“I have a school friend who is a nurse on the front lines. She started off as only a volunteer. Now she’s helping in the operating theatre.”

“Well, they were desperate in the early days. Good for her. And you want to show her that you have her spunk? Or do you feel that you have a true calling to the profession—because if you are truly sincere, I can write a letter for you to our training hospital in Portsmouth.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, “but I think I’d like to stay close to home. I’m all my parents have now. I wouldn’t like to desert them completely.”

“Then I suggest you go to the volunteer headquarters and see where you are needed.”

“And do you know where it is located?”

“In the Guildhall on the Royal Parade. Ask anybody. They can direct you there. It’s a longish walk, but it’s a fine day, isn’t it?” She stood up and held out her hand. “Good day to you, Miss . . .”

“Bryce,” Emily said. “Thank you, Sister.”

As she came out of the building, she stood looking around her. Had Robbie been moved here yet? If so, which building was he in? She didn’t think it was wise to ask after him at this moment—it might make it too obvious why she was here.

The day was a warm one, and Emily felt quite flushed and sticky by the time she came to the imposing building on the Royal Parade. She was directed upstairs to a disappointingly small and cramped office and faced a middle-aged woman—the sort who usually run Women’s Institutes and garden clubs.

“Want to volunteer, do you?” she boomed. “Splendid. We could use able-bodied girls like you.”

“I was hoping to volunteer at the Royal Naval Hospital,” Emily said. “But I went there and they have no need of more volunteers. I’m willing to try anything.”

“That’s good,” the woman said, “because what we really need is land girls.”

“Land girls?” Emily sounded surprised.

“Women’s Land Army,” the woman went on. “We’re in desperate need, actually. There are no men to work in the fields and the early crops are ready for harvest. As you must know, last year’s harvest was a complete failure, and if we don’t do something soon, the country won’t be able to feed itself. We might win the war, but end up starving. That’s not what we want, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Emily agreed tentatively.

“So we’re recruiting young women to work on the farms. Anything the farmer needs—harvesting crops, milking cows, making hay. It’s hard work, but rewarding, knowing that you are feeding the country. So what do you say?”

This was so far from what Emily had been anticipating that she couldn’t answer right away. She had dreamed for so long of playing her part, nursing the wounded like Clarissa—but working in the fields like a farm labourer? And out in the country somewhere, far from Robbie? It seemed like going from one prison to another. And yet she had wanted to do something useful, and this seemed to be where she was needed.

“Would I be stationed in this part of the world?” Emily asked. “Because my parents are nearby.”

“Of course. We have a training centre near Tavistock, and after that, you’d be sent to a farm somewhere in South Devon.”

I’d have days off, she thought. I’d be close enough to go and visit him. And it might be rather a lark to work in the fields with other women . . . “Then I’m happy to volunteer,” Emily said.

“Splendid.” The woman stood up and shook her hand violently. “You’ll not regret it. We give you a uniform, you’ll get training, and we pay you fifteen shillings a week. That goes up to twenty shillings when you become skilled. You’ll be lodged at the training centre, which is on a farm outside Tavistock, and after that, you’ll stay at the farm you are sent to. I’ll find the forms for you to fill in and then you are all set.”

She opened a filing cabinet, then looked up. “Just one thing. Once you sign up, you can’t just quit when you feel like it. You are part of the country’s forces as much as if you had joined the army. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“I understand,” Emily said. She sat at a nearby table and signed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Emily waited until they were at the dinner table that evening to give her parents the news.

“So how was your excursion into town today?” Mr Bryce asked as he reached for the soup tureen. “Did you find yourself a suitable volunteer job?”

“Yes, Daddy, I did.”

“Well, what is it?” her father said impatiently. “Spill the beans. Don’t keep us in suspense.”

Emily took a deep breath before she said, “I’m going to be a land girl.”

There was a horrified silence.

“A land girl?” Mrs Bryce said at last. “And what exactly is that?”

“A member of the Women’s Land Army, Mother, as I’m sure you know perfectly well.”

“You’ll be working in the fields like a common farm labourer?” Mrs Bryce’s voice was now shrill. “Did they not have any more suitable jobs?”

“I’ll ask colleagues in Exeter,” Mr Bryce said, nodding to his wife. “I expect I can find you some kind of office work, or even teaching in a school.”