by Annie Groves
‘Very well, but you won’t make me say that it was Glen’s fault and I won’t be lying either,’ Ruthie told him fiercely. ‘Glen doesn’t play cards for money. He told me that his parents don’t approve of that kind of thing, and neither does he.’
Slowly and carefully, her voice trembling as she fought for the right words, she started to tell Glen’s commanding officer what had happened. It wasn’t easy. Several times she had to stop because she was too overcome by her emotions to continue.
‘What…what’s going to happen to Glen? Those other soldiers didn’t tell the truth, and it’s because of them—’
The colonel was standing up. ‘Thank you for your co-operation, Miss Philpott. My sergeant will see to it that you get a ride back home.’
As though by some sleight of hand, the office door opened and the sergeant was standing there waiting to escort her out.
Diane took a deep lungful of air. Walking past Chestnut Close’s allotment might not have had the same soothing effect as her favourite childhood walk through the Hertfordshire fields and then along the river bank, but at this time in the evening, when the air was still warm from the sun, there was just enough scent of the countryside in it to make her feel that if she closed her eyes she could almost be in the safe comfort of her childhood home. And she needed that comfort very badly at the moment. Apart from anything else, she doubted that she could have stood another minute of Myra’s boastful description of her weekend in London. But was it wise to give herself the opportunity to dwell on her own feelings? She paused to lean on the gate that led into the allotments. Beyond them a goods train, heavily laden, chuffed slowly towards the railing siding in Edge Hill, known locally as ‘the Grid Iron’, sending thick white clouds of steam up into the clear evening sky. They were well into August now, but thankfully it would be the end of October before the clocks went ‘back’, losing them extra hours of daylight saving light. The deprivations of living in a country at war were somehow all the more hard to bear in the winter months, with the darkness of the blackout at night and the shortage of fuel with which to keep warm. But maybe she should think forward to the winter. Maybe by then she would have found a way to deal with the heartache that was causing her so much misery now. She was doing the right thing, she knew that, but those who believed that ‘doing the right thing’ automatically outweighed the pain of not being with the ‘wrong’ person had no idea at all of how it really felt. Her whole body ached with the most desperate longing for Lee. Even her skin yearned rebelliously for his touch, whilst her heart did a series of victory rolls at the mere thought of seeing him.
Why should she consider his wife, when the future was so very uncertain? Would she really miss those few, to Diane, precious days that might be all they could have together? Would her life be any the worse for Diane having had a small handful of moments to call her own? She need never know, and so could hardly miss them, whereas Diane would have them to cherish for as long as she lived, a precious gift, wrapped away like fading rose-scented love letters and locked in the most secret compartment of her heart. The Group Captain might have given her a direct warning that her and Major Saunders’ relationship was already under scrutiny but everyone knew that there were ways and means by which a determined couple could be together without their intimacy being betrayed.
She opened the gate and walked into the allotments, unwilling to return to the house and Myra’s unwanted company.
She was halfway along the narrow path that skirted round the allotments and then divided them between that part traditionally used for growing food and that smaller part on which, before the war, the allotment holders had created small gardens around the huts they used to store their tools. Slowly these gardens were now being converted into new vegetable beds, mainly planted with potatoes to break up the soil, but a handful still had their pretty gardens.
Out of the corner of her eye Diane noticed that someone was sitting huddled up in the corner of a bench in one of them. She was about to walk away, not wanting either to disturb them or to have them intrude on her own unhappy thoughts, when she realised that the other person was Ruthie and that she was obviously in great distress.
Not giving herself time to change her mind, she picked her way over to her, more shocked to see the look of bleak despair in her eyes than by the sight of her tear-blotched face.
‘Ruthie, what’s wrong?’
Ruthie started up guiltily, and then subsided back into her seat when she recognised Diane. She had come here to try to compose herself before she went home, but instead, she had ended up becoming totally overwhelmed by her distress.
