The ticking of the clock bored through her. She turned to Mr Lawrence, sitting next to her.
    ‘Is that your daughter?’ she asked, nodding towards the photograph.
    ‘No,’ he said.
    Prue gave him fifteen ticks of the clock to tell her more. He kept his silence. She turned to his wife.
    ‘Who is it, then?’
    Mrs Lawrence wiped her mouth on her napkin. Already she had finished her food.
    ‘That’s Janet,’ she said. ‘Joe’s fiancée.’ She waited till Ag and Stella had both turned to look at the photograph with new interest, and returned to their food. ‘They’re to be married when the war is over. In the spring, we hope.’
    ‘Depending on Mr Churchill,’ said her husband.
    ‘They know they may have a long wait. They seem quite resigned.’
    Mrs Lawrence spoke tightly. Stella and Ag both hoped Prue would ask no more questions. Prue felt no such reticence. She turned again to the farmer.
    ‘So Joe, your son, he’s not been called up, then?’
    ‘No, he hasn’t, and he won’t be. Asthmatic. Not a hope. Suffered all his life.’
    ‘He’s been very unfortunate, Joe,’ said Mrs Lawrence. ‘He would have liked to have joined the navy,’ added her husband.
    ‘He would have liked to have gone to Cambridge. He got a place, they thought very highly of him. But then the war … we couldn’t spare him from the farm.’
    ‘My – I have a friend in the navy,’ said Stella.
    ‘I went to Cambridge,’ said Ag. ‘He shouldn’t miss it if possible. He could go once the war’s over.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ said Mrs Lawrence.
    They fell back into silence. The ticking clock dominated again. It wasn’t until Mrs Lawrence had helped them all to large plates of apple pie and custard that her husband got down to business.
    ‘You’ll have heard about the place from the district commissioner , I dare say,’ he began. ‘Bit of this, bit of that, mixed farming. Up to now, we’ve done what we like best, though I hear there’ll be orders any minute to turn the place mostly over to arable land. For the time being we’ve got a small herd of Friesians and a hundred or so sheep, though we’re thinking of giving them up after the next lambing. Duties are pretty obvious. Faith, here, manages everything to do with the house – shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry and so on. Land girls aren’t supposed to help with domestic chores, but I dare say she wouldn’t say no to the odd helping hand.’ He watched his wife shake her head, cast down her tired eyes. ‘She takes care of all the fruit – just a small orchard, we have, damsons, plums and apples. She does all the pruning, picking, boxing up, everything, don’t you, Faith? Besides the jam and chutney – you’ll not be short of good jam, here, will they, Faith?’
    ‘They won’t,’ said Faith.
    ‘Apart from all that, in a real emergency the wife helps us out with the milking, the lambing – she can turn her hand to anything, can Faith.’
    He stopped for a moment, glanced at Prue. Once again glassy green tears danced in her eyes.
    ‘I’ve never heard anything like it,’ she said. ‘Poor Mrs Lawrence.’
    Mr Lawrence ignored her. His instinct had been right. He could see this film star bit of fluff wasn’t going to be much use, women’s tears at the very