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167 pages

English

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'Curl up in a chair with Fenella J Miller's characters and lose yourself in another time and another place.' Lizzie Lane

As war looms, can they keep the home fires burning?

Lady Joanna Harcourt and her daughter Sarah discover their life of luxury at Goodwill House is over. Because with Lord Harcourt away fighting, the Harcourt girls are facing financial ruin.

Lady Joanna is terrified of losing their home, but for Sarah, this means her dreams of becoming a doctor are over. Headstrong Sarah isn’t one to quit! War or not, she’s determined to find a way to save her home and follow her dreams– whatever it takes!

Dashing RAF officer Angus Trent might just save the day. The new RAF base at Manston will soon be full of young women all hoping to serve their country, and Goodwill House will make the perfect home for them. But can Sarah convince Lady Joanna to agree to her plan?

Angus has never met a woman quite like Sarah – courageous, brave, unwavering. She has a huge task ahead of her, but if anyone can do it, his war girl can.

Book 1 in the brand new Goodwill House series by bestselling author Fenella J. Miller

Praise for Fenella J. Miller:

'Curl up in a chair with Fenella J Miller's characters and lose yourself in another time and another place.' Lizzie Lane

'Engaging characters and setting which whisks you back to the home front of wartime Britain. A great start to what promises to be a fabulous series.' Jean Fullerton

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Publié par	Boldwood Books
Date de parution	12 janvier 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781801628198
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,2050€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE WAR GIRLS OF GOODWILL HOUSE

FENELLA J. MILLER
First published in Great Britain in 2022 by Boldwood Books Ltd.

1
Copyright © Fenella J. Miller, 2022
Cover Design by Colin Thomas
Cover Photography: Colin Thomas
The moral right of Fenella J. Miller to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-80415-671-1
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-80162-819-8
Kindle ISBN: 978-1-80162-820-4
Audio CD ISBN: 978-1-80162-827-3

Digital audio download ISBN: 978-1-80162-818-1
Large Print ISBN: 978-1-80162-822-8
Boldwood Books Ltd.
23 Bowerdean Street, London, SW6 3TN
www.boldwoodbooks.com
For Marie and Kevin – they know why.
CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

