Izzy's War

by Isla Dewar

  They were sitting outside on a travelling rug spread out on the small, weedy lawn. The baby was between them, lying kicking his legs, staring with fascination at his fist, held up against the sky. A plane buzzed past.

  ‘I’ll never get the picture of that train moving off, the whistle, the steam and me standing there with my Woman’s Own out of my head. And I’ll always have my images of Tyler looking about, wondering where I was, going out into the corridor, walking up and down calling my name. I guess he hates me now. I deserve that.’ She sighed.

  ‘He won’t hate you,’ said Izzy. ‘Maybe one day he’ll be grateful. He might meet someone else and be glad he’s free.’

  ‘But he won’t be free. He’ll be married to me. Unless I manage, somehow, to get a divorce.’

  They both stared down at the baby. Elspeth put her finger in his hand, he pulled it to his mouth, sucked it.

  ‘So what happened to your accordion?’ asked Izzy.

  ‘It’s on its way to a land I’ll never visit to have adventures I’ll never have.’

  Next day it rained. Elspeth and Izzy stayed in, sat by the fire and talked.

  ‘You owe it all to me, you know. Everything that’s happened to you is all down to me.’

  ‘So, it’s your fault I had a baby. Elspeth, you had nothing to do with that.’

  ‘I got you flying. If I hadn’t, you’d never have come here, you wouldn’t have been in that plane you had to land at Jimmy’s base so you wouldn’t have met him. You’ve me to thank.’

  ‘Well, thanks,’ said Izzy. ‘It’s your fault I got robbed of my money. Your fault I had a baby.’ She sighed. ‘I’d like to know who it was told my father I was a pilot. That’s what started my downfall.’

  Elspeth looked down at her shoe, took a breath and said, ‘That was me.’

  ‘You? You did that.’

  ‘Me. I blurted it out. I’ve always been a blurter.’

  ‘That was one hell of a piece of blurting,’ said Izzy.

  ‘I was at home. I met him in the street and I told him. He was being so patronising, crowing about you having a desk job while I was slaving in the forest doing a man’s job. I was jealous of you. You with the wonderful job and me trudging about the forest, exhausted. And you hadn’t been in touch for ages. And I wanted to hurt him. I wasn’t enthused about men at the time. There had been a hiccup in my life. I hated men.’

  Izzy asked why.

  ‘One of the men in the forest tried to rape me. I’d gone home to recover. When I met your father, I was covered in bruises. I said I’d fallen off my bike.’

  ‘You were raped?’ said Izzy. ‘Elspeth, that’s more than a hiccup. Who?’

  She told him it was her boss. ‘But he didn’t actually manage to do the deed. I think he got a little overexcited too soon. In the end, when it came to the bit, he wasn’t up to it.’

  ‘Oh, Elspeth.’

  ‘He sort of knocked me about. But I gave a good account of myself. He didn’t come away unscathed.’ She made scratching movements in the air.

  ‘Oh, Elspeth.’

  ‘So, in a way,’ said Elspeth, ‘I am responsible for everything that’s happened. Except for Jacob stealing your money. That’s your own fault, keeping your cash in your knicker drawer.’

  All Izzy could say was, ‘Oh, Elspeth.’

  Elspeth said, ‘I’m sorry. I rather think I buggered up your life.’

  Chapter Forty-nine

  All the Way from America

  MRS BRENT KNOCKED on the cottage door and walked in, shouting, ‘Only me!’

  Izzy was making soup; Elspeth was at the table, watching. They both turned.

  Mrs Brent handed three letters to Izzy. ‘For you, all the way from America.’

  Izzy wiped her hands on her apron, and took them.

  ‘They’ve been delivered to your old cottage. I was in there doing a bit of tidying up and there they were on the doormat.’

  Izzy looked at the letters, turned them over, read the sender’s address.

  ‘They’ll be from your young man,’ said Mrs Brent. She waited for Izzy to open them and tell her what they said. But Izzy told Elspeth, to mind the baby and went outside to be alone while she read them.

  Mrs Brent hovered, looked out the window at Izzy, looked at Elspeth who was saying nothing. As no gossip was forthcoming, she left, saying she’d keep an eye out for any more letters and hand them in.

  When Izzy returned, she put the letters down on the table and went back to making soup.

  ‘Well?’ said Elspeth.

  ‘He’s back in Montana, working at a local hospital. He’s building a house near to where his parents live. He’s living with them at the moment.’

  ‘And?’ said Elspeth.

  ‘He wants me to go there.’

  ‘Go,’ said Elspeth. ‘You must go.’

  ‘I have a baby. I can’t just get up and go halfway across the world at the drop of a hat.’

  ‘Take him with you. He might like to meet his son.’

  ‘He doesn’t know he has a son.’

  ‘Well, write and tell him,’ said Elspeth. ‘He should know he’s a father.’

  Izzy said that indeed he should. She’d write and tell him.

  ‘Go and see him, take Sam with you. It’d be an adventure,’ said Elspeth.

