by Vicki Beeby
The woman’s expression changed. It became more guarded, somehow, and tension seemed to clench the corner of her mouth.
Jess hesitated but she had already started so she might as well get to the point. ‘Is it for sale? There was no price ticket.’
The woman looked her up and down. ‘Who do you want it for – you?’ Her voice had lost its former polite, friendly tone. It sounded harsh, a little strained, as though she struggled to hold back some powerful emotion.
‘It’s not for me. It’s for a friend,’ Jess replied. She would have elaborated, but the woman put her hand to her mouth, which had begun to quiver.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t even know why I’m asking. I doubt I’d be able to afford it.’
The woman shook her head then flapped her hand across her mouth which was tightly shut. It was clear she was close to tears.
‘Oh dear.’ Jess peered past the poor woman to the back room to see if there was anyone she could call on for help, but it appeared the shop assistant was alone. There was, however, a little electric stove and a kettle. Jess made up her mind. She joined the woman behind the counter, took her arm and led her to a chair. ‘I’m so sorry I upset you,’ she repeated. ‘The least I can do is make you a cup of tea.’
The woman was incapable of saying anything, but she nodded her head, so Jess slipped into the back room. The kettle was already full; Jess put it on the stove and rummaged through the items on a crammed shelf above the stove to find a cup, tea and sugar. A little jug of milk stood in a bowl of water to keep it cool.
When the kettle gave a shrill, steady whistle, Jess spooned tea into a chipped china teapot and poured on the boiling water. She glanced into the main shop to ask the woman how she liked her tea only to see her hunched over, face in her hands and shoulders shaking. Deciding to give the woman time to regain her composure, Jess allowed the tea to brew good and strong before pouring out a cup and adding milk. She picked up the sugar basin then hesitated a moment, unwilling to waste such a scarce commodity. Then she decided if anyone needed a good dose of sugar right now it was this poor woman, so she added a heaped spoonful to the cup and stirred.
The woman was dabbing her reddened eyes with a damp handkerchief when Jess returned to the main room. Jess noticed a gold band on her ring finger. ‘Here you go, Mrs…’
‘Swift,’ the woman supplied, ‘but call me Kathleen. It seems silly to stick to formalities when you’ve seen me in such a state.’
‘I’m Jess. Drink this. A good cup of strong tea can’t solve all your problems but it will make you feel a bit better.’
‘I don’t know what you must think of me,’ Kathleen said, sipping the tea. Jess was pleased to see some colour had returned to her pale cheeks. ‘I do hope I’m not delaying you. You work up at Bentley Priory?’ She made a gesture that took in Jess’s cap and uniform.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Jess replied. ‘I do work there, but I don’t have to be back on duty until tomorrow morning.’
‘Well, you’re very kind giving up your free time to look after me. You must be so busy. My husband is in the RAF, you see. He joined up as a mechanic at the start of the war and is full of praise at how the WAAFs can do all the work the men do, and better very often.’
Jess grinned. ‘It took some of the men a while to work that out. I’m glad we’ve got your husband on side.’
There was a pause while Kathleen sipped her tea, then she said in a low voice, ‘Is it true that Leonard Steele is making a film at Bentley Priory?’
Jess considered her answer but, after all, it wasn’t part of her work so there was no reason she couldn’t speak of it. ‘It is. I saw him this morning.’
Kathleen clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my goodness. What was he like? I think I would have fainted if I’d seen him.’
There was no point in destroying her illusions. ‘He was lovely. So charming and friendly.’
‘I’ve seen all his films. My husband took me to see Hearts of the Highlands when he was last home on leave.’ Then her face crumpled. ‘That was when he told me I should sell our Danny’s violin.’
Jess patted her shoulder awkwardly, sure she knew what was coming.
‘He was our boy.’ Kathleen pulled her hanky out from her sleeve and wiped her eyes again. ‘He was studying music but when the war started, he joined the RAF just like his father. He was a good mechanic. He could have been one of the ground crew, but he had his heart set on flying. He was so happy when he earned his wings and was made pilot of a bomber crew.’
