sat in her bedroom, the door open. She would demand to be told what was going on. It was ridiculous to exclude her in this way as if she was nothing more than a child.
Voices, sharper now they were out of the library, travelled up from the hallway. She scampered down the stairs, but before she could join the others on the front step, Wilfred’s car was already approaching the cedar avenue.
Mother marched straight back into the sitting room and poured herself a brandy, which she swallowed down in one.
‘Whatever is going on?’ Emily asked. ‘Is he giving us money?’
Mother set her glass back down on the table as if Emily hadn’t spoken.
‘Mother.’ John appeared in the doorway. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Of course,’ Mother said. She followed John into the library, leaving her once again on the wrong side of the door.
July 1915
Dearest Emily,
They have delayed my leave – they can’t spare us. I’ve been promised it should be next week now if I am fortunate enough to escape, or there is a shell with my name on it heading my way first.
I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed that I won’t see you at King’s Cross. Your letters have been the only good thing to come my way since I’ve been here, but I understand the reason why. I’ll linger outside the Telegraph Office just in case you change your mind and can meet me there.
Try not to be too hard on your mother – I’m sure she’s being truthful when she tells you that she thinks it’s for the best if you don’t work, even though you may disagree.
Yours
Theo
The chickens scattered to escape the sizeable boots of Mrs Tipton as she stepped out of the farmhouse door and grabbed John by the shoulders. She pulled him close, thumping the air out of him by patting his back with the palm of her hand, even though she’d only seen him the day before. ‘Ah, what a sight to see the three of you together again at the farmhouse. In you all come now,’ she said as she tugged John over the threshold.
Mrs Tipton poured them each a tea. ‘I’ve been working on him,’ she said.
Emily’s back straightened. It was the first time Mrs Tipton had mentioned the idea of Emily helping on the farm in weeks. ‘The more those women run circles around him, the more his resolve is weakening. Sometimes with men you just have to wear them down – it’s the only way.’
Before their tea had cooled enough to drink, Mr Tipton crashed into the kitchen shouting. Mrs Tipton raised her eyebrows at Emily.
‘Blasted women, blasted women!’
‘Whatever’s happened, dear?’ Mrs Tipton slid a cup of tea in front of him.
‘I thought those cows were temperamental.’ He threw his brown felt hat across the room. ‘Those beasts have nothing on women. I should never ha’ taken them on. They’re either jawing …’ he mimicked a busy mouth snapping up and down with his four fingers against his thumb ‘… or booing …’ he mimed rubbing his eyes with his fists.
‘You upset one o’ them again, have you?’ Mrs Tipton asked, tight-lipped.
‘S’not hard, it really isn’t,’ he said, kicking the table leg with his boot. ‘Another one, Annie, I think she called herself, has just packed her bags. They’re strong enough to lug their cases to the station when it means they can get out of here. You noticed that too, have you?’
Mrs Tipton nodded in reply. ‘What you need is a ganger,’ Mrs Tipton said with a wink to Emily. ‘And look who the wind has blown in for us, eh?’ She gestured with raised eyebrows towards Emily.
Mr Tipton furrowed his brow. ‘No disrespect, but what I need is more men. Cecil, you’re home for the summer. Couldn’t you help us out a bit, lad?’
Cecil’s gaze shifted about in the uncomfortable silence that followed. Cecil? Mr Tipton couldn’t be that desperate for help, surely to goodness. John caught Emily’s eye behind Cecil’s back; despite her disappointment at being overlooked again, it was too much to imagine Cecil milking cows and they both crumbled into laughter.
‘What?’ Cecil straightened his back, and his tie. ‘I think I’d command respect rather well amongst the workers.’
‘A good farmer leads from the front,’ Emily told him, clutching her stomach and grinning. After the drama up at the house, and John’s looming departure for the Front, the laughter warmed her insides.
‘It’s not that ludicrous a prospect, surely?’ Cecil asked.
John and Emily nodded at one another and said in unison: ‘Oh, it is.’
‘I really don’t see what’s so funny.’ Cecil frowned.
‘Oh, come on, Cecil,’ John said. ‘Can you really see yourself muck-spreading, digging, weeding …’ Cecil’s mouth had wrinkled up. ‘My point exactly. You won’t have time to loll around with your book, or write a thesis about the land ownership of the upper classes and the plight of the serfs. Whereas Emily here worked alongside me on the vegetable garden and I was tired and ready for a rest long before her.’
‘Exactly,’ Mrs Tipton agreed.
‘I’d like to try,’ Emily said. ‘Perhaps a trial?’
‘I appreciate you wanting to help,’ Mr Tipton said. ‘And you know I’ve always enjoyed having you around the place and you have a better understanding of the land than most, but I’ve had so much trouble. I don’t want any more. I can’t even risk you, Miss Cotham.’
‘It is her farm,’ Mrs Tipton reminded him. ‘She has every right to take good care of her family’s assets.’
She had been bending her husband’s ear for months now, and he was beginning to cave in.
‘Won’t you give me a chance to prove myself?’ Emily pressed on. ‘If you’d like, I can sign up with the government’s scheme and get some training.’
‘But she won’t need it,’ John added. ‘She knows these fields and this farm well enough. She’s watched you since she was a girl.’
‘And I can supervise the girls – you won’t need to bother yourself with chasing them about.’ It would be wonderful if that was true. Just as John had said, she mustn’t listen to the naysayers. She had to believe in herself; that was half the battle.
‘This war isn’t going to be won any time soon,’ said Mrs Tipton. ‘You’ll have to take on more women. You won’t have any choice in the matter.’
Mr Tipton’s shoulders sagged at the prospect.
‘And Master John is the head of the household,’ Mrs Tipton continued. ‘His wishes have to be respected.’
Emily was impressed at Mr Tipton’s resolve, but he was definitely showing signs of succumbing – all three of them could sense it.
‘I know the land and the animals, Mr Tipton. I love this farm. Who better to be by your side?’
‘Mmm.’ He scratched his chin.
‘If it turns out that I’m not any good at it then I’ll leave,’ she said.
‘You’ll have lost nothing,’ John said. ‘But you’ve everything to gain.’
Mr Tipton narrowed his eyes, suspecting he’d been ambushed. ‘And what does your mother say?’
Emily