‘It’s Glen,’ Ruthie told her brokenly. ‘He…Walter’s dead and Glen’s going to be court-martialled but it wasn’t his fault.’ She started to sob uncontrollably.
Worried, Diane sat down next to her, taking hold of her hand. ‘Stop crying, take a deep breath and tell me properly what’s happened,’ she instructed her calmly, using the manner she would have used to a raw new recruit.
To her relief Ruthie did as she had told her, although it took many stops and starts before Diane was able to get the full story from her and make sense of it.
What Ruthie told her filled her not just with shocked disgust for Nick and Myra, but also with a deep sense of unease. She knew how things worked in the tightly controlled environment of rules and regulations that was the armed services, and just how difficult it would be to convince Glen’s superiors that he was the victim of an injustice when his platoon mates were lying to protect Nick. It was obvious to Diane that Ruthie was telling the truth, and she suspected that initially, when they had lied to the police, Nick had assumed he would find some way of wriggling out of any charge brought for fighting with a comrade. Walter’s death, though had altered things. Whoever was convicted would be facing the death penalty. Poor, poor Ruthie – no wonder she was distraught.
‘Look, dry your eyes,’ Diane told her.
‘I can’t tell Mum what’s happened. She’s really taken to Glen and she’s been so much better since him and me got engaged. It’s been like a bit of a miracle, and even our doctor has said how much she’s improved. She hasn’t gone out once looking for Dad, like she used to. I don’t know what it’s going to do to her if I have to tell her about Glen. It will be bad enough telling her about Walter.’ Fresh tears filled her eyes. She turned to Diane, twisting her damp handkerchief between her fingers as she sobbed, ‘Why did this have to happen? And that Myra – how could she lie like that?’ Hope suddenly flared in her eyes. ‘You wouldn’t have a word with her, would you…tell her what’s happened to my Glen? Oh, please say that you’ll help us?’ she begged desperately.
Diane hated to disappoint her but knowing Myra as she did she doubted that Myra would agree to do anything that would damage her chances of getting to America. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy Ruthie’s hopes, though.
‘I will speak to her,’ she agreed, ‘but only if you promise me that you’ll stop crying and go home.’
‘You mean it. You really will try to help us?’ Ruthie breathed.
‘I mean it,’ Diane assured her.
‘Promise?’ Ruthie begged, suddenly more a little girl than a young woman. Her vulnerability tugged at Diane’s own heart.
‘I promise,’ she agreed.
‘I’ve just seen Ruthie,’ Diane announced without preamble as she entered the shared bedroom. ‘Ruthie, who?’ Myra asked her. She was lying on her bed, smoking, her eyes narrowed in contemplation of the smoke ring she had just blown, but Diane wasn’t deceived.
‘You know perfectly well who I mean, Myra. That GI Nick beat up has died.’
Myra sat up, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘You’re lying!’
‘I wish it wasn’t true but it is. He died at Burtonwood – after you and Nick had left for London, having told the police that it was Glen who had been fighting with him.’ She paused deliberately. ‘But that wasn’t true.’
‘Is that what she told you? Ruthie? Because
if it was—’
‘Yes, Ruthie did tell me and I believe her.’ Diane stopped her firmly. ‘I saw the way Nick was behaving towards Walter at the Grafton, just in case you’ve forgotten. He’s got a dreadful temper, Myra, and you can see just from looking at him that he’s the kind who’d carry a grudge. Glen and Walter were friends, everyone knew that, and by lying about what happened you could end up in an awful lot of trouble.’
What she was doing was rather underhand, Diane knew, but she soothed her conscience by telling herself that her not letting Myra know that Nick had somehow persuaded others to lie for him as well was in a good cause.
‘If you ask me, him dying had nothing to do with Nick hitting him. I reckon that it was hitting his head on the pavement that must have done it, not him having a bit of a scrap with Nick.’ Myra gave a small shrug. ‘And that makes it just a bit of an accident. It could have happened to anyone.’
