by Jenny Holmes
Outside, Cameron sprinted towards a large group gathered on the lawn close to the canteen. He passed one or two stragglers emerging half-asleep from their billets. ‘Shift your backsides, get in line!’ he yelled. ‘Luftwaffe attack imminent!’
‘How close are they, sir?’ Stan had put himself in charge of the roll-call. He left off counting when Cameron arrived.
All eyes turned from the dark, empty sky to the ferry pool’s second in command.
‘I can’t tell you that. The squadron leader’s on the blower trying to find out. They can’t be far away, though.’
Voices murmured uneasily. Someone at the end of the line struck a match to light a cigarette, only to have it knocked from his trembling hand. ‘Daft bugger!’ Olive muttered in the pitch darkness. ‘Does he want to advertise our whereabouts?’
‘How many planes?’ Stan wanted to know.
‘Can’t tell you that either.’ Cameron looked beyond the dark mass of Burton Wood, up at the full moon. Apart from the sound of wind whistling through the branches there was an eerie silence.
‘How long do we have to stand here?’ a peevish voice asked.
‘We’re sitting ducks if we hang around much longer,’ another remarked.
‘We wait for an order from the squadron leader,’ Cameron said firmly.
‘Sod that, sir!’ It was Stan who objected. ‘There’re two Spits out there on Runway Two, plain as the nose on your face. If Jerry spots them, we’re done for.’
Cameron nodded. ‘You’re right, Corporal. Drive two trucks out on to the runway and tow the aircraft out of sight, quick as you can.’
Glad to be doing something useful, Stan took Bob with him while the others waited with mounting unease for news from their squadron leader.
Back in the control tower, Hilary listened intently to the latest information supplied by ground defence. ‘RAF, you say?’ He felt the tension drain from his body. ‘On their way back from a mission over Denmark?’
‘Correct, sir,’ the soldier in charge replied. ‘There was a second sighting twenty miles north-west of here. They say it’s not Jerry after all; it’s definitely our boys.’
Hilary let out a long sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. We’ll stand down at this end.’
He replaced the receiver into its cradle. Buttoning up his jacket, he tugged it straight then proceeded down the stairs and cupped both hands to his mouth. ‘Stand down,’ he yelled across the grass. ‘It turns out to be much ado about nothing. As you were and back to bed, everyone.’
‘Give me that!’ Teddy had moved too slowly to prevent Angela from snatching the piece of green fabric from the cold ashes.
She crumpled it in the palm of her hand and formed a fist then she stepped away from the unlit fire. ‘Give you what?’
‘That – whatever it is!’
A remnant of Bobbie’s dress: concrete proof that Teddy had destroyed evidence after the attack. It was easy for Angela to picture the scene: Bobbie unconscious and almost naked on the mattress, her torn dress and jacket cast aside. Having finished with her, Teddy must have decided to cover his tracks. He’d opened the door of the stove and thrown the ruined clothes on to the flames. In the morning Bobbie could say whatever she liked but he would insist she’d been too drunk to remember anything. If accusations flew his way he could say that she’d made the whole thing up and there would be no evidence to the contrary. His plan had almost worked.
‘I said, give it to me.’ Teddy lunged at Angela.
‘Tut-tut; such a fuss.’ Angela side-stepped then wagged her finger at him. ‘All over nothing.’
‘If it’s nothing, then show me what you found.’ His anger rising, he circled around her to see what she was hiding.
‘Certainly not.’ With her hand behind her back and with Teddy’s jacket slipping from her shoulders, Angela continued to back away. The jacket fell and wrapped itself around her legs, making her stumble sideways. She put out her hands to break her fall.
Teddy swooped. He wrested the scrap of chiffon from her grasp.
Angela felt a sharp pain in her ankle. She’d twisted it and, worse still, Teddy would recognize the fabric. He would see how she’d snatched the proof from under his eyes.
It took him only a second or two. He looked from the green remnant to the stove then at Angela struggling to raise herself from the floor.
‘Don’t look at me like that, darling.’ She reached out her hand as she made one last attempt to continue the charade. ‘Help me up.’
