London Dawn

by Murray Pura

  “Do you mean that?”

  He smiled and opened the door for her. “I do mean it. Come on. Let’s have a bit of a race.”

  “Oh, I can’t pedal fast in a skirt.”

  “No excuses from the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force.”

  Back at her room, Jane washed up, pulled on her pajamas, and climbed into bed but did not find sleep. When Alice came in at midnight she was still awake.

  “How was it?” Jane asked.

  “It was an adventure, I’ll say that.” Alice sat on Jane’s bed. “How about you?”

  “Fish and chips, a chat, and home.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s all I wanted.”

  “Well, you don’t look like a person who’s satisfied.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Sure sign of love.”

  Jane made a face. “I want him to be close to me, but then I don’t want him to be close to me. I want to chat with him, but then I don’t want to chat with him. I’m only certain about one thing—I have no wish for him to die like his brothers.”

  “I expect that’s the biggest barrier, isn’t it? Flying Officer Cigarette—Albert—told me he thinks they’ll be doing this ‘leaning into France’ stuff for months to come.” Alice gripped one of Jane’s hands. “To my mind, you have one of two choices, my dear. Take him in your arms—”

  “I don’t want to take him in my arms.”

  “—or shun him completely. Nothing else will do. You’re either in for a penny, in for a pound, or you’re not in at all.”

  “Then I’m not in at all.”

  “Fine, love. I’ll back your request to be assigned to other bases when it comes to ferrying aircraft. Any other air bases but this one.”

  Jane exhaled slowly. “Suits me.”

  For more than a month Jane flew aircraft to other airfields that were “leaning into France” and carrying out Circuses. As she met and spent time with different pilots and touched down at different airstrips, she was confident Billy Sweet would eventually be dislodged from her thoughts and feelings. But a day came when Margaret and Alice were both so ill from the flu they couldn’t climb into their Spitfire Mark Vs, let alone ferry them to Hunters Down. Jane and another WAAF, Shirley Thomas, were ordered to take the Spitfires to Hampshire and Hunters Down. As Jane flew, she rehearsed what she would do when she reached Billy’s air base.

  I shall land the plane and go immediately to my room and to bed. I shall not see anyone and shall leave orders that I’m not to be disturbed. In the morning I’ll be up and gone, and that will be that.

  As she circled Hunters Down and began to descend, she saw Billy getting into his Spitfire. He hadn’t put his leather flight helmet on yet, and his shock of bright hair was obvious. She looked away but not soon enough. A warmth went through her from head to foot, and for a brief moment she imagined what it would be like if he wrapped his arms about her and held her with so much strength she could barely get her breath. She pushed the warmth and the daydream out of her.

  No. Absolutely not.

  Shortly after she landed, Billy took off with three other Spitfires.

  It was four in the afternoon. Shirley wanted to nap, so Jane took a bicycle, pedaled to the village on her own, ordered fish and chips at the pub, and lingered over her tea, trying to empty her mind of intrusive images of Billy. When a couple kissed briefly at a table nearby, the sensation of what Billy’s lips might be like on hers flashed across her mind. The force of it made her bow her head, close her eyes, and take a deep breath.

  This is ridiculous. He’s just a boy.

  She cycled around the village a half hour and headed to the base in a silvery glow of spring light. She saw immediately that the four Spitfires hadn’t returned. She glanced at her watch. It was after six.

  “Come on then,” she murmured as she leaned her bike by her door. “What’s keeping you?”

  The silver vanished from the sky, and the light dimmed. Three white gulls called to each other and swung over the base. She folded her arms over her chest and uniform tunic and waited. After five minutes she decided to go inside and lie down. But she never budged from where she was standing.

  “Here they come,” a man’s voice called out. “All four. Jolly good.”

  The pitch of their engines was solid. Jane watched the first of them come in, lower its wheels, and do the Spitfire bounce.

  That’s it then. I shall go and have a lie down.

  But she remained where she was, arms folded across her chest.