Diane breathed out slowly. ‘Well, if that’s the case then you need to tell the police about it, don’t you?’ she told her firmly. ‘There’s no sense in someone being blamed – wrongly – for Walter’s death if it was an accident.’
‘I’m not saying that was wot killed him, I’m just saying that it could have been,’ Myra backtracked immediately. ‘And besides, I’ve already given the police a statement. I can’t go telling them that I want to change my mind now.’
‘You could say that you got mixed up a bit,’ Diane told her, refusing to give up. ‘After all, with all that was going on, no one would be surprised by that.’
Myra looked at her speculatively. ‘Why should you be so keen for me to do anything? After all, it’s no skin off your nose what happens, is it?’
‘No skin off my nose? I should have thought it would be a heavy weight on your conscience, Myra, if a man got accused wrongly of killing another man because you hadn’t told the truth.’ Diane knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing.
‘What do you mean, “accused of killing”? If you think I’m going to go saying something to the police that would get Nick into trouble—’
‘You’re the one who’s going to be in trouble if you lie about what happened, Myra,’ Diane warned her. ‘After all, Ruthie was there as well, and she saw what happened too.’
‘Much good that will do her.’
Diane looked at her. There was nothing for it, she was going to have to do something she had no desire to do at all, but she had no other option.
‘Have you told Nick yet about Jim?’
The effect of her question was every bit as dramatic as she had guessed it would be. Myra leaped off the bed and reached for her cigarettes, her hand trembling as she lit one.
‘If you’re trying to threaten me—’ she began.
‘I was simply asking you a question,’ Diane told her. ‘You’ve talked non-stop about Nick and that rock he’s given you,’ she nodded in the direction of the ring Myra was wearing, ‘so naturally I wondered if you’ve told him yet that by rights you should be wearing another man’s wedding ring on that finger. That’s what happens when you tell lies, Myra. They have a habit of coming back to haunt you when you don’t want them to.’
For a moment Diane thought she had won and that Myra would give in and agree to tell the police what had really happened, but then to Diane’s disappointment she burst out angrily, ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing but it won’t work. If you’re that keen to get someone else blamed for that Walter’s death it must mean that Glen is in a lot of trouble. Anyway, it’s like Nick said to the police, we were just coming round the corner, minding our own business…And as for Jim, you go ahead and tell Nick if you want. It won’t make any difference to him.’
Not now it wouldn’t, Myra decided triumphantly, because with Walter dead that meant that Nick needed her to support his story. A wife couldn’t give evidence against her husband – she remembered reading that somewhere or other. Nick had no option but to marry her now, she decided smugly, and Diane was a fool if she thought she was going to threaten her into changing her story.
Diane watched with a sinking heart the way Myra’s expression changed. She had gambled and lost, she could see quite plainly. But she had promised Ruthie that she would help her, which left her with only one option. She would have to talk to Lee and ask him if there was anything he could do – perhaps speak to Glen’s commanding officer on his behalf, or at least suggest that he looked more closely into the stories of the men supporting Nick’s allegations that Glen and Walter had had a quarrel. Her heartbeat accelerated as though it was a plane on the runway and about to lift off on a dangerous mission. Or was it simply taking wing and soaring with joy at the thought of being with Lee, no matter how bleak the circumstances?
TWENTY-SEVEN
‘If Major Saunders comes in today, I wonder if you would mind, please, giving him this note for me?’ Diane tried to look far more composed and professional than she felt as she handed the sealed note she had spent so long agonising over last night to the duty sergeant on the desk in the foyer of Derby House.
The sergeant was eyeing her rather suspiciously. ‘Would this be a personal letter?’ he asked her disapprovingly. ‘Because—’
‘In a manner of speaking, yes, it is,’ Diane smiled with what she hoped looked like frankness. ‘Major Saunders was kind enough to provide me with the address of the young pilot who crashed out near Nantwich, so that I could write to his parents. I wanted to thank him.’ The truth was that she wanted to see him but of course she wasn’t going to tell the sergeant that.
