Wait for Me. Caroline Leech

possibly,” she conceded, “but his mother seems sure that with his poor eyesight and foot problems, he won’t have to go. A deep mind like William’s would be much more suited—”

      Lorna snorted.

      “Poor eyesight? He doesn’t even wear glasses. And I don’t think having stinky feet can keep you out of the army. It certainly didn’t work for my brothers.”

      “Stop it, Lorna! His eyes are very sensitive, Mrs. Urquhart says. And apparently, the Urquharts know a colonel up at Edinburgh Castle, and she’ll have a word with him when William’s call-up papers arrive. And for your information, William does not have stinky feet.”

      “Did Mrs. Urquhart tell you that too?” Lorna tried not to snap. “Come on, Iris, can you not see that his mother would do anything to keep her little baby at home instead of letting him out to play with the rough boys?”

      Lorna couldn’t stop the bitterness creeping into her voice. She didn’t mean to pour scorn on a mother’s fears. Lorna knew what it was to lie awake at night imagining every bomb or shell or bullet that might hurt John Jo or Sandy, and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone else. But if her brothers were risking their lives, then why should William-bloody-Urquhart stay safely at home?

      “Lorna, that’s not it at all.”

      Iris sounded hurt. Lorna didn’t care. She was on a roll.

      “No? And what does Sweet William have to say about all this? Is he happy to have his mother weasel him out of doing his duty?”

      “No, actually.” Iris’s voice was suddenly barely a whisper. “William seems to be quite excited about joining up, even though that means he’ll have to leave his mother and father behind … and me.”

      All Iris’s tight-lipped motherly condescension had vanished, and tears sparkled in her eyes.

      “Oh, Iris, don’t.”

      Iris wiped at her face with her sleeve.

      “You just don’t understand,” she sniffed, “what it’s like to be in love.”

      Lorna was stumped. She would have told Iris off, but her friend looked so sorrowful, Lorna just sighed and wrapped Iris into a hug.

      “Oh, come on, silly, don’t cry. The war could be over by then, and we’ll get all our boys back, the sweet ones and the rough ones. Maybe William won’t have to go at all.” Lorna pulled out her handkerchief and handed it to Iris. “Anyway, I have something important to tell you, so please come for tea.”

      Iris managed a wan smile and sniffed.

      As they walked toward Craigielaw, Lorna told Iris about the new arrival that morning, and gradually, Iris seemed to recover her humor. Within minutes, she was firmly agreeing with Lorna and was suitably appalled by the news. Hadn’t they both always detested Germans? How could it be patriotic to let the enemy run amok on British soil, even if they were prisoners?

      “I know that Dad and Nellie could do with more help”—Lorna picked up the rant where Iris left off—“especially since Old Lachie had to retire from the sheep before Christmas. But is there really no other option than dumping bloody Germans on us?”

      “Apparently”—Iris sounded like she was spilling a secret, her voice dropping low—“the prisoner who was delivered to Esther’s farm this morning was really old and fat, and Esther’s dad was not happy. He said the chap would be worthless for any heavy work on the farm, which is what he was needed for. And Esther says their Land Army girl is useless and the size of a sparrow, not like your Nellie at all.”

      “Nellie’s hardly enormous,” said Lorna.

      “No, but she’s strong and she knows about engines and stuff.”

      “Yes, but she’s still a woman. And apparently my dad would rather have a German on the farm than another woman, even a German who looks like that.”

      “Looks like what? Is your prisoner old and fat too?”

      “Not exactly …”

      “Young and fat?”

      “No …”

      “Well, is he young and handsome then?”

      “Not exactly …”

      “He is, isn’t he? You think he’s handsome!”

      “Oh stop!”

      “You do, don’t you? You fancy a German!” Iris cried.

      “Iris, shhhh! I mean it, stop! He is young but … oh, it’s awful. He’s been … burned … his face … it must have been awful.”

      Lorna could picture him again: the tight angry, brilliant pink skin contrasting with eyes the color of snow-laden clouds, and the sneer that tweaked the corner of the disfiguring mask. Lorna wondered for the first time how bad his pain had been.

      “Oh my goodness, no!” said Iris, looking more thrilled than horrified. “That’s dreadful! Well, I suppose it’s dreadful, isn’t it? I mean, he is a German, so maybe he deserved it … not deserved it exactly, but … oh, you know what I mean.”

      “Iris! Just because someone’s a German doesn’t mean he deserves to be hurt so badly.”

      “But you hate Germans.” Iris looked genuinely puzzled. “Aren’t you pleased that this one’s been hurt?”

      “Well, yes … no … maybe … I mean, yes, but when you’ve got a real one standing right in front of you and the damage to his face is so terrible, well, it’s … different. Somehow.”

      Lorna realized only then that her initial revulsion was passing on, allowing pity to creep in behind. She looked at Iris, expecting to see a reflection of her own discomfort, but Iris was smiling.

      Iris leaned in close, her face eager.

      “But you still haven’t told me,” she said in a loud whisper, “would your German have been handsome if he wasn’t so … you know?”

      “Iris!”

       Three

      Mrs. McMurdough had her coat on to leave when the girls walked into the kitchen. On the range behind her, a huge pot of stew simmered deliciously.

      Lorna threw down her schoolbag and wrapped her arms around the housekeeper from behind. Taller by several inches now, Lorna kissed the old woman on the top of her head as she hugged her.

      “Mrs. Mack,” said Lorna, who had seldom heard the housekeeper called by her full name, “that smells wonderful.”

      Mrs. Mack had looked after Craigielaw since Lorna’s mother died when Lorna was a toddler. She came in from the village every day to cook, clean, and care for the family. Now that the boys were away and Lorna was older, however, Mrs. Mack would leave when Lorna got home from school and go look after her own grandchildren while her daughter Sheena worked the late shift in the aircraft repair factory at Macmerry. Before she went, however, Mrs. Mack always had a meal ready for Lorna to serve up to her father and Nellie.

      “And a good afternoon to you, too!” Mrs. Mack turned round and hugged Lorna back, but only for a moment. “But just look at my floor!”

      Lorna stepped back. A trail of mud ran from the door to end at her filthy shoes.

      “I did not spend half the morning on my poor old knees scrubbing, just for some young besom to drag mud across it. Out you go, and take those filthy shoes with you.”

      She gave Lorna a playful shove toward the door.

      “Oh, and Iris is here, how lovely. Actually you’ve saved me a trip, dear. I’ve some cotton curtains that I want made into pinafores