The next morning saw Jack arriving at Mrs Hawk’s cottage to fix the back door, which was dragging on the ground and hard to open or close. As he knocked on the door he reflected on the fact that he couldn’t remember being told about this, exactly, nor really the walk up the hill. Tired from last night, the voice in his head said, small wonder given how little sleep you got.
I feel good this morning, though, he thought. Blessed even.
He hadn’t given a thought to the last time he’d been with Mrs Hawk and so was surprised to find her standoffish this morning. She showed him the door and how it was sticking.
‘Wasn’t I as asked for ‘e to come up an’ look at it. T’was her ladyship’s idea when I told her it was broke. Dunno as you’ll be able to do aught with it, so don’t ‘e worry if you can’t. We manage now and we’ll be alright if we ‘as to go round instead.’
‘No, it’s no problem.’ He looked at her carefully. ‘Anyway, I think I owe you something for the daft carry on before.’
‘Um, well. Tools is in the shed aback o’ the scullery,’ she said, clearly unwilling to look at him or talk of that. She went back into the main room of the house and left him to get on.
The top hinge of the door was coming off the frame and the wood around it looked too rotted to let him just tighten the screws. He propped door, took it off, cut spaces for two new hinges, fitted them and rehung the door. The work took nearly an hour, but the time seemed to speed by. He enjoyed it. He couldn’t remember when he last done any carpentry, but it was good to be doing useful work. As he finished the door, he noticed that one of the small windows to a bedroom was broken. There was a pane of glass in the shed that, when he checked it, fitted, along with a tin of putty. Why not? He took out the old glass and replaced it with the new one.
After that it occurred that the back garden needed weeding, so he got a swan-necked hoe from the shed and started in.
‘No need for ‘e to do that.’ Mrs Hawk looked shamefaced. Awkward and odd, she was standing in her newly fixed doorway and not really looking at him.
‘It’s no problem,’ he said, ‘I’ve nothing else to do this morning and I prefer being busy.’
‘Han’t even offered you a cup o’ tea, have I? Bain’t even sociable, is it? How’s about you stop for a cuppa? Got nothin’ much to go with it mind, but I can offer you tea.’
He nodded and washed his hands at the scullery before going into the cottage. Mrs Hawk was fluttering around and still not making eye contact. Jack sat down to a cup of tea that had milk and sugar already in it (he didn’t take either, preferring tea Asian fashion) and a plate with three ginger snaps besides it.
‘My favourites,’ he lied, knowing he’d have to soak the rock-hard lumps in the tea before he could get them soft enough to chew and certain he’d wind up over-soaking one and leaving half of it in the cup. They sat in silence for a while, until Jack decided there’d be no conversation till he started it.
‘Is there anything else that needs doing once I’ve finished with the weeding?’ he asked.
‘Dunno as there is. Dunno as I can ask anyway.’
‘Well, I’m offering, so you really don’t need to worry. I noticed you’ve got a pile of wood that needs chopping into kindling. I can finish the weeding and then do that, if there’s nothing more urgent that needs doing.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t stop too long. I’ve got nothing in to feed you.’
‘I’ve sandwiches from Bridie in my rucksack and I had a big breakfast anyway. It’s not a problem.’
She said nothing, so he decided he’d go ahead anyway. He finished the tea and made to put the cup away in the sink.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘Nothing to be sorry for.’
‘Not being even polite, am I? Ashamed o’ meself I was, but tryin’ to find a way to blame you. Tain’t hardly right that, you being so good as to do all this for me. Honest, you don’t need to.’
‘It was just a daft lark and I am honest, I’d rather be busy and useful. And, look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m going out with Old Tom some night soon. There should be rabbit and trout when we get back. I can drop some off for you and Ken.’
She didn’t answer, but when he looked he saw that she was weeping. Struggling to hold back tears and still failing.
‘I bloody hates this war,’ she sniffed. ‘My ‘ouse fallin’ apart, no one to fix it for me. Nothing in the larder, nothing in the shops. All this to do an’ no one to lend an ‘and. I works at the castle for the extra, but it all goes. An’ I comes back here an’ Ken tries to ‘elp, but he’s naught but a lad an’ he can’t, can’ ‘e? It all comes back down on us an’ there’s too much of it. I’m alright up at the castle. Bridie to talk to an’ things to keep my mind full. An’ I feels safe there. Out here there’s just the thought o’ what’s going to happen to my Harold over there. So much death over there, so much death. What happens if ‘e gets killed, eh? What’s to become of us then?’
