Chapter Seventeen
Wearily, Caroline walked the half-mile from the train station to her parents’ home through snowy streets, a cold wind biting at her bones.
Reaching the cosy terraced house where she’d grown up, in an area that had thankfully escaped damage in the Blitz, she knocked, peering at the curtained windows lit against the encroaching dusk.
All the way from Cornwall, sitting for hours in draughty rail carriages, or waiting on icy platforms, she had tried not to think about her grandmother, fearing she might arrive to find the old lady had died.
The door opened and her mother stood there, blinking in amazement. ‘Caroline?’ She seemed flustered at first, then exclaimed, ‘Goodness, you look different. I almost didn’t recognise you. Come in, love. It’s perishing out there.’
Caroline stamped the snow off her shoes and stepped into the narrow hall.
It was like stepping back in time. One of her old coats was still hanging on the stand, beside a framed photograph of her in her school uniform, smiling toothily into the camera, blonde pigtails resting on her shoulder.
She grimaced, studying it. No wonder her mother hadn’t recognised her.
‘I came as soon as I could, Mum. How’s Gran?’ Her voice shook on those last words, and she stood stiffly, braced for bad news.
‘Gran?’ Her mother looked blank-faced before saying slowly, ‘Oh yes, she’s been very unwell, poor old thing.
But she’ll be better now you’re home. Oh love, you look frozen …
Take off that hat and coat.’ Snapping on the hall light to dispel the gloom, she shook snow off Caroline’s hat and coat and hung them on the hall stand.
‘Stanley?’ she called over her shoulder cheerily, as though there was nothing wrong.
‘Our little girl has come home at last.’
‘What?’ Her father strode out of the back room, newspaper in hand, and stopped dead at the sight of his daughter. He gave a deep sigh. ‘At last …’
Her mother had put on weight since she’d left home early in the war and was now rounder than ever, her pink cheeks flushed from exertion, or maybe cooking, her hair in disarray.
Her father, on the other hand, seemed to be thinner.
A tall, gangling man, silvery hair receding from a high forehead, he thrust aside his newspaper and came to embrace her.
‘It’s wonderful to see you, Caroline,’ he told her. ‘Your grandmother will be overjoyed. You got my telegram, then? But of course you did … Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.’ There was a stern significance in his voice, which instantly had her defensive.
‘Where’s Gran?’ Caroline demanded.
‘She’s resting in her room,’ her mother began, but Caroline didn’t wait to hear the rest.
Running lightly up the stairs, she knocked at the door and went inside without waiting for an answer.
Her grandmother was sitting up in bed against the pillows, her face lit by a lamp on her bedside table.
Under her bushy white hair, Gran looked pale and drawn, and definitely unwell. But not dying, surely?
Gran was blowing her nose as Caroline burst in. Lowering the hanky, she stared at her in astonishment. ‘’Ello, love,’ she said huskily, clearly suffering with a sore throat. ‘What on earth are you doing home? I wish I’d known you were coming … I’d have made an effort to get up today.’
‘Dad said you were at death’s door and I was to come home at once.’ Caroline’s voice shook with emotion.
‘Death’s door?’ Her grandmother laughed merrily.
‘Bless you, I’m full of a cold, that’s all.
Oh, I had a chesty cough last week, that’s true enough.
But the doctor prescribed a strong linctus, and I’ve taken a few steam baths to clear out my lungs, which seems to be doing the trick.
’ She shook her head. ‘You’ll have to put up with me for a few years yet. ’
‘Oh, Gran …’ Caroline surged forward and hugged her grandmother. She found herself weeping as she explained in a muffled voice, ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry. When that telegram arrived … I thought the worst. Thank God you’re all right.’
Her grandmother patted her on the back. ‘There, there, love. What’s my naughty son been telling you? Sending you a telegram, eh? Whatever next?’
Caroline became aware that her parents were standing in the doorway.
She turned to glare at them. ‘How could you do such a thing? You must know I’ve been worried sick all the way here.
And they need me back on the farm … I’m not on holiday in Cornwall, Dad,’ she exclaimed, and saw him look away, guilt in his face.
‘I’m working there. In case you hadn’t noticed, food stores are running low and this country still needs Land Girls out in the fields.
You had no right to call me back under false pretences. ’
‘False pretences?’ Her mother folded her arms, frowning. ‘Your gran gave us a right scare last week. At one stage, we weren’t sure if she would ever recover.’
