“It will not always be this difficult. It will become easier,” said Mrs. Symonds.
“Thank you.”
As they crossed over into the drive, Mrs. Symonds nodded crisply. “Miss Adderton, I wanted to speak to you about the tea. You really must find another solution for the scones. The last two batches have been hard as rocks. I refuse to believe that there’s no good flour to be had in all of Warwickshire.”
Any bond that Stella felt to Mrs. Symonds beyond that of employee and employer crumbled.
Balance had been restored.
? BETH ?
Thursday, 1 June 1944
Southampton
My darling Beth,
Already I miss you, and I’ve only just arrived on base. The journey from Highbury was long and slow and made more difficult by the fact that I knew that every mile traveled was a mile further away from you. You won’t forget me, will you, all the way up in the Midlands while I’m staring at the sea?
Love,
Graeme
Saturday, 3 June 1944
Highbury, Warwickshire
My dearest Graeme,
I still can’t quite believe that you’re gone, but every time I worry about when we might see each other again, I can’t help but feel grateful that you’re in Southampton and not in Italy. You must forgive me if that sounds selfish. I know there is nothing you want more than to be with your men again, but Stella tells me that a newly engaged woman is allowed to be a little bit selfish.
I am not too proud to admit that I cried the entire afternoon you left. Mr. Penworthy took pity on me, dear man that he is, and sent me to Mrs. Penworthy. She just shook her head, told me she was sorry to see two young people separated, and set a stack of onions in front of me to slice for soup, since I couldn’t possibly cry any more than I already was. Petunia stopped by as well and sat with me awhile, and even Ruth is being very kind about the whole thing.
But don’t worry. I’ve decided to be very brave. I will keep to my duties on the farm and go to the cinema with Petunia and continue to sketch in Mrs. Symonds’s garden. Everyone has been incredibly kind to me—even Mrs. Yarley in the village shop has stopped eyeing me when I come in to buy drawing pencils. （I am saving yours for something special, don’t worry.） Enclosed in this letter is a drawing of the garden where we first kissed. Maybe it’s a little sentimental to send you such a thing, but I want you to remember what it’s like here with the flowers in bloom and the summer sun heating the pathways. I don’t think there is a place more beautiful on this earth.
Love always,
Beth
Saturday, 3 June 1944
Highbury, Warwickshire
Dear Colin,
I still have not heard from you, and I fear that my letter may have been lost. Or maybe you simply don’t want to talk to me. I could understand that.
I have no excuse for Graeme. Know that I didn’t intend it to be this way. I didn’t want to hurt you.
All I can ask for is your forgiveness.
Please try to understand.
Affectionately,
Beth
Monday, 5 June 1944
Highbury, Warwickshire
My dearest Graeme,
I hope you will not mind me sending you another letter when I haven’t had one back from you yet. I know that it must be difficult for you to write as you settle into your new role. I remember how long it took me to learn how to do all of my tasks under Mr. Penworthy’s supervision.
Today I wasn’t just a land girl but also a shepherd. Ruth and I were sent over to Alderminster, where Alice is assigned to help Mr. Becker, the shepherd, with the last of the shearing. Petunia was there as well. （She says hello and asks when she can expect to be a bridesmaid.） It took some time to learn how to hold the sheep down and use the clippers. Ruth was nearly kicked in the face, but instead the hoof hit her shoulder. I know I’ve told you that she whines terribly sometimes, but she had good reason today. When we came home, her entire shoulder was black-and-blue. If we had any beef to spare, Mrs. Penworthy would have made her hold a steak to it, I’m sure.
For all of the hard work it was, however, I enjoyed it. We helped weigh and draft the lambs into different fields. It’s hard not to be charmed by them. They are such dear things, and my hands feel the softest they’ve been since I became a land girl thanks to all of that wool.
I’ve been thinking about our wedding. There is no point of having it in Dorking. I don’t know if you would prefer Colchester, but maybe it would be possible to marry here in Highbury. I’ve only been to the church a handful of times, but the vicar seems a very decent sort of man. Also, so many of my friends are in Highbury, and I know that the doctors and nurses from the hospital would be delighted to wish us well on the day.