When Freddie’s letters had stopped coming, Kate had covered her disappointment with lots of laughing and chatting. Ignoring Ethie’s gleeful jibes had been hard, but she’d managed, and Sally had said, ‘Freddie’s a young man, Kate. He’s not going to wait around for a girl who’s far away. Forget about him. He’ll soon find someone else – and so will you.’ The brisk assumption had hurt Kate. For a while she kept writing to Freddie, hoping he would reply, but the weeks went by and no letters came. She was glad of her morning job with the horses, and flattered by Ian Tillerman’s attention.
Little Foxy lifted her head and whinnied, and there was an answering whinny from Ian’s horse as he came to meet them, also on foot. Kate wanted a hug, but instead she got a blast of anger from him as they reached each other.
‘Damned infernal motorbikes,’ he stormed, ‘and you should have seen the state of him. Covered in mud and stinking of brandy. Bloody arrogant lout. I sent him packing. I told him he’d got no business down here. Bloody townies think they can go anywhere. No respect for horses. I mean, the way he came round that bend. Disgraceful hoodlum behaviour. And I told him if anything happened to that horse, I’d sue him. He soon turned tail and went, bloody lout. Good riddance too. By the way, are you all right?’
Kate opened her mouth to reply but Ian didn’t wait for an answer. He checked Little Foxy over. ‘Better get these horses back to the stables or they’ll catch a chill. Can you stay and rub her down, please? Come on, we’ll lead them back.’
He marched off briskly, leading his horse, and Kate followed, her eyes downcast. She didn’t want to work late today. She wanted some lunch and a warm fire, and time to be with her family, and time to recover.
When Freddie didn’t return that night, Annie wasn’t too concerned. He’d told her he was spending the night with Kate’s family and coming back the next day. So she kept herself busy, mixing dough and stoking coke ovens. She made Freddie’s bed up with fresh sheets and cooked his favourite shepherd’s pie to heat when he came home the next day.
But as she settled down with her knitting, a sense of isolation spread itself around Annie like a ripple from a stone dropped into a lake. On distant shores the waves broke like quiet folds of satin, so hushed that no one knew of the anguish that had started them.
Annie went to bed in the silent cottage, blew out her candle and lay listening for footsteps in the night street, or owls outside on the trees. She heard some drunken revelry from the pub, a man coughing and retching as he trudged past, the whirr of a bicycle and the click-click of a dog’s paws as it trotted by. Then it was so quiet she sensed the tick of the church clock and the rhythmic swooshing of her heartbeat. She lay rigid on her back, her eyes hopelessly staring into the velvet darkness. Eventually she got out of bed, groped her way to the door where she unhooked Levi’s old tartan dressing gown, took it back to bed and went to sleep cuddling it, comforted by the musty, malty smell of the corn mill.
It was still dark when she got up at 5 a.m. and put the first batch of bread in to cook. She mixed lardy cake and rolls, cut the dough and left them to rise. She was short of yeast. Freddie would get it for her, and he’d said he would be back about midday. Annie was glad she had plenty to do and customers to chat to, but the morning seemed endless.
Once again Joan appeared, full of enthusiasm, just at closing time.
‘I need a chat with you, Annie. Is Freddie back? No? Oh dear – but never mind, that can wait.’
‘What can wait?’ asked Annie. ‘Slow down a bit, Joan, will you? I think your mind goes twice as fast as mine.’
Joan smiled. ‘That’s what my husband says. Now then, Annie, those beautiful flowers you grow – and I see you’re good at arranging them too. How would you like to do the flowers for the church? They really need someone, and I’m no good at it.’
Annie frowned. She turned her back and busied herself brushing crumbs off the shelves. ‘I’ve gotta get on.’
Joan stood there determinedly. ‘I’d come with you and help,’ she said. ‘I can take you down now if you like. Annie?’
‘I – I don’t – walk too well,’ Annie mumbled, and her heart started thumping. The skin on her face felt tight and hot, and she wanted to cry.
‘Annie?’ Joan was there instantly, her hand on Annie’s tense shoulders, her eyes concerned. ‘What is it? You’re shaking. Here, sit down.’
She dragged a chair out but Annie wouldn’t sit down.
‘I can’t tell you,’ she said, gripping the counter.
‘Oh, you can,’ said Joan persuasively. ‘You can tell me. I promise I won’t gossip, Annie. It’ll just be between the two of us. Come on. Let’s sit down at your lovely table.’
Annie couldn’t move. She hadn’t had a friend since before the war. Levi and Freddie had been her whole world. It had to change. This woman with the scarlet nails and the fox furs whom she had totally misjudged was offering her a lifeline. She allowed herself to be led into the scullery where she sat at the table, her hands spread out on the friendly well-scrubbed wood.
‘I can’t – go out,’ she whispered, and put her hands over her face to catch the tears which broke through the layers of shell she had inhabited over the years. At first she could only rock to and fro and say, ‘’Tis terrible – terrible. Nobody knows, only my Freddie.’ She risked a glance at Joan, surprised to see how caringly and closely the woman was listening.
‘What happens when you go out?’ Joan asked gently.
‘I’m all right in the garden, but soon as I go outside that gate – I don’t know why, but I’m so giddy, and I’m frightened of falling. I’m a big woman, I fall heavy. Oh ’tis terrible, the pavement goes all wavy like water, and the buildings look like they’re falling down on me. I panic, see. And the panic is the worst thing. My heart races and I shake and I can’t get my breath. I think I’m going to die. And – and . . .’ Annie glanced up at Joan. ‘You don’t want to be listening to this.’
‘Yes I do. I’ve plenty of time,’ said Joan firmly. ‘You tell me everything, and I mean – everything.’
Annie nodded. Her greatest fear waited at the end of her talking, like a boulder, wobbling, waiting to fall.
‘I can only go out if my Freddie is with me. He’s wonderful. Ever since he was little he’s looked after me, he holds my hands and talks me through it. Many times he’s got me home – and – and Levi never knew. I’m so ashamed of myself, Joan, so ashamed. I’m afraid I’ll make a fool of myself, see? So now I don’t even try to go out. God knows what would happen if I had to.’ Annie looked at Joan again, noticing the confident warmth in her eyes that made the painful silences bearable, and then she finally let go of the boulder. ‘And I shouldn’t be telling you all this – I know your husband is a doctor and I’m so frightened they’ll think I’m a mad woman and put me in the asylum.’
‘My husband wouldn’t,’ Joan assured her, ‘he’s a really understanding doctor. I shan’t tell him, Annie. But – let me think about this – it may be that I can help you.’
‘You already have,’ said Annie gratefully. ‘I’ve got it off my chest.’
‘But,’ Joan wagged her finger, ‘I can only help you if you really want to get over this.’
‘I do.’
The two women smiled at each other and Joan raised a clenched fist, her eyes twinkling. ‘Courage to change,’ she said. ‘That’s what we need.’