Teddy rushed at her and thrust her back down. ‘Nice try,’ he said. ‘But I see what you’re up to and it won’t wash.’
‘Teddy – my ankle!’
He bent down and jerked his jacket from under her then he seized her by the wrist. Angela would be no more of a match than Bobbie had been if it came to a physical fight.
‘I thought … but I must have made a mistake.’ Angela switched tactics. ‘I’m sorry; in future I’ll mind my own business.’
‘Sorry for what?’ Teddy knelt beside her and thrust his face into hers. ‘For trying to make a fool of me? Or for believing what your pathetic little friend told you? Either way, it’s too late – apology not accepted.’
With her free hand Angela wiped away the spray of Teddy’s saliva from her face. Instinct kept her silent and she watched him warily as he stuffed the green fragment into the fire. Everything about the man was repulsive – his spitting, snarling insults; the beastliness of his actions; the cocky assumption that he would win in the end.
‘It’s a pity, though,’ he went on more calmly.
‘Let go – please!’
Despite her plea, he held on to her and smiled nastily. ‘It’s a pity because we could have had such a fine time up here, you and I – a nice warm fire, plenty more to drink. What would have been wrong with that?’
‘Everything,’ she said with a shudder as she tried to pull free. ‘Teddy Simpson, you have no conscience and you are a fool if you imagine that you can get away with rape. There; I’ve said it. What you did to Bobbie was unforgivable and soon everyone will know it.’
Teddy was unmoved. As far as he was concerned, nothing had changed. ‘Do you think so? Why will anyone believe you and Bobbie rather than me?’
‘Because it’s the truth.’
‘That’s naively touching – you sound more like Bobbie than the hard-boiled Angela that I know and love.’
‘And people aren’t stupid,’ she went on angrily. ‘Hilary for one is under no illusion; he sees you for what you are.’
‘Is that right?’ Mention of their squadron leader threw a different light on things; Teddy saw that he needed to think this one through. He raised Angela to her feet, dragged her across the room then trapped her against the wall. ‘Explain what you mean.’
As her back thudded against the wall, a fresh pain shot down her spine and she struggled to draw breath.
‘Explain!’ He slammed her against the rough stone a second time.
‘Stop – you’re hurting me,’ she gasped. ‘Hilary knows about your court martial. He has a copy of the file. You ignored orders and shot down one of our own.’
Teddy’s forearm pressed against her throat as she finished speaking. He was too strong for her; there was no way to escape.
‘Lies,’ he said calmly as he kept up the pressure. ‘I followed orders to the letter: “Come up from behind and shoot Jerry down.”’
‘But it wasn’t Jerry – any fool can tell one of our planes from theirs. You learn the difference in your first week of training.’
‘Not if it’s pitch black and you’re flying through low cloud. How was I supposed to know?’ Teddy had rehearsed his version of events many times. ‘The court will take one look at the circumstances and throw out the charge.’
Angela pushed against him with all her might. Then, ignoring the pain in her ankle, she brought her knee up sharply to catch him in the groin. He bent double, allowing her to break free. ‘There’s a witness, you idiot!’ Sh
e scrambled for the door but Teddy was quick to recover and he rushed at her and knocked her forwards on to the floor. He fell full-length on top of her.
‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ he said savagely.
His breath felt hot on the back of her neck as, filled with disgust, she lay unable to move.
‘Witness or no witness, all I need to say is that my head-set wasn’t working. I never received the second order to cease fire – simple as that.’
Still Angela fought to wriggle free. The door was six feet from where they lay.
‘Oh Angela, it’s useless to fight me.’ Teddy’s voice grew almost tender and he pressed his lips against the top of her head. ‘The big question right now is: how do I deal with you?’
‘Don’t!’ She felt him mumble the words into her hair as his weight shifted and he ran his hand down her side and across the curve of her buttock. It didn’t stop there – he reached down to raise her skirt then felt for the bare flesh above her stocking top. Her skin crawled as he stroked the back of her thigh with his thumb.
