Timber Girls 02.Dream a Little Dream by Rosie Archer

Author:Rosie Archer [Rosie Archer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2023-08-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

‘Alvar Lidell’s news on the wireless that Stuttgart has been heavily bombed by our RAF boys is good, isn’t it?’ Jo pulled her flannelette nightgown over her head and wriggled her way inside the covers on the bed. Her movements made the candle on the chair by the side of the bed flicker.

‘Not when ten of our aircraft are missing,’ Vi said, climbing in beside her. ‘I don’t mind sleeping with you, Jo. You stay so warm you make the bed like an oven.’

‘Glad I’m of use,’ Jo replied.

Trixie doused the paraffin lamp Morag had lit earlier. She, like Hen, Jo and Vi, preferred candles to the smell of burning paraffin. She’d been writing a letter to Cy.

‘Wasn’t it lovely all of us singing around the piano?’ Vi added.

‘I was surprised at Morag’s husband joining in. We don’t see much of Angus, do we?’ Jo said.

‘We see more of him than the mysterious gillie, Duncan,’ said Vi.

‘Neither is around much, probably because both men’s jobs are away from this house. Duncan has a small croft somewhere near the beach. His work takes him all over the estate, out in the forests, hills, and watching for illegal salmon fishermen and hunters, Morag told me. Angus has to spread himself about, fixing the outhouses and looking after the animals.’

‘I agree,’ said Trixie. ‘Mairi from the dairy is the helper I’ve never yet met.’ She laughed. Mairi came in very early a few mornings a week.

‘Ouch!’ Hen, in front of the mirror, was trying to brush out a tangle in her long hair and losing her temper.

‘I’m going to cut this lot off one day!’ she snapped. Earlier she’d dabbed on Guerlain’s Shalimar perfume, and its exotic smell overpowered the mould and made the bedroom smell heavenly. Her silky nightdress clung to her like a second skin.

‘Why on earth are you wearing a flimsy thing like that?’ asked Vi. ‘It can’t possibly keep you warm and when the temperature drops in here which it always does, you’ll likely freeze to death!’ She gave Hen a look of scorn.

‘It makes me feel nice! Besides, Morag won’t let me wander around downstairs, where it’s warmer, dressed in this, will she?’

‘I should think not!’ snapped Vi. ‘You’d likely make Noah’s eyes pop out of his head.’

‘So, just because he’s a man, I can’t wear what I like?’ Hen ran the brush down her hair and let out a sharp exclamation when it discovered another knot.

‘Give me that brush,’ said Trixie, trying to defuse the situation between Vi and Hen. Hen’s new-found freedom from her parents’ control was causing her to question discipline in all forms. ‘Now sit still while I do it. And don’t come out with stupid things like you’ll cut your hair off. “A woman’s hair is her crowning glory.” That’s what my mum says.’

‘It’s from the Bible, Corinthians, I think.’ Hen said sulkily, ‘Ouch! That hurt!’

‘Don’t be a baby. Anyway, it’s out now.’ Trixie gave the hairbrush back to Hen, with the offending knot hanging from it.

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