  Billy was the last one out of his plane. He stood talking with two members of his ground crew a few minutes. They examined the tail of his Spitfire. She could see two bullet holes in it.

  This is precisely why we can’t have a relationship. Death is always knocking at the door.

  But a moment later she had other thoughts. Oh, hurry up, will you? I’m chilled. I just want to say hello and do the polite thing. Then I’d like a good long sleep.

  She saw him laugh and run his hand through his hair and clap a fellow pilot on the shoulder. The smile instantly made heat go through her. It felt as if someone had started a Rolls Royce Merlin V12 in her chest and rammed the throttle forward.

  Almost fifteen hundred horsepower. Dear Lord, I really can’t take this anymore. If he dies, he dies. If he lives, he lives. But I want him. It’s madness…it honestly is madness, but I want him very much.

  The intelligence officer spoke with Billy. Other pilots from the squadron crowded around and chatted while he filled out a green form. Jane remained rooted by her door. Finally Billy and the others started heading for the Officers’ Mess. In half a minute he was almost out of sight. Jane bit her lip and made her decision. She stepped out into the open.

  “Hullo! Billy Sweet!”

  Billy stopped and looked. “Jane? Did you ferry aircraft in this afternoon?”

  “I did!”

  “I’m just going to have a sit down with the lads. Can we go to the pub for fish and chips in an hour? It’s good to see you. I thought you were never coming back.”

  Billy Sweet! Are you doing this to annoy me or are you really that daft? “Actually, Billy, if I could see you for half a minute…I have news from London.”

  “News from London? Is something up?” He started toward Jane and glanced back at his companions. “Meet you in the Mess.” He made his way to her side, all smiles gone. “Is something wrong then? Bad news from Terry or Owen or one of the boys at King’s Cross?”

  “Oh, there’s something wrong all right. There’s a lot wrong. But nothing that can’t be fixed by the right person with the right amount of time on his hands.”

  “What?”

  She pulled him out of sight behind the building. Her first kiss was short but strong, and she drew back after a minute, listening to her breath, listening to his breath, measuring the pace of her heart and how she felt from top to bottom.

  His face was flushed. “What’s going on?”

  “Is it so difficult to figure out, Flying Officer Sweet?” She put both arms around him. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  Her grip on him strengthened, and then he took the initiative, gathered her face and night-black hair into both hands, and leaned in to kiss her. Jane didn’t know how to respond. Peter or James, even in their most passionate moments, had never been this volcanic. She clung to his back as if she were going to fall from a great height.

  12

  May 1, 1941

  RAF Hunters Down

  Dear Eva,

  I’m dashing this off before bed. I haven’t told anyone else, but I wanted to tell you. It’s Billy—yes, Billy Sweet. I know, it’s mad, absolutely mad, and I have no idea how his mum and dad are going to take this. First the eldest two sons. And now the last of the lot, their pride and joy. I fought it—believe me, I fought it tooth and nail, and if it hadn’t been for ferrying aircraft down to his base, all might have been well. But he so much wants to take care of me, to take over where the twins left off,
to do for me what they weren’t able to do. And he is so tender, so manly and boyish and rugged and all kinds of sweetness rolled into one. Yes, I know he could get killed. But I would rather have his love now and lose it, if that has to happen, than never to be loved by him at all. I always thought he was just a child—you know how it is, the kid brother. Now he’s almost more than I can handle, and I’m supposed to be the older and more mature partner. I’m really quite dizzy about it all.

  Have to get up early for my ride back from the base, so must say goodbye for now. Please tell me how things are with Owen. It was a kind of explosion when it happened with him, wasn’t it? And you’re the older of the pair of you, aren’t you? How is all that working out? You must miss him terribly. At least Billy and I are only miles apart, not oceans apart. I pray for you. Please write because I don’t know who else to talk to about all this. I really don’t know if my mum will approve of this at all.

