Free After the War Is Over by Jennifer Robson Page B

to make sense of than that dinner last night. Had
     no idea which fork to use—there were that many of them. Made a right pillock of meself.”
    “You did nothing of the sort,” Charlotte reassured her.
    “Was it me, or was Lady Cumberland looking daggers at all of us?” asked Constance
     worriedly.
    “She looked at me like I was something nasty she’d stepped in,” said Annie. “Gave
     me a turn, it did.”
    “She makes everyone feel like that,” Charlotte explained. “It’s nothing you did, I
     promise. If Mr. Lloyd George himself were to join us, she would treat him much the
     same. Besides, you mustn’t let her ruin your fun. Edward—Lord Cumberland, that is—is
     delighted to have you here. He told me so himself.”
    “He did, did he?” said Bridget with a naughty wink. “Too bad I’m engaged to my Gordon
     already, otherwise I’d give him a look-in, if you know what I mean. Talks so nice,
     and he’s ever so handsome. Shame about the tin leg, though.”
    “Bridget Gallagher! He might hear you,” said Constance, pulling at her friend’s sleeve.
    “He’s not the sort to mind. His mum would fall over, though. Wouldn’t that be a sight?
     Her having to call for her smelling salts!”
    “And what would that do to Lilly’s wedding?” said Constance. “Behave yourselves, or
     I’ll tell Colonel Lewis, I will.”
    Simply the notion of being dressed down by their former OC had a leveling effect on
     Annie and Bridget, who were content thereafter to talk about their lives after their
     discharge from the WAAC.
    “We’re both at Brandauer’s, making pen nibs, right where we was before the war,” Annie
     told Charlotte.
    “In Birmingham, yes?”
    “Hockley. Never thought I’d miss it, back when I joined the WAAC, but I was glad to
     come home.”
    “At the factory—they didn’t give your jobs away to the men?”
    “Nah,” said Bridget. “Stamping nibs is women’s work. Pay is good, too, though we don’t
     get near as much as the men.”
    “I gather you’re both engaged?”
    “We are that,” confirmed Annie.
    “And when will the weddings be?”
    “No time soon, I hope,” said Bridget. “That’d be an end to work, at least for me.
     Gordon is that stubborn, he is, and once the kiddies start coming I’d have no time
     for it, anyways. So I’m content to wait awhile.”
    “Me, too,” added Annie.
    “And what about you, Constance? I believe you said you’re from Peterborough?”
    “I am. I’m living with my mum and dad again, just until Idecide what to do. I’ll probably go back to being a clerk somewhere. I did love the
     driving, but there’s no hope of a job like that now. And Dad would never allow it.”
    “Are you still writing to that soldier who landed at the CCS last August?” asked Annie.
    “No,” said a blushing Constance, “but only because he’s back in Peterborough as well.
     He was an old friend from home,” she explained, turning to Charlotte, “and by some
     chance he ended up at our clearing hospital. He wasn’t hurt all that badly, only a
     broken arm and some wounds from shell fragments, but it was enough to keep him out
     of harm’s way until the end of the war.”
    “And now he’s back . . . ?” Charlotte asked.
    “He’s back in Peterborough, working at his father’s surveying firm, and we go out
     for a long walk every Sunday after church.”
    “That sounds wonderful.”
    “If you don’t mind my asking, Charlotte, how did you end up working for Lord Cumberland’s
     family? I wouldn’t have expected someone with an Oxford degree to become a governess,”
     Constance said.
    “Nor would I. The truth is that I needed a job and I couldn’t find anything else,
     not then. I was very happy with Lilly, though.”
    “How long were you here?”
    “Four years. I started in 1907, when Lilly was just fourteen, and I left when she
     made her debut. That’s when I moved to Liverpool and began to work for Miss Rathbone.”
    “The