by Jenny Holmes
The arrangements were smoothly made; Angela and Teddy would meet under the stable-yard clock at the appointed time.
It was only when Jean went up to her room after sharing tea and sandwiches with Douglas in the Grange bar that she bumped into Angela on the landing. Angela was dressed to kill in high heels, nylons and a pale blue jersey-knit dress, carrying her coat over one arm. She wore a poppy-red lipstick and her glossy dark hair was brushed and styled to perfection. ‘Goodness; you must be going somewhere special,’ Jean remarked brightly. ‘Has Lionel been in touch?’
‘Lionel is back with his ship.’ Angela’s reply was offhand and she hurried on.
Jean walked along the landing with an uneasy feeling. Surely, after all the doubts that she and Mary had expressed, Angela would have told them about any assignation with Teddy? She knocked lightly on Mary’s door. ‘Angela’s on her way out. Did she say where she was going?’ she asked.
Mary shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen her since we got back. Shall we see if Bobbie knows?’
They hurried to Bobbie’s room. It turned out that Bobbie knew no more than Jean and Mary did.
‘Ought we to be worried?’ Mary stood by Bobbie’s window overlooking the crater-strewn front lawn. ‘Perhaps we ought to come clean?’
‘Who with?’ Bobbie grew aware of more planes flying over: the third group of RAF bombers to be seen heading east that evening. The sight seemed ominous in the gathering dusk.
‘With you, for a start.’ Jean followed Mary’s train of thought. ‘Angela is certain that she can wangle a confession out of you-know-who.’
‘She’s going about it in her own inimitable way,’ Mary explained. ‘Jean and I aren’t too happy about it, but Angela has promised us that she’ll be all right.’
‘We couldn’t go to Douglas or Cameron with our worries – not after you swore us to secrecy.’ Jean wished it had been otherwise, but a promise was a promise.
‘Yes, but this wasn’t meant to happen!’ Bobbie’s distress was plain to see.
‘That’s Angela for you.’ Mary paced the room. At this rate there’d be no chance of catching up with their hot-headed friend.
‘Angela stayed behind in the yard to talk to Teddy,’ Jean remembered.
‘Perhaps we should go down …’ Mary began.
‘… and check.’ Bobbie was the first to act. She ran ahead of Jean and Mary, down the stairs and out through the servants’ quarters on to the back steps just in time to see Angela in her teal blue coat and hat climbing on to the back of Teddy’s motorbike.
They were too late to stop her. With his collar turned up and wearing his flying jacket and gauntlets, Teddy kicked the bike into action. Angela put both arms around his waist and held tight. Jean, Mary and Bobbie stood and watched helplessly as Teddy and Angela disappeared under the archway, along the narrow path and out through the back gate.
‘“Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By’.”’ Angela imitated Ingrid Bergman’s rich voice with its intriguing Swedish accent.
She and Teddy walked arm in arm through the brightly lit foyer of the Highcliff cinema then out through a revolving door and on to the dark street.
‘“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world …”’ Teddy managed a decent impression of Bogart’s drawl.
‘“… she walks into mine.”’ Angela concluded.
They laughed and chose their favourite scenes – Rick furious with Sam for disobeying his order never to perform the ‘As Time Goes By’ song, Rick in the final scene making Ilsa board the Lisbon plane with Laszlo.
‘Would you have done the sensible thing and got on that plane with your husband?’ Teddy asked Angela as they reached the spot where he’d parked his motorbike.
‘No, darling; I’d have stayed in Casablanca with Rick. No regrets – not a single one.’
They chatted on as they got on the bike and wove through the narrow streets of the fishing port. They soon left the town behind and Teddy was able to pick up speed. Angela crouched behind him, her head turned sideways and her cheek pressed against the cold, smooth leather of Teddy’s jacket. There was an extraordinary orange moon in a sky that had grown clear during their time in the cinema. It was large, full and round – suspended like a bright bronze disc against a background of midnight blue. The road ahead was empty as they crested the hill on to the open moors, the only sound a faint thrum of aeroplane engines flying east but too high to be seen.
