don’t look old enough!” Evelyn smiled. Finch grinned, realising she was joking.
“Get away with you!”
They sipped their drinks at the same time. Finch was pleased that he had slowed down. But he was still thinking about his next one. Evelyn continued the conversation, “What is it like having all those Land Girls around the place?”
“It means I can be a bit more, erm, like a manager.” He smiled. “It’s really good because I don’t have to get my hands dirty as much, with all of them doing it all. Truth is, I haven’t planted a potato since this war started!”
They giggled together. “No, they’re a good bunch of girls,” Finch said.
“And there are two farms on the Hoxley estate, aren’t there?” Evelyn sipped at her cider.
“Pasture Farm and Shallow Brook Farm,” Finch confirmed. “My one is the better farm, if I do say so myself. Shallow Brook was run by the Storeys. Have you heard of Vernon Storey?”
Evelyn shook her head. She lived on the outskirts of Brinford, so there was no reason why she would know many people in Helmstead.
“Nasty piece of work.” Finch scrunched his face as if he’d sucked on a lemon. “Wanted for murder, you know?”
“Oh gosh,” Evelyn said. “What happened? Was it one of the Land Girls?”
Finch leaned in close to tell her. “No, his own son.”
Evelyn wanted to know more, but Finch didn’t want to spoil their evening with the whole sorry tale of Frank Tucker and Walter Storey, and how Iris had discovered the truth about Walter’s murder. It would put a bit of a dampener on things. No, he wanted to make Evelyn laugh again. He liked it when she laughed because her eyes twinkled and she’d arch her head back. Suddenly Finch wondered if he was falling for Evelyn Gray.
“So I’ve taken over the other farm. Surprised meself, because I can barely manage one place let alone two!”
It had the desired effect. Evelyn’s face broke into an amused grin and she arched her head slightly.
“Got some help, though. Martin, the warden’s son, and John Fisher - he’s married to one of my girls - are sorting the place out for me.”
“Sounds like you’re busy?” Evelyn smiled warmly.
“Which is exactly why I need relaxing nights out like this!” Finch got up. “I’ll get us another round, shall I?”
“All right. But that will be enough for me.”
“Me too,” Finch said. As he carried the glasses to the bar, he glanced back to where Evelyn was checking her face in a powder compact. He had known her two weeks and they were getting on famously. Finch hadn’t noticed her at the dance. As far as he was concerned, he’d clocked eyes on her for the first time at one of Lady Hoxley’s agricultural shows. Finch had been showing his prize pig, Chamberlain, and was trying to get the pig into a gated enclosure. Evelyn and a group of women had been watching and Finch felt the weight of expectation upon him as he’d tried to manhandle the heavy animal.
“Come on, you blighter!”
But Chamberlain had turned quickly, taking Finch off balance, and the stout farmer had fallen face first into the mud. While some of the women couldn’t help but laugh, Evelyn looked concerned and ran to his aid.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No. Only me pride,” Finch replied.
“Let me help you.” And Finch had been surprised to see Evelyn outstretch her arms and try to corner Chamberlain in a bid to edge him closer to the paddock. She was gamely trying her best, but Chamberlain easily side-stepped her. Soon, Finch and Evelyn were working together in a pincer movement to cut off the pig’s escape route. Finally, after several failed attempts and some swearing from Finch, they managed to get Chamberlain into the pen. Finch slid the bolt across with a triumphant smile and mopped his brow with the back of his hand.
“Thanks for your help, Mrs -?” Finch outstretched his hand to shake hers, but she scrunched up her nose instead. Finch looked down and realised his hand was covered in mud. “I’ll wash it first.”
“Then I’ll shake it.” Evelyn laughed.
And since then, they had seen each other three times. Two pub outings, including this one, and a trip to an entertainment show at the village hall. Finch was very happy with his new friend. Evelyn was happy too.
As Finch brought the drinks back to the table, he was surprised to see that a visitor had arrived by Evelyn’s side. It was Martin Reeves, out of breath having run all the way from Pasture Farm.
“Mr Finch!” he gasped. “You have to come back. It’s Iris!”
“What is it?”
“Mum is worried about her. She’s gone to her room.”
“Well, can’t it wait?”
Martin shrugged. He wasn’t sure. “She just told me to get you. She’s worried that Iris has been drinking.”
“You want me to come back just so I can discipline Iris?”
“Mum said it was important. Sorry.”
Finch nodded, sighed and started to get his coat and hat. He said a hurried goodbye to the understanding Evelyn and made his way out of the pub to follow Martin back to the farmhouse.
When they got there, Finch placed his Homberg hat on the coat stand and started to take off his overcoat, with help from Martin. Finch’s face was etched with concern as he glanced at Esther, thoughts of his romantic evening fading from his mind.
“How is Iris?” Finch asked.
“Asleep, I think,” Esther replied. “Sorry to interrupt your night.”
“No, this is more important.” But Esther could see the hint of disappointment on Finch’s face. She knew he’d been looking forward to it for some time. She couldn’t help but notice that the shirt she had ironed was now looking creased and dirty, but she didn’t say anything. As Martin made a cup of tea for everyone, Esther and Joyce told Finch what had been happening. They all agreed on what was the root of the problem. Iris was obsessed with the thought of Vernon coming back for her. She was imagining that she could see him and hear him, and she would have regular nightmares about him coming to kill her. And this was causing her to mess up at work, her mind too distracted to focus on the job in hand. They all wanted to sort this out.
“She’s a bright girl, but she’s obsessed about this. And nothing we can say seems to stop her thinking about it,” Frank said.
“How about if we get Dr Channing up at Hoxley Manor to take a look at her?” Esther suggested. “If there is something wrong in Iris’s mind, he might be able to treat it.”
“She just needs a distraction. Something to take her mind off it,” Joyce said.
“We’ve got to sort her out because she’s pretty much good for nothing on the farm,” Esther snapped.
“Yeah, we’re all agreed we’ve got to do something. But what?” Finch said.
“I think we should vote on it,” Esther announced. Joyce looked uncertain. She didn’t like the thought of voting, somewhat arbitrarily, on someone else’s future.
“All right.” Frank nodded. “All those in favour of taking her mind off things?”
Joyce put her hand up. She was the only one. She put it down again, despondently. “So much for that, then.”
“All those in favour of getting her seen by Dr Channing?” Esther said, raising her own hand.
Joyce shrugged and reluctantly stuck her hand in the air. It was probably the best thing. Channing might be able to cure the root of the problem,