After breakfast, Mr Goodwin took me to the upper pen. We followed a mud track that led away from both the house and the chicken coop, twisting uphill and past an array of fields and empty pens. From the top of the hill, before we reached the pen, I could see everything the small village had to offer. There were other fields, some with the small dots of animals graving, others appeared to have crop lines dug into the soil.

I could just make out the village square and the spire of the church in the centre of it all, even the railway track that we had arrived on, although it was quiet now. It all looked so big, so green and empty. London had this weird grey haze over it, but that haze didn't exist here and everything was green, and bright, and colourful. Mum always planned on taking a holiday to the country, a little break from the city, but it never happened. When the war was over, I thought we might be able to go as a family.

Mr Goodwin led me down the rest of the track until we came to a wooden fence that stretched beyond where I could see. The part of the fence we came to had broken, with one of the beams attached to the post on only one side. None of the other beams, or posts for that matter, looked healthy with the wood looking soft and easily breakable, as well as the sagging in the middle. It looked like a good portion of the fence would have to be redone.

"Right, I've asked Mr Thompson to drop some wood around for us. We'll take down the two beams here and replace them," Mr Goodwin said, gesturing to the broken part of the fence.

"That's it?" I asked. I looked at the rest of the fence in my eyeline.

"What do you mean?"

"Most of the wood looks like it's rotting, I doubt it will hold up for much longer."

"Hm." Mr Goodwin approached one of the posts and knelt beside it, running his fingers along the wood. "I think you might be right. We can take down this half of the fence and redo it. The last thing I want is a sheep getting out and wreaking havoc on the vegetable patch. Good catch, Sybil."

"My dad used to show me which logs were fit for long term use and which would only be good for a little while when we went to the lumber yard."

"Your dad sounds like a good man." Mr Goodwin stood up. "Let's get this fence down. There are pliers and hammers in the tool bag. Take what you need, and let's get started."

Mr Goodwin grabbed a hammer and a pair of pliers from the tool bag and set to work on removing the wooden beams from the posts. I took up a pair of pliers and walked a short distance away from Mr Goodwin so we could meet in the middle. With the pliers in hand, I scraped away at one of the nails embedded in the wood until I could grab it with the point. Once it had been grabbed, I twisted and manoeuvred the nail until it popped out of the wood.

I tucked the nail into my pocket so it wouldn't end up hidden in the grass or embedded in some poor sheep's foot before moving onto the beam below to free that one from the post. The pliers took more than bashing it with a hammer might have, but I'm sure that would have just broken the wood rather than pulled the nail out. Further down the fence line, I could see Mr Goodwin moving and spinning the plank of wood to try and pull the second nail out and remove it from the wood. It wasn't working.

Once I had removed the two nails on one side of the wood, I walked around to the other side and followed the same action until the board fell away from the post and hit the ground. I moved onto the second one and watched the board drop to the floor and hit the first one, all of the nails safely tucked away in the pocket of my slacks. They were far more practical than a skirt could ever be.

I moved onto the next section of the fence and developed more of a rhythm, going as far as to rip the nail out. That became easier if the wood around the nail had softened by the weather but where it hadn't I had to work the nail out by force. My dad used to get me to do it all the time whenever he wanted to redo something or take a project apart; I had become rather skilled in the art of taking things apart. I could also put them back together, but that wasn't as fun.

Eventually, Mr Goodwin and I met in the middle and tackled the final section of the fence together. All that remained were the piles of wood and the posts still buried in the ground and would take a lot of strength to remove. Mr Goodwin readjusted his cap and grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket wiping it over his forehead.

"All we need now is the wood from Mr Thompson," Mr Goodwin said.

"And to take the posts out," I said.

"That too." Mr Goodwin laughed and looked out just beyond the field and posts. "Ah, here he comes."

I followed Mr Goodwin's eye line and watched as a tractor emerged over the hill with a large wooden wagon attached to the back. It arched over the hill and followed a set of tracks that were only just visible amongst the long grass. The man driving the tractor appeared to be the same person who had bought the bench into the hall the previous day. Behind him, I could see someone else sitting on the wagon, but I couldn't tell who it was. I watched the tractor move over the hill and come to a stop just a short distance from where we stood.

Mr Goodwin walked a little way down the track to the front of the tractor. "Morning Ron."

"Morning Jonathon." He looked over at me. "Ah, our little bench fixer. Sybil, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"You're putting her to work already? You could at least let the girl settle in first." Mr Thompson laughed.

"She volunteered. We need all the help we can get around here."

"Speaking of help." Mr Thompson turned around. "Come on, Alec! I didn't bring you up here to spend the entire time sitting on the back of the wagon. Let's get this wood unloaded."

From the back of the wagon, I watched someone - Alec I presumed - undo the latch to let the backdrop before scrambling off the back and dropping to the ground. He grabbed a plank of wood from the back of the wagon and dragged it backwards until he could drop it on the floor right in front of the wagon. When Mr Thompson said they were to unload the wagon, I didn't think dropping it on the floor was what he had in mind.

