by Vicki Beeby
Then her hearing cleared, and the scene came back into focus. She wasn’t hallucinating; Milan was still there, reaching out towards her.
‘Milan. What are you doing here?’ She was intensely aware that she and Milan were now the centre of attention, and every word they said was being written down. She didn’t care. All she cared was that Milan was there. She had one last chance to mend matters with him.
A reporter called out. ‘Is this the man you’re in love with.’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes.’
A sigh rippled around the crowd. Jess could see smiling faces, handkerchiefs dabbing at eyes. However, the only person whose reaction she cared one jot about was Milan. She looked him straight in the eyes as she said, ‘My heart was always his. I just didn’t realise until it was too late. Or I thought it was too late.’
Like spectators at a tennis match, heads swivelled to face Milan.
Milan didn’t tear his gaze from hers for an instant. ‘It is not too late,’ he said.
Jess thought her heart would burst, she didn’t think it was possible for it to contain such joy. There was no need now to force a smile. She didn’t think she would ever stop smiling.
‘I came to apologise,’ he said.
‘You don’t have to—’
‘Yes I do.’
Seeing there was no stopping him, she held her tongue. The crowd were definitely going to get more than they’d bargained for this evening.
‘This past year I have been torn,’ he said. ‘Torn between my duty to my family and my country and my love for you.’
Love. He still loved her. Her lips began to quiver; she pressed them together, determined not to embarrass herself by bursting into tears in front of their avid audience. It meant she couldn’t speak.
‘But I have been back to Czechoslovakia, and I have discovered that if I return there to live, my heart will never be whole because you would not be there. I will always love my country but I love you more. I did not say so before because I thought it was unfair to ask you to come with me to Czechoslovakia, and I thought I had nothing to offer you if I stayed in Britain.’
Jess approached the barrier. She spoke in a low voice, hoping no one could overhear. However, it was clear the observers were transfixed and holding their collective breath to catch every word. She gave a mental shrug and carried on. She would not leave until she had made it perfectly clear to Milan how much she loved him. ‘All I want from you is you,’ she said. ‘I love you as you are. Whatever you decide to do with your life, it won’t change my feelings for you.’
Milan gave a wry smile. ‘You must allow me my male pride,’ he said. ‘I would be ashamed if I could not earn my way. But you are right. The most important thing is making sure you know how I feel. All the rest we can work out later.’
He dropped to one knee. There were gasps from the crowd and Jess swore she heard a sob. She could have cried herself, but she blinked back the tears. The vision of Milan swam before her. He was bathed with the lights from the cinema, lit with bright flashes as photographers lined up the shots that would appear in tomorrow’s papers.
‘Jessica Josephine Jane Halloway, will you do me the honour of being my wife?’
The crowd drew a breath as one. All heads turned to face her. From the corner of her eye she saw Evie and May jumping up and down in the foyer, clapping their hands.
‘Yes, of course I will, you great numbskull.’
Applause and cheers split the air. So many flashes went off, Jess had her own private firework display seared onto her retinas.
Milan leapt over the barrier and swung Jess into his arms. If this was a film, now would be the perfect time to kiss her hero, so she did.
* * *
The church bells rang out as the west door was flung open and the two brides and their brand new grooms left the church in a hail of confetti. Jess, as maid of honour to both brides, was on the arm of the best man, who just happened to be Milan. She couldn’t resist glancing at her hand as it rested on Milan’s arm. As they walked out into the summer sunshine, the light caught in the trio of diamonds glinting from her new ring.
It was lovely to hear the bells pealing. After the church bells had been silenced for so long, she still thrilled every time she heard them.
She and Peggy, who had blossomed from a surly, unhappy eight-year-old to a pretty girl in her early teens since Jess had last seen her, helped Evie and May arrange their veils and bouquets for the photographs. Jess’s face ached from smiling, she was so happy for her friends; Evie and May looked as though they felt the same way. After the long years of the war, when they had feared some or all of them wouldn’t survive to see peace, they now had their reward.
‘It feels strange to be back in Amberton, does it not?’ Milan murmured to her as they stood back to allow Evie and Alex to stand on the church steps alone for their photograph.
