Sunday meant a trip into the village for church, a trip that should have been simple but one that Mrs Goodwin made out to be a momentous occasion. She had reasoned that she was introducing me to the entire farming community and wanted me to look respectable and not, as she put it, like 'London riff-raff'.

The night before, she had all but forced me to take a bath in the clawfoot tub in their upstairs bathroom. The room, like all the others in the house, was dark and dingy and even the tub looked like it hadn't seen a scrubbing brush in a few months. Still, I could hardly refuse and took a very quick bath so I didn't have to stay in the tub any longer. I didn't think the bath to be necessary since I had had one the Thursday before we got on the train, but Mrs Goodwin wouldn't hear of it. She said I still had 'London-dirt' on me. Whatever that meant.

Despite the order to have a bath, Mrs Goodwin decided that the outfit I had arrived in on Friday would be good enough for church. It hadn't been washed and had been stuffed into the top of my suitcase since I took it off, but it didn't look all that creased and I wore it to church back home.

When I emerged from my room, Mrs Goodwin took one look at me and tutted. "Is there nothing to be done with your hair?"

"No, Ma'am. It's too short," I said. Mum had been begging me to grow my hair out for the better part of a year, but I didn't want to.

"Maybe we can just clip it up or something, make it a little more presentable."

"It's just church, Barb. She looks fine to me and I don't think a clip in her hair will make the blindest bit of difference in how people see her." He glanced at his pocket watch. "They might see us a little differently if we don't get a wiggle on. We're going to be late."

Mrs Goodwin smoothed her skirt, straightened her hat and grabbed her back from the back of the torn sofa before looking at me. "I expect you to be on your best behaviour today."

I nodded but didn't say anything, I didn't want to get in trouble for doing something as simple as talking. Mrs Goodwin would probably tell me off I breathed too loudly when we were in church; I wouldn't put it past her. Even though I had helped build the fence the day before - I was of more help than Alec- she still didn't like me. Maybe it was because I had been the one to suggest that most of the fence needed to be fixed, I didn't know. She just didn't seem to like me no matter what I did.

Mr Goodwin readjusted his flat cap so it covered his forehead. He tucked his pocket watch back into his pocket and made a gesture to the front door, jingling the keys. I followed Mrs Goodwin out of the farmhouse and outside, screwing my eyes up when I stepped out into the bright sunlight of that Sunday morning. With the house as dark as it was all the time, stepping outside could be a rather jarring experience. I never really knew what to expect when I walked out the door or opened the window. The farmhouse could really do with some real sunlight rather than the strange yellow glow from the electricity.

Once my eyes had adjusted to the light, I watched Mr Goodwin lock the door and then followed him and Mrs Goodwin down the track and towards the chicken coop. I strayed behind the two of them, opting for trying to remember the route rather than engaging in an awkward conversation that I wouldn't really be part of. If Mr Goodwin didn't need me on the farm for anything, I resolved to spend as much time as I could away from the house and away from Mrs Goodiwn. With any luck, the next few days would fly by and I would be back home before I knew it.

We walked down the track, all of us having to take it at a slight run so we didn't fall face-first and end up rolling to the village for church. It was funny watching Mrs Goodwin take the hill at a run, part of me wanted her to slip and fall on her face but perhaps that was a little mean.

"How are you with a ladder, Sybil? Or heights?" Mr Goodwin asked, pausing briefly to allow me to catch up to him and his wife.

"I'm fine with both of them. As far as I know, anyway. Why?" I said.

"We could make a start on the stable roof tomorrow. If we focus on the stables and the cowshed, we can work on the outdoor fences when the weather starts to get better. We need to focus on making sure the animals are comfortable for when we get the bad weather. Everything else can wait until then."

"I helped my dad repair some of the titles on our roof once, well, I handed him the nails."

"Excellent, it shouldn't be too much of a job."

"The upper pen fence wasn't supposed to be too much of a job," Mrs Goodwin said under her breath.

Mr Goodwin didn't say anything, but he looked at me and winked. I turned away before I started laughing and followed them further down the track. The walk from the farm to the village appeared to be a straightforward one, with most of the walk following a mud track. Everything around the track was green. Large trees bent over the track and occasionally deposited a leaf right in front of us. The grass beyond the track was a luscious green colour, although some of it looked like it had become overgrown and needed a cut.

When the track ended, the mud stopped short of the metal gate that opened onto a flat road. It was almost identical to the way we had walked into the village from the train station on the Friday. I followed them through the gate, and down an alley that eventually opened up on to the village square that I had walked through just a few days prior. We walked across the village and through another gate that opened onto a cobblestone path that had been lined with hedges.

At the end of the cobblestone path, there was another black metal gate between a low-lying stone wall. The gate opened onto a path that led up a slight hill, with grass embankments on the other side covered in small, stone headstones. The church sat at the end of the path, a large, imposing building with a tall spire and a large wooden door that had been propped up. People were filing in through the door and Mrs Goodwin stopped to make sure that I looked presentable.

"I want you to be on your best behaviour. Pay attention to the priest and don't fidget, do you understand?" she said, tugging on my blouse collar and making sure my top button was done up. It felt like it was choking me.

"Yes, Mrs Goodwin."

"This is the first time our friends will be seeing you and I don't want them to think that we took in an unruly child."