She stood up, grabbed a tea towel from the sink and blew her nose on it.
‘Ken’s ‘ungry all the time, I’m ‘ungry all the time. I don’t sleep good and I worry. I can’t cope with all this, I just can’t.’
He stepped up beside her and put his arms around her shoulders. She sagged into him and cried and cried. Jack could think of nothing to say, so just stood and held her while her tears soaked through to his skin. At length, the fit seemed to pass and she took the towel again, blew on a corner, wiped her eyes with another corner and gave him a rueful grin.
‘Right namby panby I be turnin’ into, eh? Sorry about that.’
‘Don’t worry. And look, I mean it when I say I’ll come and do jobs around the house. I’m not used to being the guest and having nothing to do. I get bored and twitchy. Bridie can’t let me help with jobs in the castle too much in case Lady Charlotte doesn’t like it and neither of you is going to leave me alone with Abby, are you?’ Gina had the grace to look embarrassed about that, but Jack went on. ‘I can come up on days when you’re at the castle and do things outside the house, like the gardening and wood chopping.’ She looked at him with a question on her face. ‘I’ll get more done that way and it might look funny to the neighbours if I’m only here when you are.’
She nodded at that. ‘Ar. A few young lads in the village are swaggering about with looks on their faces saying as they know how many beans made five now. She shrugged. ‘Lots of lonely women around as wouldn’t have given ‘em a look before is givin’ ‘em a lot more than that now. Don’t know as I want to look like I’m one o’ them.’
One of the cocky little buggers had been round to see her with a strong suggestion he knew what she needed. As well I might, she thought, even while she was sending him away with a flea in his ear, but not from a spotty little ‘aporth like ‘im.
He reached into his bag and took out a spotted handkerchief tied around something that crackled. ‘Sandwich? Bridie’s given me more than I can eat and it’s a shame to let ‘em go to waste.’
‘Truth be told, I’m starvin’ and there’s only what’ll do Ken and me for tonight in the ‘ouse. I will, ta.’
They ate the sandwiches and drank the beef tea. She eats like someone who hasn’t had enough on her plate for ages. She’s probably skimping herself to make sure the boy doesn’t go hungry. If Gina had licked the crumbs off the greaseproof paper Bridie had wrapped the sandwiches in and then checked in the handkerchief to see if any had escaped, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
When they’d finished, Jack went back out and finished off the weeding and started chopping logs into kindling.
Good lad that one, thought Gina. Doin’ this ‘cos it’s right an’ not ‘cos ‘e’s lookin’ for ‘is leg over. God knows, though, if he tried, ‘e’d be welcomed. S’pose it’s better ‘e don’t try. S’pose.
By two in the afternoon, with five hours of solid work behind him, Jack was done and came in for another cup of tea. They chatted, finished the tea and he started to bid his farewells, reluctant to go, but seeing nothing else that could keep him.
Gina showed him to the door, but before opening it, turned and said, ‘Come ‘ere you.’ She hugged him close.
‘Ta. You been awful nice.’
‘Really, you’re welcome.’
‘Tain’t like you getting’ anythin’ for it, neither. ‘Ad one of the local lads round ‘ere a bit back, Sam Gurney, Peter's eldest, offerin’ to ‘elp me out. Knowed straight off what ‘e was after, so I sent ‘im runnin’.’
‘Well, he’s got good taste, anyway.’
‘Flatterer, ain’t you?’
‘Nah, just telling the truth.’
‘Get on. You’ve got your beau. Abby told us ‘bout you an’ ‘er down by the river.’
‘I don’t kiss and tell. I don’t even tickle and tell.’
She laughed, not sure what to say about that.
‘By the way. You’re going to have to let go first, ‘cos I don’t much want to.’
‘Could be ‘ere a while then.’
He moved his face back and rested his forehead against hers.
‘I couldn’t be that lucky.’
She kissed him.
‘Think you already ‘ave bin.’