“I ain’t a big one for reading,” Alice said. “I gave that up when they kicked me out of school and sent me to work in the garment factory. Oh, I know how to read the newspaper headlines, but that’s about it.”

“Oh, you’re missing so much, Alice,” Emily said. “Books are wonderful. You can get transported away by a good story. If we’re living in a place like this, we can read about Paris or a tropical island and feel like we’re there.”

“You can read to us, maybe?” Alice suggested.

“We can take it in turns, to improve your reading.” She looked across at Daisy, who was now shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I can’t read, Miss Emily. I never learned.”

“Then I’ll teach you. It will give us something to do in the evenings before it gets too dark. You won’t go far in life if you can’t read, either of you.”

“You’re right there,” Alice agreed. “When Bill was called up, I tried to get a job, but there weren’t much for someone like me with no education. Only the factories. I got a job for a while in a munitions factory, then there was this explosion and a lot of girls were killed and I thought, ‘I’m not staying here like a sitting duck,’ so I quit.”

“Shall we choose something to read now?” Emily asked.

“All right,” Daisy said. “You choose for us.” She went to sit down on one of the chairs. There was a loud snapping sound. The leg broke, and Daisy was catapulted on to the floor.

“Are you all right?” Emily asked, laughing, as they hauled her to her feet.

“Only embarrassed at looking like a fool.” Daisy joined in the laughter. “Lucky I’m wearing bloomers or I’d have shown my underwear. I hope the beds don’t give out on us during the night.”

“What a dump!” Alice exclaimed. “You’d think they could find somewhere a bit better to put us, wouldn’t you? If they are down to one maid, wouldn’t there be servants’ rooms in the big house?”

“I suppose one doesn’t put outside staff in the inside servants’ quarters,” Emily said.

“That’s right,” Daisy chimed in, still brushing the dust from her skirt. “My dad was the groom and we lived above the stables. And the gardeners lived in their own cottages. And they were never allowed inside the house at all. That’s the way it’s done.”

“Sounds ruddy stupid to me,” Alice said. “You wait till the communists take over, like in Russia. They’ll put ten families in houses like that one.”

“Golly,” Emily exclaimed. “Do you really think the communists will take over in England?”

“Probably not,” Alice conceded. “We’re too sensible here, aren’t we? Apart from going into a war that makes no sense for anybody. Declaring war because a ruddy archduke was shot in some piddling little country somewhere. It’s not as if anyone was trying to invade us.”

“I agree,” Emily said. “I think it was all a ghastly mistake, but once it started, nobody would back down.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Outside, they could hear the rooks cawing as they returned to their nests in the big pine trees behind the vicarage.

“You know what I want to do?” Alice said with sudden determination. “I want to go down to the pub.”

“The pub?” Emily sounded shocked. “Can ladies go to a public house?”

“It’s wartime, love. I don’t think the rules apply any more. Come on. I need cheering up, and I need to get out of this dreary hole. Let’s go and meet people and have a drink.”

They set off down the lane, crossing the village green to the pub on the other side. The “Red Lion” sign glowed in the last rays of sunlight. They pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped into a low-ceilinged room filled with the sweet scent of pipe tobacco. The walls were panelled in oak, now almost black with generations of smoke. There was a big fireplace on one wall decorated with horse brasses around it. There were similar oak benches around the walls and several glass-topped tables. Two old gentlemen were sitting at a table in the far corner, both smoking long clay pipes. One of them was Simpson—the other looked even older than he did. They looked up, frowning, as the women came in.

“Good evening, ladies. What can I do for you?” A woman was standing behind the bar. She had a round face with hair pulled back into a bun, and she was smiling at them.

“We’re the land girls come to help Lady Charlton,” Emily began.

“I know who you are, my dears,” the woman said. “Simpson here has been telling us all about you, and how one of you is a proper toff, too. So what will it be?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a gin and lime,” Alice said.

Emily had never tried gin, and tried to think what a respectable girl should ask for in a pub. At least she knew she liked cider. “A half-pint of cider, please,” she said.

“And me, too,” Daisy chimed in.

“Right you are, my dearies,” the landlady said.

The old men were still staring.

“Should we go through to the private bar, do you think?” Emily asked. “We don’t want to upset your regular customers.”

“Regular customers indeed,” the landlady said. “We don’t get no customers these days, apart from the old geezers here. All the men have gone, haven’t they, including my husband. He didn’t have to go, silly old bugger.” She gave a despairing chuckle. “He were thirty-five, but he said, ‘I’ve got to do my duty, Nell. England expects me to do my duty,’ and off he went, leaving me to run this place alone.”