‘Come to think of it, I don’t see why we shouldn’t finish what we began.’ Teddy grunted then shifted again – just enough to roll Angela on to her back then trap her once more. ‘What do you say?’
She wrenched one hand free and slapped him hard on the cheek. He jerked back then grunted again and sank on to her, tugging at the top of her dress and ripping the bodice.
‘Yes; one way or the other we’ll finish it.’
His lips pressed against Angela’s neck as she went on struggling. She retaliated with fists and knees but his weight was too much for her.
He reached down again and pulled her skirt and petticoat up round her waist. ‘If this is the way you want it …’
‘Don’t!’ she pleaded. She glimpsed the high rafters then turned her head to the side and strained away from him to avoid his lips. ‘Teddy, don’t!’
‘False alarm!’ Douglas addressed the officers assembled in the entrance hall. ‘That was Squadron Leader Stevens on the phone with the latest intelligence. Jerry won’t be bothering us tonight after all.’
Jean broke ranks and ran towards him for an explanation, barging past Agnes and Horace whose ripe language turned the air blue. ‘How did that happen?’ she demanded.
‘It was our boys, not theirs.’ Relief had an unexpected effect on Douglas, who had been geared up for action. The sudden reversal had left him feeling strangely adrift. ‘Now I suppose we might as well get some shut-eye.’
‘Whose mistake was it?’ Jean wondered as she walked with him towards the stairs.
‘Who cares?’ Agnes said with a shrug. She too was heading upstairs.
‘Bloody idiot, whoever it was.’ Horace gave the base of the newel post a vicious kick before following the others.
Mary and Bobbie brought up the rear. ‘Thank goodness for that,’ Mary muttered. ‘I didn’t fancy a night camped out in the cellars while the bombs rained down.’
‘Same here,’ Bobbie agreed. ‘Remember last time, when it was the real thing?’
‘How could I forget?’ Mary decided she would wait up for Cameron to get back from the ferry pool. ‘I’m heading for the kitchen to make a cuppa. Would you like one?’
Bobbie shook her head. ‘I still wonder where on earth Angela’s got to.’
‘And Teddy.’ Mary had second thoughts about the tea. ‘You don’t think they’ve been holed up in his room all this time, ignoring the roll-call? Shall I get Horace to go up and investigate?’ She hurried off without waiting for an answer.
‘No, they would have heard …’ Bobbie’s sentence tailed off. Doors opening, footsteps running along corridors, she thought with mounting unease. Nevertheless, it was very late so where were they? Had Teddy’s bike broken down and left them stranded? Or might Mary have been on the right track after all? There was one quick way to find out.
Bobbie went out through the main door, then strode along the terrace and round the side of the house to see if Teddy’s motorbike was parked in the stable yard. Yes; there it was – close to the stone steps leading up to the grooms’ quarters. ‘Oh!’ she said out loud and was about to retrace her steps. ‘Oh!’ again.
The moon shone high and bright in the clear sky. The minute hand of the clock jerked forward. Angela isn’t in Teddy’s room. Bobbie’s heart missed a beat as the truth struck her. She stood stock-still, studying the row of stables and the grooms’ loft above. I know exactly where they are.
Against her will Bobbie relived the sickening flop and thud of the mattress on to the bare, dusty floor. Lie still and don’t put up a fight; there’s a good girl.
She fought the nightmare: I am safe. Angela isn’t.
Teddy’s lips and hands all over her. Lie still. Flickering flames. Lips and hands.
Do something, Bobbie told herself.
After Teddy had forced himself on her she’d feared that she would fall for ever, that there would be no end. Black oaks and ash trees, beech and sycamore crowded her memory. Sharp thorns underfoot.
I came through it; I survived. Now Angela needs me.
Hoping against hope that she was wrong, Bobbie forced herself to walk slowly towards the steps. Every sound in the silent yard was magnified – the rustle of fallen leaves, a door banging in the main house. A car approached along the back lane. More planes flew in from the east.
She reached the door and listened.
‘Don’t! Teddy, don’t!’
