JUNE 1940
I can’t figure out if Len is trying to impress me by joining the Local Defence Volunteers (or Look, Duck, Vanish, as people call them — they even call themselves this). Or maybe Dunkirk has secretly shaken him up. An army instructor came to one of their meetings in the pub. Taught them the German for ‘Hands up!’ Showed them how to spot different types of aircraft, how to handle a rifle and bayonet. Last Sunday, he took them out into the woods and they used grass sods as grenades. They’re planning campaigns. Making decisions. Do we march east to protect Sam Smith’s brewery, or north to guard Joshua Tetley’s brewery? But Len is getting bored. He’s younger than most of them. I think it’s making him feel guilty. Reminding him that he should be in the real army. He’ll soon stop going. LDV service is compulsory, but nobody really bothers that much by us. There isn’t really anyone to check up. We’re off the beaten track. They’re more bothered by those dodging proper military service. Len’s black lung is an embarrassment, to him, but it’s a genuine handicap. He’s better than some of his mates, who are skiving off with all kinds of made-up illnesses and ailments. Now they’ve got something to be embarrassed about, not Len.
JUNE 1940
I was serving two Land Army girls. We all heard the shot. I ran straight from the shop up the street, hair flying this way, legs that. I knew she wouldn’t tell him. Straight into the house and there she was, lying on the floor, blood spreading. And Tommy screaming. And that bullying bastard sitting there as bold as brass with the rifle in his hands and tears running down his cheeks. He kept repeating himself. Get the police, I’ve just done in my missus. The dirty bitch. Sandra had her eyes open and was staring into mid-air as if nothing was the matter. I’ve just done in my missus. The dirty bitch. As if she couldn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about. The thing I noticed about him, though, was his uniform. It seemed odd that he should be sitting there in his uniform. Back from the war to kill. His wife. I told her to write the bloody letter, but she would have to do it her way, wouldn’t she. And look where it landed her. Somebody must have already called for the coppers, because it didn’t take them long to arrive. When they did, he just got up and went with them. One of the coppers put a blanket over Sandra, like she was asleep. Then he told me that there was no point in my sticking around. I might as well get along, hadn’t I. He offered to escort me (his words) out of the house. Somebody had already taken Tommy.
JUNE 1940
Tonight I saw Len, sitting in the pub with his mate, Terry the Farmer. Len was always lecturing me. You don’t mix with anybody. It’s all right, you know. You can come into the pub for a drink with us. We won’t harm you. How do you expect anyone to get to know you if you won’t show your face out? I’d generally look at him, but say nothing. And off he would go to the pub and leave me sitting by myself, listening to ITMA on the wireless. But tonight I went to the pub. I put on my coat and walked up the road. He was sitting in the corner with the man Sandra’s husband should have shot. Mr bloody Farmer perched there like Lord Muck, everybody knowing it was him who’d done it to her, sipping a pint like nothing was the matter. What’ll you have? asked Len. I’ll be having nothing, I said back to him. Nothing as long as you’re sitting here with this slack bastard. I could see it in Len’s eyes that he was ready to belt me one there and then, in front of everybody. If he wasn’t so vain, he’d have done it. I think you’d better go home, was the best he could come up with. Why? I asked. Because I said you’d better. So I turned and left. I didn’t have any desire to argue with him. And I didn’t want to sit in the same place as him as long as he was with that bastard. So I turned and walked back out and into the night. It was so quiet. It was like the whole world had stopped because of this bloody stupid war. And what about Tommy? I supposed they’d find a good home for him. I walked back to the shop, went upstairs, took off my clothes, and climbed into bed. I didn’t want Len near me. Not now, not ever. And I didn’t want him to see me crying.
JULY 1940
All I could think of this morning was that a whole month has passed since Sandra died. And then the inspector showed up. I was standing in the shop with Len, going through the books for the week, when suddenly we heard a van pull up. Len went to the window and fingered the curtains. Then he turned to me and shouted in a whisper that I’d got to go out the back with the eggs and get rid of them. I didn’t need telling twice. He doesn’t tell me much, doesn’t Len, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I work in the shop with him. I’m married to him. I know his game. I dashed into the back of the shop and started to push everything into a flour sack. Hurry up, you silly cow. Why should I hurry up if this is the best he can call me? I heard the doorbell ring, and then there were voices. Me, I took the sack and went out the back. Then I was away through the woods and down the hill, laughing all the way like a crazy bugger. When I got to the stream, I opened the sack up wide. There was nobody around. I was standing by myself. That bastard Len. I knew it was a crime. It was madness. It was the sort of thing that somebody who was plain bloody daft would do. I knew all of this. But I did it anyway. I just threw everything into the stream. Egg after egg. Let the fish or whatever have them. Len said to get rid, so I was getting rid. I’d just pretend that I didn’t understand what he meant. I thought, it’s a hell of an expensive way to spite somebody, but he bleeding well deserves to be treated with spite. When I’d finished, I sat on the bank and laughed. I didn’t know what the bloody hell I was doing in this place. With him. I couldn’t be any worse off in a factory or in the WAAF. I must have been mad. It was mad. To have come to this place at all. I picked up the empty flour sack. Then I looked at the stream. I threw the sack in after the eggs. I didn’t want any of it. What did I need with an empty sack? I didn’t want any of it. By the time I got back from the stream he was in the pub. It was night. I was asleep when he came in. Or at least I was pretending to be. He asked me, so I told him that I’d done what he wanted me to do. I’d got rid of them. He laughed. Then he reminded me that tea and margarine were now on coupons. Then he went to the bathroom. When he found out that it was the truth that I’d told him, I knew he’d want to take a strap to me. But until then he laughed. I think he liked me for a minute or so. He thought I was funny.