Evie's War by Anna Mackenzie Page B

training, after which he will return to us on leave until he receives a posting. Had he stayed with the local Regiment he would have reached the Front sooner, which might have suited him better, but this way when he goes it will be as a Leader of Men.
11 January
    Snow and more snow. My uncle left at midday yesterday to catch his train, then spent some miserable hours at the Station only to learn that the line was completely blocked. Winifred discovered him waiting and offered to drive him home, but the road was by then no better than the line and they were obliged to abandon the car in a drift, arriving back here in a very sorry state. Winifred took a glass of brandy to revive her and retired to bed while my uncle sent one of the men with a message for Lady Braybrooke. Whether he managed to reach her we know not, as he is yet to return.
12 January
    It has been such a boon to have Winifred with us: I do hope a little of her gusto rubs off on Mother, who remains rather flat. Father has asked whether she might consider staying a few days. Meanwhile she has regaled me with tales regarding the WSPU meetings I missed. On the Tuesday before Christmas a number of toasts were offered up in the general festive spirit, causing several ladies to become tipsy, while last week, in more sober mode, the visiting speaker left her greatly impressed. I have forgotten the woman’s name but she apparently spent some months nursing in Belgium before returning home to arrange shipments of medical supplies and to alert us to the hardships suffered by the poor Belgians, whose towns are constantly being bombarded and whose lives are torn asunder. Like Winifred, I wonder if there is not more we can do.
14 January
    On return to my bandaging class I found a mutiny had taken place: it seems certain local women — they shall remain unnamed — do not believe a ‘Colonial’ shouldbe instructing them, and would rather learn nothing than accept that I may, on this subject, know more than they. Such an attitude is inexcusable! I do hope Edmund does not meet anything so foolish. Lady B assures me she has an Altogether Better Plan. I tremble to imagine it!
    Received a short letter from Lettie, who reports that Christmas was pleasant but the rest of her days quite unremarkable, the young man she spoke of having departed for the Front. Perhaps it will encourage her to take up her plan to apply to Oxford. I doubt her Greek is much improved: perhaps I should send her Mr Lindsay’s address so that they might write — though, on reflection, I suspect her family would not approve.
    I have not heard from Ada or Harriet in an absolute age. For the first time since we arrived I feel a little homesick. Perhaps it is the cold. At home it will be sweltering hot, even the garden beginning to shrivel, while the hills will be quite browned and the cicadas in constant creaking chorus.
Sunday 17 January
    Mother seems a little brighter, no doubt thanks to the arrival on Friday of the nanny engaged to assist with William. Walking to Church, the crisp chill turning our noses quite pink, Mother tucked my hand through the crook of her arm and patted my fingers. ‘You are a good girl,’ she said — rather to my surprise. Nothing further was said, Millicent at that moment skipping up to point out a squirrel peering over a branch, the tufts of its ears comically large, and thereafter walking with us. The snow that was such a bother when it fell is now packed firmly underfoot and lies mounded on every horizontal surface, including the branches of trees; sometimes there is more snow than branch! Millicent says the weight of it will occasionally cause branches to break, but that there isnot enough for that yet. Some sloughed off with a great whump as we walked past the gates to Catmere. It gave me quite a start, and made me wonder about the noise of falling shells, which brought to mind Winifred’s report of the injuries and suffering described at