"I'm sure she understands, Barb. Come on," Mr Goodwin said. He shook his head when his wife passed by but didn't say anything.

I followed the two of them into the church, cringing back at the strong smell of incense and burning candles that filled the entire church. Inside, light streamed in through the stained-glass windows and cast a colourful projection onto the floor. The church looked like every other church I had been in; the same rows of pews, the burning candles, the cross on the wall and the large pillars that were easy to hide behind.

We sat near the back of the room and I glanced around until I saw the back of Eva's head wedged in between two heads of grey hair, one of them being Mrs Williams and the other either being her husband or a complete stranger. Even from behind, Eva looked the same as she had been when I last saw her. We had never gone all that long without seeing one another since we had grown up right next door to one another for as long as I could remember. Not seeing her every day was strange.

A few minutes later, the priest took to the front of the church and I found my attention drifting to anything and everything other than what was happening in front of me. It wasn't as if I didn't believe in it all, I just didn't have the attention span that church needed. I tried not to fidget, but with only a small window propped open to the left of me and the door open at the back, the heat was becoming too much to bear.

The priest talked, I pretended to listen. I stood up when the organ player started to play and bowed my head to pray when I had to and did everything expected of me so I wouldn't end up in trouble. By the time the priest made us bow our heads for the final prayer, I could feel sweat dripping down my back. When we were dismissed, I followed the Goodwin's outside and took a breath of the fresh air, allowing the breeze to wash over me.

"I wasn't sure you were in there, Mrs Goodwin, I wouldn't see you," Mrs Williams said, hobbling along with her walking stick.

"We were sitting at the back, Mrs Williams." Mrs Goodwin smiled.

"Well, I figured as much." Mrs Williams turned to me. "You're the girl who was with Eva in the hall."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm Sybil."

"I thought you were going for a boy, to help on the farm."

"Sybil is more than up for the job," Mr Goodwin interjected before his wife could get a word out. "She helped Mr Thompson and I repair a fence yesterday."

"Her hair is the colour of the Devil," a gruff man said beside her. I watched him walk up with Eva close behind, her eyes widening at his comment.

"Bernard, honestly. I'm sorry, my dear, he often speaks without thinking."

I looked at Eva and then had to duck my head to the left to keep from laughing; I didn't want to appear rude in front of Mrs Goodwin. It had been years since anyone had said that my hair, which had always been red, resembled the colour of the Devil. My gran used to say it all the time despite the fact that it had been her husband I had inherited it from. After a while, it just became a joke and Mum often agreed with her for the sake of avoiding any argument about it. I found it funny.

The grown-ups continued to talk with Eva and me standing off the side and wishing we could be somewhere else. My stomach grumbled and Mrs Goodwin gave me a look, not that there was much I could do about it unless I had something to eat. Since I couldn't eat anything, I decided to undo the top button of my blouse so I could cool my neck a little and hopefully stop sweating so much. I would rather get in trouble than faint from heat exhaustion.

"Why don't we walk with you through the village, it could offer the girls a chance to catch up," Mr Goodwin said after a little while.

"Excellent idea. I want to hear all about your plans for your father's farm, Lord only knows it needs the work," Mrs Williams said.

The four of them turned and started to walk down the path and through the gate. Eva and I followed, lagging behind a little so we could without the fear of being overheard by anyone. The last thing I wanted was for Mrs Goodwin to hear me say something bad about her, although she had been saying them to my face since she first met me.

"How's everything with you?" she asked as we trailed down the cobblestone.

I shrugged. "Mr Goodwin's alright, but she doesn't like me at all. She wanted a boy to help rebuild the farm and instead, she got me."

"But you're better at carpentry than any of the boys in our class are."

"Try telling her that." I rolled my eyes. "What about you?"

"They're sweet, like Grandparents. They even said I can call them Aunt Margaret and Uncle Bernard."

"We're still on formalities. Not that it matters, home by the end of the week, right?"

Eva pulled a face, as though she wanted to say something but worried about how I might react to it. We had only been in the country for two days and yet she had become remarkably comfortable with people she probably wouldn't see again once we went home. The evacuation had been a precaution and nothing else. We would be back home soon enough; war hadn't even been declared yet.

We walked down the cobblestone path until it opened up on the village square where many families and people were milling around. None of the shops was open since it was a Sunday, but still, people crowded around the square, some looking anxious. Eva and I followed the adults through the square and towards the village hall where the largest cluster of people stood. The doors to the hall were wide open and there was the sound of radio static coming from within.

I spotted Mark and Enid in the crowd and offered them both a small wave but they only gave me a slight smile in return. Everyone had their attention on the radio that I could just see perched on a small table in the centre of the village hall.

"And now, a message from our Prime Minister, Mr Neville Chamberlain," a voice said. The static still sounded in the background.

"I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street. This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany."

The Prime Minister kept talking, going on about what had bought us to this point and his expectations for the British public as we moved into a second war just twenty-one years since the last one had ended. His voices sounded like nonsense to me, just words that didn't have any meaning. After weeks of it being a possibility, it had finally been made real.

We were at war with Germany.

~~~

A/N - Chapter Eight and we have finally reached the declaration of war! It's happening people, it's happening!

Do you think Sybil's feelings about Mrs Goodwin are justified? What are your predictions now that war has been declared?

Let me know!

First Published - May 5th, 2021