  Love,

  Jane

  May 7, 1941

  Camden Lock, London

  Dear Jane,

  Can you imagine? I just got back from the worst night to find a letter from you and another from Owen. Love is in the air despite all that war tries to do! I’m so happy for you, Jane—you’ve had such a rough go, and Billy really is a darling. I’ll pray for the two of you. Things will work out, I know it, just as they have with Owen and me. Who says the woman must always be the younger one? That’s what Grandfather told me once while we were out sailing. I’m sure Billy’s parents will get over any discomfort they feel once they see how happy he is. After all, you had nothing to do with what happened to the twins. You loved them both to the end. You can bring nothing but good back into Aunt Emma and Uncle Jeremy’s lives. And do write your mum. I’m sure Aunt Libby will be thrilled.

  As for Owen and me, oceans apart or not, we get along famously. For a long time he was hanging about Birkenhead, and I actually got to see him once or twice when he was on leave, sirens wailing and bombs dropping all around us here. But his ship was finished at the end of March, and now he’s up north at Scapa Flow. But never mind, Owen writes quite a lot, and his letters are full of beautiful poetry.

  He’s adorable. I’m always hoping the Prince of Wales will show up in Portsmouth one day and he’ll have another seventy-two hour leave. But I know that’s not going to happen while Bismarck is at Gotenhafen and hoping to slip out past Sweden and Norway into the Atlantic. So until that’s settled, up north my beloved sits, while I am down here with the German bombers and the ruined buildings and the rubble. But the Nazis will not have their way forever. And one day Owen shall be in my arms again and Billy in yours, and nothing and no one shall separate any of us. What do you say to a double wedding ceremony later this year?

  Write again. And write your mum.

  Love,

  Eva

  May 22, 1941

  Caroline and Victoria’s townhouse, Camden Lock, London

  “Aunt Libby? Hullo?”

  “Hullo. This is Libby Fordyce.”

  “Oh. Aunt Libby. I’m glad I’ve got you on the phone. I’ve been writing Jane quite a bit. Have you heard from her?”

  “Is that you, Eva? Yes, yes, I have.”

  “Has she said anything?”

  Libby laughed. “She’s said an awful lot if you mean Billy Sweet.”

  “Oh. How do you feel about that?”

  “I feel fine, Eva. So do Em and Jeremy. Really, Jane’s one of the finest girls in the world. You needn’t hold the secret close to your heart any longer.”

  “I’m so glad to hear this,” Eva said into the phone.

  “It’s something on the order of wonderful, isn’t it? I must thank you for being such a good friend to Jane.”

  “I so look forward to seeing her again, Aunt Libby. And having the four of us—Owen and me and Jane and Billy—embark on some sort of grand outing together.”

  “Do you think you’ll have time for that with this big war going on, Jane?”

  “A three-day leave is all we need to do something spectacular.”

  Sirens began to howl.

  “Oh, Aunt Lib, I have to run and grab my helmet and rush out the door. There’s our night raid. Leave a message for Aunt Char, will you? I’ve had a letter from Owen and he’s doing very well up in the Orkneys, though he does complain about the wind. He’s seen his father on two occasions in port, and Lord Edward is at the top of his game, he says. So please tell her the Danforth men are getting along very well while they wait patiently upon the German Navy to move its queen and bishop.”

  “I shall tell her.”

  “Aunt Lib, he’s seen your husband too; they even had a meal together, all three of them, Terry, Edward, and Owen. Uncle Terry called it the Orkney Family Reunion. He was quite the card, Owen says. Had them all in stitches—yes, even oh-so-serious Uncle Edward! Such stories they’ll have to tell us.”

  “They shall indeed.”

  “Our ARP lorry is here and Charles is shouting for me. Uncle Terry was in the best of health. You ought to get into that shelter in the backyard now, Aunt Lib.”

  “I shall do. God bless you, Eva.”

  “He was in the very best of health. God go with you too.”

  At noon the next day, Eva turned over in bed, opened her eyes momentarily, closed them again, settled under her blankets, then suddenly lifted her head and sat up.

  “Grandfather.”

  Lord Preston sat in a chair beside her. He smiled. “Hullo, my dear.”

