So there they all were minus one. The Downer family gathered like the cast of a play ready for the opening scene, and Constance could recall the words that had run through her head upon Ginny tearing open the telegram to confirm what they already knew. She had asked herself, how on earth could anything bad happen on such an ordinary winter’s day?
How could she have been thinking wistfully of shirking her chores, and wrapping up to go for a stroll along the seafront just a few minutes before her world, as she’d known it, tipped on its axis? And all the while her lovely, kind-hearted big brother had been dead.
That was when the reality of war had come crashing home for Constance. Until then she’d been rather removed from it. Her days before this news had felt as though she were play-acting in an exciting, albeit at times terrifying, drama. Oh, she didn’t much like the role she’d been given bussing down to Cowes each day to put in long hours at the shipyard factory to toil at a grimy mundane task. Needs must, though, and with rationing had come austerity. The meagre wages she pocketed weekly helped to put food on the table at home. Nevertheless, it was a drama, which although always just close enough to nip at her heels, had not yet gotten close enough to bite. That afternoon, however, she was wounded deeply.
Now as she sat on the bench beside the folly, Constance felt the cold of the stone slab beneath her begin to seep through to her underclothes. She flexed her fingers, scrunching them into fists before unfurling them and stretching them long. They throbbed with the fiddly, dirty work of sorting through the rivets for the correct thickness and length needed, and she eyed her blackened nails with distaste. It kept her busy though, and when she was busy, her mind didn’t dwell on Ted. At least she didn’t have to heat the rivets in the furnace or hold on to them with the wretched dolly as they were pounded into place. The latter was mouthy Myrtle’s job.
Myrtle had deemed her not strong enough for much, and so she’d been set the task of sorting. She took comfort from the fact she was doing her bit for the war effort. She could hold her head up high knowing Ted would be proud of her, even if it wasn’t where she’d seen herself when she’d been hunched over her school desk. It earned enough for her to pay her way at home too, and mum’s grateful expression when she handed her wage packet over told her that it was helping keep the family afloat. Rationing had hit their little shop hard.
She was supposed to go straight home after work. The air raid sirens regularly sounded these days coupled with the never-ending drone of doodlebugs too noisy to sneak their way across the night sky. She didn’t want to go home, though, not just yet. It wasn’t five o’clock yet, but the air was growing dense and moist with encroaching nightfall. Spring was a good month or so off yet, but despite the cold, she wanted to sit for a while. It had become her custom to perch here for ten or so minutes before venturing home.
It was her quiet time, a chance to unwind from the boisterous, and sometimes lewd chatter in the factory. It was a time in which to brace herself for the oppressive atmosphere grief had brought with it at home. She sighed heavily watching the fine mist escape her mouth like wisps of smoke, and the plumes of white reminded her of Evelyn who had taken the habit up in recent times. Her sister had it easy living up at Norris Castle Farm, she mused. Popping in on her family now and again with a pat of butter or a billy of milk and regaling them with her tall tales. Oh, she knew Evelyn was casting her life as a Land Girl in a positive light, it was Evelyn’s way. She wouldn’t let on that it was hard, back-breaking work but even knowing this each time she left, Constance found herself restless, and a little resentful of her sister’s freedom.
Now, she retrieved a hanky out of the pocket of the coat she wore over the top of her overall uniform. The coat had belonged to Evelyn, and the colour, a rather bland brown in Constance’s opinion had served to warm her sister’s amber features whereas it made Constance with her English rose complexion look insipid. At least it kept the chill out, she thought, shrinking down inside it. One day, she vowed swiping at her face before inspecting the blackened smudges left behind on the hanky, when this blasted war was over she’d have a rainbow wardrobe. She’d have dresses of pink and yellow, and a red coat and—
‘Hello,’ a melodious, and richly accented voice echoed behind her.
‘Oh!’ She startled, spinning around on the seat. A tall, young man in uniform she recognized as being Airforce was standing on the path behind the folly.
Chapter 14
Constance had no idea how long the young man standing behind her had been there. The folly loomed large to his left, and the path to his right was deserted. He sensed her fright and held his hand up. ‘Hey there, sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.’
Her heart slowed back down to a regular beat; there was something about his smile that made her feel at ease. ‘I was lost in my thoughts; I didn’t hear you coming.’ She picked his accent as belonging to the Canadian contingent that had been stationed on the island. As she looked at him properly, she had the strongest sense that they’d met before, but she couldn’t think where.
‘Penny for them. Isn’t that what you British say?’
She
