to go where they send me.â
They were both so tired when they got to the hostel that Carole didnât think to ask about Emilyâs day out again, and so she kept her secret to herself, thinking about it as she tumbled into bed to sleep for hours.
âWhat do you mean, Father was worried about the farm?â Daniel frowned at his eldest brother as they stood talking in the front parlour. âWhatâs the matter? I thought everything was going well.â
âIt has done for years,â Henry replied grimly. âBut recently there have been so many new rules and regulations â youâve no idea how demanding the Food Ministry can be, Dan. Everything has to be checked or rubber-stamped, and we canât sell our own produce where or when we want; itâs damned red tape all over the place. The profits were down the last year before the war because we had a poor harvest, and lately it has all gone from bad to worse.â
âThat sounds serious.â
âNot really, not yet,â Henry said. âIt might be if things donât improve, but Iâm trying to get on top of all the regulations. You know how much I love paperwork!â
Daniel smiled at his tall, lanky brother, the tallest of them all. Henry looked tired and more worried than he was letting on, his skin a bit sallow as if he might not be well.
âI know you are a good farmer, Henry, but Dad was always the one who kept it all together. Neither you nor Clay was keen on school or maths, as I remember.â
âI can reckon what I need to in my head,â Henry said ruefully, âbut when it comes to putting it all down  . . .â He growled low in his throat. âIt isnât my best job. Clay says the farm is too big for us. He wants to scale it down â go off on his own. Trouble is, Father left a bit of it to all of us â the girls, you, Connor and Margaret. The house is hers until she marries again, if she does â and then we have to pay her half what itâs worth.â
âSounds a bit complicated,â Daniel said. âWhat about Margaretâs shares in the farm?â
âShe is willing to sell them now. At least, according to Clay, thatâs what she says.â
âWill that be difficult, in the present circumstances?â
âDepends how much she wants,â Henry admitted. âClay thinks she will be reasonable, but Iâve got an idea heâs in for a shock.â
âIâve only spoken to her a few times,â Daniel said, and looked thoughtful. âShe seems all right to me  . . .â
âOh, sheâs pleasant enough, but I think she is a schemer. She swept Father off his feet, got him to marry her before he knew where he was â and I think he regretted it.â
âWhat makes you say that?â
âDonât know,â Henry admitted. âItâs just a hunch. He was in a hell of a mood for weeks before he died. Part of it was the war and the regulations, of course, but there was more to it than that  . . . I think he suspected her of having an affair.â
âSurely not? They hadnât been married five minutes.â
âI think Margaret expected more than she got,â Henry said shrewdly. âThey met when he was in London for some function, and it was a whirlwind affair. She saw the house and he spent some money on her, and she thought it was the good life, but then she realized that he didnât often go to London. She entertains as much as she can here, but it isnât the same as she was used to in town. Iâve seen some of her friends â rich and idle. She ought to have married one of them, but Dad was an easy mark. I think she will take as much as she can from us and clear off back where she came from.â
âThatâs a bit harsh,â Daniel said. âYou canât know any of this.â
âI saw her flirting with one of her men friends