She shot up in bed. ‘Greg, you shouldn’t be in here…’
‘I wasn’t leaving you alone, not when you were so devastated. Are you feeling any better, darling?’
‘Not really, but I’ll be able to cope with you beside me.’ His hair was tousled and he needed a shave but she had never loved him more. ‘At least you are fully clothed, unlike myself.’
‘I’m not an idiot. If you’re okay I’d better get washed and shaved.’ He leaned closer and kissed her gently before rolling off and striding to the door. Only then did she see he had left it wide open.
‘See you downstairs in half an hour. I love you, sweetheart, and I’m so sorry.’
His parting smile was sad and belatedly she remembered Neil had been his best friend. He was grieving too but had put her first as he always did. She dragged herself to the wash-stand and quickly sluiced herself down with the cold water from the jug. She put on a clean shirt and stepped back into her uniform skirt and jacket. She was glad she didn’t have to wear black.
The house didn’t seem the same. It wasn’t just that her beloved brother was dead – she thought it was her. She’d changed, she wasn’t the naïve girl who had left home all those months ago.
Dad had already gone out to work. Farming wasn’t something you could take a break from unless you’d got someone else in to do your job. Even the death of a son didn’t mean you got compassionate leave.
Greg joined her outside on the terrace – it was too hot to eat in the kitchen. She moved willingly into his arms and they kissed. If anything happened to him she didn’t think she would ever really recover. He was the most important person in her life now. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘Your father has had a letter from Mrs Simpson in response to his telling her about Neil. It seems she will be coming to the funeral. Will you be alright seeing her again?’
‘It’s almost a year since she left. She and Dad are no longer married, but Neil was still her first-born. It wouldn’t be right to stop her coming but I hope Sir Reginald doesn’t accompany her. Which reminds me, why hasn’t he been arrested? Isn’t it treason to support Hitler?’
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t be so crass as to come here after what happened the last time. And you’re right, people like him should be behind bars.’
She’d lost her appetite and put down her cutlery, feeling guilty she was leaving a perfectly good plate of egg and bacon when there was a war on and rationing in place. ‘If you’re not going to eat that, Ellie, do you mind if I polish it off? Pity to waste it.’
She drank her tea in silence trying not to think about the reason she was home. ‘By the way, I don’t even know how old you are or when your birthday is. In fact, how have we got engaged when we know so little about each other?’
‘I’ll be twenty-four on 28th June. I have two sisters, one ten, the other eight years older than me. My parents don’t live together and I’ve not spoken to my father either for over a year.’
‘I think you told me that before. My birthday’s not until October and I’ll be twenty then.’
The telephone rang and she jumped to her feet and went to answer it. The caller was another neighbour ringing to give their condolences and ask when the funeral was. She replaced the receiver and scrubbed her cheeks dry with her sleeve.
Mabel spoke from behind her. ‘I’ve just heard that three families in the village have lost someone too. I don’t suppose it’s going to get any easier. Them blooming Germans will be over here dropping bombs on us soon.’
‘I keep telling myself that Neil died fighting for us – but it doesn’t make it any less horrible.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed herself away from the table she’d been slumped against. ‘Do you need any help getting the rooms ready?’
‘Bless you, Ellie, but that’s not your job. My friends are helping out with the wake. We’ll give your brother a good send off, don’t you worry.’
*
Having Greg there helped to ease her grief. He understood how she was feeling and was there for her to cry on whenever she needed him. The mantelpiece and windowsills in the sitting room were crowded with condolence cards. Greg made himself useful on the farm while she took the dogs for a walk, answered the telephone, and replied to the cards.
Somehow, she staggered through the two days, but couldn’t have endured it without Greg being there. Dad turned to Mabel for comfort and this was how it should be. This was no longer her home. She had grown up, was a responsible member of the WAAF doing essential war work, and she knew that in future she would be a visitor to Glebe Farm not a member of the household.
George and Jack shared a taxi and arrived on the morning of the funeral. Because of petrol rationing there would be no procession, the coffin would be taken directly to the church by the undertakers.
Her brother hugged her, not something he usually did, and he seemed genuinely distressed. ‘I thought it would be me that would go first, I can’t believe he’s gone. Bloody war – bloody Germans.’
‘Mum’s coming – did you know that?’
He looked uncomfortable. ‘Actually, Ellie, I took Fiona to meet her and Grandpa. Don’t look so horrified, Sir Reginald has learnt his lesson and cut all ties to the fascists. He had nothing to do with that unpleasantness, it was someone else on the list.’
She stepped away from him, shocked by his admission. Jack was waiting his turn to embrace her. ‘You look good in your
