trouble.’
‘Thanks.’
Ag lifted her leg. Joe pulled at the boot with both hands. It came off easily.
‘You should put fresh chalk inside,’ he said. ‘We’ve got some in the house. Makes them much easier to get off and on.
‘Right. I will.’
‘How did the hedging go?’
‘I enjoyed it. I liked watching your father. His skill and speed are amazing. And I liked looking back to see the job I’d done on the few yards of ditch. Certain feeling of job satisfaction. I can agree with him there.’
‘Looks as though Prue’s experiencing some of that, too. She’s managed a third of the field but refuses to stop till she’s finished the lot. As a matter of fact, she’s done rather well.’
They both smiled. Joe sat down opposite Ag. He watched her as she rolled off her thick wool sock, and the thin one beneath it. He watched her bending the leg so that she could look closely at the blister on her heel.
‘It must be a funny contrast, this life, with Cambridge,’ he said eventually.
Ag shrugged. She touched the soft swelling with a gentle finger.
‘Well, that had come to an end anyway. I only half wanted to do a graduate course. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, in fact. Farm work gives me plenty of time to think.’
‘I was due to go to Trinity,’ said Joe.
‘You still could, couldn’t you? When all this is over.’
‘Suppose I still could. Though I don’t much fancy being a mature undergraduate.’
‘Lots of others will be in the same position.’
‘True. Meantime, the brain’s rotting.’
‘No!’ Ag smiled.
‘It is. When do I have time to read? It’s a sixteen-hour day here. I listen to music on my gramophone when I’m in bed – five minutes later I’m asleep, book in hand.’
‘I know what you mean.’
‘So I might have to ask your help for some mental limbering up.’
‘Fine! Sunday afternoons I could tutor you in the Iliad .’ They both laughed. ‘That is, if Janet wouldn’t mind.’
‘Janet’s not here many Sundays.’
Joe got up and moved closer to Ag. He bent down, took her heel from her hand, gazed at the blister intently as a doctor preparing his opinion.
‘Nasty. Ask Ma for something. Best cover it up.’ He handed back her foot. ‘You must have the smallest ankles in the world,’ he said.
Ag laughed again, and put the socks back on.
‘Sticks, my legs,’ she said. ‘I was dreadfully teased at school.’ She made to get up. Joe put a hand under her elbow to help. ‘Thanks. I promised your mother I’d collect the eggs from the barn …’
‘I’ll do that. You go on in, see to the blister.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’ Joe moved away. ‘I’ll be quicker than you. I know all their favourite places.’
‘Thanks very much.’
‘It’ll cost you something.’
‘My reflections on the Iliad ? Really? Any time you like.’
Joe nodded. He cradled two brown eggs in his hand, that he had plucked from a hiding place. ‘To begin with,’ he said.
For the space of her hobbled journey back across the farmyard, Ag thought about Joe. Was it disappointment about Cambridge that made him so gruff? Was it the punishment of asthma upon his youth and regret at his inability to join the war? Or was he by nature an unforthcoming and gloomy figure? And why – perhaps an unnecessary question – did Janet’s presence on Sunday do nothing to cheer his spirits? For her own part, Ag would be delighted to find a kindred spirit with whom she could share ideas. She rather fancied herself bringing succour to the starved soul of Joe Lawrence. It was the sort of thing that would appeal to Desmond’s humour. In fact, Desmond would hardly fail to be interested in the whole curious Lawrence family of Hallows Farm … If he responded to her Christmas card, she would write to him in the New Year. It would be an excitement she instantly imagined herself looking forward to.
Ag began to compose a description of the very gradual unbending of father and son, and of the
‘Thanks.’
Ag lifted her leg. Joe pulled at the boot with both hands. It came off easily.
‘You should put fresh chalk inside,’ he said. ‘We’ve got some in the house. Makes them much easier to get off and on.
‘Right. I will.’
‘How did the hedging go?’
‘I enjoyed it. I liked watching your father. His skill and speed are amazing. And I liked looking back to see the job I’d done on the few yards of ditch. Certain feeling of job satisfaction. I can agree with him there.’
‘Looks as though Prue’s experiencing some of that, too. She’s managed a third of the field but refuses to stop till she’s finished the lot. As a matter of fact, she’s done rather well.’
They both smiled. Joe sat down opposite Ag. He watched her as she rolled off her thick wool sock, and the thin one beneath it. He watched her bending the leg so that she could look closely at the blister on her heel.
‘It must be a funny contrast, this life, with Cambridge,’ he said eventually.
Ag shrugged. She touched the soft swelling with a gentle finger.
‘Well, that had come to an end anyway. I only half wanted to do a graduate course. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, in fact. Farm work gives me plenty of time to think.’
‘I was due to go to Trinity,’ said Joe.
‘You still could, couldn’t you? When all this is over.’
‘Suppose I still could. Though I don’t much fancy being a mature undergraduate.’
‘Lots of others will be in the same position.’
‘True. Meantime, the brain’s rotting.’
‘No!’ Ag smiled.
‘It is. When do I have time to read? It’s a sixteen-hour day here. I listen to music on my gramophone when I’m in bed – five minutes later I’m asleep, book in hand.’
‘I know what you mean.’
‘So I might have to ask your help for some mental limbering up.’
‘Fine! Sunday afternoons I could tutor you in the Iliad .’ They both laughed. ‘That is, if Janet wouldn’t mind.’
‘Janet’s not here many Sundays.’
Joe got up and moved closer to Ag. He bent down, took her heel from her hand, gazed at the blister intently as a doctor preparing his opinion.
‘Nasty. Ask Ma for something. Best cover it up.’ He handed back her foot. ‘You must have the smallest ankles in the world,’ he said.
Ag laughed again, and put the socks back on.
‘Sticks, my legs,’ she said. ‘I was dreadfully teased at school.’ She made to get up. Joe put a hand under her elbow to help. ‘Thanks. I promised your mother I’d collect the eggs from the barn …’
‘I’ll do that. You go on in, see to the blister.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’ Joe moved away. ‘I’ll be quicker than you. I know all their favourite places.’
‘Thanks very much.’
‘It’ll cost you something.’
‘My reflections on the Iliad ? Really? Any time you like.’
Joe nodded. He cradled two brown eggs in his hand, that he had plucked from a hiding place. ‘To begin with,’ he said.
For the space of her hobbled journey back across the farmyard, Ag thought about Joe. Was it disappointment about Cambridge that made him so gruff? Was it the punishment of asthma upon his youth and regret at his inability to join the war? Or was he by nature an unforthcoming and gloomy figure? And why – perhaps an unnecessary question – did Janet’s presence on Sunday do nothing to cheer his spirits? For her own part, Ag would be delighted to find a kindred spirit with whom she could share ideas. She rather fancied herself bringing succour to the starved soul of Joe Lawrence. It was the sort of thing that would appeal to Desmond’s humour. In fact, Desmond would hardly fail to be interested in the whole curious Lawrence family of Hallows Farm … If he responded to her Christmas card, she would write to him in the New Year. It would be an excitement she instantly imagined herself looking forward to.
Ag began to compose a description of the very gradual unbending of father and son, and of the
Similar Books
