Camomile Lawn by Mary Wesley

Author:Mary Wesley [Wesley, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4804-5057-8
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-10-03T00:12:00+00:00

Twenty-three

ENDURING SCHOOL, SOPHY DEPENDED on Richard’s weekly letters, a factual account of life in Cornwall. News of the dog, the cow, the hens was far more important than history or mathematics. Every Monday Richard’s plump white envelope brought the news which would enable her to survive the week. He wrote about the Home Guard and what the village thought of it, he wrote that the General was bossy. He wrote about the Rectory evacuees returning to London when there was a lull in the air raids, only to hurry back when the raids started up again. He wrote about the wrangle as to whether a mounted Home Guard was feasible in Cornwall, the jealousy of Home Guards who were said to be mounted on Exmoor. He wrote about the Belgian fishing fleet in Newlyn and of how the Cornish fishermen were called up into the Merchant Navy. He wrote of the harvests, the flowers on the General’s farm. He told Sophy when Monika made jam and how she saved up the sugar. He wrote about bartering Monika’s butter for meat and swapping eggs for fish. He told her which boy had been called up from the village to which regiment, and who was fortunate to be in a reserved occupation. He wrote that Monika and Mildred were shocked that it was possible to buy clothing coupons under the counter from the village shop. He told her which hen was destined for the pot. He wrote about rabbit pie and blackberries, the weather, rain, fog, wind, sun, all recorded in faithful detail, his new leg and Calypso’s visit, the gun and the firing of it. He wrote that the pits made by the stick of bombs would become useful ponds; wild duck would come to them.

Sophy put the letters in the locker by her bed to re-read during the week. Every night, homesick and wakeful, she visualized Richard and Monika sitting by the fire, Richard writing his letter, Monika sewing or knitting. She dreamed of summer days when Polly, Walter, Calypso and Oliver had lolled on the camomile lawn, laughing and joking. She treasured the evening she had spent with Oliver in London. Whenever she was cold she remembered the icy streets by St Paul’s. She remembered Oliver weeping and her holding his hand when something terrible to do with Calypso had happened. He had let her hold his hand for several minutes before dropping it to blow his nose. Every night before she slept she wished herself back in her bedroom; from there she could climb out along the branch of the Ilex above the camomile lawn and sniff its scent, mixed with the salt smell of the sea. With pain she remembered Oliver loping down the hill to the war.

Once a week she wrote to Richard of her school life, what she was learning, how she hated the cold and the games, what they were allowed to listen to on the radio, the News, ITMA and The Brains’ Trust.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.