by Jenny Holmes
Teddy dropped his gaze. ‘Thanks for the tip. I’ll remember that. Luckily Douglas was there that night to offer us a lift home then I made sure it was straight up to bed for Bobbie, to sleep it off.’
Angela smiled through her revulsion. ‘You’re a true gent, Flight Lieutenant Simpson.’
‘You’re very welcome, First Officer Browne.’ Teddy took a deep breath. It seemed Angela had bought his version of events; he was still off the hook.
‘I only wish I’d been there to keep an eye on her.’ Angela leaned back on her stool and ended her performance with a flourish. ‘Unfortunately that was the very night when my pa cast me off without a penny, so I was otherwise engaged.’
‘Teddy lied through his teeth.’ Angela got together with Mary, Jean and Bobbie over breakfast the next morning. ‘And bloody good he was too.’
The four women had chosen to eat at the ferry pool rather than the Grange, specifically to stay out of Teddy’s way. A wireless played Mantovani tunes over the loudspeaker as they talked through their next tactic and there was a hum of voices and the rattle of crockery and cutlery in the background as ground crew and drivers prepared for the day ahead.
‘Far from admitting what he’d done, he made out that he’d looked after you,’ she explained to Bobbie. ‘Honestly, you’d have thought that butter wouldn’t melt.’
‘That’s Teddy for you.’ Jean gave Bobbie a sympathetic smile. ‘You never know; perhaps he even believes what he’s saying. People can convince themselves that black is white if they really want to.’
Angela shook her head. ‘Teddy’s clever; he knew what he was doing. There’s a cool brain at work there, covering his tracks.’
‘There’s a hell of a lot at stake,’ Mary pointed out. ‘Teddy’s career – his whole life, in fact – goes up in smoke if only we can find proof of what he did.’
‘Talking of which.’ Angela gulped down the last of her tea. ‘He claims to have got a new posting – supposedly top secret and all that.’
‘When?’ Jean was surprised by the news.
‘In a couple of weeks – don’t worry, there’s still time for us to get our man.’
‘If you say so.’ Jean didn’t put much faith in Angela’s plan, which evidently involved a complicated deception and an ongoing battle of wits. She, like Mary, had been more in favour of tackling Teddy head-on but they’d been overruled by Angela who’d pointed out the fatal flaw in their argument: in the absence of any evidence it would be Bobbie’s word against his. ‘But what if he cottons on? What then?’
‘He won’t.’ Angela glanced at a worried-looking Bobbie. ‘It comes down to me being an even better play-actor than he is. Trust me; I’m sure I can pull it off.’
Bobbie listened in silence. She’d struggled to swallow even one slice of toast and marmalade. The knot of anxiety in her stomach grew tighter and she was glad when the voice on the Tannoy called for all pilots. She was the first to jump up from the table then first in line to receive her chit.
Meanwhile, Angela went to her locker to pick up her parachute pack before going upstairs. Though she’d sounded confident, there was plenty for her to think through. As her next move she decided to seek out Douglas, deliberately putting herself at the back of the queue directly behind Agnes and Horace.
Teddy stood well ahead, joining in the usual conversation about weather conditions and destinations. He smiled at Bobbie as she squeezed past, chit in hand. ‘Hello there; what’s Douglas got in store for our wee lassie today?’
‘A Hurricane to Wolverhampton.’ Sickened by his proximity and false bonhomie, Bobbie answered abruptly then hurried on down the stairs.
The queue shuffled forward until Angela at last reached the front and spotted Douglas at his desk. She ducked to speak through the gap under the glass screen. ‘A quick word?’
He nodded reluctantly and beckoned her into the office. ‘Hello, Angela. What can I do for you?’
‘In private,’ she said pointedly.
Gillian rose swiftly from her seat and departed, saying she would leave them to it.
‘Well?’ Douglas made it clear that by rights Angela should already be halfway to her runway.
She refused to be hurried. ‘It’s about Teddy Simpson. A little bird tells me that he’s moving on.’
Douglas motioned for her to shut the door. ‘Who told you that?’