More from Fenella J. Miller

About the Author

Sixpence Stories

About Boldwood Books
1
GOODWILL HOUSE, STODHAM, KENT, JANUARY 1940

‘It’s snowing again, Mummy, and there’s already more than a foot on the ground,’ Sarah said as she gazed despondently out of the drawing room window.
‘Thank God, darling, we don’t have to go into the village today. Imagine how cold it must be for your father, wherever he is in France.’ Joanna was collating a pile of papers ready for the WVS meeting that was being held, as always, at Goodwill House.
The strident ring of the telephone in the grand hall made them both jump. Despite the fact that the room they were in was a considerable distance from the wretched thing, the noise of the bell echoed down the wide corridors and could be clearly heard. Her husband, David, had insisted they had one installed before he left with his regiment and, although incredibly useful, Joanna wasn’t comfortable with using it.
Her daughter didn’t move and neither did she but Betty Smith, the housekeeper, must have left her duties in the kitchen and hurried out to answer it for them as the nasty jangling noise of the bell stopped abruptly.
They no longer used the drawing room as it was far too expensive to heat and too cold to use in the winter – she and Sarah now preferred the smaller, more comfortable room that had once been Joanna’s sole domain. She couldn’t remember David ever disturbing her when she was in here doing her embroidery or writing letters.
Betty appeared in the doorway. ‘My lady, it’s my Bert, he’s had a nasty fall and Dr Willoughby thinks he might have broken his ankle.’
‘Oh dear, how absolutely dreadful. You must go at once and help him. Sarah and I can manage for ourselves until you can return to us.’
‘Thank you, my lady, that’s ever so kind of you. There’s a nice chicken pie ready to go in the oven and the veg are peeled and ready to cook. I’ve not got around to making the afters.’
Sarah was on her feet and rushed across and, quite inappropriately, hugged Betty. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do it. Mummy’s hopeless in the kitchen but I’ve been well trained by you. Take care on the drive, it’s snowing again and absolutely freezing.’
‘You’re a good little cook, Miss Harcourt, and no mistake. The pantry’s full, so is the vegetable store. It’s a good thing we were able to stock up before rationing started last week.’
Betty dashed off and Sarah followed her. At seventeen, Joanna’s daughter was almost a young woman. She had taken her higher certificate a year early and intended to take up a place at Oxford to study medicine in October. Until then, she was doing everything she could to help the war effort and was now a fully trained member of the St John Ambulance Brigade.
Joanna was proud of her lovely daughter, of course, but did sometimes wonder if Sarah was a little too independent.
Goodwill House had been in the family for centuries. It was a C shape – the original part of the house had been built three hundred years ago and formed the west wing. An ancestor of David’s had added a corridor and extra doors and walls so one no longer had to walk through one room to the other. The Georgians had added the central part of the house with well-proportioned, high-ceilinged rooms and then the Victorians had added a Gothic monstrosity which made up the east side.
There were over a hundred rooms in this mausoleum of a place and it was far too big for one family to live in comfortably. Perhaps in the days when the family could afford two dozen or more inside staff it might have been bearable. As it was, they only had Betty, and Mary who came in to do the laundry and heavy work twice a week.
Joanna had tried to persuade David to sell the house, as it wasn’t entailed, and buy something more manageable and modern in the village. Currently, they were marooned on the outskirts, having to walk a mile to see anyone. The only thing she did like about her home was the fact that the acres of park and woodland were mainly at the rear and the house was easily accessible from the road that ran into the village.
When she’d first met and married David, Joanna had been swept away by the glamour of it all, by the thought of becoming a lady and living in the big house. Her family weren’t aristocrats, merely middle-class, as her father had been a bank manager in Ramsgate. But she had come to realise soon after the marriage that she wasn’t actually in love with her husband. She was fond of him, but at forty-one, only five years older than herself, David was very old-fashioned in his outlook and manners. He was an excellent husband, loved her and their daughter as he should, but was undemonstrative and treated them both like delicate porcelain ornaments unable to make decisions for themselves.
When he’d been recalled to his regiment – he was a reservist – he hadn’t hesitated. Without a second thought to the chaos and confusion his sudden departure would create, he’d donned his uniform with pride and driven away two months ago, leaving Joanna and Sarah to cope with the running of Goodwill House.
She had no idea when bills were paid or to whom, as these things had been dealt with by him. She didn’t even have access to his bank account but had been left with a pile of postal orders which she had to present at the post office each week in order to withdraw the housekeeping money.
The wireless was playing a dreary concert and she got up and turned it off. It would be far warmer in the kitchen, which was probably why Sarah had dashed off so readily.
When walking through the grand hall, her breath steamed in front of her – it must be well below freezing in this vast space. In fact, the entire house was hideously cold as there just wasn’t enough fuel to light more than the kitchen range and the fire in the small drawing room. The bedrooms were unbearable and the only way to keep warm was by taking two hot-water bottles to bed and having an extra eiderdown.
She was almost running by the time she reached the kitchen, so desperate was she to get into the warmth. ‘Something smells quite wonderful, darling. When will it be ready?’
‘About an hour, I should think. I much prefer eating in here, although Daddy would be horrified at the lowering of standards.’
‘Then it’s a good thing he’s not here. What time is your meeting?’
‘All St John’s meetings are cancelled because of the snow. I doubt anyone will need bandaging in this weather anyway.’
‘I don’t know why you couldn’t just be happy being in the WVS. After all, darling, aren’t you intending to be a doctor eventually?’
‘I certainly am.’ The kettle hissed and Joanna poured it into the waiting coffee pot. Neither of them liked to boil the coffee in the water as they thought it made it too bitter.
‘It must be appalling in France for the British Expeditionary Force, and they sounded like they were having such a jolly time when the weather was good. Fraternising with the French, drinking wine and eating wonderful food. I almost envied your father – but I no longer do.’
‘Apart from the rationing, and the conscription coming in for men between nineteen and twenty-seven, you wouldn’t know there was a war on.’ Her daughter stirred the coffee pot and strained it into the mugs. The good china had been put away for the duration.
‘How can you say that? Everybody’s walking around with a gas mask around their necks, the windows of the shops are taped up, there are Anderson shelters in people’s back gardens and a public shelter in the village. All very depressing and hopefully unnecessary.’
Sarah looked at her mother in astonishment. ‘Unnecessary? Hitler’s determined to conquer the world and he won’t stop until he has. It hasn’t even started yet.’
A gust of wind blew snow against the kitchen window. ‘Your father’s quite confident the Maginot Line will hold. North-east France is well protected from the Germans and if they can’t get to that coast then they can’t invade England, can they?’
‘Then let’s pray his confidence isn’t misplaced. Sometimes I wish the Germans would drop a bomb on t