Alec looked at me and grinned. He had this sort of lop-sided smile and his round glasses were smudged and dirty, it was a wonder he could see anything at all. With a sharp glare from Me Thompson, he looked away and set about unloading the rest of the wagon. There were several planks of wood to replace the dying ones as well as several posts that we could use. Since we didn't even know we were replacing the posts, it was a strange coincidence that Mr Thompson had thought to bring them at all.

By the time everything had been unloaded, sweat plastered Alec's sandy-blonde hair to his forehead. He wiped his hand across his forehead and leant back against the wagon to catch his breath, glaring at his dad. Mr Thompson had a smug smile on his face and raised an eyebrow to Alec as though asking him a question. Alec just pulled a face.

"I could have done with some help," Alec said.

"You could have, but with your brothers gone, you've got to learn to do the heavy lifting yourself."

"The twins have gone then?" Mr Goodwin asked.

"Hm, left for RAF training yesterday. We're lucky this one is old enough to leave school, what with the little ones, we can't afford to not have him around."

"You didn't think of taking one of the city kids in?" Mr Goodwin glanced at me.

"And have another mouth to feed? We can barely keep up with the ones we have, let alone another."

"Speaking of food." A voice said behind me. I turned in time to watch Mrs Goodwin emerge over the top of the hill with a wicker basket strung around her arm. "There's plenty to go around, including some extra glass in case you and Alec and thirsty, Mr Thompson."

Mrs Goodwin placed the basket onto the floor and grabbed a blanket that she had stuffed into the top of it. She laid it down on the floor and produced several plates of sandwiches and biscuits along with a glass bottle of Ginger Beer and a selection of glasses. I perched on the far edge of the blanket, at a good distance away from Mrs Goodwin, and picked at the mud under my nails. Mum always said I had the dirtiest hands she had ever seen, at least they had a reason to be dirty on a farm.

I accepted a small glass of Ginger Beer and sipped it, watching Alec as he dove straight into the food without even stopping to breathe. He reminded me a little of Mark, although he would have eaten everything within seconds and Alec appeared to be a little more mindful of those around him. I took one of the small sandwiches and nibbled on the edge of it, looking over the hill towards the village and the fields beyond.

The adults spoke in low, almost hushed voices as though they didn't want me or Alec to hear anything that was being said. Alec had his face buried in another biscuit and didn't seem to mind all that much, but I had never been a fan of people whispering around me. My old teachers at school used to do it and although I could usually judge what they were discussing by the way they looked at me, I didn't like being the main point of conversation.

"So you won't be sitting for your school certificate, Alec?" Mrs Goodwin asked.

"Not at the moment, maybe one day," Alec said.

"What about you, Sybil? Will you be going to the local school?" Mr Thompson asked.

"We have yet to have the discussion." Mr Goodwin looked at his wife.

"It'll be a very short discussion." I laughed. "Academics and I have never been good friends."

"You don't want to sit it?"

I shrugged. "My mum wants me too. She thinks it'll be good for me. I could sit it, but I won't pass it. The day I pass an exam is the day the world implodes on itself. I'm more than certain my teachers allowed me to move up a year just so they wouldn't have to teach me anymore. Mr Martin's probably glad I can leave now."

The Goodwin's exchanged a side-ways glance and looked away almost instantly without saying a word. I suppose I may have just scuppered their plans by announcing that I had no desire to return to school. They probably intended to send me back to school if me helping on the farm didn't work out, but I wasn't going back and they couldn't force me to either. Not that I would be around them long enough for them to force me to go back to school. Still, if it came to it, I wasn't going back.

School and I had never really matched and I was glad that I wouldn't have to return, regardless of whether Mum wanted me to or not. She was adamant that I should sit the school certificate so I could go on to better things in life, but for that to happen I would have to pass the exam. I had always been better with the more practical aspects of life; helping Dad put up shelves, painting and wallpapering the house when Mum got tired of the paint we had. School wouldn't be helpful for any of that.

We finished the sandwiches and biscuits in near silence with nothing but the sound of sheep and cows in the background to fill the empty space. Alec ate more than half of the food that Mrs Goodwin bought and he ended up drinking about half of the bottle of Ginger Beer as well. For someone who looked quite small, he did manage to pack away plenty of food.

"Right, we should get on and get this fence repaired," Mr Goodwin said.

"Need some extra hands? It should make it quicker." Mr Thompson stood up.

"Can you spare the time?"

"Of course we can. Right, Alec?" Alec nodded.

"I'll ring the bell when supper is ready."

Mrs Goodwin stood up and started to gather up the empty plates, glasses and the blanket. She gave me a look before taking the basket and walking away, disappearing over the hill and heading back towards the house. Alec looked at me and tilted his head to the side as though trying to figure something out.

"Aren't you going to?" he asked.

"No, why would I?"

"I just thought-"

"-Thought what? That I'm just here to help make supper? I'm probably better at putting this fence up than you are."

"Alright, that's enough," Mr Goodwin said. "Let's get this fence up."

I glared at Alex and grabbed my hammer off the floor, following Mr Goodwin. It looked like I had more people to prove myself to than I first thought.

~~~

A/N - Chapter Six is here! I'm working my way through Chapter Fourteen so we have a lot of material to come!

Anyway, thoughts on Alec? Thoughts on Sybil doing her thing? Let me know!

First Published - April 20th, 2021