‘He did. Teddy made out it was a step up the ladder. I wondered what you knew – off the record, so to speak.’
With a shake of his head Douglas dashed Angela’s hopes. ‘You know I can’t say. I’d have thought promotion was unlikely, though.’
‘Is that because you dislike the man or is it based on something more solid?’
‘I make no comment,’ he said stiffly.
Angela tutted then persevered. ‘Oh come on, Douglas – we know each other pretty well.’
‘So you know me well enough not to ask.’ Tapping the end of his pencil against the desk, he was, however, on the point of saying to heck with rules and regulations when there was a knock on the door and Hilary came in.
He glanced with surprise at Angela. ‘Is something the matter with your chit?’
‘No, nothing at all.’ Honesty struck her as the best policy on this occasion. ‘The fact is, I’m trying to prise information out of Douglas but it’s like getting blood out of a stone.’
Irritated, Hilary glanced at his watch.
‘Oh, darling, don’t be boring,’ Angela went on. ‘I can easily make up time once I’m in the air. My question to Douglas was about Teddy and his imminent promotion to squadron leader.’
‘Come again?’ Hilary cocked his head to one side.
‘Aha!’ It was rare to take Hilary by surprise so Angela forged ahead. ‘No, Douglas and I didn’t think that promotion was on the cards either. But squadron leader would be the next step up from flight lieutenant when Teddy starts his new posting.’
Hilary chose his words carefully. ‘Angela, I’ve told you before: take everything Teddy Simpson says with a big pinch of salt.’
‘So the promotion part is a fib?’
Hilary slapped the gloves he was carrying against his thigh.
‘I take that as a yes. But Teddy is definitely leaving Rixley?’
‘As yet nothing is set in stone.’
‘He may leave?’ Looking from Hilary to Douglas and back again, Angela was sure that both men knew more than they were prepared or allowed to say.
Hilary cleared his throat then, seemingly changing the subject, he spoke slowly to Douglas, one eye still on Angela. ‘About this file.’ He tapped a buff-coloured folder on the desk. ‘Have you had a chance to take a look?’
‘I have.’ Douglas pushed the file to the edge of the desk, into a position where Angela could easily read Teddy’s name, service number and current rank on the cover under an official black stamp showing the King’s Crown.
‘What do you make of Flying Officer Flynn’s eyewitness account? Will it stand up to scrutiny in court?’
Angela caught her breath. A jumble of fresh ideas crowded in. For a few seconds she assumed that Hilary and Douglas must be several steps ahead of her over the Bobbie affair. But then who was Flying Officer Flynn and what was the nature of the offence that Teddy was charged with? Was this, in fact, something entirely different?
‘The prosecutor ought to have a back-up statement,’ Douglas replied, ‘to be on the safe side. At the moment I’d say it’s fifty-fifty: Flynn’s word against Teddy’s.’
‘Thanks; I’ll pass that on.’ Hilary grunted and tucked the folder under his arm. ‘Not a word, First Officer Browne,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Teddy was under investigation, for goodness sake! A court case was pending; that much was certain. ‘Thank you, sir. Now if you don’t mind, I have a plane waiting for me on the runway and it’s not going to fly itself.’
Jean had changed out of her uniform into jumper and slacks and was in two minds as she s
tood at her window, looking out over the front lawn at a bomb disposal team still at work under floodlights. They’d been called back earlier in the day by handyman Ernest Poulter when he’d spotted a suspicious object half-buried in a ditch close to the main gate.
Should Jean seek out Douglas and ask him about the results of yesterday’s hearing test? Or should she wait for him to tell her in his own good time?
Her dilemma was solved by a knock on her door. She answered it to find the man himself standing outside.
‘I’ve just finished work for the day; do you fancy a drink?’ he asked tentatively. He looked pale and worn out.
Jean nodded and as they walked down the stairs, Douglas offered to bring the drinks to her in the library. ‘Where it’s quiet,’ he added.
So Jean knew that the talk would be serious. Surrounded by leather-bound tomes stacked on shelves from floor to ceiling, she pulled down the blackout blind then settled into a shabby chesterfield chair and prepared herself.