  ‘I have no desire for an adventure,’ Izzy told her. ‘I’ve had enough of adventures.’

  ‘Go,’ said Elspeth. ‘America, Izzy, how can you resist? You might meet Clark Gable.’

  Izzy told her not to be silly. ‘Besides I’d rather meet James Stewart. I prefer him.’ She sighed. ‘Why doesn’t Jimmy come to me?’

  ‘Because his life is there, he wants you to see it. Maybe he wants you to share it.’

  ‘He hasn’t said he loves me,’ said Izzy.

  ‘Do you love him?’

  Izzy was silent for a long time before saying, ‘Yes.’

  ‘So go and find out if he loves you back.’

  ‘I’ve not got the money.’

  ‘So, get the money,’ said Elspeth. ‘Beg, borrow or steal it. But get it.’

  At night, when Elspeth slept, Izzy sat in bed reading Jimmy’s letters. He said he’d wanted to come to her but had been shipped to America. He told her he wanted her to see this place where he lived. ‘You’ll love it.’ In his next letter, he pleaded her to get in touch. ‘Why haven’t you answered my letter? Is there something wrong? Is there someone else?’ In the third letter, he was desperate. ‘I have phoned your cottage – no reply. I’m hoping that if you no longer live there, someone will post this on to you. I also phoned the manse to speak to your parents. I was told your father had died and your mother was living somewhere in the village, I wasn’t told where.’ He begged her to write to him.

  Izzy took up her tortoiseshell pen and wrote, ‘Dear Jimmy, You have a son . . .’

  When that was done, she started a second letter – ‘Dear Julia, I have a huge favour to ask of you . . .’

  Chapter Fifty

  Do You Miss It?

  JULIA SWEPT INTO the cottage and did what she always did, filled the place with her beauty and her scent. She looked round, pursed her scarlet lips and said, ‘God, Izzy. This is the smallest cottage I’ve ever been in.’

  ‘Small,’ said Izzy, ‘but perfect. You don’t have to walk far to get to anything. Three steps and you’re in the bedroom, another three and you’re in the loo. That’s what I call handy.’

  Julia turned to Charles, who’d come with her. ‘Izzy’s ever the optimist.’

  ‘I’d call it pragmatic,’ said Charles.

  There were four of them in the room, and really that was two more than it could comfortably accommodate. Julia suggested Charles and Elspeth went for a walk. ‘You could show him around. And he could buy you tea somewhere.’

  Elspeth said, ‘Why not. It’s stuffy in here.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ said Izzy. She didn’t like anyone to make derogatory remarks about her cottage.

&n
bsp; ‘Well, it’s going to get stuffy,’ said Elspeth. ‘Besides, it’s quite nice to be bossed about. I’m tired of being the bossy one.’ On the way to the front door, she asked Charles what happened to his leg.

  ‘Stupid bugger got shot trying to get some breakfast in Burma,’ said Julia. In a space this small, it was hard for innocent questions and remarks to go unheard by everyone.

  ‘I’ve done some pretty stupid things myself,’ said Elspeth.

  As they walked up the garden, Charles said she’d have to tell him about them.

  Julia sat down and heaved some papers from her handbag. ‘I’ve got your passport application form and everything else. I thought you might like to fly to New York, then a train to Chicago and another train out to Great Falls in Montana. Jimmy can meet you there.’

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out,’ said Izzy.

  ‘Darling, I’ve discovered that I love organising people. I think I’ve stumbled upon a great skill I didn’t know I had.’

  ‘Maybe you should become a politician,’ said Izzy.

  Julia gave her a withering look, ‘I don’t think so. Too much skulduggery and back-stabbing. No, I’ll just look about for a career where I can sit back and tell people what to do.’

  Izzy said, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Julia. ‘I have loved doing this. I feel useful. I’m touched that you asked for my help. You made me feel like a friend. It’s the nicest thing that ever happened to me.’ She thought about that. ‘Well, the second nicest thing that ever happened to me. Or maybe the third or fourth. But nice, anyway.’

  The sat quietly for a while, then Julia asked, ‘Do you miss it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Izzy. ‘Every single day. There are still one or two planes going over, but fewer and fewer, soon the base will be closed. It will all be over.’

  ‘Great times,’ said Julia. ‘God, I’m going to miss the war, happiest days of my life.’

  ‘I know,’ said Izzy.

  They sat some more, let memories flow. Izzy asked if Julia would like a cup of tea. She said, ‘Why not?’

  But Izzy didn’t move. She was enjoying the memories, moments in the air, alone in the sky, singing to herself, watching the world below skim past – rooftops, hedges, fields, roads like black ribbons, sleek rivers. She sighed. ‘It’s over, isn’t it? There’s nothing for us now. Nobody wants a lady pilot.’

  ‘No, they don’t,’ said Julia. ‘We’ll have to find another thrill.’ She reached once more into her handbag, brought out a fat envelope. ‘For you.’

  Izzy opened it, peered inside. ‘Gosh. This is a lot of money.’

