Land Girls: The Homecoming: A moving and heartwarming wartime saga
Your favourite Sunday teatime drama brought to life on the page!Land Girl Connie Carter thought she’d finally left her past behind once and for all when she married Henry Jameson, Helmstead’s vicar and the love of her life. Headstrong Connie and mild-mannered Henry might be different as chalk and cheese, but she’s determined to be the best wife she can be and prove the village gossips wrong! But Connie doesn’t really believe that she belongs in Henry’s genteel world of tea-drinking and jam-making, and the cracks are already starting to show.When Connie’s heroism makes her front page news, her past comes back to haunt her in a terrifying way. A different kind of war has come to Helmstead, and soon it’s a fight for both their marriage and their lives…Follow the lives and loves of the Land Girls in this moving saga from the creator and writer of the popular, award-winning BBC drama
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017
Copyright © Roland Moore 2017
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Cover design by Claire Ward
Roland Moore asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © August 2017
ISBN: 9780008204402
Version 2017-04-26
To Wanda, with all my love.
Table of Contents
Extract from the diary of Connie Carter:
âItâs all gone wrong. I donât know what to do. There was me with my stupid, perfect happy ending and itâs all crumbled to dust. Maybe I should have realised that I just wasnât âgood enoughâ.
But I never thought your whole life could just sort of fall apart like that. And fall apart so easily, either. Each bit of happiness falling like itâs in a row of dominoes or something. If she knew what happened, Mrs Gulliver would be pulling one of her sour old looks and saying something like âI knew she was rubbish, that Connie Carterâ. Sheâll be pointing fingers with the rest of the I-told-you-so-brigade when they all find out. Maybe sheâd be right. Thereâs too many things that have happened to him, all because of me. He doesnât deserve that.
The worst thing is that I donât know where he is. If heâd said where he was going, even if it involved never wanting to see me again, at least Iâd have known, wouldnât I? I could cope with that, eventually. But I donât even know if heâs still alive. No, canât think like that. He is alive and I just hope he comes back. And itâs not like thereâs anyone I can talk to about it, is there? No one I can ask. No one I can pour my heart out to.
Got to keep it a secret.
Thatâs why I started to write this diary. Never kept one before. And probably wonât keep this one going for long. See, where I come from, you donât tend to write down your thoughts and feelings and stuff, in case someone finds it and uses it against you. Iâd never have written things down in the childrenâs home. Last thing you want is someone mocking you and seeing that youâre not as tough as youâre making out. I can take care of myself. Always have done. But a lot of my mouth is just a front. Itâs obvious really, I guess. But no point telling everyone, is there?
So this might be the only time I write this stuff down.
I feel on edge the whole time. I canât settle. Certainly canât sleep or eat more than the barest amount. Esther, the warden at the farm, has been understanding. Sheâs been nice. Not that she knows the truth. She thinks Iâm ill. Thatâs because thatâs the lie I told her. I couldnât tell her the truth. Whole can of worms that would be, wouldnât it?
Thatâs why the I-told-you-so-brigade donât know nothing yet.
Best to keep it that way.
Best to keep the big old secret. Isnât it?
But the trouble is, I canât just stay indoors pretending that Iâm ill. Iâm sure some of the other Land Girls have spotted me in Helmstead, walking aimlessly around. Or in the fields, where it looks like Iâm enjoying a summer walk, lost in my thoughts. I just keep moping around, searching in vain for some clue. Keep thinking Iâll see him in the High Street or walking along a path somewhere. How can I search properly, though, when Iâm sneaking around trying not to be seen?
This isnât helping. Iâm wasting time in here writing this, and itâs not helping.
Yeah, Iâve got to tell Esther whatâs happened, at least. Tell her how Iâve blown it. Then I wonât have to pretend to be ill any longer. Yes, thatâs what Iâll do. She might be able to help me. The Land Girls might be able to help me.
Time to let the dreadful cat out of the bag.
