Some Day I'll Find You

by Richard Madeley

  He was interrupted by the telephone in the hall.

  ‘That’ll be them, pound to a penny. You take it, John.’

  As their son strode from the room, followed by Lucy, Mr Arnold and his wife stared at each other. There were tears in Gwen’s eyes, and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

  ‘I didn’t expect it would feel quite like this, Oliver, when it came to it,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean, dear?’

  ‘That I would feel – well, so enormously proud of him. I’m actually not afraid at all. I’m just proud.’

  John rushed back into the room. ‘Yup, that was Upminster all right. Immediate recall, as of yesterday! I’m off. I’ll ring you as soon as I know what’s happening. Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad.’

  ‘Goodbye, darling,’ said Gwen, hugging him tight. ‘You’ll be all right. I know you will.’

  ‘Of course I will. We all will. I keep telling you.’

  His father had found his keys. ‘I’ll open the garage for your bike. Do you have enough petrol to get back? I’ve a couple of jerry cans you can have.’

  ‘I’ve plenty. But thanks, Dad.’ John hesitated, and then looked steadily at them both.

  ‘Look, you’re not to worry, either of you. Practice makes perfect, and I’ve had heaps of it. Everything’s going to be fine.’

  The silence that followed this was broken by Lucy, who almost ran into the room.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she panted, ‘but I’ve brought your bag downstairs. You’d only unpacked a few things and I think I’ve put them all back.’

  The three of them came to the door to see him off. There was a light dusting of snow on the gravel drive and Mr Arnold called to his son as he wheeled his motor bike out from the garage: ‘Mind you don’t skid!’

  John grinned, eyes shielded behind goggles. ‘Dad, if I can manage not to prang a Spitfire, I can manage this thing, trust me. Bye, everyone!’

  And with a deafening roar and a back-spray of snow and gravel, he was gone.

  19

  Over a hundred miles north, Cambridge was under three inches of snow. It had begun falling in earnest as James Blackwell swung his little car under Girton’s gate-house, and pulled up, looking for somewhere to park. A porter came puffing up behind him and rapped on the driver’s window.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, you can’t come in here,’ he said. ‘No visitors after dark, without a pass. I must ask you to leave the college precincts immediately.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said James. He enjoyed this kind of confrontation with functionaries. All one had to do was speak complete nonsense in a confident tone to assert control.

  ‘I’m here on RAF business,’ he said pleasantly, briefly showing his leave-pass. ‘The Dean asked me to pop up here personally to discuss the forces’ mentoring scheme for quasi-undergrads. It’s all covered under section six of the putative war dispensation procedures. Now, where can I park? I’m already late, thanks to this bloody snow.’

  The porter blinked. ‘Well, if it’s like that, sir, I suppose you can take one of the faculty spaces up there to the right – but I’m surprised no one told me you were coming.’

  ‘Not a problem, old chap. There’s a war on. Everything’s fouled up. You’ll get the paperwork tomorrow, rest easy. Park over there, d’you say? Thanks.’ The MG chugged away.

  Christ, it was just too bloody easy, sometimes.

  He pulled up next to a large grey Wolseley – God, what were these poncey lecturers on to afford cars like this? – and stepped out of his tiny two-seater. The freshly falling snow had an antiseptic aroma and gave the college buildings an added lustre. Even his mother’s grimy Whitechapel garret looked better under a fresh covering of snow – until London coal-smoke turned it a dirty grey.

  Here at Girton, the transformation was safe from metropolitan grime. Diana’s college looked like the illustration on a Christmas card. But where was he to find her? He noticed a figure walking diagonally across the quadrangle, head down against the strengthening blizzard.

  ‘Hello there! Excuse me!’

  The figure turned towards him, uncertainly. ‘Hello yourself!’ came a faint voice. ‘Can I help? Sorry, I can’t see you too well – my eyelashes are full of snowflakes.’

  James laughed. ‘Mine too . . . I’m looking for Diana Arnold . . . well, her rooms, at any rate.’