‘I’ve been on the blower to Harold,’ Douglas confirmed when he carried in two whiskys and a jug of water then pulled up a chair. ‘He’s taken a look at my test results and decided that my eardrums have taken a bashing from flying more than my share of four-engine bombers. There’s some hearing loss that can’t be reversed – mainly in the left ear. On top of that there’s the tinnitus.’
‘What does that sound like?’ Jean controlled her reaction as she studied Douglas’s woebegone expression.
‘It’s more of a ticking than the usual ringing,’ he said in a flat voice. ‘Apparently the dratted thing might improve, provided I stay away from loud noises. Only time will tell.’
‘That’s something to hang on to, I suppose.’ Oh, but the poor man looked miserable and defeated!
‘But any future flying is out of the question.’ Resting his head back against his chair, Douglas sighed heavily at this, the worst of verdicts. ‘Good God, Jean; all I feel fit for is the knacker’s yard. The kindest thing would be to take me out and shoot me.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she breathed, her heart racing beneath her calm exterior. She thought guiltily that perhaps it would have been better for him not to have known.
Douglas jerked forward to try to snap himself out of self-pity. ‘Hark at me, going on as if it’s the end of the world.’
‘It’s bad enough,’ she commiserated. ‘I am sorry – truly.’
Dear Jean; her concern was obviously heartfelt. ‘It’s not your fault. And I won’t blame you if—’
‘Stop!’ She slipped from her chair to kneel on the rug at his feet and rest her arms across his lap. She looked up earnestly at him. ‘I won’t let you think such a thing, let alone say it.’
Douglas nodded slowly. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Quite sure.’ Jean brought to mind an image in an old painting. She remembered the name ‘Amy’ carved into a tree. There was an anguished-looking couple standing next to it and ivy partly obscuring the name. The painting was called The Long Engagement and Jean knew with complete certainty that she did not want to be that sad Victorian girl in the purple cloak. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, putting her arms around Douglas’s neck. For better or worse. For ever and ever. ‘We should get married as soon as possible. What do you think?’
‘For me, this is the place where it all started.’ Cameron sat behind the wheel of his car, staring out into blackness. Mary sat beside him in her green coat and matching hat. Her collar was turned up and the narrow-brimmed hat sat at an angle that concealed the upper part of her profile.
So this was the end of Saturday night’s mystery jaunt: the clifftop at Highcliff, in the grounds of the old church. Mary smiled and turned expectantly towards him.
‘Do you remember the night of the bombing? This is where we came after we’d taken the wounded men to hospital.’
‘Of course I remember.’
‘That was when you first worked your magic on me.’ Cameron gazed out at the moon and stars.
‘A peculiar sort of magic: me hardly saying a word after falling down in a dead faint. And by the way, running out of petrol and us being stranded overnight wasn’t my idea.’
He laughed. ‘Not your normal romantic tryst, I agree. You were an enigma, Mary – a fascinating one. And my, did you keep me at arm’s length for long enough.’
She shook her head. ‘Not on purpose. It never entered my mind that you could be interested in me.’ Parked twenty yards from the cliff edge, Mary was able to make out the outline of the ruined walls. She heard a distant sound of waves pounding against rocks below.
‘So when did you realize?’
Mary thought hard then answered earnestly. ‘On my first night at the Grange – when I called you “sir” and you said for me to call you Cameron. You gave me such a kind look; that’s when I had my first inkling. But my mind was taken up with everything to do with flying. I was so excited to have won my wings that I put the notion to the back of my mind.’
‘You’re still an enigma,’ Cameron decided. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before.’
‘And that’s a good thing?’ Here they were, perched on the top of the cliff, talking and not touching or kissing, trying to feel their way forward.
‘It’s wonderful,’ he assured her. ‘To have found someone who doesn’t follow the crowd – that’s the thing I love most about you.’
Mary savoured the sensation of standing at the threshold of a completely new life. The wild darkness of the weather only added to her excitement. ‘My father made me think it was wrong to stand out,’ she admitted. ‘“Don’t make a fuss, Mary”, “Cheer up, Mary”, “Only speak when you’re spoken to”. That was the message all the time I was growing up.’
