Switzerland – only not snow!’
‘Right through the back wall of the barn, it come!’ Winnie cut in, matching her friend’s excitement. ‘And the roof fell in! Down came the rafters and all the thatch! Right across the lane it went! And those Eyeties was all buried underneath!’
‘You should of seen the state of ’em!’ Marion continued, when Winnie stopped to draw breath. ‘Covered in mud they was! And cut! And bruised! Could of been worse. Only one of ’em was hurt bad. You should of seen ’is arm! Ughh! It didn’t ’alf upset Mr Bayliss!’ she added, thoughtfully, picturing their boss huddled over the steering wheel, racked with sobs.
‘What was ’e called?’ Evie asked suddenly.
‘What was who called?’
‘The one what was hurt? What was ’is name?’
‘’Ow should I know?’ Winnie asked her. ‘No one said.’
‘Not Giorgio?’ Evie asked, casually.
‘Why would it be Giorgio?’ Gwennan asked, eyeing Evie, her curiosity aroused.
‘I dunno,’ Evie said, shrugging. ‘I just wondered. Lots of Eyeties is called Giorgio, aren’t they …? Can I ’ave another cup of tea, Mrs Todd?’
‘Well, all’s well that ends well,’ the warden said, rather too brightly, as she drained the pot into Evie’s cup. Shecaught Rose’s quizzical glance and added, ‘What I mean is that whoever he is he’ll be in good hands by now and will most probably be repatriated as soon as he’s well enough!’
‘What’s “repatriated”, Mrs Todd?’ someone asked.
‘Sent home,’ Alice explained. ‘To his home in Italy.’ This brought smiles to some of the girls’ faces and had the effect, as Alice began stacking the pudding plates, of changing the topic of conversation. The girls drifted off to sprawl in the recreation room or go, early, to their beds.
Alice’s concern for Roger persisted for some days after the collapse of the barn. Why, she wondered, had he been so upset by it?
The injured POW was discharged from hospital, and with his arm heavily plastered, repatriated to his native Calabria, months before his fellow prisoners would be released. The barn, with the assistance of a larger group of Italians from the same detention centre, was razed to the ground and the slate quarry made permanently safe with a wide drain that would prevent rainwater from accumulating in it.
Alice knew better than to question Roger about the accident and was left to speculate on the strange effect it had had on him. Gwennan Pringle told Alice that she had read in the paper that some men who had been injured in the war ‘came over funny’, like Mr Bayliss had.
‘It’s to do with that shell shock the Tommies got after the Great War, it said in the paper,’ she continued, watchingAlice ironing one of Edward John’s school shirts. ‘But Mr Bayliss has never fought in no war – so it couldn’t be that, could it!’ Alice slid the iron across the white cotton and it seemed to Gwennan that the warden was paying very little attention to what she was telling her. ‘Anyhow,’ she concluded, ‘that’s what it said in the paper.’ If Mrs Todd took no notice of her or even of what it said in the paper, what was the good of talking to her at all? ‘I’ll go to my bed now,’ she sighed. ‘I’m that tired … Goodnight Mrs Todd.’
‘Oh …’ Alice said, suddenly aware that Gwennan was speaking to her. ‘Sorry, Gwennan, I was—’
‘Miles away. Yes, you was, wasn’t you? ’Night, Mrs Todd.’
‘Goodnight, Gwennan.’
‘Mrs Todd … could I have a word?’ This phrase, or something very much like it, was a familiar one to Alice, and after almost two years as warden of the Post Stone hostel, there was hardly a girl who had not, at one time or another, made the request.
Today it was Hannah Maria Sorokova – whom everyone at the farm called Annie – who had tapped on the door marked ‘Warden’ and was waiting, respectfully, to be invited into Alice’s bed-sitting room.
‘I’m of Polish
‘Right through the back wall of the barn, it come!’ Winnie cut in, matching her friend’s excitement. ‘And the roof fell in! Down came the rafters and all the thatch! Right across the lane it went! And those Eyeties was all buried underneath!’
‘You should of seen the state of ’em!’ Marion continued, when Winnie stopped to draw breath. ‘Covered in mud they was! And cut! And bruised! Could of been worse. Only one of ’em was hurt bad. You should of seen ’is arm! Ughh! It didn’t ’alf upset Mr Bayliss!’ she added, thoughtfully, picturing their boss huddled over the steering wheel, racked with sobs.
‘What was ’e called?’ Evie asked suddenly.
‘What was who called?’
‘The one what was hurt? What was ’is name?’
‘’Ow should I know?’ Winnie asked her. ‘No one said.’
‘Not Giorgio?’ Evie asked, casually.
‘Why would it be Giorgio?’ Gwennan asked, eyeing Evie, her curiosity aroused.
‘I dunno,’ Evie said, shrugging. ‘I just wondered. Lots of Eyeties is called Giorgio, aren’t they …? Can I ’ave another cup of tea, Mrs Todd?’
‘Well, all’s well that ends well,’ the warden said, rather too brightly, as she drained the pot into Evie’s cup. Shecaught Rose’s quizzical glance and added, ‘What I mean is that whoever he is he’ll be in good hands by now and will most probably be repatriated as soon as he’s well enough!’
‘What’s “repatriated”, Mrs Todd?’ someone asked.
‘Sent home,’ Alice explained. ‘To his home in Italy.’ This brought smiles to some of the girls’ faces and had the effect, as Alice began stacking the pudding plates, of changing the topic of conversation. The girls drifted off to sprawl in the recreation room or go, early, to their beds.
Alice’s concern for Roger persisted for some days after the collapse of the barn. Why, she wondered, had he been so upset by it?
The injured POW was discharged from hospital, and with his arm heavily plastered, repatriated to his native Calabria, months before his fellow prisoners would be released. The barn, with the assistance of a larger group of Italians from the same detention centre, was razed to the ground and the slate quarry made permanently safe with a wide drain that would prevent rainwater from accumulating in it.
Alice knew better than to question Roger about the accident and was left to speculate on the strange effect it had had on him. Gwennan Pringle told Alice that she had read in the paper that some men who had been injured in the war ‘came over funny’, like Mr Bayliss had.
‘It’s to do with that shell shock the Tommies got after the Great War, it said in the paper,’ she continued, watchingAlice ironing one of Edward John’s school shirts. ‘But Mr Bayliss has never fought in no war – so it couldn’t be that, could it!’ Alice slid the iron across the white cotton and it seemed to Gwennan that the warden was paying very little attention to what she was telling her. ‘Anyhow,’ she concluded, ‘that’s what it said in the paper.’ If Mrs Todd took no notice of her or even of what it said in the paper, what was the good of talking to her at all? ‘I’ll go to my bed now,’ she sighed. ‘I’m that tired … Goodnight Mrs Todd.’
‘Oh …’ Alice said, suddenly aware that Gwennan was speaking to her. ‘Sorry, Gwennan, I was—’
‘Miles away. Yes, you was, wasn’t you? ’Night, Mrs Todd.’
‘Goodnight, Gwennan.’
‘Mrs Todd … could I have a word?’ This phrase, or something very much like it, was a familiar one to Alice, and after almost two years as warden of the Post Stone hostel, there was hardly a girl who had not, at one time or another, made the request.
Today it was Hannah Maria Sorokova – whom everyone at the farm called Annie – who had tapped on the door marked ‘Warden’ and was waiting, respectfully, to be invited into Alice’s bed-sitting room.
‘I’m of Polish
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