  ‘Then you’ve come to the right shop.’ The figure materialised out of the snow and dusk. She was blonde, rosy-cheeked, short and dumpy, wrapped up thickly in coat and scarf. She looked exactly like a Russian doll, James thought.

  ‘I’m Sally, Diana’s friend. Who are you? How did you get past our fearsome gatekeeper?’

  James shrugged. ‘I lied through my teeth,’ he admitted, putting out his hand. ‘James Blackwell. Flight Commander Blackwell, actually. I’m here to take Diana out to dinner.’

  Sally gaped. ‘You’re him? Good grief, I was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of Diana’s imagination. She’s been prattling on about you since last autumn, but every time you were supposed to put in an appearance . . .’

  ‘I flunked it, I know,’ said James. ‘Not my fault, I swear. Entirely Adolf’s. Well, the Air Ministry’s, actually. Anyway – can you take me to her before you and I both turn into snowmen?’

  Sally squinted at him through the drifting flakes. ‘I won’t take you to her. I wouldn’t want to spoil the moment. I’ll tell you the way, though.’ She pointed to an arch. ‘Through there, left, and left again at the first corridor. All the rooms at Girton are laid out along horizontal passages. You can’t go wrong. Diana’s is the first door on the right after that second turn.’

  She brushed away the snow from her hair and forehead and stepped forward, looking at him properly in the face for the first time.

  ‘You’re . . . well, you’re all right, aren’t you?’ she asked, in a flatter tone. ‘Diana isn’t just my friend; she’s damn special. She’s special to all of us here, actually. And we all take care of each other. You should know that. You’ve been a long time coming, Mr Blackwell.’

  He stared calmly back at her, holding her eyes with his own until she looked away.

  ‘Yes, I’m all right,’ he said quietly. Sally had to lean forward to hear him. ‘And I agree, Diana is . . . bloody special. Which is why I’m here. OK?’

  She relaxed a little, and raised her eyes to his again. ‘OK. But be warned, Flight Commander. You’re at Girton. Mess around with one of us at your peril. Here, we’ve been fighting for over half a century to get women up to the same level that men casually occupy as of right. We’re sick of inequality and intellectual snobbery and being looked down upon. We want our due.’

  He raised gloved hands in mock defensiveness.

  ‘My dear Sally . . . You have absolutely no idea how much you and I have in common.’

  Diana was expecting James to stop at the gate-house and send a porter to let her know he’d arrived. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would talk his way in, so when she heard a knock at her door she assumed it was one of the college servants.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she called, pulling on her coat, hat and gloves and dropping a pack of cigarettes into her handbag. She switched out the light and opened the door.

  ‘Miss Arnold, I presume? It’s been so long I’m not sure I’d recognise her.’

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ Diana stepped back into her room. ‘James! How on earth did you get into college?’

  ‘Everyone keeps asking me that,’ he grumbled. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’

  Diana giggled. ‘Of course I am. You took me by surprise, that’s all. I was expecting an elderly porter with hair sprouting out of his ears, not a conquering hero.’

  ‘I’m hardly that,’ he replied as she put the light back on and motioned him inside. ‘None of us are. If it wasn’t for the newspapers to remind us, you wouldn’t know we were at war at all. Perhaps Mr Hitler’s forgotten all about us.’

  Diana closed the door and they stared at each other for
a moment.

  James’s cap and shoulders, Diana saw, were white with snow. It was far too chilly in the college corridors for the flakes to have even begun to melt yet. His blue eyes glittered out at her from under the cap’s peak, and his cheeks glowed with the cold of outside. He was grinning at her with something like triumph. Diana felt her heart miss a beat.

  To James, Diana looked sensational in her belted, French-style raincoat and bright red leather gloves. She was wearing fur-trimmed bootees, and a red cloche hat to match the gloves. Her green eyes were fixed on his and for a long moment, neither of them seemed able to speak.

