room, and have to pause for breath on the landing. I march into my room, retrieve the crumpled letter sent by the WLA head office from the floor, and start on my journey to the estate house, for the second time in one day.
This has all become like some terrible grown-up version of boarding school, I think, as I march up the hill. That same sense of being apart from the others. That same feeling of being punished for that exclusion.
Captain Raley is standing by the window in the drawing-room. He seems to have been standing there for quite some time. There’s no sign of anyone else about.
“Where are they?” I say.
“Choosing a site for a picnic,” he says, without turning around.
“Why didn’t you stop them?”
“It’s a nice day for a picnic,” Raley says. “I didn’t feel like stopping them.” He does turn from the window now, turns to face me, and I see how tired he looks. “I don’t really know these men,” he says. “We’ve only been together a short while. They’re leftovers, extras from other regiments. We’re being assembled here into a new regiment, and then we’ll be shipped out. But we’re a disparate group.” He gives me a small smile. “Why not have a picnic?” he says.
“Because there’s work to be done. Your men might have nothing to do, but my girls are meant to be seeding potatoes.”
“You’re just annoyed because you’ve lost control of them,” says Raley.
He’s right. “I never had control of them,” I say. “That’s the problem.” I look around the room and don’t see what I need. “Do you have a telephone up here?” I ask. “I can’t find one down where we are.”
“In the hall.” Raley waves his arm in the direction I’ve come from, and I walk back out, unrolling the crumpled letter as I go.
I call the local WLA office, and when I get the county rep on the line and am just about to launch into my complaint of the girls, she practically yells down the phone. “Gwen Davis! What happened to you? You were meant to have arrived a week ago. I was just about to send out a replacement for you.”
“Well, there’s no need,” I say. “I just got a little mixed up about the arrival date, but I’m here now.”
“We can’t have this sort of thing,” says Mrs. Billings. “We are an organization that prides itself on efficiency.”
“Well,” I say, ready again to deliver my speech about the girls.
“I hope you will demonstrate proper conduct from here on in.”
“All right,” I say.
“I’ll be up to see you at the earliest convenience,” Mrs. Billings continues.
To check up on me, I think. “All right,” I say again, and replace the receiver to avoid any further lecturing.
“May I suggest a solution?” Raley is standing behind me, startles me with his nearness.
“Please,” I say. My hand is still on the phone. I feel near to tears.
“Offer them something,” says Raley. “The dance. An outing. Give them what they want and they’ll be more co-operative.”
“But how do I know what they want?” I am thinking now that I much prefer parsnips to people. They are infinitely more reliable. The stupidity of vegetables is preferable to the unpredictability of people.
Raley touches my arm and my hand lifts from the phone as though pulled up by an invisible wire. “They want a picnic,” he says. “Act like you gave it to them.”
Doris is still sitting on the bench exactly where I had left her when I walked out of the walled garden. She is tapping her shoes with a stick and humming something unrecognizable. I look around the garden. It is such a mess. “Come on,” I say to Doris. “I want you to help me with something.”
The Lumper stops humming, looks at me in that blank way of hers that I have difficulty reading. “All right,” she says, and lumbers off the bench.
I enlist the Lumper to help me break into the small shed in the walled garden. We pry open the rusted lock with the steel tines of a pitchfork. I had expected
This has all become like some terrible grown-up version of boarding school, I think, as I march up the hill. That same sense of being apart from the others. That same feeling of being punished for that exclusion.
Captain Raley is standing by the window in the drawing-room. He seems to have been standing there for quite some time. There’s no sign of anyone else about.
“Where are they?” I say.
“Choosing a site for a picnic,” he says, without turning around.
“Why didn’t you stop them?”
“It’s a nice day for a picnic,” Raley says. “I didn’t feel like stopping them.” He does turn from the window now, turns to face me, and I see how tired he looks. “I don’t really know these men,” he says. “We’ve only been together a short while. They’re leftovers, extras from other regiments. We’re being assembled here into a new regiment, and then we’ll be shipped out. But we’re a disparate group.” He gives me a small smile. “Why not have a picnic?” he says.
“Because there’s work to be done. Your men might have nothing to do, but my girls are meant to be seeding potatoes.”
“You’re just annoyed because you’ve lost control of them,” says Raley.
He’s right. “I never had control of them,” I say. “That’s the problem.” I look around the room and don’t see what I need. “Do you have a telephone up here?” I ask. “I can’t find one down where we are.”
“In the hall.” Raley waves his arm in the direction I’ve come from, and I walk back out, unrolling the crumpled letter as I go.
I call the local WLA office, and when I get the county rep on the line and am just about to launch into my complaint of the girls, she practically yells down the phone. “Gwen Davis! What happened to you? You were meant to have arrived a week ago. I was just about to send out a replacement for you.”
“Well, there’s no need,” I say. “I just got a little mixed up about the arrival date, but I’m here now.”
“We can’t have this sort of thing,” says Mrs. Billings. “We are an organization that prides itself on efficiency.”
“Well,” I say, ready again to deliver my speech about the girls.
“I hope you will demonstrate proper conduct from here on in.”
“All right,” I say.
“I’ll be up to see you at the earliest convenience,” Mrs. Billings continues.
To check up on me, I think. “All right,” I say again, and replace the receiver to avoid any further lecturing.
“May I suggest a solution?” Raley is standing behind me, startles me with his nearness.
“Please,” I say. My hand is still on the phone. I feel near to tears.
“Offer them something,” says Raley. “The dance. An outing. Give them what they want and they’ll be more co-operative.”
“But how do I know what they want?” I am thinking now that I much prefer parsnips to people. They are infinitely more reliable. The stupidity of vegetables is preferable to the unpredictability of people.
Raley touches my arm and my hand lifts from the phone as though pulled up by an invisible wire. “They want a picnic,” he says. “Act like you gave it to them.”
Doris is still sitting on the bench exactly where I had left her when I walked out of the walled garden. She is tapping her shoes with a stick and humming something unrecognizable. I look around the garden. It is such a mess. “Come on,” I say to Doris. “I want you to help me with something.”
The Lumper stops humming, looks at me in that blank way of hers that I have difficulty reading. “All right,” she says, and lumbers off the bench.
I enlist the Lumper to help me break into the small shed in the walled garden. We pry open the rusted lock with the steel tines of a pitchfork. I had expected
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