She didn’t stop giggling, but pulled my hands away when the cow was empty: it didn’t take long. Then she led me to another one. She emptied my bucket, and brought it back to me, pushed my head down against the new cow. My fingers already felt tired, but I was keeping up with her by the time we finished.
Then we washed again, although it would be days before I lost the smell of cow from my hair. She washed my hands and my arms, and my shoulders inside my shirt. She let me wash her in return. She stood with her eyes closed when I did this. The soap was gritty, but lathered richly in the soft water. The water was hot. Her body smelled of warm cow, and warm milk, and tasted of soap. The cows made low noises. We made low noises. She giggled again. Why not? I thought. We both came very quickly; one after the other. What if the war ended right here? Maybe a dairy farm in the Low Countries would be just the ticket.
In the farmhouse kitchen Les was asleep in a wooden rocker beside a brightly tiled floor-to-ceiling stove. You could almost see the heat radiating from it. He was snoring. The Major sat at the table. He had obviously dined from a great, orange-skinned cheese in the middle of it. I hadn’t seen so much food in one place since the start of the war. There was enough bread, eggs, dried meat and milk products to bury a battalion. His small notebook was on the table – he had just finished an entry. He smiled his charming smile, and asked the woman, in English, ‘Give him a good ride, did you, Miss?’
She looked mystified, but smiled back at him, and said, ‘Ja, ja.’ I’m sure that she hadn’t understood a word of that.
James then gave her a string of Cloggie words. Her giggle became a genuine laugh, and she replied. I asked him, ‘What was all that?’
‘I asked if you were a good pupil. She said you are the best pupil she’d ever had, and could I leave you here? She made me an offer for you. Apparently you have the makings of a farm servant.’
I felt tired. My hands ached. There was a high wooden chair across the stove from Les. I slumped into it and stuck my feet out. I felt the heat through the soles of my boots. Gerd and James nattered to each other in Cloggie. I wasn’t jealous. She was my age, and wasn’t likely to go with someone as old as him.
I must have slept. When I awoke something like light was creeping into the kitchen through the outside shutters, and they were still at it. Les was awake, and grinning happily to himself, his eyes on the stove, looking nowhere. You could tell that he was relaxed because he looked as if he hadn’t any bones. He turned his head towards us slowly, and gave us a ghastly vacant grin. His eyes were stary. The windows were open, the lights were on, but there was no one at home.
I asked, ‘What’s the matter with Les? Is he ill?’
‘No, it’s the pills he takes: some to wake up, and some to sleep. This happens sometimes if they get out of step with each other. He turns into a large dumpling for an hour or so.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that you’re driving the car when we get out of here, Charlie.’
‘Which you’re keen to do, now that you’ve had breakfast?’ I pointed vaguely towards the crumbs on the table, and the heartily rogered ball of cheese.
‘Christ no. I was just sampling some of the produce the Army’s going to buy. I just agreed the contract with her.’ He pushed his little book across the table to her, with his pen; a nice black and green marbled Swan, just like the Americans’. I’d have to get one of those. He Clogged her and she Clogged him, and she signed the bottom of a page under a row of figures. Whatever he said must have been coarse because he reached out for her tits whilst she signed. Whatever she said sounded even coarser. She got his wrists with hands stronger than his before he got there, and put them firmly back on the table top.
I suggested, ‘Maybe we could hang around for a few hours; until Les is himself again.’
‘Fancy a rematch?’ Gerda was in my seat by the tiled stove, smiling at me over a deep wide cup of ersatz. It was a smile I found myself responding to. Les was leering at her in slow motion – he was really a bit creepy. ‘I shouldn’t think that that’s such a good idea, old son.’
‘Why, James?’
‘One of her more amusing observations, whilst you slept off your labour, was how proud she was of getting through the war with only three doses of the clap. She got it first from a Fritz who raped her, and
