I come back … but when I called to ’er that ’er lunch was on the table I got no answer and ’er room was empty.’
‘You mean she took her things?’
‘She didn’t have much in the way of things. Just a few bits and bobs of clothes as Winnie and Gwennan ’ad put together for’er. And there was Marion’s Land Army greatcoat what she give me when ’er left for America. ’Angin’ on a hook behind me door, it were. And she’s took me wellin’ton boots …’
‘And you searched the village?’
‘As much as I could … And I asked everyone I met if they’d seen ’er but no one had so I thought it best to phone you and Mr Bayliss.’
‘D’you think Norman could have got hold of her?’
‘No, I don’t!’ Rose answered stoutly. ‘I reckon if he had, she’d of screamed the place down! The whole village would of known about it!’
It was not until early the next day, when Giorgio failed to fetch in the dairy herd for the morning milking at the Lucas farm, that Edwin found the cottage empty and Giorgio’s bed unslept in.
A Sergeant Fullerton, Constable Twentyman’s immediate superior, arrived that morning at Higher Post Stone to give Roger Bayliss the news that Norman Clark had been seen on the previous afternoon by the stationmaster at Ledburton Halt, boarding the Birmingham train. He had been alone. Of Evie there was no news nor had there been any sightings of her. The hostel was searched, as it was thought that there was a possibility that she might have returned there, but there was no trace of her.
After a few anxious nights and watchful days the tensionin Post Stone valley began to stabilise. Dave Crocker took the precaution of teaching his wife how to discharge the shotgun.
‘Keep the barrel well up, Hes. So the shot goes high. You’re not aiming for anyone, see. This would on’y be a warnin’ shot. Then brace yourself, left foot forward. Tuck the barrel in real close to your shoulder. That’s it. Now you’m ready for the recoil, see. Otherwise the kick will knock you clean off your feet and bruise you black and blue. That’s my girl!’ he said, admiring her stance and impressed with her quick response to his instructions. ‘That’s my clever, brave girl!’ Hester laughed and swung the gun to the left and then the right. Closing one eye and squinting down the barrel as she’d seen girls do in the cowboy films she’d watched in Exeter with her fellow land girls.
‘Pow! Pow!’ she shouted. ‘Git your ’ands where I can see ’em and kip ’em thar!’
‘Steady on, Hes!’ Dave told her. ‘This be on’y a precaution, Mr Bayliss says!’
Various speculations regarding the whereabouts of the missing lovers were voiced each evening in the bar of the Maltster’s Arms.
‘Reckon they’ve took off together. Could be anywhere be now.’
‘What would they be doin’ for money, though? ’E can’t of bin earning much up at the Lucas farm. Ole Edwin’s a bit on the tight side where wages is concerned.’ There was indulgent laughter and general agreement with this statement.
‘And what with Giorgio getting lodgings and food thrown in, reckon his pay packet would of been a slim one!’
‘And she had nothin’ with ’er but some small change left over from the tenner Annie’s Hector give ’er.’
‘Maybe they’ve gone fruit picking,’ the young barmaid suggested, optimistically.
‘What? Fruit pickin’ be mostly over be now, duck.’
‘Not the cider crop, over Taunton way,’ the girl countered. ‘They’m still takin’ on pickers there.’
‘True … Yeah … They could be over Taunton way …’
Weeks passed. The days grew shorter and colder. The land absorbed the autumn rains. Winnie and Gwennan, the only remaining land girls from the original intake who were still employed on the Bayliss farms, had, since the closure of the hostel, been enjoying the comparative comfort of digs above the bar of the village pub. Both girls were impatient to begin
‘You mean she took her things?’
‘She didn’t have much in the way of things. Just a few bits and bobs of clothes as Winnie and Gwennan ’ad put together for’er. And there was Marion’s Land Army greatcoat what she give me when ’er left for America. ’Angin’ on a hook behind me door, it were. And she’s took me wellin’ton boots …’
‘And you searched the village?’
‘As much as I could … And I asked everyone I met if they’d seen ’er but no one had so I thought it best to phone you and Mr Bayliss.’
‘D’you think Norman could have got hold of her?’
‘No, I don’t!’ Rose answered stoutly. ‘I reckon if he had, she’d of screamed the place down! The whole village would of known about it!’
It was not until early the next day, when Giorgio failed to fetch in the dairy herd for the morning milking at the Lucas farm, that Edwin found the cottage empty and Giorgio’s bed unslept in.
A Sergeant Fullerton, Constable Twentyman’s immediate superior, arrived that morning at Higher Post Stone to give Roger Bayliss the news that Norman Clark had been seen on the previous afternoon by the stationmaster at Ledburton Halt, boarding the Birmingham train. He had been alone. Of Evie there was no news nor had there been any sightings of her. The hostel was searched, as it was thought that there was a possibility that she might have returned there, but there was no trace of her.
After a few anxious nights and watchful days the tensionin Post Stone valley began to stabilise. Dave Crocker took the precaution of teaching his wife how to discharge the shotgun.
‘Keep the barrel well up, Hes. So the shot goes high. You’re not aiming for anyone, see. This would on’y be a warnin’ shot. Then brace yourself, left foot forward. Tuck the barrel in real close to your shoulder. That’s it. Now you’m ready for the recoil, see. Otherwise the kick will knock you clean off your feet and bruise you black and blue. That’s my girl!’ he said, admiring her stance and impressed with her quick response to his instructions. ‘That’s my clever, brave girl!’ Hester laughed and swung the gun to the left and then the right. Closing one eye and squinting down the barrel as she’d seen girls do in the cowboy films she’d watched in Exeter with her fellow land girls.
‘Pow! Pow!’ she shouted. ‘Git your ’ands where I can see ’em and kip ’em thar!’
‘Steady on, Hes!’ Dave told her. ‘This be on’y a precaution, Mr Bayliss says!’
Various speculations regarding the whereabouts of the missing lovers were voiced each evening in the bar of the Maltster’s Arms.
‘Reckon they’ve took off together. Could be anywhere be now.’
‘What would they be doin’ for money, though? ’E can’t of bin earning much up at the Lucas farm. Ole Edwin’s a bit on the tight side where wages is concerned.’ There was indulgent laughter and general agreement with this statement.
‘And what with Giorgio getting lodgings and food thrown in, reckon his pay packet would of been a slim one!’
‘And she had nothin’ with ’er but some small change left over from the tenner Annie’s Hector give ’er.’
‘Maybe they’ve gone fruit picking,’ the young barmaid suggested, optimistically.
‘What? Fruit pickin’ be mostly over be now, duck.’
‘Not the cider crop, over Taunton way,’ the girl countered. ‘They’m still takin’ on pickers there.’
‘True … Yeah … They could be over Taunton way …’
Weeks passed. The days grew shorter and colder. The land absorbed the autumn rains. Winnie and Gwennan, the only remaining land girls from the original intake who were still employed on the Bayliss farms, had, since the closure of the hostel, been enjoying the comparative comfort of digs above the bar of the village pub. Both girls were impatient to begin
Similar Books
Double or Nothing: How Two Friends Risked It All to Buy One of Las Vegas' Legendary Casinos
Tom Breitling, Cal Fussman