  It was Diana who broke the silence.

  ‘Well,’ she said at last. ‘This feels rather peculiar, doesn’t it? We’ve only actually met that one time, and here you are in Cambridge, and in my room.’

  He looked around him. ‘And a very cosy room it is too, if I may say so. Did you bring the furniture and paintings from home?’

  ‘Sort of. Daddy sent a man with a van.’

  ‘Hmm, well, it knocks my Officers’ Mess into a cocked hat, I can tell you. And yes, all right, it does seem a bit strange to be here at last, I’ll admit. Although if I’d been able to get up to Cambridge last autumn I’m sure neither of us would be feeling the least bit peculiar.’

  They sat down a little awkwardly at either end of a pretty chintz sofa. Diana cocked her head. ‘Why were you so keen to come? I don’t think we spoke two words alone together when you came down to the house with John, and the next thing I knew you were ringing me up asking me out to dinner.’

  He reached into one of the deep side-pockets of his coat. ‘I’ll keep this on, if you don’t mind. I’m bloody freezing from the car.’ He found the cigarettes he was fishing for. ‘Want one?’

  She nodded. He lit two, and passed hers across.

  ‘OK, well, let’s see. Why did I ask to see you again? You know, for a Girton girl you’re a bit slow, I must say. I thought you had to be brainy to get in here.’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘The answer’s rather obvious, isn’t it? We may have spent only – what was it, three or four hours in total in each other’s company? But I thought you were the most interesting, attractive girl I’d ever met. Still do. Simple as that; it isn’t complicated. You’re funny and clever and absurdly beautiful. There, I wasn’t going to say any of that for ages, but you did ask. And now you’re blushing.’

  ‘Well, you’ve made me! What do you expect? Oh God . . . I’m completely lost for words, I’m afraid. No one’s ever said anything remotely like that to me before.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Then it was about time. Anyway, I was wondering how we were going to break the ice, and you just went and gave me the perfect opportunity. We can both relax from here; I’ve been outrageously forward, you’ve blushed: now we can get on. Everything after this can be frivolous chit-chat and gossip. Come on, I’ve booked us a table at The Eagle in town. Shall we leave? I’ve had nothing since breakfast and I’m starving.’

  As they stood up, Diana began to laugh.

  ‘What? What is it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, pushing him from the room and locking the door behind them. ‘It’s just that of all the different ways I imagined this evening beginning, I never once thought it would happen like this. You’re extraordinary.’

  ‘Good,’ he said as they linked arms and walked to his car. ‘I’ve always thought life should be full of surprises. As long as they’re nice ones.’ They entered the quadrangle. ‘Bloody hell, look at this snow now. I’ll be lucky to get back to Essex tonight.’

  20

  As James and Diana were shown to their places in the old coaching inn’s busy restaurant, heads turned.

  ‘Blimey, look at them two,’ whispered one young waitress to another. ‘They look just like film stars, don’t you think?’

  Diana slipped off her coat and handed it with her hat and gloves to the head waiter, who was all fussing attendance. Underneath she was wearing a pale blue jumper with a matching silk scarf tied loosely at her throat. Her plaid skirt was a deeper blue and fell just below the knee. Her dark hair swung briefly across her face as she sat down, and as she absently pushed it back with one hand, the man had to suppress a little gasp. This was the most beautiful young woman he could remember ever coming to his restaurant.

  Bloody hell, thought James to himself as he watched Diana studying the menu, she’s even more incredible than I remembered. Those eyes . . . they’re like emeralds. She looks like a fairy queen or a goddess. I must not mess this up.

  And suddenly, to his surprise, he found himself considering a change of tactics, a rare thing for him. Not in the larger picture, of course, but in tonight’s opening manoeuvres.

  After they had ordered, and Diana began to tell him about her life at Cambridge, confiding a little of her confusion about who she was and what she wanted out of life, James decided that he should pull back; extend the timetable. This girl was shrewd and quick (she’s probably as clever as I am, he thought) and she’d become suspicious if he rushed things. With the war going nowhere in a hurry, he probably had more time at his disposal than he’d first calculated.

