Page 43 of Last Letter Home
Derek felt the pain of separation from his mother, they could all see that, though Nora Jenkins did write every week, short notes on lined paper about how she hoped he wasn’t giving any trouble. Once, to the boy’s excitement, she came down to visit; a short, stocky woman with a palely pretty face and the same shy manner as her son. She stared round Flint Cottage in delight, and declared to him that he’d fallen on his feet here all right. She was ‘a nice woman with sensible values, though common as muck, of course,’ Mrs Bailey said to Sarah later, but Derek cried so hard after she left that it was decided that she shouldn’t come again. He’d only been with the Baileys for six weeks, though, before she came and fetched him away. Some of the other evacuee children went home, too. After all, there had been no sign of bombardment in London and what had the government been making such a fuss about?
The story didn’t stop there, though. At the County Record Office Briony listened to the whole interview and thought how the war must have changed the course of Derek Jenkins’ life.
Later that evening at home she felt triumphant when she found Derek’s name mentioned in one of Sarah’s letters to Paul. It was dated May 1940. The war had been going on for a whole eight or nine months and this letter had been sent to an address in Liverpool. What had Paul been doing up there?
Twenty-three
May 1940
It broke Paul’s heart to pull up the flowers in the walled garden, but what else could be done? Lady Kelling and Robyn were still in residence, but Sir Henry was in London much of the time. Although the Hall had been officially earmarked as a military convalescent home, as yet it hadn’t been needed. In the meantime, instructions from the local Agriculture Committee were clear. Flowers were a luxury and cabbages and potatoes would win the war. Part of the park was to be turned over to allotments and large swathes of grassland were to be ploughed for arable.
Sarah registered as a land girl in order to be properly paid and went away on a month’s training course, learning how to drive a tractor and to plant crops in industrial quantities. Before winter set in, it was with a mixture of sadness and professional pride that with Paul’s assistance she carved the first furrow in the lush grass around the manor house and sprinkled seed. When in the spring pale green spears began to push their way up through the rich earth, she felt only triumph. She watched over the growth constantly, looking for evidence of pests or disease, but all was well. ‘Beginner’s luck,’ Major Richards said in his usual dismissive manner.
In the walled garden, once the snow had gone, she and Paul dug up the irises, the border lilies and the lupins, mulched the beds and, as the frosts eased, planted out carrots, cabbages, turnip, beans and potatoes, endless rows of spuds, together with a few precious onions. The fruit trees and bushes were allowed to remain; indeed more were added. Weather allowing, they, the elderly head gardener, when he was well enough, and the apprentice, Sam, worked from dawn till dusk. It was gruelling work. Sam talked on and off about joining the army, but he was still only sixteen, a tall lad whose ambitions were in danger of outgrowing his strength. Paul ordered him to build up his muscles by extra digging, which didn’t please him at all.
From early on, Sarah noticed the disdainful expression in the boy’s eyes whenever Paul directed him. The usually even-tempered youngster was turning surly.
‘I told you to finish digging that bed today. What’s wrong with you?’
‘I’m goin’ as fast as I can.’ Then he muttered something.
‘What did you say?’
‘I din’t say nothin’.’
‘Get on with it then.’ Paul turned back to his task and only Sarah, glancing up from her hoeing, saw the boy’s rude gesture and stared him down. She made sure she walked back to the village with him that afternoon when the light began to fail.
‘You’ll land yourself in trouble, Sam, if anyone else sees you doing things like that. What is the matter with you? And don’t say “nothing”. There’s obviously something.’
‘I don’t like takin’ orders from ’im. It don’t seem right. He’s the enemy, in’t he? That’s what my dad say.’
‘Sam, he’s not the enemy. He’s German, yes, but he’s on our side. You know what the Gestapo did to his father, don’t you?’
Sam shrugged, but his expression was still dark. ‘He’s still one of ’em, Dad say, when the chips is down.’
Sarah sighed. ‘If the authorities are happy, Sam, I’m happy with him, too, so you’ll do best to get on with your work. It’s not for you to question.’
It was well known locally that as an enemy alien Paul had been summoned before a tribunal, but his circumstances had attracted the lowest security rating and he was free to continue his work. Many local people went along with this, but a certain minority didn’t. As a result, Paul had to be careful where he went. He’d never made a habit of visiting the Green Dragon, but now he avoided the pub altogether, for Sam’s scowling father might be serving behind the bar.
Sam’s behaviour improved a little after this conversation, but come the spring, as first Norway was invaded, then Denmark fell to the Nazis, the mood in the newspapers and on the wireless became more urgent.
It was a warm April day when Sarah and Paul sat together to eat their sandwiches on an old stone bench with a view across the grounds. Twenty yards away Sam lay sprawled on the grass, one arm across his face, apparently asleep. As Sarah pulled off her jumper, she was aware of Paul’s presence close beside her, but he merely took a long draught from his water bottle, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and stared into the middle distance. Then he fumbled a small object from the pocket of his jacket and held it in his long fingers.
‘Someone threw this at me yesterday,’ he said. It was a stone, about the size and smoothness of a pigeon’s egg.
‘Paul!’ she said, in horror. ‘Who?’
‘I didn’t see. Whoever it was must have been hiding near the river. I went to buy some cigarettes after I’d cleared up here, then I stood on the bridge for a bit having a smoke and a think and suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder.’
‘Are you much hurt?’
‘No, it was the shock more than anything.’
‘Who would do such a thing? Perhaps it was a child messing about. Or a bird. Sometimes you hear about that, a bird flying carrying something.’
‘Why would a bird carry a stone? That’s crazy.’ He laughed suddenly and soon they were both laughing. Sam raised his head to stare at them, then lay down again.
‘I don’t belong,’ Paul said quietly. ‘That’s why. There are people who don’t want me here. I can never feel at home.’ He looked so miserable that it made Sarah angry.
