had reached Christmas present stage. Do you really like him, Jane? I can’t say I do – he’s always made a point of being rude and nasty to me. Until today, that is.’
‘Jimmy’s OK,’ Jane said defensively. ‘I dunno how it is, queen, but you’ve always managed to rub him up the wrong way. He’s a nice feller, honest to God he is.’
‘I dare say he’s nice enough but I think that necklace is a bit cheeky,’ Kathy said thoughtfully. ‘If you wear it, you’re as good as saying you will be his sweetheart and you’re only my age – isn’t that a bit young to be anyone’s sweetheart?’
They reached her house at this point and began to unload the messages on to the Kellings’ kitchen table. Jane looked defiantly at her friend. ‘I shall wear it,’ she said. ‘And it won’t mean anything because I shan’t stamp “yes” on me forehead. Now give over, do, Kathy. You’ve gorra real gold necklace and two silver ones, which your mam and dad bought you.’ She fingered the gilt chain. ‘This ’un is me one and only. Now let’s forget it and empty the pram or we’ll still be in a muddle when your mam gets home.’
Chapter Three
Norfolk, February 1936
Alec Hewitt was crossing the Five Acre when he saw a tiny movement in the verge ahead of him. It was a miracle he saw anything since the rain was driving into his face, lashed by a cold east wind which, he thought resentfully, must be coming straight from Siberia. In fact, had the creature remained still, it was unlikely that he would have seen it; it was the movement that gave it away. Stooping over it, Alec’s first thought was that it was a young fox. Probably on its first hunting exploration, it had somehow slid into the ditch and all but drowned, but as soon as he hauled the small animal out of the water and began to pump air into its lungs he realised his mistake. It was a pup no more than eight or ten weeks old, with the long floppy ears and distinctive colouring of a red setter. Alec tucked the pup, now struggling feebly, inside his jacket and turned towards home once more.
The pup settled down immediately and Alec grinned to himself. His pa would think he was mad but his mother would greet the pup with all the enthusiasm of a warm and generous nature. She loved all animals, and at present their house was inhabited not only by the three Hewitts themselves, but also by a collie, a black Labrador and a barn owl with an injured wing.
Alec felt the puppy wriggling beneath his jacket as life returned to its limbs and remembered that Mr Drayton’s red setter bitch had had a litter several weeks ago. Mr Drayton had been disgruntled since the bitch had proved to be gun shy, so he had been getting rid of the puppies as pets; this one must have escaped from the Draytons’ yard before getting thoroughly lost. So, if Ma will let me keep it, I’m sure Mr Drayton isn’t going to object, Alec thought.
He unlatched the gate between the Five Acre and the next field and began to push his way through the crop. It was sprout plants which grew as high as his waist and shed icy water on him as he passed along the rows. But, though Alec personally hated sprouts and particularly loathed picking them, they had been a lifesaver over the past couple of months. Times were harder in farming than the Hewitts had ever known them. Prices were ridiculously low and the sudden influx of cheap food from abroad had caused a great many farmers to leave the land. Some had even killed themselves, seeing the acres that had given a living to their family for generations suddenly worthless, the crops standing unharvested and the beasts scarcely fetching more than a few pounds when taken to market.
Sprouts, however, seemed to be not too highly regarded by farmers in other countries, and because the farm was not a large one the Hewitts were still managing to keep their heads above water, albeit with difficulty. Bob Hewitt was an old hand at making ends meet and had decided some
‘Jimmy’s OK,’ Jane said defensively. ‘I dunno how it is, queen, but you’ve always managed to rub him up the wrong way. He’s a nice feller, honest to God he is.’
‘I dare say he’s nice enough but I think that necklace is a bit cheeky,’ Kathy said thoughtfully. ‘If you wear it, you’re as good as saying you will be his sweetheart and you’re only my age – isn’t that a bit young to be anyone’s sweetheart?’
They reached her house at this point and began to unload the messages on to the Kellings’ kitchen table. Jane looked defiantly at her friend. ‘I shall wear it,’ she said. ‘And it won’t mean anything because I shan’t stamp “yes” on me forehead. Now give over, do, Kathy. You’ve gorra real gold necklace and two silver ones, which your mam and dad bought you.’ She fingered the gilt chain. ‘This ’un is me one and only. Now let’s forget it and empty the pram or we’ll still be in a muddle when your mam gets home.’
Chapter Three
Norfolk, February 1936
Alec Hewitt was crossing the Five Acre when he saw a tiny movement in the verge ahead of him. It was a miracle he saw anything since the rain was driving into his face, lashed by a cold east wind which, he thought resentfully, must be coming straight from Siberia. In fact, had the creature remained still, it was unlikely that he would have seen it; it was the movement that gave it away. Stooping over it, Alec’s first thought was that it was a young fox. Probably on its first hunting exploration, it had somehow slid into the ditch and all but drowned, but as soon as he hauled the small animal out of the water and began to pump air into its lungs he realised his mistake. It was a pup no more than eight or ten weeks old, with the long floppy ears and distinctive colouring of a red setter. Alec tucked the pup, now struggling feebly, inside his jacket and turned towards home once more.
The pup settled down immediately and Alec grinned to himself. His pa would think he was mad but his mother would greet the pup with all the enthusiasm of a warm and generous nature. She loved all animals, and at present their house was inhabited not only by the three Hewitts themselves, but also by a collie, a black Labrador and a barn owl with an injured wing.
Alec felt the puppy wriggling beneath his jacket as life returned to its limbs and remembered that Mr Drayton’s red setter bitch had had a litter several weeks ago. Mr Drayton had been disgruntled since the bitch had proved to be gun shy, so he had been getting rid of the puppies as pets; this one must have escaped from the Draytons’ yard before getting thoroughly lost. So, if Ma will let me keep it, I’m sure Mr Drayton isn’t going to object, Alec thought.
He unlatched the gate between the Five Acre and the next field and began to push his way through the crop. It was sprout plants which grew as high as his waist and shed icy water on him as he passed along the rows. But, though Alec personally hated sprouts and particularly loathed picking them, they had been a lifesaver over the past couple of months. Times were harder in farming than the Hewitts had ever known them. Prices were ridiculously low and the sudden influx of cheap food from abroad had caused a great many farmers to leave the land. Some had even killed themselves, seeing the acres that had given a living to their family for generations suddenly worthless, the crops standing unharvested and the beasts scarcely fetching more than a few pounds when taken to market.
Sprouts, however, seemed to be not too highly regarded by farmers in other countries, and because the farm was not a large one the Hewitts were still managing to keep their heads above water, albeit with difficulty. Bob Hewitt was an old hand at making ends meet and had decided some
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