‘Things are not so very different now,’ Cameron pointed out. ‘We’re all supposed to keep our heads down and do as we’re told – “yes, sir; no, sir; three bags full, sir” – at least until the war ends and we’re demobbed.’ This brought him to the verge of sharing a piece of news that he’d been sitting on for days. Now was the time to do it, he decided. ‘There’s something you need to know,’ he began. ‘I’ve been afraid to tell you but it wouldn’t be fair to keep it from you any longer.’
‘You’ve been given a new posting,’ Mary said before he could continue. She felt certain in her heart that this was what Cameron had been about to tell her.
‘To an RAF station outside Aireby,’ he confirmed. ‘I’ll be back in harness, working with Bomber Command.’
Mary’s chest tightened and her heart raced. His two final words terrified her.
‘It’s what I always wanted and expected to happen,’ he went on quickly. ‘After all, it’s what I was trained for. It was hard for me to leave my squadron and come to Rixley for a so-called rest – I felt I was letting the other lads down.’
‘You don’t have to explain.’ Bomber Command suggested nightly raids, fresh missions, new tours of duty. And each time Cameron flew his Lancaster or Stirling out of the Aireby base to intercept Heinkels and Messerschmitts over the English Channel or the Irish Sea, each time he flew in formation over the Netherlands, on over France and into Germany to destroy enemy airfields, dams and munitions factories, the chances of him not returning rose higher and higher. ‘I understand.’
Cameron drew a deep breath. ‘You don’t have to worry, Mary – I’ll mostly be training new recruits, not flying out on missions.’
‘I see.’ His reassurance comforted her, but the reality remained that he was being torn from her and thrust into the unknown. Mary stared out at the starry sky, at pinpricks of light against vast darkness. ‘When will you leave?’ she asked.
‘A week from today.’
Seven days. She shook her head in despair.
‘I know,’ he murmured as he felt for her hand and squeezed it. ‘I feel it too. But we have a whole week before then. Let’s make the most of it.’
Yes, of course Cameron had to go; there was no choice. Mary knew she must be brave. ‘What shall we do now?’ she
asked with a fluttering heart.
‘What do you want to do?’ Turning the ignition key in the lock, he started the engine. ‘You choose; anything you like.’
‘I’d like to go to the best hotel in Highcliff.’
‘Good idea. I know a nice place with a lounge bar where they still serve cocktails.’ Cameron turned the car towards the gate.
‘To find a room and stay there overnight,’ Mary said in a clear voice.
‘Together?’
‘Yes, together.’
He glanced at her as she sat quietly beside him, staring straight ahead – chin up, steadfast and beautiful as they drove out of the shadow of the ruined walls.
Mary took in very little about the outside of the seafront hotel that Cameron had chosen. The smart, middle-aged receptionist assured them that they would wake up to a sea view and that breakfast in bed could be provided if they so wished. A young girl in a black dress and waitress’s apron and cap appeared from a back room to show them up to their suite on the first floor.
‘We’re right behind you,’ Cameron told the girl in his businesslike way.
She met his gaze unabashed and smiled at Mary in friendly fashion as she led the way to the lift. ‘It’s our best double room,’ she promised. ‘Everything is en suite. You’ll find clean towels and everything else you need in the bathroom. There’s a telephone by the bed for you to ring down to Reception if you need anything.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Cameron assured her as he and Mary stepped out of the lift. ‘We’ll find our own way from here, thank you.’
To the sound of the lift doors sliding shut Mary walked with him along a carpeted corridor. She stood to one side while he turned the key in the lock.
He stepped aside to let her walk ahead of him. ‘You’re sure?’
She walked into the room. It was spacious and modern, not stuffy and crammed with fussy ornaments. The walls were pale green, the bed the biggest she’d ever seen, with gleaming, shell-shaped lamps on small tables to either side. Mary nodded as she focused on her surroundings.
Cameron hung his jacket over the back of a chair by the window. ‘Can this really be happening?’