Jess’s stomach lurched. She knew only too well how dangerous the life of a bomber pilot was.
‘He was shot down over the sea two years ago,’ Kathleen said. ‘His crew were rescued. Not him. He drowned before they could get to him.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jess said. She had been working as a Filter Plotter then. She wondered if she had plotted Danny Swift’s bomber. There had been so many lost over the years.
Kathleen pulled herself upright and squared her shoulders. ‘I mustn’t live in the past, though. Keeping his things won’t bring him back. That’s what my husband told me.’
‘But if you’re not ready…’
Kathleen shook her head. ‘No. I am. I’d only just put the violin in the window, you see. I thought if I didn’t put a price on it, people would only ask about it if they really wanted it. I do so want it to go to someone who would treat it well, you know.’ She drained her teacup and set it aside. ‘So tell me about this friend of yours.’
And, much to her surprise, Jess found herself telling Kathleen all about Milan. ‘And so when I saw your son’s violin in the window, I thought of Milan straight away,’ she concluded. ‘The war has taken so much from him, I don’t want him to lose his music as well.’
‘And it shan’t,’ Kathleen said. Her lost expression was gone, replaced by a look of determination. ‘I think it was a sign, you coming to ask about Danny’s violin the day I put it in the window. I’ve lost my son but I do at least have a home. I would like your young man to have Danny’s violin.’
‘Oh, that’s very kind but—’ Jess hesitated. She had only wanted to enquire after the price. In all probability, it would be beyond her means. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure how to phrase it.
Kathleen, however, seemed to have read her mind. ‘Now don’t you worry about the price. I don’t want any money. It makes me happy to know it’s going to someone who loves music and will cherish it as much as my boy did. I couldn’t ask for better than that.’
Now it was Jess’s turn to blink away tears. ‘Oh, Mrs Swift, I couldn’t.’
‘I told you to call me Kathleen. And you most certainly can. If your young man ends up delighting audiences with his music then in a way, Danny can live on through it.’ Jess opened her mouth to protest; Kathleen cut her off. ‘I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘That’s—’ Jess cleared her throat to ease the sudden tightness ‘I don’t know how to thank you. Are you sure there’s nothing I can give you in return?’
‘Nothing. Well—’ a faint blush tinged Kathleen’s cheeks. ‘I don’t suppose… No. Forget it.’
‘Tell me. You’ve been so kind. If there’s anything I can do in return I’d love to help.’
‘You couldn’t get Leonard Steele’s autograph for me, could you?’
It took all of Jess’s acting experience to keep her smile from fading. ‘I’ll make sure of it,’ she promised, ‘even if I have to camp outside his dressing room.’
Jess left Stoneleigh and Swift with a newspaper-wrapped cup and saucer in one hand and swinging the violin case in the other. While she couldn’t wait to see Milan’s expression when she presented it to him, she dreaded approaching Leo for the autograph. Leonard Steele wasn’t a man to give something away for nothing.
Chapter Eight
Jess’s promise to Kathleen weighed heavily on her mind the next morning as they crossed the extensive grounds of Hill House on their way to t
he Filter Room. Her feet dragged. The last thing she wanted to do was speak to Leo again.
‘Careful, Jess,’ Evie said. ‘I nearly walked into you. Whatever is the matter with you this morning?’
‘It’s obvious,’ May said, strolling up beside them. ‘Her head’s full of Milan and how he’s going to thank her for the violin.’
If only she had the luxury of daydreaming about Milan. It had been impossible to hide the violin from Evie and May when she had arrived back at the mess the previous afternoon, so she’d been forced to tell them the whole tale. Both of her friends had been convinced getting Milan the violin was a huge romantic gesture instead of, as Jess tried to convince them, a complete accident. Still, while they were fixated on her relationship with Milan, perhaps it would distract them from questioning her too thoroughly about Leo when she was forced to reveal she knew him.
