Chapter Twenty
After asking for directions, Caroline and Grace tramped up through the snow to Lily and Tristan’s sheep farm, perched on a steep hill above Penzance, since there was no chance of getting a bus back to Porthcurno during the cold snap.
The young couple lived there with Tristan’s lively, ginger-haired sister Demelza and his huge brother-in-law, Robert.
Caroline only knew Lily well, but the company was so relaxed and undemanding, they were all soon on good terms with each other.
Staying there was rather like being back at Postbridge Farm, with sheep huddled on the icy lower slopes, and a hectic, boisterous family atmosphere.
Little Morris was constantly toddling about the place, baby Teresa yelling lustily for milk.
Lily Minear was also strikingly similar to her aunt Violet in looks, being tall, slender and fair-haired, and of course she shared the same Dagenham accent, so that Caroline found herself accidentally addressing her several times as Mrs Postbridge, which made Lily glare but had everyone else in stitches.
When the two girls had first turned up on the doorstep, they were ushered in by Lily with a surprised smile of welcome.
Demelza too had looked taken aback to find strangers in their cosy front room, but had thawed when Grace offered to look after her little girl Teresa while Demelza finished wrapping some Christmas presents.
And her husband Robert had swiftly readied a spare room for them, and produced Christmas cake and ginger snaps, with a small glass of brandy each to warm them up.
‘Stay as long as you need,’ Lily insisted. ‘I’m not surprised the bus was cancelled. The coast road must be a nightmare in this weather. And I’m sure my aunt and uncle won’t miss you, not for a few days at least.’
‘It’s very kind of you,’ Grace told her, cuddling Teresa on her knee and making gurgling noises, which the baby seemed to find highly amusing.
‘Is Tristan out with the sheep?’ Caroline asked. ‘Joe’s lost a few because of this cold snap. Has it been bad here too?’
Robert was pulling on his coat. ‘We’ve lost a couple of lambs.’ He kissed his wife on the cheek. ‘Sorry, darling, I need to help Tristan. He’s on the hunt for some stragglers. I’m very glad you’ll be joining us for Christmas,’ he added to the girls, a twinkle in his blue eyes.
‘I like him,’ Grace whispered to Caroline once he’d gone, as they sat listening to Lily and Demelza banging pots and pans in the kitchen. ‘Is he the Quaker?’
‘That’s right. He was a conchie in the war.’
‘A conscientious objector? Oh, of course … Quakers are pacifists. Did they put him in prison?’
‘Gracious, no. Robert got a medal for bravery. Battlefield ambulance driver. He and Demelza shipped out to France together after they were married,’ she added in a low voice, ‘and both drove ambulances under fire, even crossing into Germany with the front line. They only came back when they discovered that Demelza was expecting Teresa.’ Caroline smiled at the memory of their triumphant return from war, pitching up at the farm late one winter’s night.
‘Robert drove his battered old ambulance all the way home from Germany to Cornwall. Can you imagine?’
‘No,’ Grace admitted frankly.
‘My big brave Viking,’ Demelza called through from the kitchen, clearly having ears like a bat. ‘He’s a man in a million.’
‘Sounds like it, love,’ Grace called back, and winked at Caroline. ‘This is fun, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but I hope we’re not putting them out. You know how short food is at the moment. If we stay longer than Boxing Day, I’ll give Lily my ration book, in case she can use it for extra food.’ Caroline sipped her brandy and shuddered. ‘Goodness, that’s strong.’
‘Get it down your neck, girl.’ Grace nudged her in the ribs, grinning. ‘It’ll put hairs on your chest.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’
The two men came back in from the fields eventually, stamping their feet and clapping their hands, declaring it to be ‘perishing’ out there.
Tristan’s aunt Sarah emerged from a side room, leaning on a stick, and was helped to the dinner table.
A hot meal was served for the grown-ups, the two children having gone to bed, and they tucked in, the conversation a rapid, constant back and forth.
The men largely talked politics, while their wives discussed what they would be serving for Christmas lunch, and how to make it stretch for two unexpected guests, which embarrassed Caroline.
Aunt Sarah, whose mouth was drawn down after a stroke, fell into conversation with Grace about Liverpool, a city she’d apparently visited in her youth.
After the meal, Aunt Sarah retired to bed early.
Demelza fetched down a wailing Teresa and put her to the breast. Lily served everyone a cup of tea, and sat knitting by the hearth, more like Violet Postbridge than ever, her needles clacking as the fire burned steadily, the room growing so warm that Caroline soon felt drowsy and ready for bed.
At last, the mantel clock chimed eleven.
‘Gosh, it’s almost Christmas Day.’ Yawning, Caroline caught Grace’s eye. ‘I wonder what they’re up to at Postbridge Farm right now.’
