Free Apple Blossom Time by Kathryn Haig

background; none of the shorthand that passes for conversation made much sense. We had nothing to talk about. So we didn’t talk.
    ‘Do you have a snap of yourself?’ he asked as he dropped me back at camp on his last evening. ‘I’d rather like one, if you don’t mind. It would remind me that there’s something in my life apart from sand and flies.’
    So I gave him one that Vee had taken outside our hut. I was squinting into the sun, shielding my eyes with one hand. Not very flattering, but it was the only one I could lay hands on.
    I watched James put it in the top pocket of his battledress and button down the flap. Then he was gone. I’d have watched the tail lights of his car disappear down the road, but a raucous carload arrived at the gate, so I turned and went in.
    And when he’d gone, up the blue, not knowing when he’d be back, I couldn’t get the last dance we’d danced to out of my mind.
    ‘“I’ll be with you in apple blossom time…”’ I sang in the voice that had got me thrown out of the church choir, until even Pansy said she’d scream if I didn’t choose something else.
    *   *   *
    ‘Chucking up again, love?’ Vee said to Pansy. ‘That’s the third day in a row.’
    ‘Touch of gyppy tummy, I expect,’ answered Pansy, wiping the sweat from her face. ‘Everyone in the kitchen’s got it.’
    ‘Boiled eggs, that’s what you should eat. Nothing but boiled eggs. Never fails. They bind you, you see.’
    ‘If the cooks have got it,’ said Grace, looking up from painting her nails, ‘God help the rest of us.’
    My dear Laura
    Thank you so much for the snaps. Your friends all look very jolly – apart from the camel. I’m so glad that you’re happy and that Pansy and you have not been separated.
    We are all well here. Kate had a few days’ leave last week and looks as though life in the WRNS really suits her. She is a dispatch rider now and delivers urgent messages on her motorcycle round – here Mother had scratched out the name of the naval base – the town where she is based. I worry about the raids, which are very heavy there, as they are all round the coast. Do you think the censor will leave that bit in? I’m sure everyone knows that if Kate is in the WRNS she must be based by the sea somewhere. Letter writing is so difficult nowadays. One never knows what will be officially disapproved.
    She brought a charming young Pole home with her. At least, I think he was charming, but as he spoke no English, I’m not completely certain. He smiled a lot, at any rate, and showed rather too many gold teeth for Tom’s liking. He clicked his heels and kissed Grandmother’s hand, which, of course, reduced her to eating out of his hand! He seemed totally besotted with Kate, but she was rather offhand towards him, so I think that particular spark is cooling. Just as well, perhaps.
    Tom still refuses to join the Home Guard. He says that he had quite enough of all that sort of thing in the last lot. When Mr Treadwell asked him what he’d do if he found a German paratrooper in the garden, Tom said he knew perfectly well how to defend his family and that marching round the village with a hoe over his shoulder proved nothing. Mr Treadwell isn’t talking to us any more. He says we’re closet collaborators! ‘Come the day’ and we’ll probably be first on his list for elimination.
    Poor Tom – he works very, very hard in the market garden, especially now that Grandmother’s rose garden has been completely dug up – she insisted on it – and planted with potatoes, with only that stupid Ruggles boy to help. Tom finds all this sniping and backbiting very depressing. And you know what happens when he is depressed. Surprisingly, Grandmother is completely on his side.
    I have told Tom that he must see if he is allowed a Land Girl to help. I’m sure there’s enough work for at least one. Tom says ‘yes’ and does nothing about it. He’s dreaming a lot at the moment – more than