Pity pricked at her conscience. “That’s ridiculous, and you know it, Colin. You’re a good-looking man.”
But despite her reasoning, by the time she hung up, she somehow had a beau.
“Do you have a picture?” Ruth asked.
Beth reached into her case for the sketchbook she’d lain carefully on top of her clothes. From it, she drew a photo of Colin in his uniform, wholesome and still such a stranger to her.
Ruth scrutinized the photo with such an air of expertise that Beth blushed.
“Not bad,” Ruth finally announced. “What’s his regiment?”
“First Battalion, East Surrey Regiment.”
“Where he is now?”
“Somewhere in Italy. He can’t say more than that.”
“It must be nice knowing that there’s a man looking forward to your letters,” said Ruth, a little wistful. “Between the air base and Highbury House, I’m determined to land one.”
“What’s Highbury House?” she asked.
“Then they haven’t told you yet?”
“No.”
Ruth grinned. “Then I think I’d better let you find out on your own.”
* * *
The next morning, she and Ruth both groaned as the alarm on Ruth’s bedside table rang at half past four. By five, they were dressed and finishing breakfast at Mrs. Penworthy’s big kitchen table. At half past five, Mr. Penworthy was giving Beth her first lesson in being a land girl.
They were spreading slurry on the fields, a messy, smelly job even with the help of the tractor that Mr. Penworthy drove. Halfway through the morning, Beth had muck splattered all over her Women’s Land Army–issued gum boots and halfway up her breeches. She had shed the two wool jumpers and jacket she’d worn out that morning and was down to just a shirt. A blister was forming between her thumb and index finger.
The strangest thing was, despite all of the discomfort, she loved it. She was outside. Each breath was cold and crisp—if laced with the scent of manure. Her muscles burned, but Mr. Penworthy had let them stop long enough to admire the sunrise coming up over the barren trees at field’s edge. She felt vital and useful for the first time in a long time.
Ruth, however, was miserable.
“Can we not stop for elevenses?” Ruth called out.
Mr. Penworthy frowned from atop his tractor. “Elevenses? It’s half ten.”
“Soon enough,” grumbled Ruth.
“We’re nearly done,” said Beth, looking back over the three quarters of a field they’d already raked over.
Mr. Penworthy tugged at his cap. “There’s another field to do after this one.”
“Another?” Ruth screeched.
Beth let out a long breath. “Mr. Penworthy, didn’t Mrs. Penworthy say that she might start painting part of the barn today?”
The farmer stared down at her for a long moment before nodding. “Off you go, then, Ruth.”
Ruth dropped her rake and made for the edge of the field as fast as her mud-caked boots could carry her.
Beth went back to raking, but Mr. Penworthy didn’t start up the tractor again.
“You’re not tired, then?” he asked.
She stopped, holding on to the top of her rake. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever worked as much in a single day as I have in this one morning.”
“Will you be wanting to go paint the barn as well?” he asked.
“If that’s what you need me to do. If you need me to stay here and rake slurry, I’ll stay here and rake slurry.”
For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Mr. Penworthy smiled. “Up you come, then.”
“Up?”
He nodded to the tractor. “You’ll have to learn to drive it at some point. We’ll be planting out beetroot and wheat soon.”
She was going to learn to drive? Colin wouldn’t believe it, after all of his letters teasing that she’d lost her country ways living in town.
Excitement sparkled through her as she hauled herself up while Mr. Penworthy moved over for her. She nearly slipped because of the mud on her boots, but made it onto the wide bench seat.
“Right,” she said, putting her hands on the steering wheel.
“What have you driven before?” he asked.
“Not a thing,” she said with a grin.
He let out a breath. “What do they teach you city folk?”
She laughed in surprise. “Dorking isn’t exactly a city.”
“Even worse, lass,” he said.
“Well, I’m learning now.”