‘I know what you mean,’ Jess said. ‘I keep expecting Flight Officer Ellerby to leap out from behind a tree to put me on a charge for being out of uniform.’ She couldn’t resist a glance down at the pretty floral dress May and Evie had insisted upon clubbing together to have made for her. It would double up as her going away outfit when she and Milan married in August.
‘It will always be a special place for me,’ Milan said. ‘It is where we met.’
‘You always know the right thing to say to a girl,’ Jess said. She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his lips. Milan slid an arm around her waist before she could pull away and deepened the kiss. Finally she escaped and swatted his arm. ‘Don’t you be getting fresh with me, Milan Mašek.’ But she shot him a smile that promised more kisses when they were out of the public eye.
‘I think Amberton would be a lovely place to live.’ Milan said. ‘What do you say? When I am not on tour and you are not encouraging new WAAFs to be their best selves, how would you like to have a home in Amberton to come to? We could have a room for Hannah, of course.’
For Milan had spoken to Douglas Murray to find the eminent composer had been enthusiastic about Milan’s potential as a concert violinist. Murray was working on a violin concerto, inspired by the performance Milan had given in Stanmore, and was keen for Milan to be the first to perform it. Of course, Milan was still in the RAF and was also applying for British citizenship, so was not yet free to perform, but it looked like all would go smoothly.
Jess looked around the village with a reminiscent smile, taking in the flint church, the pretty cottages and shops. ‘You know, I always thought I was a London girl through and through, but something about this place really gets to me. I think we could be happy here. And it would be wonderful to be able to offer Jack, Vera and Hannah a place to stay whenever they want a break from the noise of London.’
They had talked it over with Vera and decided that it would soon be time to tell her that Jess was her real mother. Much as Jess longed to be a mother to Hannah, there was no question of tearing her away from the only mother she had known and loved. Vera and Jack couldn’t have loved her any more had she been their true daughter, and it would have been cruel to separate them. Jess was determined to be the next best mother she could, however, and wanted Hannah to know she had two mothers who loved her with all their heart. Milan and Jess had decided to wait before trying for a family of their own, both wanting to make a good go of their careers first. Jess would be required to leave the WAAF if she became pregnant and wanted to leave on her terms after ensuring she had trained a good number of WAAFs to help with the work of rebuilding Europe.
At last the two happy couples had all the photographs they could wish for, and they retired to the Horse and Groom for lunch before each couple set off on their honeymoon. Walking into the snug was yet another homecoming. The three couples sat at a table beside the leaded bay window. The windows had been permanently covered for the blackout when they had last been there, so it was lovely to see the view out onto the village green.
Jess looked at her two friends, feeling a lump in
her throat. Although Evie and May were yet to be demobbed, both planned to leave the RAF as soon as possible. ‘Promise me here and now that we’ll never lose touch,’ she said, blinking back tears.
‘No worries about that,’ Evie said. ‘In fact, we should pledge to meet at least once a year, whatever happens.’
‘Agreed.’ May gave an emphatic nod.
‘I have news, though,’ Evie said. ‘I just heard from Somerville – they’re offering me a scholarship.’ Over the cheers of the others, she continued, ‘Alex will still be in the RAF, of course, but he’s going to apply for a posting near Oxford.’
‘Are you starting in October?’ May asked.
Evie shook her head. ‘I doubt I’ll be demobbed in time. No, I’ll start next year. I’ll get my maths degree after all.’
‘Attagirl, Evie!’ Jess raised her glass in a toast. ‘With all the study you’ve done over the years, you should have earned your degree within a month.’ She turned to May. ‘What about you, May? Any plans?’
May’s cheeks turned a little pink. ‘Well, Peter’s staying in the RAF, of course.’ Jess nodded. Like Alex, Peter had served in the RAF before the war. ‘I hope we’ll all be posted close together. I’m staying in the WAAF for now.’
‘What about your writing?’
‘I’m coming to that. I’ve written some short stories I’m really pleased with. I’m going to start sending them to magazines and newspapers and see how it goes.’
‘They’ll be mad not to snap ’em up.’ Jess was one of the few people May had dared to show her writing to and she had been impressed by the ease and skill with which May could weave enthralling stories. She had no doubt her friend would soon be in demand.
Then May clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Talking of newspapers,’ she said, ‘I nearly forgot. I read an article yesterday that might interest you.’ She turned to Peter. ‘Did you bring that cutting I gave you? Let Jess see it.’
