The Alien Corn: From the Author of the Chalky Sea by Clare Flynn

Author:Clare Flynn [Flynn, Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780993332463
Amazon: 0993332463
Publisher: Cranbrook Press
Published: 2018-01-26T06:00:00+00:00

Missing

Joan’s nerves were frayed. Giving up smoking was proving harder than expected and she was irascible, snapping at Jimmy when he begged her to take him into the town again to watch the boys paddling in their canoes. She was also finding her new role as volunteer land girl arduous. Hoeing row after row of vegetables to clear away the burgeoning weed growth was backbreaking work.

When she had first appeared, clad in farm overalls and her hair up in a bandanna, Jim had been surprised – and not in a good way, as if her transformation into farm labourer was an implied criticism of his own shortcomings.

‘You’re wearing pants,’ he’d said, frowning.

‘Of course. I always do.’ She looked affronted.

‘No, you don’t. You wear dresses. Pretty ones.’

Joan had looked down at her legs. ‘Ah! You mean trousers? Slacks?’

‘Like I said, pants.’ He’d looked at her, hands on hips, still frowning.

Joan had turned around and seeing no one, unbuttoned the side of her overalls and plucked at the fabric of her knickers underneath. ‘These are pants.’

Jim had grinned and moved towards her.

She’d quickly buttoned herself up and skipped sideways, laughing. She winked at him. ‘If you need a closer look at what pants are, you’ll have to wait until tonight. ‘Now show me what needs doing.’

Today, Jim was working on fixing something under the hood of the tractor and had banned Jimmy from the shed while the work was underway. The little boy trailed behind Joan, his keenness to assist soon dissipated, when he realised that the job involved collecting discarded weeds in a wheel barrow. As the barrow was too heavy for him to push, he had to run up and down between the cultivated rows carrying armfuls of weeds, the puppy running behind him. Soon Jimmy became bored and focused his attention on playing with Olive.

Joan at last found a rhythm in the work. It wasn’t enjoyable, but at least she seemed to be making steady progress. The sun was cooler now as the season advanced. Jim had warned her that the fall, as they called autumn here, was brief and shifted into winter almost overnight. She would need to think about getting some warmer clothes before long, as he had told her the temperatures were sub zero for months and snow a constant presence from November until March.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she straightened up and surveyed the results, hands on the small of her back, stretching newly discovered muscles. At this rate she wouldn’t be finished in this field for another couple of days. The sooner the new weeding rig arrived, the better. She reached for the flask she’d filled with water that morning. Almost empty. She took a slug, enjoying the feel of the water in her parched throat. It would have to last her until the midday meal, when she could refill it.

Then it dawned on her. Where was Jimmy?

There was no sign of the dog either.

Groaning, she flung down her hoe and headed towards the barn.

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