Evie and May were still teasing her when they entered the Filter Room. Jess, as was her habit, glanced at the sector clock the moment she took her position. This helped her make sense quickly of the order of the various tracks on the table. As she glanced up, something looked out of place on the balcony, making her look twice. A cameraman in RAF uniform was setting up a film camera on its tripod. A uniformed woman was handling a powerful lamp, shining it where the cameraman indicated. She didn’t know how the film makers had persuaded the top brass to let them film in the Filter Room, but judging from the expressions on the faces of the Controller and Filter Officer, they weren’t happy at having their domain taken over. Jess automatically put her hand to her head to check her hair was in place. She was glad she had taken extra care with her hair and makeup that morning. Despite her various worries, she couldn’t deny the excitement prickling her spine at the prospect of being involved, in however small a way, in a film that would soon hit the cinemas. While she might have been forced to leave behind the world of acting, she had never forgotten its allure and the way the most mundane of actions made the pulse quicken when they were part of a play or film. As she examined the table, she was painfully aware of the camera and found she had the same heightened sense of awareness of her posture, actions and expression that she always felt when she was acting.
The Controller addressed A Watch as they took their places. ‘You will notice we have visitors today. Rest assured they have signed the Official Secrets Act and won’t be recording sound. As I’m sure you’ve heard, NMG Films are making a picture about the Battle of Britain and have been given special permission to film scenes with real men and women of the RAF and WAAF in the background. All we ask is that you do your jobs as normal and don’t look at the camera.’
Once Jess had relieved her counterpart from C Watch, there was little time for self-consciousness. Several ‘Divers’ were reported in short order, and she was fully occupied in tracking them and ensuring accurate information reached the gunners at the coast. As ever, she felt a spike of fear when flying bombs appeared on the track and could never rest easy until word came back they had been destroyed. Although London was huge, she was always conscious of a dread that this one, if it got past the defences on the coast, would hit the house in Poplar where Vera and Hannah were.
During a lull in the action in the early afternoon, she was relieved for a short break. Having been too worked up to manage much breakfast, she was now aware of a gnawing ache in her stomach. If she was quick, she would have time for a bite to eat at the canteen. Pulling on her cap, she hurried across the gardens to Hill House and climbed the stairs to the third floor.
Getting food from this canteen was something of a gamble. Last week she had been offered marmite and cabbage sandwiches. Today, when she sat at an empty table with a plate of sandwiches and a cup of tea, she gingerly prised apart the curling bread on her plate to see what delights awaited her. It looked like spam and onion. With a mental shrug, she took a bite. It should keep Leo at arm’s length if she saw him this afternoon.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the man himself appeared at the entrance of the canteen. He paused for a moment, perfectly framed in the doorway, and a ripple of whispers worked its way through the canteen as WAAFs nudged neighbours, and heads turned to regard the handsome star.
Leo’s gaze fell on Jess. He strode through the room, pausing to smile and wink at the giggling WAAFs as he passed, but never allowing himself to be diverted from his goal. Jess put her sandwich down, praying her lipstick hadn’t smudged. The next moment she was hating herself for having that thought. She wasn’t interested in Leo any more, so why worry about her appearance?
‘Well, well, well,’ Leo said, pulling out a chair opposite Jess and sitting down. ‘Two days in a row. One could almost believe we were fated to be together.’
Once again, Jess was at a loss as to why he would single her out after she had left him without a word all those years ago. She’d salved her conscience at the time by telling herself he had regarded her as no more than a pleasant diversion; now she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt. Had she meant more to him than she’d suspected? She bit back a retort about fate not having to work too hard to bring two people together in a canteen at lunchtime. Instead, she forced a smile and said, ‘I’m glad to see you again, Leo. I wanted to apologise for yesterday. You caught me at a bad moment – I’d had a difficult night on duty.’
He gave a magnanimous wave of the hand. ‘No need to apologise. I quite understand. Filing cabinet drawer got jammed?’
