The Farmer's Daughter Read Online Free PDF

work they were to do. Already she had broken one of them.
    â€˜No, perhaps not.’
    She opened the door of the stables. ‘This is the home of Dobbin and Robin, our percherons.’ The horses snickered with pleasure when Karl patted their necks. ‘We are waiting for a tractor, but it hasn’t arrived yet.’ She looked at the shabby uniform he was wearing. ‘Is that all you’ve got to work in?’
    â€˜Yes. When we arrived in England we were issued with a kitbag, a shirt, underwear, socks and toiletries, but no outer clothes.’
    â€˜I’ll find you some dungarees of Pa’s. You’ll get filthy otherwise. And you need some rubber boots.’
    She led the way back to the house. That was another rule she had broken; the prisoners were not to be allowed into the homes of their employers. He wiped his shoes thoroughly on the mat before he entered the kitchen. Her mother was not there, but her father was sitting by the hearth, reading a newspaper. He let it drop in his lap and turned towards them. ‘Who’s this?’
    â€˜Pa, this is Sergeant Muller. He is here to help us on the farm.’
    â€˜I told you I don’t want no truck with Jerries. Nasty deceitful people, murderers the lot of ’em.’
    â€˜Pa. They are no more murderers than we are. It’s the war …’
    â€˜I will leave,’ Karl said.
    â€˜You can’t,’ Jean said. ‘Not until you’re fetched. We are responsible for you, I signed a paper to say so. Besides, Pa doesn’t mean it.’
    â€˜Oh, yes I do.’
    â€˜Pa,’ she said patiently. ‘The sergeant is a prisoner, just asGordon is. I would like to think the German people are treating him well. Think of that, will you? Sergeant Muller is a farmer, or he was, he could be a great help to me.’
    â€˜Then work him hard. Work him damned hard.’ He went back to reading his paper.
    Jean smiled at Karl. ‘Come on. There’s work to do.’ She found some dungarees and a pair of boots in the hallway and led the way outside again.
    â€˜I am sorry to be a trouble to you,’ he said.
    â€˜You are not. Take no notice of Pa, he’s just frustrated and angry that he’s so helpless. He still likes to think he’s master though.’
    â€˜I understand.’
    â€˜Your English is very good. Where did you learn it?’
    â€˜At school. Some of us came on exchange visits to England during the school holidays. My father was able to afford it and he said it would be a good thing for me to learn. I seem to have a natural aptitude for languages. The officer who interrogated me said I might be useful as an interpreter.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘In the general confusion they must have forgotten about it because I was sent here, and the only translating I do is for my fellow prisoners.’
    Dressed in dungarees over his uniform and wearing a pair of Arthur’s rubber boots, he helped her pour the pig swill into the trough to the accompaniment of noisy squealing as the animals pushed each other to get at the food, then she fetched two scythes from the barn. ‘Can you use one of these?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Good because I’m hopeless at it. Pa despairs of me.’ It did not occur to her that she was handing him a weapon.
    She led the way through the orchard to the meadow where he began scything the long grass. His movements were rhythmic andassured. She left him to get on with it, while she concentrated on doing the rough edges along the side of the ditch. They had half of it done when Doris arrived with sandwiches and cider for their lunch. They sat under the hedge to eat and drink.
    â€˜This is good,’ he said, biting into an egg sandwich. ‘In Germany we were told the British were starving and ready to surrender.’
    Jean laughed. ‘Propaganda. Mind you, rations are pretty tight. We are fortunate in the country, it’s not so easy