‘Eh?’ Her grandmother looked up, startled. ‘I never knew that.’
‘Hush, Mother.’ Caroline’s father waved a silencing hand.
‘I’m sorry if you were upset by the message, Caroline,’ her father told her grudgingly.
‘But your grandmother was in a bad state, and if my telegram was an exaggeration, it was at least a well-intentioned one.’ He hesitated.
‘Now you’re here though, we can have a wonderful family Christmas, all of us back together again.
And maybe after a taste of home life, you won’t want to go back to being a Land Girl,’ he added suggestively.
‘I know times are still tough, but I’m sure the farmer can spare you. The war’s long over.’
Flushed and angry, Caroline struggled to stay polite.
They had dragged her all the way from Cornwall for nothing more than a head cold, and at a time when travelling anywhere was difficult and expensive.
But she reined in her temper … These were still her parents.
‘I’ll stay for a few days, Dad,’ she said with restraint, ‘but then I’m going back to the farm. It was very wrong of you to lie to me.’
‘I didn’t exactly lie,’ her father began, but fell silent when she flashed him a look.
‘Only a few days?’ Her mother sounded aggrieved. ‘You know how much we love you, Caroline, and how badly we’ve missed you. Letters just aren’t enough … Besides, like your father said, the war is over. It’s time to stop playing at being a farmgirl and settle down.’
Caroline’s hands clenched into fists by her side. ‘I’m not a girl anymore, Mum. And it’s not up to you what I do with my life. You can’t stop me leaving.’
‘Of course we can’t,’ her dad said. ‘But would it be so very dreadful to come home again?’ His brows knit together, his eyes perplexed. ‘We’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, love. I don’t understand why you need to keep living at the other end of the country from us.’
Caroline felt awful, but didn’t know how best to respond. How could she explain without causing an even worse scene?
Her grandmother gave an unhappy sob. ‘Caroline, love … I’ve missed you too.
Please stay a little longer, if only for my sake.
And don’t blame your mum and dad. It’s true what they said, I have been ill.
Maybe I’m better now, but I’m still not meself.
’ She gave her a pleading smile. ‘Besides, it does me good to see your face again.’
Caroline groaned inwardly. She had no wish to hurt her family, especially not her grandmother, who was clearly still unwell.
‘Well,’ she said gruffly, ‘I could stay for a week or two, I suppose.’
‘If you stay that long, you might as well stay until Christmas,’ her father said in a practical way, and winked at her mother.
‘Deirdre, I’ve put Caroline’s bag in her bedroom.
Why don’t you show her what you’ve done in there, while I go down and put the kettle on?
While my mother’s resting, the three of us could have a cosy chat downstairs. ’
Caroline kissed her grandmother on the cheek, who was indeed looking exhausted, and allowed her mother to show her into her old bedroom.
Like the downstairs of the house, her bedroom was just as she’d left it when she had gone to join the Women’s Land Army.
She’d half expected to walk into a dusty tomb, everything covered in cobwebs.
But her mother must have been dusting and cleaning; the place was spick and span.
Even the books on her bookcase, some girls’ annuals from her childhood and a few favourite hardbacks, had been dusted.
There was a new bedspread on the bed though, and her old china dolls had been neatly arranged on an upper shelf.
‘It does look nice, Mum,’ Caroline admitted, walking around the room and reacquainting herself with her old possessions. How small everything seemed though, she thought with a pang, feeling like a stranger in her own home. ‘Thank you for taking the trouble to get it ready.’
Her mother was standing by the window, looking out towards the allotments that sprawled at the back of the house. ‘It was no trouble, love. It’s marvellous to have you home again. I’ve baked a jam sponge as it happens. If you’re peckish, we can have a slice of that now, with a cup of tea.’
‘Yes, please, that sounds lovely. And I’m sure it will be good to sleep in my own bed again.
’ Caroline joined her at the window and looked out at the snowy muddle of allotments.
It was almost dark, yet she could see someone digging out there, wrapped up against the cold.
‘Goodness, it’s a bit late for working on the allotments, isn’t it? Who on earth’s that?’
‘That’s next-door’s youngest boy, Albert,’ her mother told her, with a curious sidelong glance. ‘You and he were friends, weren’t you?’
‘Of course. He enlisted early on in the war. So Albert made it through?’ She felt relieved and thankful, recalling the smiling young man who’d often walked to and from school with her over the years.