  Even so, there was no harm in unrolling a little of his strategy tonight.

  The chance came when Diana suddenly put her hand to her cheek and exclaimed: ‘Oh, my goodness! Here I am clattering on and on about me, and I haven’t asked you anything about you! And what you’re doing is so much more important. You said you thought Adolf’s forgotten about us. I know you were joking, but do you believe the war might just, well, evaporate?’

  That was the last thing he wanted her to think. It would remove all the required urgency from the equation. Diana needed to believe he was facing dangers that, if not imminent, were fast approaching.

  ‘Well, don’t misunderstand my remark earlier. We are desperately bored and frustrated and longing to get stuck in. But I think things will start to hot up any day now, in every sense. One of the reasons it’s been so quiet is because the winter was incredibly long and hard, and even worse over on the continent. But despite this lot,’ he gestured at the snowflakes whirling past the window, ‘spring is pretty much here. I think he – Hitler, I mean – will make the first move. Then we’ll all be crying our eyes out for the phoney war.’

  Diana looked curiously at him. ‘Are you frightened? My brother seems extraordinarily sanguine about the whole thing.’

  James sipped his wine. This part had to be exactly right; this was where he planted the seed.

  ‘I’m not sure if I’m frightened or not . . . It all seems so unreal. The other day in the mess, my squadron leader said: “When it starts, boys, it’s going to be kill or be killed. Don’t forget that. Get the other bastard before he gets you.” And straight away the thought jumped into my head: some commanding officer somewhere in Germany right now is probably saying exactly the same thing to his pilots. So no, I’m not quite as sanguine as your John is, I’m afraid. But that isn’t the same as being scared . . . Oh, I don’t know, I’m blethering on a bit. But I do know one thing for certain.’

  He waited for her to ask.

  ‘What’s that?’

  James took another sip of wine. Careful, careful.

  He reached across the table and placed his hand gently over hers.

  ‘It seems to me that we can’t live the way we used to, people like you and me. There may not be the time. You asked why I was so keen to come up and see you last year and I told you the truth, but I left something out.’ He paused. This part had to be exactly right.

  ‘It’s simply this,’ he continued slowly. ‘I didn’t want to waste any time. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic or vainglorious, but I am a realist and I know it’s perfectly possible that I won’t come through what’s ahead. Before the war we’d have had all the time in the world to get to know each other, to see if we were suited. Now we have to move along more quickly; put things to the test much earlier than we might once have. I think everyone our age does these d
ays.’

  Diana stared at him. ‘I’m not sure I—’ she began, but he gave her a quick smile and shook his head.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not making an improper suggestion. Far from it. And I’m not about to tell you I adore you and only want to be with you until the end of my days. You’d think me mad, and you’d be right. I hardly know you. All I’m saying – and I’ve had the winter to think about this – is that if we decide to see each other, especially when I start flying real operations, not training flights or boring patrols, we might find ourselves wanting to . . . well, speed things up.’

  He sat back, drew a deep breath, and then exhaled loudly. ‘There. That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked him. ‘The second time you’ve done what?’

  ‘Told you something I had no intention of mentioning just yet. First in your room, about how I feel about you, and now this, about how our futures might play out. You’re pretty good at getting a chap to reveal his inner thoughts, Diana, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly not intentional, I can assure you,’ she said, half-laughing. ‘Mind if I smoke before pudding?’

  He shook his head and, once again, lit cigarettes for them both and waited.

  ‘I think I see what you’re getting at,’ said Diana eventually. ‘The war has changed things. Or rather, it will, if you’re right and things start to happen soon. And in any case, I haven’t been quite fair with you.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well . . .’ She took a long pull on her cigarette. ‘You’ve been very honest about what your first impressions of me were, and I’ve told you nothing of mine about you. My turn, then.’