thinks. I shall just have to risk it. You’ve got away with it, after all.’
‘That may make her all the more determined you won’t.’
Late in April, as she strolled home fromLovel’s Mill with the extra bread Mrs Dibble wanted, Caroline was surprised to be overtaken by Phoebe vigorously pedalling past on the Withyham road towards the Rectory.
‘Hey,’ she called after her, ‘where have you been?’
She was surprised when Phoebe, having dismounted, flushed bright red.
‘Work.’
‘Mrs Chappell was doing the teas at the station today. I saw her.’
‘I—’
‘Come to think of it, Mrs Chappell is doing the teas a lot nowadays. What’s happening?’
Phoebe remained mutinously silent as she wheeled the bicycle towards the stables where they kept their collection of ramshackle machines. Caroline pursued her.
‘You’ve given up the station teas, haven’t you? So where have you been?’ She was alarmed, thinking of the mischief Phoebe was all too likely to get into.
‘You’ll tell Father and Mother. I don’t want them to know yet.’
‘It depends.’
‘I won’t tell you unless you promise not to say anything for a few weeks. I’m on probation, so if there’s going to be a row, I don’t want to find it’s unnecessary.’
‘Probation? What do you mean?’
‘To see if I’m suitable.’
‘For what? And I promise.’
‘I’ve taken a job at Crowborough Warren.’
‘That’s a long way to cycle.’ Then shesuddenly realised and was aghast. ‘The Warren. But that’s where the—’
‘Yes, I knew you’d be jumpy about it. It’s the Army camp. The new YMCA recreation hut just opened by Princess Victoria. They needed staff so I applied.’
Phoebe let loose amongst thousands of soldiers? It was unthinkable!
‘It’s fun. I like it. It’s only serving tea in the refreshment rooms, but I get paid fifteen shillings a week. And there’s something happening all the time, not just when trains come in.’
Was it fun? Phoebe wondered even as she was saying it. It had been terrifying at first. The recreation hut was packed with khaki-clad soldiers milling about, shouting and joking about the Brides in the Bath murder trial which had preoccupied the newspapers, giving her nightmares. And swearing too—at least she supposed that was what it was; she didn’t know most of the words. Perhaps she should have let Caroline think it was an officers’ recreation hut. ‘Remember you promised you wouldn’t tell.’
‘I wish I hadn’t,’ Caroline said grimly. ‘I’m going with you tomorrow to see—’
‘No, you’re not! You do your work, I’ll do mine. I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks—I told them I was already. I’m grown up.’
Caroline looked at her. In years, in appearance and figure, yes, but Phoebe was still a child in so many ways. But she supposed she was right; she was nearly grown up. ‘I’ll give you two weeks,’ she agreed with reluctance.
‘I’m told you’ve added your name to this Government register for women who want war work, Caroline. We won’t be lucky enough to keep you here long then.’ William Swinford-Browne laughed heartily. ‘Just like girls today, isn’t it, Mrs Lilley? Start something, change your mind and leave it all to Mother.’
The beef tasted like ashes in her mouth. She should have known she couldn’t escape for long the dreaded luncheon. Although her parents disliked William Swinford-Browne, relations had to be maintained, however formally, because of Isabel. Easter Sunday, even with Lady Hunney present and Reggie absent, had been an enjoyable occasion, but now they were reaping the whirlwind a month later. What a wonderful way to welcome May. Especially as, at Isabel’s pleading, her fellow committee member Maud Hunney was once again present.
Caroline was about to reply when her mother intervened. ‘I was intending to sign it myself, Mr Swinford-Browne but, alas, I’m over their age limit now.’
‘But I can give you
‘That may make her all the more determined you won’t.’
Late in April, as she strolled home fromLovel’s Mill with the extra bread Mrs Dibble wanted, Caroline was surprised to be overtaken by Phoebe vigorously pedalling past on the Withyham road towards the Rectory.
‘Hey,’ she called after her, ‘where have you been?’
She was surprised when Phoebe, having dismounted, flushed bright red.
‘Work.’
‘Mrs Chappell was doing the teas at the station today. I saw her.’
‘I—’
‘Come to think of it, Mrs Chappell is doing the teas a lot nowadays. What’s happening?’
Phoebe remained mutinously silent as she wheeled the bicycle towards the stables where they kept their collection of ramshackle machines. Caroline pursued her.
‘You’ve given up the station teas, haven’t you? So where have you been?’ She was alarmed, thinking of the mischief Phoebe was all too likely to get into.
‘You’ll tell Father and Mother. I don’t want them to know yet.’
‘It depends.’
‘I won’t tell you unless you promise not to say anything for a few weeks. I’m on probation, so if there’s going to be a row, I don’t want to find it’s unnecessary.’
‘Probation? What do you mean?’
‘To see if I’m suitable.’
‘For what? And I promise.’
‘I’ve taken a job at Crowborough Warren.’
‘That’s a long way to cycle.’ Then shesuddenly realised and was aghast. ‘The Warren. But that’s where the—’
‘Yes, I knew you’d be jumpy about it. It’s the Army camp. The new YMCA recreation hut just opened by Princess Victoria. They needed staff so I applied.’
Phoebe let loose amongst thousands of soldiers? It was unthinkable!
‘It’s fun. I like it. It’s only serving tea in the refreshment rooms, but I get paid fifteen shillings a week. And there’s something happening all the time, not just when trains come in.’
Was it fun? Phoebe wondered even as she was saying it. It had been terrifying at first. The recreation hut was packed with khaki-clad soldiers milling about, shouting and joking about the Brides in the Bath murder trial which had preoccupied the newspapers, giving her nightmares. And swearing too—at least she supposed that was what it was; she didn’t know most of the words. Perhaps she should have let Caroline think it was an officers’ recreation hut. ‘Remember you promised you wouldn’t tell.’
‘I wish I hadn’t,’ Caroline said grimly. ‘I’m going with you tomorrow to see—’
‘No, you’re not! You do your work, I’ll do mine. I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks—I told them I was already. I’m grown up.’
Caroline looked at her. In years, in appearance and figure, yes, but Phoebe was still a child in so many ways. But she supposed she was right; she was nearly grown up. ‘I’ll give you two weeks,’ she agreed with reluctance.
‘I’m told you’ve added your name to this Government register for women who want war work, Caroline. We won’t be lucky enough to keep you here long then.’ William Swinford-Browne laughed heartily. ‘Just like girls today, isn’t it, Mrs Lilley? Start something, change your mind and leave it all to Mother.’
The beef tasted like ashes in her mouth. She should have known she couldn’t escape for long the dreaded luncheon. Although her parents disliked William Swinford-Browne, relations had to be maintained, however formally, because of Isabel. Easter Sunday, even with Lady Hunney present and Reggie absent, had been an enjoyable occasion, but now they were reaping the whirlwind a month later. What a wonderful way to welcome May. Especially as, at Isabel’s pleading, her fellow committee member Maud Hunney was once again present.
Caroline was about to reply when her mother intervened. ‘I was intending to sign it myself, Mr Swinford-Browne but, alas, I’m over their age limit now.’
‘But I can give you
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