A Scent of Lavender. Elizabeth Elgin

Her face was pale, her eyes filled with disbelief. ‘Oh, my goodness!’

      ‘But you’re pleased? And it was very thoughtful of him to give notice,’ Ness grinned. ‘Gives me time to move out – well, that’s what we agreed, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Y-yes. Said he was being drafted. Very pleased about that. Said he’s been floating about like a spare part these past weeks.’

      ‘So where is he goin’?’

      ‘He didn’t say. Well, he wouldn’t, over the phone. Careless talk, you know. He wants me to meet him at York station; asked if I had enough petrol left and I told him I had. Should be arriving about ten, though I suppose the train will be late.’ Trains were always late now. ‘Oh, I feel quite peculiar.’

      ‘Of course you do. Excitement, that’s what and the shock of it coming out of the blue. More’n eight weeks since you saw him. Bet he’ll be glad to get out of his uniform.’

      ‘Yes. Must take a look at his civvies – see if anything needs pressing. And it isn’t excitement I feel. It’s just – well – peculiar.’

      But was that the right word? Wouldn’t apprehensive or even worried be more appropriate because the feeling, by whichever name, was nothing to do with the land girl who now lived at Ladybower, nor the hens, nor what William would likely call the wanton chopping of her long hair. What she was really apprehensive about, Lorna all at once realized, was that!

      She thought about their twice-weekly coupling every Tuesday night and Sunday morning; about his scratchy moustache that left her upper lip sore and red afterwards. That. Another name for wifely duty. It had been rather nice, she thought, having the bed to herself for two months.

      ‘Of course you feel peculiar,’ Ness said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘And you’re getting yourself into a tizzy over nuthin’. He’ll like your hair, queen; bet you anything he does. And he won’t mind about the hens being on the lawn – not if he’s patriotic, he won’t. And when he’s gone, I can creep back and no one’s going to be any the wiser – except Flora Petch, that is.’

      ‘Unless someone makes it her business to tell him about you, that is.’

      ‘So will you mind if he does find out, Lorna?’

      ‘No! Of course not!’

      She meant it. She wouldn’t. And if she thought about it, she had no worries at all. Not real ones. There was nothing so very awful that it couldn’t be explained away. William would be so glad to be home again that he wouldn’t let anything spoil his three days – would he?

      And then she remembered the wife of nine months who would give the rest of her life to see her man again for just five minutes to say, ‘Goodbye. I love you. I shall always love you,’ and the thought was so awful, so poignant and heart-rending that she burst into tears.

      

      Lorna dropped two pennies into the slot machine and fished out a platform ticket. Then she enquired of a passing porter when and where they expected the Salisbury train, to be told on platform five. In half an hour. If they were lucky!

      She was very calm now, though the thought had all at once struck her – and too late to do anything about it – that if William was being drafted, would he not have all his kit with him and how was she to get it, and him, into her Baby Austin? But she would worry about it later. Now there was time to get a cup of tea at the station buffet, to sit and drink it slowly and think about all the news she had to tell him. About the soon-to-arrive soldiers at the manor; about Bob Wintersgill being busy with the corn harvest and about the six pretty white and black pullets in the back garden; tell him that only yesterday they – she – had had the very first egg and wouldn’t it be wonderful when all six were laying their little heads off to help the war effort! She had decided she would tell him at once about the ark on the back lawn; that way it would lessen the shock – if shock it was to be.

      She smiled at the elderly lady who looked too frail to lift so huge a teapot, placed three pennies on the counter, then made for a table near the open door through which she could see platform five.

      The tea was weak, but pleasantly warm. She dropped a saccharin tablet into it then took the cup to where a spoon was tied with string to a hook on the counter. Stirring her tea she walked back to the table, looking at her watch, dismayed to find that only five minutes had passed.

      Ladybower. She would think of the house, cleaned and extra-polished; of vases filled with flowers from the garden; of the tea tray, set with a starched cloth and the best china cups. She had arisen early this morning, before Ness had clumped downstairs with a case containing everything from her wardrobe and drawers. Best clean the lot out, she had said. ‘If we’re goin’ to be sneaky, best make a job of it – leave no traces!’

      Foolish really, Lorna had thought as they drove to the hostel in Meltonby where a bed was available for the weekend, because one of the land girls was away at her brother’s wedding. Flora Petch hadn’t minded the change in arrangements. Maybe for the best, she had said, since she had a baby due the other side of Meltonby, and babies could start their arriving any time of the day or night!

      Doubly foolish, Lorna thought, eyes fixed on the doorway, when you started to deceive, because all weekend she would be watching every word she said, regarding Ness that was, and lies – or maybe evasions was a better word – would lead to more evasions, and William would have every cause to be angry when – if – he found out.

      She sighed deeply, returning the empty cup to the counter, smiled again at the tea lady still heaving her pot, then determined to walk up and down platform five, from one end to the other, for the remaining twenty minutes. She would count the ups and downs. It would give her something to do and prevent her thinking up fresh mental tortures for herself. Yet after ten minutes’ concentrated pacing she began to think that perhaps William was not coming; that something had happened to prevent the three days’ leave. Something not too serious, that was. And the thought was no sooner a wish when she saw people looking down the line, moving back from the platform edge. The train was arriving; she heard a distant rumbling and the hiss of escaping steam before it clanked and shuddered to a stop.

      She saw William before he saw her and was able to take a deep calming breath, observe him dispassionately. He was carrying only a small case and his respirator. He had lost weight. All at once she wondered why she had worried and pushed through the crowd to where he stood.

      ‘William, darling!’ She reached on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, because cheek kisses in public were permitted now. Long, lingering goodbye kisses were no longer frowned upon either, though William would never allow such a thing. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you!’

      ‘Lorna!’ His face had gone very red. He was looking at her in bewilderment and she didn’t know why. She was wearing the blue flowered frock he was particularly fond of and her best pearl beads and pearl earrings. She had tried to make herself especially nice for him, yet his look was one of surprise. And then she knew why, as almost involuntarily her hand reached up to her head.

      ‘Lorna! What in heaven’s name have you done to yourself?’

      ‘Don’t you like my hair?’

      ‘Like it!’ Jaws clenched, he strode to the bottom of the footbridge, taking the steps quickly, staring rigidly ahead.

      ‘William! Wait! Please wait?’

      He heard her and stopped, then turning to face her, waited for her to speak, to explain.

      ‘William – the car. It’s on the right, in the car park.’ It was all she could think of to say as people pushed and milled around them. ‘We’d better move. We’re getting in the way.’

      She picked up his case and hurried toward the steps at the far end of the bridge, across the concourse towards the sign marked Car Park. Unspeaking she made for the little black car, glad to see a familiar object yet all the time not wanting to be enclosed