‘You did WHAT?’ Annie said again, dropping the wooden spoon she’d been holding. ‘You asked JOAN JARVIS of all people?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with her, Mother. Ages ago she offered to give me a driving lesson, so I took her up on it. I knocked on her door and asked her. Before I bought the lorry. She let me drive her Model T all up over the Polden Hills, and I soon got the hang of it.’

Annie snorted. She didn’t approve of Joan Jarvis. From what she’d heard, Joan Jarvis was a scarlet woman who wore lipstick and silly hats and raced about in her Model T Ford, scattering chickens and upsetting horses. But Annie couldn’t be cross with Freddie. She was flabbergasted at what he’d done, and she’d never seen him look as red-faced and confident as he did now. It was almost as if he’d been recreated in one day. The pale, exhausted little boy had gone and a vibrant young man sat there in his place, but still with that caring, quizzical intensity in his eyes.

‘And – what are you going to do with this lorry?’ she asked.

‘I intend to start a haulage business,’ said Freddie. ‘And – I’ve got two jobs already, for tomorrow morning. I went to see the stonemason – Herbie – he’s a friend of mine, and he needs a load of stone brought down from the quarry. Then I went to the wheelwright place, and he wants me to deliver a stack of wheels he’s been making. There’s plenty of work and not enough lorries to do it. I reckon this one will have paid for itself in a month or so.’

There was a silence between them. Freddie thought his mother might have said, ‘Well done’ or something like that, but such platitudes were not in Annie’s mind-set.

She frowned. ‘But Freddie – what about the bakery?’

‘I was coming to that,’ he said, ‘and don’t worry, I’ll help you in the mornings for as long as I can, Mother – but . . .’

‘But what?’

Freddie breathed in slowly through his nose. Then, looking directly into Annie’s anxious eyes he said the words he’d waited so long to utter. ‘I do appreciate what you and Dad did for me, but I don’t want to spend my life in the bakery.’

Annie nodded bleakly, ‘I know.’

‘I don’t want you to feel hurt,’ said Freddie.

‘Doesn’t look as if I’ve got much choice does it?’

Annie lapsed into a bitter silence.

‘I’ll help you out, for now,’ promised Freddie, ‘but not forever, Mother. I’ve got plans.’

‘Plans?’ She looked at him sharply and he could feel the atmosphere between them changing. ‘What plans?’

The way he hesitated to answer threw Annie into one of her panics.

‘No. You can’t leave me,’ she cried and her whole body began to shake violently. ‘Please. Please don’t leave me. I can’t go out. How will I manage? They’ll take me to the asylum, they’ll say I’m a mad woman.’

Freddie felt the weight of her need. He’d wanted to assert himself, but Annie’s nerves seemed to overpower both of them. In the silence of his soul, he vowed that he’d find a way to break free, no matter what.

Chapter Twelve

FOREVER BLOWING BUBBLES

Polly was used to trains by now. She stood placidly as Kate tied her to the station railings alongside a row of other horses and carts which had brought goods to be loaded onto the freight train. There were baskets of racing pigeons stacked in fours, the birds peeping out and muttering in their iridescent throats; sacks of early potatoes; cartons of ripe strawberries; bundles of willow baskets and boxes of terracotta flowerpots; stacks of fencing posts and rolls of wire. Several lorries were parked there, one unloading bundles of leather shoes, boots and sandals.

Kate took a hay net from the cart and tied it to the railings for Polly. ‘Good girl,’ she said, rubbing the pony’s neck just behind her ears. ‘You did bring us here nicely, didn’t you? Now you have a rest and eat up this lovely hay. I’ll get you a drink.’ Polly gave Kate an affectionate push with her head.

‘For goodness’ sake, Kate, stop fussing. We’ve got to unload,’ complained Ethie.

‘There’s plenty of time.’ Kate wouldn’t be hurried. She took Polly’s bucket from the cart, carried it over to the water trough, filled it and brought it back. She put it down, glad to see the thirsty pony plunge her lips into it and drink noisily. ‘Good girl, Polly,’ she said again, and then, to Ethie’s annoyance Kate began to sing.

‘I’m forever blowing bubbles

Pretty bubbles in the air . . .’

Her lovely voice mingled pleasantly with the shouts of men unloading goods and the whirr of trolley wheels being hauled onto the platform. A man who was whistling took up the tune Kate was singing, doffed his cap and winked as he walked by trundling one of the heavy iron and timber station trolleys with its T-shaped handle and rusting wheels. Kate ran after him, calling out in her bright voice, ‘I say – I say, can we share your trolley, please? There’s none left.’

The man turned and looked at the beautiful young woman. She wore a red dress with a swingy skirt, made of a heavy cottony fabric with tiny black and pink rosebuds. It had short puff sleeves showing off her rounded sunburnt arms, and the bodice had strips of black lace gathered in ruffles over her bust.

‘Do anything for you, darling!’ he leered, dropping the metal handle of the trolley.

‘KATE!’ shouted Ethie. She rolled her eyes and marched up to the man. ‘We can manage, thank you. Go on your way, please.’

‘Suit yourself, missus.’ He looked Ethie up and down with a very different expression. She cut an intimidating figure in a plain navy dress with big shoulder pads and a droopy black hat casting a shadow over her face. He turned his back and walked off with his trolley, rollicking his hips rebelliously.

‘Do you HAVE to flirt with anything in trousers?’ said Ethie, glowering at her younger sister.

Kate refused to be ruffled. ‘Oh, he’s just a lad,’ she said pleasantly. She thought Ethie was behaving like an old hen, but she didn’t say so. ‘Let’s not spoil this lovely morning.’ She went on singing, and started unpacking boxes of cheese from the cart, her hair falling over her shoulders.

‘I’ll go and fetch a trolley,’ said Ethie. ‘We only need one for the big truckle.’

She stalked off and returned a few minutes later wheeling a hand trolley. ‘This will do,’ she said, ‘and Charlie says the freight train is late. He says the signals are stuck on the other side of the tunnel. It’s going to be half an hour late.’

‘Why don’t you do the shopping?’ suggested Kate, taking the willow basket out of the cart. ‘I know you like shopping. I’ll stay here with Polly, and I can unload.’

‘What about the big truckle of cheese?’ said Ethie.

‘Oh, someone will help me I’m sure. Go on, you go.’

Kate knew Ethie loved shopping. She handed her the basket, and was glad to see her sister walking away into the town. Still singing, she briskly unpacked the boxes of cheese and stacked them onto the trolley. In the middle of the cart was an enormous truckle of farmhouse cheddar, well matured, and wrapped tightly in a cloth. It had a very special destination, clearly printed on a brown label.

Confident that someone would come along and help her lift it out, Kate sat on the open back of the cart, swinging her legs and lifting her face to feel the hot May sunshine on her skin. The station yard was full of sparrows, hundreds of them hopping and pecking and having dust baths at the sides of the road. Blackbirds and thrushes were singing and in the distance a cuckoo was cuckooing. Kate watched a big Scammell lorry rumbling down to the station. It had nothing on the back so she assumed it was coming to collect something to be unloaded from the freight train. She watched it drive slowly to the far side of the yard and park.