As they approached Rixley, Teddy slowed down. He coasted through the village and was about to turn into the main entrance of the Grange when Angela tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Use the back gate,’ she reminded him. Though it added a couple of minutes to their journey, it was better to be safe than sorry.
‘Brrr, my poor fingers and tootsies are frozen!’ she complained when at last they reached the gate. It was shut so she quickly hopped off and opened it. Teddy, meanwhile, killed the engine and quietly walked the bike into the grounds.
‘Shh!’ He held a finger to his mouth then pointed to the unlit downstairs windows of the house. ‘It’s late. They’ve all gone to beddy-byes!’
So he wheeled the Enfield along the path and Angela walked alongside him, clapping her gloved hands together to try to restore feeling. Their feet crunched on the gravel until they came to the clock tower and passed under it into the cobbled stable yard, where Teddy stopped and heaved the bike on to its metal stand.
He turned to Angela and took her hands in his, raising them to his lips before blowing into her cupped palms. ‘Better?’
She shook her head then shot him a conspiratorial glance. ‘A spot of whisky might do the trick, though.’
‘Good thinking.’ The girl wants to have fun! With a satisfied nudge, he drew his flask from his pocket and unscrewed the lid then handed it to her. ‘“Here’s looking at you, kid,”’ he said with a wink and the Bogart drawl.
Angela sipped and swallowed. For much needed courage, she thought. She sipped again then handed Teddy the flask and tipped her head back to glimpse the vivid orange moon. It seemed smaller now and was about to disappear behind the clock tower. A shiver ran through her in spite of the whisky.
‘Here; let me warm you up.’ With the flask in one hand, Teddy put both arms around her waist and held her close. ‘How about that?’ he murmured. ‘No; wait!’ Another idea seemed to have occurred to him. ‘Come this way.’
‘What’s happening? Where are you taking me?’ Angela resisted. Yes, her goal of the evening was to soften Teddy up and trick him into making his confession, but on the other hand she knew she couldn’t trust him or his motives. In fact, she foresaw with heart-stopping certainty where this particular game was leading.
‘Somewhere nice and warm,’ he promised, one arm still around her waist.
Reluctantly she let him guide her across the yard. ‘Why not the house?’
‘Because the walls there have ears and we don’t want Bobbie and the other busybodies to know what we’re up to, do we?’ Soft and persuasive, Teddy guided her on towards the stone steps leading to the grooms’ quarters.
‘Darling, aren’t you assuming rather a lot?’ Angela made a show of demure protest.
Teddy’s answer was to offer her the flask again and then redouble his persuasion. ‘Drink some more of this. Come up here with me and let me light a fire. You’ll soon be cosy and warm.’ Yes; she’ll cooperate. A girl like Angela knows what she’s letting herself in for; she’s trodden this road a dozen times before.
Angela let the whisky touch her lips and tongue but didn’t swallow. ‘A fire, eh? That’s certainly tempting.’
‘And the night is still young. If we went into the house we’d have to go our separate ways – you to your lonely room and me to mine.’
‘Which would be a pity,’ she agreed. ‘Somehow I’m not in the mood for sleeping.’
Teddy put one foot on the bottom step. ‘That’s more like it. We think along the same lines, you and me.’
‘In what way?’ Keep a
clear head and give the performance of your life.
‘We both like to throw caution to the wind once in a while.’ There was no need to say more; Angela knew what he meant.
‘Yes, and who cares what time we get back and what other people say afterwards?’
‘Not me,’ Teddy said with a grin. This was going very well indeed, even if it had meant sitting all night watching Bergman make eyes at Bogart. Still; if it kept the girl happy …
‘Me neither!’ Angela cocked her head to one side and joined him on the steps. ‘You know me, Teddy: always game.’
‘Come up,’ he cajoled. ‘There’s firewood next to the stove and I have a lighter. I’ll lend you my jacket. We’ll have you warm in no time.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘Angela’s not back yet.’ Bobbie’s face was worried when she knocked on Jean’s door dressed in her pale blue shirt and navy trousers. ‘It’s gone eleven and she’s not in her room.’
Jean was in pyjamas and dressing-gown and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She’d been sitting in bed reading the closing chapters of Thackeray’s Vanity Fair when Bobbie’s knock had interrupted her. ‘What can we do?’ she wondered as she came out on to the landing.