Peter pulled a scrap of newspaper from his breast pocket and handed it over. Jess took it, puzzled, then exclaimed in surprise when she saw the headline. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘What?’ Evie leaned across the table, peering at the paper.
‘Read it out,’ May said, laughing.
Jess cleared her throat and began. ‘The headline says “Film actor flies to the Far East.” The article reads: “Film actor Leonard Steele, whose latest film, Knights of the Skies, was released last month to great acclaim—”’
‘Only because you were in it,’ May said. The others murmured their agreement.
Jess grinned at them before continuing. Although her desire for an acting career was over, she had been thrilled by the warm praise her performance had garnered. She felt she could now leave acting behind on a high. She turned back to the article. ‘Where was I? Oh, yes: “Film actor Leonard Steele, whose latest film, Knights of the Skies, was released last month to great acclaim, yesterday revealed he is retiring from acting to devote himself to service in the RAF. ‘Working on Knights of the Skies opened my eyes to the sterling work of the RAF,’ he said in an exclusive interview with our reporter. ‘I now know my heart lies in serving my country. As such, I will be remaining with the RAF after the war.’ He went on to reveal that he was preparing for a posting to the Far East and had no plans to return to acting.”’
Jess laughed. ‘I can’t help feeling his newfound desire for a foreign posting was due more to a desire to escape his creditors than to serve his country. Still, I wish him well.’
‘Long may he stay there,’ Milan said with a glint in his eye.
‘Hear, hear. But enough about Leo. Let’s forget about him.’ Jess raised her glass again and looked around the small group. ‘Here’s to ties of love and friendship. However many years pass, however many miles lie between us, may those ties grow ever stronger.’
As everyone raised their glasses, Jess beamed at her friends. They had come through the war stronger than ever. Whatever happened, and wherever they went, she knew they would never truly be apart.
Acknowledgements
I’ve avoided writing acknowledgements for my previous books, not because I don’t owe thanks to anyone for their help, but because I’m terrified of forgetting someone! However, with Victory for the Ops Room Girls being the last of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force series, I’m daring to take the plunge and write one for all three books.
Sadly there are not many left of the women and men who served in the WAAF and RAF during the war. However, I owe thanks to all who wrote accounts of their war years or contributed to the oral histories in the Imperial War Museum. In particular, I must mention Eileen Younghusband whose book, One Woman’s War, brings her experiences as a Filterer Officer to vivid life, and I couldn’t have written this book without it. Thanks also to Cosford RAF Museum, the Battle of Britain Bunker at Uxbridge and Bentley Priory Museum.
Writing is a lonely business at the best of times, and books two and three were mostly written during lockdown. Thank you to all my writing friends who helped keep me going and stay (relatively) sane, especially to all in the RNA Birmingham Chapter, my Apricot Plots buddies and the Wrekin Writers.
To my sisters-in-law, Jana and Katka, for all their help with the Czech language, history and culture. It goes without saying that any mistakes are all my own. I hope Katka will one day be able to forgive me for the insult to Moravians in book one.
I also have to say a huge thank you to my agent Lina Langlee for her enthusiasm, dedication and being the best cheerleader an author could hope for. Also to Julie Fergusson for ably taking over during Lina’s maternity leave. Finally, to editor extraordinaire, Emily Bedford and the whole team at Canelo, thank you for being a joy to work with.
About the Author
Vicki Beeby writes historical fiction about the friendships and loves of service women brought together by the Second World War. Her first job was as a civil engineer on a sewage treatment project, so things could only improve from there. Since then, she has worked as a maths teacher and education consultant before turning freelance to give herself more time to write. In her free time, when she can drag herself away from reading, she enjoys walking and travelling to far-off places by train. She lives in Shropshire in a house that doesn’t contain nearly enough bookshelves.
Also by Vicki Beeby
The Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
The Ops Room Girls
Christmas with the Ops Room Girls
Victory for the Ops Room Girls
First published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
31 Helen Road
Oxford OX2 0DF
United Kingdom
Copyright © Victoria Beeby, 2021
The moral right of Victoria Beeby writing as Vicki Beeby to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Ebook ISBN 9781800322042
Print ISBN 9781800322059
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Look for more great books at www.canelo.co
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