Bobbie flung open the door. There were two people on the floor in the dark – Teddy and Angela. He was on top of her, tearing at her clothes. There was a tangle of pale limbs. Angela cried out for Teddy to stop.
Tools leaned against the wall – a gardener’s fork, a hoe and two spades. Bobbie grabbed one of the spades and ran at them. Teddy’s back was arched over Angela, Angela’s face was turned away, her hands trying in vain to push him off. Bobbie raised the flat blade of the spade and swiped it sideways with all her might. She caught Teddy in the ribs and knocked him clear. Then she took hold of Angela’s arm and dragged her to her feet. Teddy’s hand grasped at Bobbie’s ankle and she struck him with the spade a second time. He fell back and Angela and Bobbie fled from the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
‘I don’t know about you but I could certainly do with a drink,’ Hilary told Cameron. He drove under the clock tower and pulled up in the stable yard next to Teddy’s motorbike.
‘You’re on.’ Cameron got out and slammed the car door. He paused to glance up at three Stirlings flying low over Burton Wood. The drone of their powerful engines filled the air. ‘Denmark,’ he muttered. ‘All safely out and safely back, touch wood.’
‘Yes – let me check with Douglas to see if he cares to join us.’ Hilary jumped out and overtook Cameron to run up the steps leading to the front terrace.
‘I’ll see you both in the bar in five minutes,’ Cameron called after him. He stood for a few moments reflecting on the night’s false alarm with a mixture of anger and relief. Visibility had been nigh perfect so how come the ground defence people had made such a rudimentary error? All done in the heat of the moment, Cameron supposed. And those chaps in the coastal lookout bunkers worked under a great strain, knowing that one moment’s lapse of concentration on their part could lead to disaster. ‘We’re all living on our nerves,’ he muttered to himself as he followed Hilary up the steps. He walked along the terrace, across the hall and into the lounge where he opened a bottle of whisky and lined up three glasses, ready to pour.
Hilary paused on the first landing. ‘Have you seen Douglas?’ he asked Jean, who waited outside the bathroom door, washbag and towel in hand.
‘He’s gone up to bed,’ she reported. ‘You’ll catch him if you’re quick.’ As Hilary hurried on, Jean tapped on the bathroom door. ‘Everything all right in there?’ she queried.
A second later Bobbie flung open the door. ‘Come in!’ She dragged Jean into the room and gestured towards Angela who sat on the edge of the bath with
her head in her hands. ‘Teddy – he …’
Jean took in the scene. Steam rose from the water running into the old-fashioned, claw-foot bath and condensation had formed on the green and white tiles. The orange and white striped towel around Angela’s shoulders didn’t hide the fact that her dress was badly torn. She sat barefoot and sobbing silently, her body heaving. ‘Good God!’ Horrified, Jean closed the door behind her. ‘When? Where?’
‘During roll-call. The same place as before – grooms’ room above the stables. He would’ve …’
‘But you stopped him?’
‘Yes. I got there just in time.’
Jean knelt beside Angela. ‘Did Teddy hurt you?’ she whispered.
Angela shook her head without looking up.
‘She was limping,’ Bobbie explained. ‘I knocked him for six then brought her to the house.’
‘Here; let me help you.’ Turning off the tap, Jean raised Angela to her feet. Then she slid the towel from her shoulders and eased her out of her dress. ‘Where’s Teddy now?’
Bobbie carried a wooden chair from under the window and made Angela sit again so that they could help her off with her stockings. ‘I laid him out flat,’ she told Jean. ‘He’s probably still there.’
Sitting in her satin petticoat, Angela looked up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she breathed. ‘Such a fool. So much trouble.’
Bobbie hugged her. ‘Listen to me; we’re going to get you into this bath and look after you. Then we’re going to get you to bed.’
‘Can you manage that by yourself?’ Jean checked with Bobbie. ‘There’s nothing else for it – Hilary needs to know about this, the sooner the better.’ Without waiting for Bobbie’s response, she hurried away.
‘There, there,’ Bobbie murmured as she slipped Angela’s petticoat over her head. ‘Jean will sort everything out for us. The bath is ready for you. Come on now; easy does it.’