Farmerettes by Gisela Sherman Page A

Peggy’s soldiers when she kept forgetting to write—but she feared Isabel, so beautifully dressed and well-spoken, wouldn’t be interested.
    Once she had uttered her fiancé’s name, words flowed from Isabel. She sat on the steps, motioned Helene to join her, and told her about Billy—how handsome and smart he was, his romantic proposal by the river, their plans for the future.
    By the time the moon had traveled high in the sky, Isabel linked arms with Helene as they climbed upstairs to sleep.

Strawberries and Sunburns
    Tuesday, June 8, 1943
    Peggy
    Peggy stood onstage, Glenn Miller and his band playing behind her, a spotlight above making her white gown shimmer. Glenn smiled at her—his new lead singer—and then at his piano player—Michael. Lights dimmed. She sang “At Last,”and when she reached the final notes, her fans stood, shouting “Bravo” and “Encore.” Someone whistled.
    The whistle shrilled louder. Glenn, Michael, and the adoring audience faded. “Five-thirty. Rise and shine, girls.” An overhead light glared through her eyelids. The whistle blasted again.
    â€œBreakfast in thirty minutes,” called Miss Stoakley.
    The dream totally evaporated. Peggy lay for another minute with her eyes scrunched shut. She wanted that fantasy back. She wanted three hours more sleep until the smell of fresh coffee lured her downstairs to breakfast.
    Someone bumped her cot as they thumped by. Girls chattered, and clattered noisily over the wooden floors. Peggy groaned.
    â€œPeggy, wake up. If you don’t get to the bathroom soon, you won’t have time for breakfast.”
    Peggy slowly opened her eyes and saw Helene, fully dressed and smiling. “How long have you been up?”
    â€œA while. I’m on my way out to watch the sunrise. Look, the sky is pink already. I’ll see you in the dining room.”
    Peggy watched Helene rush out the side door. It was good to see her so happy, her gray eyes glowing, her pinched expression smoothed into a smile. Peggy was glad they’d fibbed about the telegram to get here. She rolled out of bed, grabbed her toiletry bag, and trudged downstairs to the washrooms.
    Hungry and late, Peggy hurried to the dining room, as girls who met only yesterday chatted like old friends. Miss Stoakley stood by the serving table, greeting everyone.
    Now that Peggy was washed and fully awake, she was eager to get to the fields. She helped herself to eggs, toast, chunks of cheddar, and milk, then found a seat next to Helene. She introduced herself to her new tablemates and dug into breakfast.
    â€œWe’re already invited to watch a baseball game this Saturday, the minister asked us to tea, and they’re planning a growers’ party,” said a thin, frizzy-haired girl. “It’s going to be a fun summer.”
    Peggy immediately perked up. “Where’s the party? I hope there’ll be dancing.”
    Before the girl could reply, Miss Stoakley announced, “Twenty minutes until the wagons arrive. Time to pack your lunches. Take enough. You’ll be hungry.”
    Still chewing her toast, Peggy joined the others at the serving table, where plates of buttered bread, sliced meats and cheese, carrot sticks, and bowls of fruit were laid out for them. She slapped together a sandwich, wrapped it, and dropped it into a bag along with an apple.
    Soon they stood in the barnyard, wearing solid shoes, straw hats, a variety of shorts and trousers, and shirts with the Farm Service Forces badge sewn onto them. Many girls had come here with a friend and were sticking close together to make sure they’d be on the same wagon.
    Just as three vehicles drove up the laneway, Jean came from the barn, her brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, hay and muck stuck to her boots. She wished everyone a good morning, and asked for four girls to stay at Highberry Farm to work.
    Binxie stepped forward. Even though she