Gracie's Sin Read Free Page B

the face of such misery filled her with sadness And, beautiful as it was, the empty rooms, the formal gardens, even the woods around them, seemed to echo with her loneliness.
    ‘Rose, d’you hear me? We’re bloody freezing in here.’
    ‘Coming.’

Chapter Two
     
    The rain had finally stopped as the lorry continued along a private drive through open parkland, thus allowing the girls to catch enticing glimpses of a rambling stone house between a row of elm trees. Granite walls, ghostly pale, stood out against the deepening blue of dusk with rows of hooded windows seeming to glow like jewels. Built around a large forecourt, the house sported battlemented walls, formal gardens, neatly clipped topiary and stone balustrades along its elegant terraces.
    Gracie thought for one delicious moment that they were about to be billeted in a stately home but the lorry turned away from the house and drove on, labouring up a gentle slope with much crashing of gears. By the time it finally drew to a halt it was almost dark and she could see very little but a range of huts, what might have been a large marquee and a queue of girls making their way into it. The whole site appeared to be surrounded by a belt of dark green beech woods. They climbed stiffly down from the lorry, nursing their many bruises, and instantly sank deep into mud.
    ‘Oh great! This is all we need. Do not attempt to carry your kitbag over this, little Titch. I’ll carry both,’ Lou announced, and did so, one on each shoulder.
    Following a supper of Spam, lettuce and tomatoes, they found themselves billeted in corrugated huts, each one accommodating twenty girls in bunk beds. Gracie and Lou chose to share one near the door.
    ‘Might be useful,’ Lou pointed out with a sly wink, opting for the bottom one since she claimed to be less agile than her smaller friend. Gracie guessed that she meant it would be convenient for allowing its occupant to slip easily in and out of the hut, should the need occur.
    They quickly stowed away their gear in the adjoining lockers, then made up their beds with the sheets and blankets provided but, instead of a mattress, found they were expected to sleep on “biscuits”. These were so thin and hard, it was necessary to have two, or even three on top of each other. That first night Gracie hardly slept a wink, as the “biscuits” slipped about, defeating sleep entirely. Then it seemed she’d no sooner managed to get off to sleep when they were woken by the loud clanging of a bell. It was barely six-thirty. Lou leapt out of bed shouting ‘Fire!’ which made the other girls laugh. But the new recruits soon learned that snatching a few extra minutes sleep was unwise as that bell meant action.
    ‘Stand by your beds.’ A stentorian voice rang out, followed by the wheezing figure of Matron. A substantial woman, whose uniform was as severe as her unforgiving face, she rolled, rather than walked into the room. She was so huge, Lou half expected her feet to make imprints in the planked floor.
    Inspection had begun.
    That first morning it was made clear that a somewhat lenient attitude would be taken. Hereafter it would be very different. In future by the time inspection was called, they needed to be up, washed, and dressed in their shorts and PT shirts with beds neatly made and lockers tidy, ready to march outside for physical training the moment it was over.
    ‘Good lord,’ Lou complained. ‘Have we joined the army?’
    ‘Indeed you have,’ came the strident voice once more. ‘The Women’s Land Army, and don’t you forget it !’ Despite the promise of leniency, a few unfortunates were unceremoniously stripped of their coverings and tipped from their bed. A rude awakening to the day.
    Sleepy girls stumbled over each other in their efforts to line up at the wash basins, find the right clothes and make their beds, all apparently at the same time. Once everyone was finally dressed, they were given stringent lessons on folding and