The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir. Jennifer Ryan
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put his hand on her thigh.
‘Venetia,’ he whispered. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, velvet self-assurance in her voice. ‘I know exactly what I’m doing.’
‘I don’t think you do.’
He lowered his face and kissed her extremely forcefully indeed, his other hand coming around the back of her pale shoulders, pulling her in towards him. They stood locked, writhing like that against each other for a few minutes, and then, I have no idea how, they eased themselves onto the hay without stopping kissing. I couldn’t see them as the hole in the door was too narrow, but I knew what they were doing. Like animals in a stable.
Flinging myself out of the yard, I decided to go back home and do some thinking about what I just saw, which is where you find me now. None of my questions seem to be answered, but I now know some things for sure.
Things I know for sure
Venetia has almost certainly done this before
She might have done it more than once before too (although didn’t have a baby)
She might have done it with Henry, which is why he follows her around
Angela Quail has clearly done it, Vicar’s daughter or not
Now that I come to think of it, there is a lot more of it going on than I thought
I’m still not going to do it until I’m married
Venetia is more serious about Mr Slater than I thought (or Daddy thought, for that matter)
Daddy will be furious if he ever finds out
This piece of information might come in very useful
With that, I have decided to close the matter, although the image of her standing there is etched onto my mind. How come she’s got it into her mind she can do these things, when we’ve been told that we can’t?
Then I realised. It’s the war. No one cares any more about saving ourselves for marriage. It’s all about the here and now, letting everything go, enjoying life while we can. Virginity is old hat because we could be dead tomorrow or, worse, be occupied by the Nazis.
That said, I’m not sure I fancy the idea of doing it that much, so I think I’ll just keep mine for now. I’ll have to perfect my solos so that I can become so famous and successful that I never have to think about Venetia and her disgusting little affairs ever again.
Letter from Miss Edwina Paltry to her sister, Clara
3 Church Row
Chilbury
Kent
Friday, 3rd May, 1940
Dear Clara,
You have a champion for a sister! Triumphant is how I am, as it wasn’t easy – like Hercules getting through the ruddy Twelve Labours, except that it was only two screaming babies being swapped. But I wasn’t going to let that reward run away from me. Not this time, Clara. Let me tell you the whole.
After a good breakfast spent watching Mrs Tilling, smartly dressed in her ghastly green WVS uniform, arrive and then depart from Hattie’s house for her usual morning check, I gathered my black bag and moved into the first part of my plan: feeding Hattie the potion.
‘Anybody in?’ I called as I knocked at the door and pushed it ajar, putting on the most friendly voice I could muster. ‘Hattie? It’s me, Miss Paltry. Are you upstairs?’
‘In the kitchen,’ she chanted in her singsong voice.
I walked in to find her pottering around the tiny room, surrounded by soil-coated vegetables dug up from the garden, a sizable leek in one hand.
‘I’m glad I found you in,’ I smiled. ‘I saw a midwife friend in Faversham yesterday, and the most remarkable coincidence. I was telling her about your tiredness, and how there was nothing you could take for it, and she told me about a new remedy. She said she has been giving it out for months and every woman has been so happy that she’s quite run out of the stuff!’
‘Can I get it anywhere?’ Hattie turned, putting down the leek. ‘I haven’t been able to get out for days now, and I need to visit the children in Litchfield Hospital. I’ve been giving them extra lessons in my spare time, and—’
‘As it happened she received a new box while I was there, and I begged her to let me have some for you.’
‘You did? How marvellous!’ She took a few steps towards me in eagerness, fixing a thick strand of dark hair that had slipped out of its pins. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘It was quite pricey, dear, because it’s so much in demand,’ I said, putting my head on one side to add an extra cheeriness. ‘But I’ll give you a special price of thruppence ha’penny for the dose.’
She got some change from her purse and handed me a few coins. I checked the money (it was a ha’penny short, but I decided not to press her for it) and then I took the brown bottle out of my bag, along with a teaspoon.
‘How much do I have to take?’ She took the bottle and eyed it, her rosy mouth pinched with fear.
‘A teaspoon will do the trick. Let me pour it out for you.’ I took the bottle and got her a glass of water. ‘There’s nothing like having a proper midwife to help you with these things.’
I stepped back to open the mixture, as the smell can knock you out. Breathing through my mouth, I poured the globuled liquid, and a faint green-grey effervescence lifted off as the smell of dog meat and motor oil crept up my nostrils unaware. I handed it over.
‘Are you sure?’ She dithered, grimacing at the powerful concoction.
‘I know it doesn’t look appetising, but what medicines do?’ I eased her elbow up, lifting the spoon towards her mouth, and down it jolly well went.
She turned rather green, and I worried she might throw up, or worse, faint. It wasn’t an official medication as such, and I’d heard about some of the side effects – internal bleeding, convulsions, coma – and for a moment she gasped for air and her eyes seemed to pass backward into her head. I sat her down (before she fell) and patted her heartily on the back, and at last she choked violently and seemed more herself, clutching the bottle like it was a blooming lifesaver. I stayed with her a few minutes, trying to get the bottle away. I wasn’t going to leave any evidence for that interfering Tilling woman to examine. In the end I had to grab it and run, as time was moving fast.
‘But, Miss Paltry, I feel something happening,’ she gasped, grabbing my hand.
‘Early days, early days,’ I said kindly, yanking my hand away and running for the door. You see I had to get the Winthrop baby out quick, before this one gave birth. It was all a matter of timing, and I wasn’t letting pleasantries get in my way.
I rushed out and strode up to the Winthrop house. To get to Chilbury Manor, you only need to cross the green and the square and take the lane up to the driveway. It’s ten minutes on a usual day, five if you’re in a hurry, less if you run. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
Elsie met me at the side door, looking alarmingly dishevelled, hair falling out from under her cap.
‘I don’t know if I can watch the baby for you. I mean, if I had to,’ she said. ‘Nanny Godwin stays in her quarters in the mornings, and there’s no one else about. I don’t know if I’d be able to get away.’
‘You must,’ I urged, taking her slim