“I still don’t understand why she wants to spend time with him when she just lost her son. It must be painful to be around children.”
Mrs. George turned around from her stove. “Did you ever think that taking care of that boy could be just as much for her as it is for you or for him?”
“What?” Stella asked.
The older woman put her hands on her hips. “Mrs. Symonds needs someone to care for. I’ll reckon she’s been missing the feeling of being needed.”
Stella dropped her gaze to the butcher’s block and picked up her cleaver again. “Enough talking. I have work to do.”
? BETH ?
1 November 1944
Temple Fosse Farm
My Lord,
Please forgive me for being so forward, but I believe you are a friend of my husband, Captain Graeme Hastings. He asked me to let you know how he is faring because he misses your conversations. I apologize that I have been remiss in not writing to you earlier, and I hope you do not think it forward of me to express my hope that our paths might cross one day.
Yours faithfully,
Mrs. Graeme Hastings
2 November 1944
Braembreidge Manor
Dear Mrs. Hastings,
There are few good things about this war, but one of them is that we are not so bound by politeness as we once might have been. I would be delighted to make your acquaintance any time that would suit. Don’t bother to call at the house. I spend a good portion of my day in my greenhouse with my orchids.
Yours sincerely,
—A.W.
7 November 1944
Braembreidge Manor
My dear Mrs. Hastings,
It was a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I enjoyed hearing your report of how Captain Hastings is faring. I must confess, it makes an old man wish he could be of some use.
I hope you will give thought to my offer. Regardless of your decision, please come again. I will ask my cook to keep back some tea leaves so that we might have fresh for your visit.
Yours sincerely,
—A.W.
She looked up at the screech and grind of metal on metal, pulling her shoulders back under the jacket of her best hunter-green suit.
People began to stream down the steps from the platform. Two RAF officers walked by in their navy uniforms followed by a pack of four WAAFs, their heads bent together so close that their caps nearly touched. A woman in a worn tweed coat tugged at the hand of a little boy who’d outgrown his trousers so that his knobby ankles peeked out.
Beth went up on her tiptoes, eager to see her husband for the first time since their wedding. They’d spent their honeymoon in bed, clinging to each moment they had together. Too soon, they’d had to say goodbye in the Temple Fosse Farm farmyard. She’d watched the lorry carrying him to the train station pull away, and as soon as he was out of sight she ran to Stella’s kitchen door. Her friend had taken one look at her tearstained face and put the kettle on.
She was not going to waste one moment of Graeme’s first forty-eight-hour leave, but there were the many things she needed to speak to him about, as well. She was determined to have that conversation before they did all of the things he’d dared scandalizing the military censors to write her.
She was just beginning to worry he hadn’t made his train when there he was. A grin widening his mouth as soon as he spotted her. He raced down the stairs as she surged forward, all of her concerns pushed aside. He caught her up in his arms and kissed her.
Beth was sure that one of the passing WAAFs sighed when he broke apart enough to say, “It’s good to see you,” and kissed her again.
She let her body soften to his as he cradled the back of her head. She wanted to stay like this, in this moment kissing him in the lobby of the train station, for as long as she could. But that would be dodging all of the things she’d practiced saying to him.
She pulled back, breathless. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you. Eight weeks is a long time.”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and made for the bus station that would drop them a half mile from Temple Fosse Farm. Since Beth’s wedding, the Penworthys had given her her own room.
“You’ll want your own space when Captain Hastings is on leave,” said Mrs. Penworthy, laughing when Beth spluttered her tea.
Ruth had moved into an old storeroom Mrs. Penworthy had helped her do up. Beth had been surprised when Ruth hadn’t objected, though the privacy meant all of them gained something.
It was so tempting to just let Graeme come home with her and hole themselves up in her bedroom until he had to go back to his unit.
So tempting and so cowardly.