Land Girls: The Promise: A moving and heartwarming wartime saga. Roland Moore
that she might get in trouble. So again, she stayed silent. Was this making things worse? Should she talk more and tell him more things? Should she explain about Errol Flynn? How should this work? Iris felt he wouldn’t want to know, and besides, she didn’t want to spend any more time here than she had to.
“And I’ll give you some medicine that will help you to sleep.”
This seemed as if the meeting was about to finish, and Iris felt relieved. She’d take any medicine just to get out of here.
Dr Channing scrawled something else on his notepad and got to his feet. Iris realised that the consultation had ended. She got up and stretched out her hand to thank him. But he was already on his way out of the room, his white coat billowing as he marched down the corridor.
“How rude …” Iris mumbled to herself.
When Iris returned to Pasture Farm, the kitchen was already full of the steam and heat of the evening’s stew. But a red-faced Esther still had time to ask Iris how things had gone with Dr Channing. “Has it made a difference talking to him?”
“Yeah. A lot.” Iris smiled. She thought she might as well tell a fib. Esther and Finch had arranged the appointment for her, and the last thing they probably wanted to hear was that Iris hadn’t appreciated it. No, it was fine. Case closed.
Thankfully, Esther didn’t have the time or inclination for details. She needed the table to be laid and the plates to be put out before the rest of the girls returned hungry from the fields. So Iris busied herself. Just as she was laying the final place mat, the latch on the door opened and Shelley Conrad came in, wiping her brow. She was slightly older than Iris, with a mass of blonde curls and a rosy face. Prone to clumsiness, Shelley was the sort of person who could somehow manage to find a rake to step on in an empty yard.
“The others will be along in a minute.” Shelley sat on one of the chairs and started to pull her boots off.
“Not in here, lady,” Esther admonished, as she hauled the stew over to the serving plates.
“Sorry, forgot.” But Shelley looked confused, as if she’d never been told this before in her life. Iris gave a warm smile. She liked Shelley and knew how distracted she was. Shelley rose from the seat and started hopping towards the back of the kitchen. Iris was just about to warn her about the dangers of trying to walk with a boot half on, when Shelley crashed out of view onto the floor. Thud. Iris ran to her side, but luckily Shelley was unhurt, just embarrassed by the awkwardness of her own body.
“How did that happen?” Shelley said, bemused.
Iris shrugged. She was used to hearing Shelley say that every time she fell over or hurt herself.
Iris helped her to her feet. “Are you all right?”
“Someone’s put an extra step on this kitchen floor. That’s what’s done it.” Shelley shook her head. Iris laughed, assuming that she was joking, but this earned her a confused look. Maybe Shelley was being serious? It was hard to tell sometimes.
“It’ll be the stairs to the cellar, love,” Esther chipped in, whilst she plopped generous amounts of potato stew onto each plate. “That cellar we haven’t got.” But Shelley had gone and didn’t hear the joke. Iris returned to the table and greeted the rest of the Land Girls, who were pouring into the kitchen. Joyce, Connie and Dolores entered, full of tales from the fields of exhaustion and sunburn. Martin came in, his cheeks flushing slightly at the sight of Iris. The girls talked about the drainage problems and the lack of manure. As Iris listened, she thought of the small bottle of pills in her pocket. She felt happy that they might allow her to sleep tonight. Maybe she wouldn’t have to resort to getting drunk tonight. Maybe.
I will come for you, Iris. Mark my words.
The words didn’t scare her. Not in the daylight. But Iris didn’t have long to contemplate them because Shelley bounded back into the room. Taking a slice of bread and chewing it before she sat down, she turned to Iris. ‘Are you going to the flicks tomorrow?’
“Yes, I am,” Iris replied.
Martin struggled to hide his discomfort.
“Oooh!” Connie cooed. “Got yourself a date?”
“Well …”
“‘Ere, is it you, Martin? Are you stepping out with Iris?” Connie asked. Martin blushed and hurriedly shook his head. Iris felt her own cheeks redden. She didn’t want to discuss this in front of Martin. She liked him and didn’t want to hurt him. The fact was, if he’d got his act together and asked her first, Iris would have gone with him instead of Joe Batch.
To her surprise, Martin spoke. “Actually I’m going. But on my own.”
Esther glanced from her plates. This was news to her. She didn’t look entirely happy about the prospect of her son going out of an evening. But what could she do? He was growing up and getting more independent than ever. He spent a lot of time working with John at Shallow Brook. He wasn’t her little boy any more. She was just relieved he hadn’t set his cap at ditzy Shelley.
“You make sure you wear a clean shirt, that’s all,” Esther chided.
It was as near to an endorsement as he was likely to get. Martin nodded, taking it on the chin. John and Finch bustled into the room and sat at their places. Esther said grace and everyone tucked in. As usual, the room went silent apart from the sounds of contented eating, until everyone had finished what was on their plates.
After dinner, as Connie went home to the vicarage to Henry, Iris was about to walk the short distance from the farmhouse to Frank’s outbuilding when Martin stopped her. He kept his voice low so that Esther couldn’t hear him, but he indicated for Iris to go outside. Once in the yard, he produced something from behind his back. It was a small collection of hardback children’s books, full of colourful pictures and big writing.
“Hope you won’t mind, but I found these. Thought they might be useful.”
“Thanks,” Iris said, genuinely grateful. Martin knew that she was learning to read and write - he was one of the few who did. She flicked through the well-thumbed pages. A goose in a hat was falling into a puddle. A horse in a waistcoat was berating a cat.
“It’s funny. I used to love it,” Martin said.
“It’ll really help me.”
“How are you getting on?”
“Slowly. But Frank is very patient and he listens while I stumble over every word.”
They smiled at each other. She got the impression that Martin wanted to say something, perhaps about who she was going to the film with, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He nodded goodbye to her and, with the books tucked under her arm, she made her way to Frank’s den. He was inside tinkering with a rusted metal trap. Its jaws were clenched shut and Frank was trying to prise them apart with an equally rusty chisel. He laid it aside and opened a drawer, taking out a pencil and a note pad, in readiness for their lesson. But Iris wanted to talk about her appointment earlier. She was worried about what Dr Channing had thought about her. Could he say she was mad? Get her locked up? And what would the pills do to her? After about twenty minutes of repeating the same things to her, Frank decided that they should call it a night.
“Come back tomorrow, when you’ve had a rest, eh?”
Iris nodded. She apologised for not being able to concentrate.
“Dr Channing thought I should go to Shallow Brook,” she said. “I think I might ask Finch if I can work there for a bit. Just until it’s not a scary place. That might help. Do you think?”
“I don’t know, Iris. Might do.” Frank picked up his trap and resumed trying to get its jaws open. He was no expert. Besides he dealt with problems by keeping them to himself and soldiering on. Iris picked up her books, left the outbuilding and walked back to the farmhouse. Back in her bedroom, she bolted the door and sat on her bed. She knew that Esther had forbade her from locking it,