The Lost Garden Read Online Free PDF Page A

There’s the noise of someone scuffing her shoes on the piece of floor under her chair.
    The sooner I can get this over with the better. “Anyway, I’m here now,” I say needlessly, but I am so overcome with nerves that I feel completely muddled and don’t know where to start. I am not very good with groups. Something I should have thought about, really, before volunteering for this job.
    “I’ll brief you, shall I?” says Jane. She touches my arm lightly, to stop me from saying anything further. “In your much regretted absence,” she says, “the county rep was by. Her name is Mrs. Billings. She dropped off our uniforms, which include, I must add, a very unfortunate sort of hat. I have your allotment of clothes. I’ll give them to you after supper.” As if on cue, the dining-hall doors open and two women enter carrying plates of food. The big girl giggles. Jane is unfazed. “Supper,” she says. “These lovely women have been hired from the village to cook our evening meal for us.” She waves a hand theatrically in their direction. “Mabel,” she says, as the elder of the women places a plate of what looks like animal swill before one of the girls. “Irene,” she says, as the other woman performs the same task. Both of the women look up and smile in a kind of alarmed embarrassment. “We’re on our own for breakfast and lunch,” Jane says to me.
    “What about money?” I say.
    “I’ll show you the coffers.” Jane grimaces as her plate of food is placed in front of her. “There’s money from the War Agricultural Committee.” She pokes at the lump of grey gristle floating in watery gravy on her plate. “There’s also money from the people who own this estate, to pay for the upkeep of the animals.”
    “Animals? What animals?” There was no mention to me of there being any animals to look after at Mosel.
    “Some cows. Two horses.” Jane puts her knife and fork down without eating any of her food. “That’s what I’ve decided to do here. Tend the animals.” There is no room in her voice for disagreement. Nor would I try. It is obvious that Jane is much more of a commanding presence than I am. She knows how to lead effortlessly. These girls are not going to be swayed by my horticultural knowledge alone. If I am to have any chance with them, if I am to gain their obedience and trust, I must lead with a light hand. Perhaps the best way to lead is to not appear to be leading at all.
    I wait until all the girls have their plates of supper and Mabel and Irene have left the dining hall. “I only have a few words to add,” I say. “Please, go ahead and eat while I talk.” I am desperate now to cooperate with them in whatever way is possible to make this situation more bearable. “As you know, we are here to work the garden, and to use some of the surrounding land for potatoes. We’re all here to pitch in with the hoe.” I have forgotten the exact words but I am referring to the official Land Army song, which tries to make up for our lack of weaponry by glorifying the hoe.
    No one responds to my attempt at humour. All the girls stare at me fixedly, their hands holding their cutlery raised above their food in suspended animation. I look at the big girl. “What’s your name?”
    “Doris.”
    “Is anyone besides Doris local?” I ask.
    No one responds. Finally Jane says, “They’re mostly from London.”
    “All right, then,” I say. “Tomorrow after breakfast we’ll meet in the walled kitchen garden. I will outline the work detail and Doris will be in charge of it.”
    “I will?” Doris looks at me in horror.
    “You will. That’s all until then. Obviously, you’ve managed well enough before I arrived. I’ll leave you to your own devices this evening. But please, no leaving the grounds. No visiting the soldiers who are billeted at the house.” I load some of what I’m guessing is mutton stew onto my fork, and the girls follow my example and start eating. Soon they are talking