The sergeant’s expression was relaxing, the nod of his head almost approving, Diane noticed guiltily, but she had to keep her promise to Ruthie, didn’t she?
Ten minutes later, when she stepped into the Dungeon, she was swept into more than enough work to keep Lee out of her mind, though, of course, it didn’t. With each swing of the doors opening her concentration was broken as she looked up anxiously, hoping to see him.
The morning passed, she could barely eat her lunch, and then it was back to work, monitoring the positions of the Mosquito planes protecting the convoys. The minutes and then the hours ticked by and she was just on the verge of giving up hope when she looked up and saw him walking towards her.
‘You wanted to see me?’
Diane nodded. ‘But not here…’
There was a narrow corridor that led to a seldom-used storeroom.
There was no valid reason for either of them to be there, but Diane couldn’t tell Lee what she needed to say in the middle of the busy Dungeon.
The minute they were on their own he started to reach for her, groaning, ‘You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. I don’t know what’s made you change your mind, but whatever it is…’
For a second Diane allowed herself the luxury of leaning close to him and letting herself daydream – but only for a second. Pushing herself away from him, she told him quickly, ‘This isn’t about us, and I have not changed my mind. In fact, the Group Captain has made it clear to me—’ she broke off. There wasn’t time for her to talk about their own situation.
‘I don’t know whether or not you’ve heard about it yet, but there was a fight in Liverpool over the weekend, as a result of which a young GI has died.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard about it,’ Lee frowned. ‘But what’s it got to do with us?’
‘Nothing. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Lee. This isn’t about us. Myra and Nick Mancini lied about what happened on Saturday. Myra has as good as admitted that to me, although she isn’t prepared to say so publicly, and because of that an innocent man is being blamed for Walter’s death.’
‘What does this have to do with us?’ he repeated
‘Nothing, except that I’ve promised to do what I can to help Ruthie – that’s Glen’s fiancée. She was in a terrible state last night, having been taken up to Burtonwood thinking she was going to be interviewed by Glen’s CO prior to him approving their wedding, only to find that her fiancé was under arm
ed guard for the death of his best friend, because Nick Mancini has put pressure on some of his platoon buddies to support his claim that Glen and Walter fought over an unpaid gambling debt. The poor girl is distraught. The truth is, apparently, that Walter caught Nick cheating at cards and said so, and because of that Nick had a grudge against him. Glen’s CO won’t listen to Ruthie and, of course, none of the others are going to admit they are lying. You’re the only person who can help them, Lee. You could speak to Glen’s CO, let him know what’s been going on and then he can—’
‘Stop right there,’ he told her sharply. ‘First off, what you’re asking me to do is against army protocol; second, you’ve only got this Ruthie’s word for it that the others are lying; third, if you knew anything about the US Army you’d know that getting a decision overturned because it was based on a pack of lies that were accepted as truth is harder than turning base metal into gold.’
‘Hang protocol! We’re talking about a man’s life here, Lee,’ Diane protested. ‘If Glen is found guilty he’ll be facing the death penalty. We can’t let that happen to an innocent man. You must see that.’
‘Listen, what I see is that even if he is innocent – and I’m not saying that he is – even if his CO were prepared to listen to me and order a full inquiry, Mancini sure as hell isn’t going to admit that he’s lied and corrupted the truth by putting pressure on others to lie as well, when he knows if he does, he’s the one who’s going to be looking down the wrong end of a death sentence. That stands to reason.’
Diane knew that he had a point but she still persisted.
‘The only way he can have persuaded the others to lie has to be by threatening them. They probably didn’t realise when they agreed what they were doing to an innocent man. Lee, please.’ Diane reached out pleadingly and put her hand on his arm.