It took a moment for Jess to unclench the muscles in her jaw enough to answer. ‘Something like that.’ It was only the thought of Kathleen Swift’s request that prevented her from making a sharp reply. That and the suspicion that his persistence in putting down her work might be his way of getting his own back from any hurt she had caused him. ‘Anyway, I’m glad to see you today. I was hoping you would do me a favour.’ She raised her voice a little. Loud enough to be heard by the WAAFs at neighbouring tables who were, not very subtly, angling their heads to overhear their conversation. ‘I met a woman yesterday who had lost her son – he was a bomber pilot. When she heard you were here, she asked if I would get your autograph for her. It would really brighten her day to know you were thinking of her.’
‘Of course.’ Leo pulled a dog-eared notebook from his pocket. For a moment Jess thought he would scrawl his name on a piece of the tatty paper and hand it to her. ‘What’s her name?’ he asked, pen poised. ‘I have some personalised cards back in my hotel room.’ From the way he angled his body, Jess knew he was speaking more for the benefit of the onlookers than her. ‘I can write her a personalised note if you would deliver it for me.’
He jotted down the name and replaced the pad and pen in his pocket with a flourish. Then he leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ‘I’ll give it to you over dinner tonight.’
Wonderful. A whole evening with the man whose mere presence was a constant reminder of her shameful past. Remembering Kathleen Swift’s tear-streaked face, however, she could hardly refuse. She could still drive a bargain, though. ‘I’ll gladly have dinner with you,’ she said. ‘We can pop into Mrs Swift’s shop on the way so you can give her your card in person.’ Again, she spoke loud enough for others to hear without making it obvious.
Leo’s smile didn’t waver for an instant. ‘I would be only too happy to meet her. It’s the least I can do after her sad loss.’
* * *
If Leo had been less than enthusiastic about meeting Kathleen Swift, he had the good grace not to show it when they popped into Stoneleigh and Swift Antiques that evening. Kathleen was standing beside the door, her hand on the door sign, obviously about to switch it to the ‘Closed’ side. Her face turned the same scarlet as Jess’s lipstick when she saw who was there. The sign dropped from her fingers and clattered on the floor.
‘May we come in?’ Jess asked. ‘When Mr Steele heard of your sad loss and your kindness to me, he said he’d like to bring you his autograph in person.’ She smiled sweetly at Leo, silently vowing she would make his life a misery if he act
ed as anything other than delighted about meeting a fan in person.
She needn’t have worried. Once Kathleen had recovered enough to step away from the door and let them in, Leo stepped over the threshold, placed a hand on Kathleen’s shoulder and gazed into her eyes. ‘My deepest sympathies for your sad loss,’ he said, his voice throbbing with concern. ‘I’ve had the honour of working with several bomber crews, and so when Jess told me the mother of one of those gallant young men was nearby, I had to come and pay my respects.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card he had written out for her. It had his photograph on the front.
Kathleen took it, her eyes shining, and stammered out a few words of thanks. Jess knew that Kathleen would remember this moment for the rest of her life and would always treasure Leo’s card. Kathleen had been too overcome to talk much, but Leo had done more than enough talking for the two of them, expressing his sympathy for Kathleen’s loss, paying tribute to the brave bomber pilots and their crews and even, when Jess had mentioned that Kathleen’s husband was in the RAF as ground crew, praising the men who kept the RAF in the skies with their hard work, calling them unsung heroes. Jess forbore to mention the hard work of the WAAFs.
Finally Leo took his leave, kissing Kathleen’s hand with a gallantry Jess was sure he had borrowed from his film, Knight of the Cross. Jess had been about to follow him outside when Kathleen stopped her. ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ she said. ‘When you said you might get his autograph, I never dreamed – well, this is a day that will live long in my memory.’
‘It was a pleasure,’ Jess replied. ‘The debt is still firmly on my side after your kindness with the violin.’
‘Oh, I should have asked,’ Kathleen said. ‘Seeing Leonard Steele at my door quite drove it from my head. How did your young man like the violin?’