‘Sloe gin,’ Tristan muttered.
Robert grinned. ‘Mince pies with brandy.’
‘Sarah Jane will be so excited … Her first proper Christmas Eve.’ Demelza smiled indulgently as she shifted her sleeping baby into the crook of her arm.
She glanced towards the hearth where young Morris had hung up his stocking earlier with his father’s help.
‘I can’t wait for Teresa to be old enough to hang up a stocking. ’
‘I remember one Christmas Eve,’ Lily said contemplatively, unpicking an errant stitch in her knitting, ‘tiptoeing downstairs after midnight to see if I could spot Santa coming down the chimney. Only, I met Gran on the stairs instead, still supping from a bottle of stout, three sheets to the wind.’
Demelza bit her lip, while her husband roared with laughter.
‘I’d have paid good money to see that,’ Tristan said, lifting a glass of brandy to his lips.
Brow wrinkling, Caroline turned a mystified face to Grace, repeating, ‘Three sheets to the wind?’
‘Drunk,’ Grace supplied.
Caroline snorted.
Robert drained his cup of tea and got wearily to his feet. ‘Time for bed. I’ll carry Teresa. You on your way up too, love?’ he asked his wife.
‘Right behind you,’ Demelza agreed, handing him the baby. ‘I’ll help Lily clear the tea things away first.’
‘No, let us do that,’ Grace said promptly, jumping to her feet. ‘We owe you.’ Winking, she plucked the tray from Demelza’s unresisting hands and headed out to the kitchen with it. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ Demelza called after her, surprised, but followed her husband and child, also yawning extravagantly. ‘Busy day tomorrow.’
‘Every day’s busy,’ Lily muttered, but had put away her knitting. As Grace came back into the room, Lily glanced at Tristan. ‘Bed?’
‘Bed,’ her husband agreed. ‘Though I’ll need to pop an orange and a tin whistle into Morris’s stocking before locking up. You’d best show our guests to their room.’
The tiny spare room was cluttered with old packing crates and various odds and ends, but it had a corner sink with a mirror and the bed looked comfortable.
Lily checked they had enough pillows, and apologised that it was only a single bed.
‘One of you can sleep on the floor with blankets and cushions if it’s too much of a squeeze,’ she said, grimacing on her way out.
‘And you’ll be pleased to hear we have an indoor lavatory, just along the landing. Saves a cold bottom in this weather!’
Left alone with Grace in the small, chilly room, Caroline unpacked her nightie and washbag, and glanced nervously at the bed. ‘I’ll use the sink first, shall I?’
Grace headed out to the loo, while Caroline splashed her face and cleaned her teeth. Then she tiptoed down the freezing cold passage to the loo while Grace washed herself. Luckily, Lily had been able to find her a spare toothbrush and nightdress.
There was not much room in the single bed, and it sagged in the middle. Caroline pulled the blanket up to her chin, leaving her bare toes uncovered and chilly. She wanted to turn on her side and pull her knees up, but didn’t dare bump into Grace.
‘Shove up!’ Grace hissed, making the springs creak as she shifted position.
‘You shove up,’ Caroline whispered back. ‘I’m right on the edge.’
Grace gave a groan. ‘Blast …’
‘Oh, what now?’
‘We only forgot to turn the bleedin’ light out, didn’t we?’
They both looked up at the bare bulb hanging over the bed.
Caroline grimaced. ‘Oops.’
‘You got in last,’ Grace told her in a lofty tone. ‘That means you should be the one to get out and turn off the light.’
‘Why, you …’ Caroline dug her in the ribs.
Bafflingly, the light went out on its own. Somewhere along the landing, they heard a man shout, ‘Blackout!’ followed by a curse from Demelza as the baby started crying.
Seconds later, Morris’ piping voice began chanting, ‘Santa! Santa! Santa!’ and had to be hushed by his fond parents.
Caroline couldn’t help herself. She fell back on the pillows, struggling with hysterical laughter, and heard Grace chuckle too beside her. ‘Santa! Santa!’ she repeated, imitating the child’s high voice. They began to giggle helplessly, the bed shaking under them. ‘Santa!’
‘Stop it, shut up … They’ll hear us,’ Grace spluttered.
‘I … I’m trying … but I can’t help it,’ Caroline choked, tears in her eyes. ‘Anyway, it’s not a blackout. It’s a power cut.’
Grace turned to face her, warm and close in the dark. ‘Hush now, will you?’ she insisted.
But however hard Caroline bit her lip, she only laughed harder, caught in hysteria.
‘I can see there’s nothing for it, Miss Ponsby, but to shut you up myself,’ Grace told her in mock-stern tones, and leant forward in the glimmering dark.
Caroline froze in shock as their lips met. Grace was kissing her!
Kissing her!