Where Bluebells Chime. Elizabeth Elgin

       8

      ‘Well! Did you hear the six o’clock news?’ Alice demanded hotly the minute Tom stepped through the kitchen door. ‘Think they can do anything they want, just ’cause there’s a war on!’

      ‘They can do anything they want!’ Tom kissed his wife’s cheek. ‘And I didn’t hear the news, so you’d better tell me.’

      ‘Income tax, that’s what! It’s going up to eight and sixpence in the pound in the New Year. That’s more’n a third of what folk earn – and it’s to be taken out of folks’ pay packets every week. No more paying it twice a year!’

      ‘Sort of pay it as you earn it,’ Tom nodded. ‘Seems fair enough to me. Mind, most folk don’t pay anything at all but let’s face it, somebody’s got to pick up the bill for this war.’

      ‘Well, I still don’t think it’s right! Legalized thieving, that’s what it amounts to. It wouldn’t surprise me, Tom, if both you and Daisy don’t have to start paying tax come the New Year. And there’s nothing funny about it, so you can wipe that smirk off your face!’

      Alice tossed her head defiantly because to her way of thinking, taking tax out of folks’ pay packets every week was thieving!

      ‘Lass, lass! Daisy won’t pay tax on the pound a week she earns.’ He was careful not to mention how it would be for his daughter once she came into all that money. ‘And as for me – well, it’ll be heaven help a lot if I start paying income tax. Lady Helen and Mr Edward’ll have to worry before I will.

      ‘And talking about Mr Edward, I was having a word with Pendenys’ head keeper this afternoon. They haven’t told him to go yet, but he’s expecting to hear any day that the military want him off the estate. All the house staff have had to go to the Labour Exchange. They’re expecting to be put on munitions, so talk has it.’

      ‘Talk is cheap, Tom. What I’d like to know is what’s going on at Pendenys.’

      ‘And so would I! They’ve wasted no time if what I hear is true. Guard posts set up and sentries patrolling already. Barbed wire all over the place, an’ all, and Mr Edward’s only been gone five days.’

      ‘It’s for the King and Queen and the Princesses to come to, that’s my belief,’ Alice nodded, income tax forgotten. ‘Just wait till they start really bombing London – and start they will before so very much longer! The government’ll have the royal family out of Buckingham Palace quicker than you can say knife!’

      ‘The royal family, Alice? Never! What have they ever done to deserve Pendenys? If I was the military I’d make it into a prison and lock up black marketeers in it!’

      ‘We’ll find out if we wait long enough.’ Alice stuck the sharp point of a knife into a potato. ‘Nearly ready. Away with you and take off your boots and leggings. Daisy’ll be in soon. She’ll want her supper smartish tonight. Off to spend the evening with Drew, seeing he’s only got two more days left. Lady Helen asked especially for her to go over. Poor soul. Her ladyship’s failing if you ask me, and no one to blame for it but Hitler! Oh, but I’d like just five minutes alone with that man!’ Alice fumed because she would never, as long as she lived, forgive him for starting another war.

      ‘You and a million other women! Now don’t get yourself upset, love. Fretting and fratching will do you no good at all. And don’t they say that nothing is ever as bad as we think it’s going to be?’

      ‘And who told you that?’

      ‘Reuben, as a matter of fact.’ And Reuben had reminded him not so very long ago that Alice was coming to the age when women were on a short fuse and had to be handled carefully. Women that age, Reuben warned, blew hot and blew cold at the dropping of a hat, then burst into tears over nothing at all. Queer cattle women were, so think on!

      ‘He’s entitled to his opinion!’ Alice stirred the stew that thickened lazily on a low gas light then slammed back the lid. Jugged rabbit, stewed rabbit, savoury rabbit and rabbit roasted. Oh for a good thick rib of beef! ‘Well, go and get into your slippers. That’s Daisy’s bus now at the lane end.’

      Daisy. Still no letter from the Wrens. Happen they really had forgotten her.

      ‘Pull up a chair, Daisy love, and have a cup. There’s still a bit of life left in the teapot.’ Polly Purvis set the kettle to boil.

      Teapots were kept warm on the hob now, and hot water added to the leaves again and again until the liquid was almost too weak to come out of the spout. And she was luckier than most, Polly reckoned, having fifteen ration books to take to the shops each week. She had solved the egg problem and butter, lard and margarine she could just about manage on, but good red meat and sugar were a constant problem, especially when a land girl did the work of a man to her way of thinking, and needed a bit of packing inside her.

      ‘You’re all right, Polly? Not working too hard?’

      ‘I’m fine. The girls are a good crowd. Always popping in for a chat – mostly about boyfriends. I was lucky to get taken on here, Daisy. Keeps me busy enough and keeps my mind off – well, things. And by the way, I had a letter from Keth this morning.’

      ‘And?’ Daisy raised an eyebrow, not needing to ask the one question that bothered them both.

      ‘Not one word about that. I asked him outright last time I wrote just what he was doing in Washington, but no straight answer. The job is fine is all I’m told and that he’s saving money. Ought to be grateful for that, at least – our Keth with money in the bank! And he’s obviously managed to get himself a work permit. His letters are cheerful enough and at least he’s safe.’

      ‘That’s what I keep telling myself, Polly. Sometimes I wouldn’t care if he stayed in America till the war is over. Not very patriotic of me, is it, when Drew’s already in it?’

      ‘I feel that way, too.’ Polly stirred the tea thoughtfully. ‘But folks hereabouts understand that he’s stranded over there. I don’t feel any shame that he isn’t in the fighting. Wouldn’t want him to suffer like his father did. My Dickon came back from the trenches a bitter man.’

      ‘Don’t worry.’ Daisy reached for Polly’s hand. ‘One day it will all be over. Just think how marvellous it’ll be! No more blackout, no more air raids and the shops full of things to buy.’

      ‘And no more killing and wounding and men being blinded.’

      ‘No more killing,’ Daisy echoed sadly.

      ‘But you’ll give my best regards to Drew when you see him tonight, won’t you?’ Polly said, rallying. ‘Wish him all the luck in the world from me and Keth?’

      ‘I think he’ll pop in for a word with you before he goes, but don’t say goodbye to him, will you, Polly? He said sailors are very superstitious about it. You’ve got to say cheerio, or so long, or see you. I think Drew’s going to be all right, though. Jinny Dobb told me he’d come to no harm; said he had a good aura around him. Jin’s a clairvoyant, you know. She can see death in a face – and she isn’t often wrong, either way.’

      ‘Then I reckon I’d better ask her over for a cup of tea and she can read my cup – tell me when Keth’s going to get himself back home. Mind,