The Land Girl: An unforgettable historical novel of love and hope. Allie Burns

you think?’ Father had feuded with his brother for a reason; surely they couldn’t overlook that.

      He shook his head. She wouldn’t push him. A tear ran down his cheek as he slid his diary back in his pocket, and she was crying too. It was no secret that war was awful. Theo had been more candid in his letters though much of what he wrote was censored. But John had been so cheery, he’d given the impression that he was living the charmed life he so deserved. None of the men should endure what John had just alluded to.

      She offered him her handkerchief, swallowed the huge lump of emotion in her throat. ‘You mustn’t lose hope,’ Emily told him. Her voice broke; her bottom lip trembled. ‘You’re terribly brave. And I want to match that by taking care of things here as best I can. You just concentrate on staying safe, and I’ll keep things going until you come home.’

      *

      The primrose yellow hallway at HopBine was already buzzing with guests when they returned. Emily announced their ‘hero’ and a round of applause broke out. The guests shrunk to the edges to make way for him.

      Emily’s mother pinched her arm, and hissed into her ear to get changed. The blood-red cherries had stained the front of her white skirt.

      ‘And put on stays.’ Mother shook with rage. ‘Do you think nobody can tell?’

      When Emily came back down, Lady Radford and her red-haired daughter, Clara, had cornered John. Clara had always been sweet on John, and Mother had always liked the idea of John marrying into a titled family, but John hadn’t felt the same way. He’d said she was too timid and willing to let her Mother speak for her, that a relationship with her would be a marriage with his mother-in-law. Interesting then, that with their financial problems Mother still placed her brother’s wishes above the family’s need, whilst encouraging Emily to marry anyone who came along.

      ‘Finch Hall is quite transformed. You must visit,’ Lady Radford was telling Mother and John. ‘The billiard room is a store. The smoking and drawing rooms are wards. I have to remind myself that it was once my home and not always a hospital.’

      ‘It’s wonderful to put the house to such good use,’ John said, though they didn’t need any encouragement and Mother was craning backwards, trying to attract the attention of Norah Peters.

      ‘Lady Clara is responsible for book-keeping,’ Lady Radford continued. ‘And you’re in charge of dispatching packages, aren’t you?’ she said, addressing Clara.

      ‘Mother has even conceded that I can push the soldiers around the lawn.’ Lady Clara raised her eyebrows.

      ‘We’re quite a formidable team aren’t we, dear?’

      Emily forced a smile. ‘How wonderful,’ she said. Clara was so much more confident now she was a war girl. Even John was looking at her anew as if he didn’t recognise this new independent woman before him. He’d better not fall in love with her. She didn’t want to spend any more time with Lady Radford.

      ‘Although much smaller, you could volunteer HopBine House as a convalescent home for the men recovering from their treatment up at Finch Hall.’ Lady Radford surveyed the hallway and the upstairs. ‘You’d be able to offer ten beds here, quite easily.’

      ‘Oh no. I don’t think so,’ Mother said flatly. ‘I think we’ve done enough for this war – what with John amongst the first to join up. And I’m terribly busy with the knitting and sewing parties and putting together packages.’

      John mouthed ‘go on’ to Emily, but anything she might say would only antagonise Mother for putting her on the spot in front of Lady Radford.

      ‘Mr Tipton is also cultivating more land for crops,’ John reminded Lady Radford. ‘He’s reducing the land given over to hops and setting more by for important crops like potatoes. For which he will need more manpower.’

      Womanpower, was on the tip of Emily’s tongue, but Mother was tugging at a brooch that had become enmeshed in her lace trim and the look on her face forced Emily’s mouth shut.

      ‘And how is he managing without his labourers?’ Lady Radford asked, either oblivious to the tension or because of it. ‘You took many men with you when you joined up, did you not?’

      Mother’s face was set while John explained that Mr Tipton wasn’t as young as he was, and they’d not been able to find enough help, how he was struggling to keep up with the demands from the government, and how the village women had proved troublesome, but that the Board of Trade were training up educated women to lead the volunteers and supervise them on the farmer’s behalf.

      ‘Tremendous idea,’ Lady Radford said. ‘The village women will be an asset, I’m sure, with the right leadership.’

      Emily dared to meet her Mother’s gaze. Her lips were tightly pursed. She’d been right – it would never be that easy to convince her.

      Lady Radford turned towards Emily, the penny finally falling into place with a clunk they could all hear. ‘Emily! A young, strong girl like you, who isn’t afraid of getting dirty, should be put to work. You shouldn’t be knitting, you must leave the lighter, less taxing work to the older women.’

      Mother’s back straightened, her arms folding across her stomach. ‘I couldn’t spare her,’ Mother said.

      ‘Really?’

      ‘And she has a sweetheart of course,’ Mother added. ‘A charming young officer, by all accounts, from a good family.’

      Ah. Emily’s white lie came back to haunt her. Mother thought she was busy solving their problems by finding a respectable husband, rather than corresponding with a corporal.

      But Lady Radford wasn’t the least bit interested in affairs of the heart, only of war.

      ‘And what about Cecil?’ Lady Radford asked, forgetting about Emily now that Mother had sewn her into a pocket of domesticity. Cecil had been talking to Mr and Mrs Peters – the village solicitor and his wife – just next to them, and he turned now.

      ‘And what about Cecil?’ he asked.

      ‘Will you volunteer?’

      Emily noticed how the crowd around them fell into hush as they waited for this answer. Mother became flustered, asking Lady Radford if she needed another drink, but their neighbour wasn’t to be put off, and Cecil wasn’t going to give her a fudge of an answer either:

      ‘I just haven’t been stirred by the call to fight,’ he confessed, as if casually telling them he wasn’t all that partial to something as trivial as caviar. The conversation around them died. It was always the sort of thing he might say, just perhaps he might have told the family first rather than announcing it to a room full of people who had loved ones at the Front right then.

      Lady Radford’s eyes were wide.

      ‘I wish I could stand beside my friends, my brother. But I can’t.’

      ‘My dear boy,’ she began, ‘your country needs you. Now is the time to stand up and be counted, like your brother. Other men will follow your lead.’

      ‘Stand up and be blown to smithereens is more like it,’ Cecil retorted. ‘This war is for the capitalists, and it’s the average man on the street who is paying the price.’

      ‘Louisa,’ Lady Radford turned to Mother. Apart from one or two oblivious guests in the far corner, the entire party had abandoned their own exchanges now. ‘Like the Radfords, you are in a position to set an example to the rest of the village.’

      Mother’s grey-blue eyes were wide, the colour completely drained from her face.

      John stepped in, when it was clear that Mother was lost for words. ‘Cecil isn’t nineteen until January.’ Emily often forgot there was only a year between them. Cecil behaved as if he were so much younger. ‘And he doesn’t have to fight if he doesn’t wish to. The country needs men like Cecil to challenge points of view and make us think.’

      ‘Yes,