‘We could go downstairs and check if she’s there,’ Bobbie suggested.
Their voices drew Mary out of her room. She was still fully dressed after parting from Cameron only half an hour earlier. ‘What’s up?’ she asked.
‘There’s no sign of Angela.’ Bobbie turned on the light and descended the stairs.
Jean and Mary followed but before they’d had a chance to begin their search, Hilary rushed down from the top floor, taking the stairs two at a time. He looked as if he’d flung on his uniform and appeared in the hallway minus his tie, his jacket hanging open.
‘Why, Hilary, what’s the matter?’ Bobbie’s first thought was for Angela. Perhaps he’d received a telephone message that had alarmed him.
‘Rixley – a German attack is imminent,’ he reported abruptly. ‘Luftwaffe sighted over Highcliff, apparently heading in this direction. It could be a follow-up to their last raid – an attempt to put us out of action for good.’
The words were hardly out of his mouth when Cameron, Horace and Douglas raced down the stairs. Agnes and several other pilots in various states of undress had also been roused by the clatter of footsteps and the sound of voices.
‘Cameron, come to the base with me,’ Hilary ordered. ‘Everyone else, stay here on high alert. Lights off, observe total blackout. You all know the drill.’
Jean sought out Douglas, who was now in charge at the Grange.
‘Roll-call,’ he decided as he turned off all the lights. ‘Make it snappy.’
‘Where?’ Horace wanted to know.
‘Here, in the front hall.’ Douglas made a quick mental check of who might still be in their rooms. ‘Jean, go and fetch Angela. Horace, find out where Teddy is.’
‘Angela isn’t in her room,’ Jean informed him. ‘She and Teddy went out.’ This was very bad, she told herself. Suppose Angela was still with Teddy, on their way back from wherever they’d spent the evening. They might be caught out in the open if and when the bombs started to drop.
With an impatient shake of his head, Douglas dismissed Angela from his mind. ‘Everyone, assemble here in the hall! Jean, fetch the list from Hilary’s office.’
Bobbie caught hold of Mary’s arm. ‘What now?’
Mary fought to stay calm as she pictured Cameron arriving at the base with Hilary to raise the alarm. ‘We follow orders,’ she gasped. What else could they do?
So Mary and Bobbie joined the crush to silently assemble inside the main entrance, eyes and ears wide open and expecting the worst. Jean arrived with clipboard and pencil. The roll-call began.
‘Is there a light switch?’ Angela asked Teddy as they entered the loft. She took off her hat as she stood in the doorway then felt with her fingertips along the rough stone, dislodging some gardening tools that were propped against the wall but failing to find a switch.
‘We’re in the dark, I’m afraid,’ Teddy said with a chuckle. ‘In the old days servants and grooms had to make do with candles and oil lamps, I suppose.’
No electricity. As Angela’s eyes got used to the gloom, she was able to make out the long room with open rafters and a pile of disused furniture stacked at one end with an old mattress laid flat on the bare boards next to a stove – all as Bobbie had eventually related. The only light came from the moon through small panes of glass inserted into the roof. ‘The places you bring me to, Flight Lieutenant Simpson!’ Angela declared with a loud, theatrical sigh.
‘This was how the other half used to live.’ Before Teddy got busy with firewood, he drew Angela further into the room. Then he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. His hand stroked her cheek and he kissed her on the forehead then on the lips. ‘More whisky?’ he murmured as he drew back.
She nodded. ‘How did you know what was in here?’ she asked as he crouched to open the stove door. ‘I take it you’ve been here before?’
Teddy rested on his haunches and glanced up at her. ‘Once or twice, whenever I need some peace and quiet. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason – just curious.’ Angela risked a sip from the flask. She must stay calm and not arouse his suspicions. ‘You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?’
‘In what way?’ Leaning sideways, he reached for kindling for the stove.
‘Finding us a cosy love-nest in which to end a perfect evening.’ She went up to him and pulled him to his feet. ‘I’m still awfully cold,’ she said with a shiver.