  She leaned over and hugged him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wasn’t sure when you might wake up. I know you had a very late night just as you always do when there’s a raid.”

  She looked at his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I came to bring you news. It will be in the papers tonight or tomorrow. But I wished for you to hear it before that.”

  She waited, hands still on his arms.

  “Bismarck and Prinz Eugen have left port. They’ve been out for days. The Swedes have spotted them, and the RAF has photographed them.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “I expect they’re preparing to make a dash through the Denmark Strait and into the open Atlantic.”

  Her face lost its color. “There will be a fight, won’t there? And my Owen will be in it.”

  “Certainly there must be a fight. The Bismarck is a monster on the loose and would blast our convoys and their escorts out of existence. Without the convoys bringing supplies from Canada and Newfoundland we are finished. And certainly our Owen will be in it. HMS Prince of Wales and six destroyers have been dispatched from Scapa Flow to deal with Bismarck. Your Uncle Terry will be in it as well. The Hood has been dispatched to the Denmark Strait in addition to the Prince of Wales.”

  “Are they enough?”

  “I don’t know. Bismarck hasn’t been out of the shipbuilders’ yard a year. She’s brand-new. Hood is a strong ship but she’s an old ship, my dear. Your Uncle Terry often said it needed an overhaul from stem to stern—its armor plating, its guns, its engines.”

  “What about Rodney? She’s quite new, isn’t she? Owen says she has sixteen-inch guns.”

  “Rodney is more than ten years old, but I agree with you. She should be in the Denmark Strait.”

  “Why isn’t she?”

  “She’s on convoy duty. On her way to Halifax.” Lord Preston patted Eva on the hand. “Let us remember your Owen’s ship is quite the newest of them all. Not even been at sea two months. She has fourteen-inch guns like King George the Fifth. Ten of them. Not the fifteen-inch guns of Bismarck or Hood, but well capable of inflicting serious damage on anything afloat. And well out-powering the eight-inch guns of the Prinz Eugen. You have nothing to fret about on that score.”

  He saw the fear working its way around her eyes like a drop of water.

  “My dear, the fight has been a clash of wills in the air for so many months, hasn’t it? Yes, it has been on the land too when it comes to Egypt, Cr
ete, and Greece. But here on our island home it has been a ‘tumult in the clouds,’ as the poet puts it. Now it shall be a battle of wills on the high seas. And that’s only fitting. At sea our navy has saved Britain again and again. It must do so once more by the grace of God.”

  The fear continued to roam her face and eyes, looking for a way out. He clasped both her hands in his.

  “Forgive me for prattling on like the old man that I am. Our family has stood on prayer for generations, through storm and shadow as well as marvelous seasons of abundant light. It must do so again. And you are part of that family now.”

  Eva hung her head. “I wish I had never marched. Never taken the oath of allegiance to Adolf Hitler. I wish the Nazis had never been allowed to come to power in my country and that the Bismarck had never been built.”

  “I know, my dear. Believe me, the same thing might have happened here if Mosley had had his way. But I don’t for a minute believe Germany will remain under Herr Hitler’s rule, not for a minute. Brave men like your father will never yield to despotism.”

  “I don’t even know if he’s dead or alive.”

  “My sources assure me he is alive and has not been discovered by Himmler and the SS.”

  “I felt he treated me harshly. Therefore I have treated him harshly. I wish I could sit down and have a long talk with him. I’m not the woman I was in Nazi Germany.”

  “He reaches out to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Letters have come by means of diplomatic pouch from the American embassy in Berlin to their embassy here in London.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Harrison actually informed you twice. He thought you were going to scratch his eyes out.”

  She put both hands over her face. “Mein Gott es tut mir leid.” Her voice was muffled by her hands. “I’m so sorry.” She looked up at Lord Preston. “I should like to read the letters now. Is that possible?”

  He nodded. “It is indeed possible. As God would have it I placed those letters in my rooms at Ashton Park. They were not destroyed when Kensington Gate and the entire neighborhood was blown up by the mine.”