So he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again. ‘I’m a very lucky chap,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Every red-blooded male on this base would give their eye teeth to be here with you.’
‘Of course they would, darling, but it’s not them I’m interested in.’ Angela stood with her arms around Teddy’s neck, pressing her body against him.
‘So why me?’ Vanity led him to ask the question. The fire could wait a while.
She smiled and leaned away, hands still clasped at the nape of his neck and swaying from one hip to the other. ‘Where to begin? Let’s start with the dashing figure you cut when you first arrived. All the girls were ready to fall at your feet, but I expect you’re used to that.’
‘Steady on,’ he protested, aroused by the swing of her hips. Did Angela mean it or was she mocking him? It was difficult to be sure. But she was here with her arms around his neck and he could smell her perfume and feel the smooth perfection of her cheek and lips, the curve of her breasts as she pressed against him, so what did it matter what mood she was in?
‘I’m serious, darling. First impressions are so important. And of course it turns out that you have a fascinating history – grammar school boy made good, and so forth. I find that intriguing.’
‘Carry on,’ he urged as he stroked her hair. ‘Don’t stop now.’
Angela had known all along that flattery was the way to bring down Teddy’s guard. ‘I’m curious to find out more. Where did the ambition come from? What drives you on?’
Mockery or sincere praise? Again the doubt flitted across Teddy’s consciousness. Once more he chose to ignore it. ‘The fact is, I wanted to prove to myself that I was as good as the kid born with a silver spoon in his mouth,’ he answered. ‘I mean, why should they have everything handed to them on a plate and I have nothing? That didn’t seem fair.’
‘And prove it you did, Teddy dear.’ There was another kiss and another shiver from her. ‘You chalked up three kills with your last squadron and now it seems there’s a big promotion in the offing. That can’t be bad.’
He drew away and set about laying kindling inside the stove. ‘Your turn; now you have to tell me something that you normally keep close to your chest.’
With a soft swish of knitted fabric, Angela sat down on the mattress and drew her legs under her. ‘Of course, darling; what would you l
ike to know?’
‘What happened to poor old Lionel? Is he permanently off the scene?’
‘Oh, Teddy; your powers of observation seem to have deserted you.’ She pouted as she held up her left hand and waggled her fingers. ‘Do you see an engagement ring?’
‘No,’ he conceded.
‘No, because I called it off. I’m currently free as a bird. In any case, you’re hardly in a position to talk. Your name has been linked with dear little Bobbie.’
With his lighter at the ready, Teddy paused. ‘I’ve told you before: Bobbie and I were never serious. I hope she doesn’t still give you the wrong impression about the two of us.’
Angela smiled. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, darling – she and I have better things to talk about.’
‘That’s all right then. Because we both know that Bobbie has a tendency to get hold of the wrong end of the stick.’ An urge to justify himself pushed Teddy into dangerous territory. ‘She wasn’t too happy when I finally set her straight.’
‘Was that before or after you gave her the stockings?’ Angela made a point of asking.
Teddy blinked then flicked his lighter to produce a flame. ‘Long before,’ he insisted. ‘The stockings were a small get-well present after she took the knock on the head.’
‘Ah, yes; Bobbie’s near miss.’ Angela watched carefully as he held the long, slim flame to the kindling. Her eyes widened as she spotted a fragment of vivid green fabric lying in the old ashes. The pile of sticks sparked and caught fire. Without stopping to think, she jumped to her feet, leaned forward and quickly scooped the charred scrap out of the flames.
Hilary reached the ferry pool in record time. He screeched to a halt and jumped out of the car. ‘You raised the alarm?’ he demanded of the sentry.
‘Yes, sir!’ The corporal ran from his box to lift the barrier. ‘I set off the siren. All personnel are aware.’
‘Good man.’ Returning to the car, Hilary drove on to the base. He parked next to the control tower then ordered Cameron to double-check that a roll-call was under way. Meanwhile, he ran up to the ops room to pick up the telephone. He dialled the coastal watch operator and asked to be put through to the Highcliff unit. ‘I don’t care if the line is busy,’ he barked into the receiver. ‘This is Squadron Leader Hilary Stevens calling from Rixley on a matter of utmost importance.’