  ‘It’s mostly dollars, darling. I changed some money yesterday. But there’s enough for a first-class ticket to London and a little for extras on the way. I’ll buy your flight tickets and give you them when you come to London. I’ll take you to the airport. The ticket will be one-way, you understand.’

  ‘One-way? What about coming back?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think you’ll be coming back, darling.’ She smiled at her. ‘Travel in hope. And if you do want to come back, your lovely American can pay. After all, he did lure you out there.’

  Izzy said, ‘I’ll pay you back.’

  ‘Naturally,’ said Julia. ‘But take your time. Well, it will take you some time, won’t it?’

  ‘I rather think it will,’ said Izzy.

  ‘You should have told me sooner,’ said Julia. ‘You should have let me know as soon as you found out Jacob had stolen your money. I’d have helped. You didn’t need to come and live in this hovel.’

  Izzy protested, ‘It isn’t a hovel. It’s a cottage that has a simple rustic charm.’

  Julia said, ‘You goose, Izzy.’

  Charles and Elspeth strolled along the path by the river. They picked up stones, tossed them into the water, speculated about the love lives of the ducks that drifted past, told one another their lives. When they came to the Golden Mallard, they went through the gate, walked up the long lawns and went in to order tea.

  They sat on the terrace. Elspeth poured. ‘I won’t make any remarks about being mother,’ she said. ‘I hate that. Actually, I don’t think I ever want to be a mother. I don’t think I’m the type.’

  He said, ‘Probably you aren’t. It’s not a thing to be done on impulse. And you are a creature of impulse.’

  She nodded. ‘I left that train on impulse. Though I’m sure it was a good impulse. I joined the Forestry Commission on impulse. I bought an accordion on impulse.’

  ‘You wanted to form an all-girl accordion band.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I imagined us all on a brightly painted bus, travelling the country. Playing hearty, stomping music at village halls.’

  ‘Do you actually know any other women who play the accordion?’ Charles asked.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Now you mention it, I don’t.’

  ‘So how would you have formed a band?’

  ‘I’d have advertised,’ she said. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Don’t ask sensible questions.’

  Charles said, ‘Sorry.’ He thought he’d stumbled upon the perfect woman. She could play the piano, was impulsive and, best of all, she was married. She wouldn’t expect him to make an honest woman of her.

  ‘So what now?’ he asked.

  ‘I was planning to go to London, get a job and be outrageous. But I think I may put that off for the moment. I’ll go back to my cottage and live there for a while. Then Edinburgh, I think. I’ll teach the piano to reluctant children while I ponder what to do with the rest of my life.’

  He said he liked Scotland. ‘Might take a trip up there. Do a bit of fishing. Is there a river near you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Elspeth. ‘There are rivers all over Scotland.’

  ‘Would you mind if I paid you a visit?’

  ‘Not at all. I have a spare room.’

  He raised his teacup and said, ‘Excellent. See you there.’ He didn’t tell her he’d no intention of using the spare room.

  In the evening, after Julia and Charles had left, Elspeth told Izzy she thought it time she went home. ‘I want to see my cottage again. I need to sleep in my own bed. Make peace with myself. Also, I’ve been wearing this damn suit since I got married. I want to put it away and never see it again.’

  Izzy said she understood.

  ‘I don’t suppose you could lend me the money for the train fare. I have nothing.’

  ‘Of course. I have a huge pile Julia lent me. I’m sure I could spare twenty pounds. That should see you with some left over.’

  Elspeth said she had a small amount in the bank at Fortham. I’ll pay you back so you can pay Julia back.’

  Elspeth left the next morning. ‘No tearful goodbyes. I will be seeing you again, even if I have to come to Montana to find you. Just lots of letters, please.’

  Elspeth climbed aboard the country bus, took a seat by the window, waved as it pulled away. Izzy watched it go, watched till it disappeared down the High Street and stood watching long after it was gone. She sighed, pushed the pram back to the cottage, head down, looking at her feet moving over the pavement. Soon she would be leaving this place, and she liked it here, felt safe here. She loved her little hovel with its rustic charm, its tiny rooms, snug now the first September winds were rattling at the windows. In fact, the more she thought about the journey she was about to take, travelling across a strange land with a child, the more she felt she didn’t want to go.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  You Used Me

  NINE O’CLOCK AT night, Elspeth walked up the path to her front door. The windows were lit, smoke drifted from the chimney and she thought she heard the wireless playing. How lovely, she thought, Izzy had phoned her mother and asked her to light a fire to warm the cottage for her. There would be hot water for a bath, and she did like her baths.

  Inside, she walked down the hall, sniffing. Fish, she thought. How odd. Into the living room – a soft fire flickered in the grate, someone was in her favourite armchair,
feet up on the stool in front of it, socks off, snoring.

  ‘Hello, Tyler,’ said Elspeth.

  He woke, rubbed his eyes, stared at her blankly as he came to. Then, he said, ‘There you are. Where have you been?’

  Elspeth took off her jacket, flung it over the arm of the sofa. ‘Izzy’s,’ she said. ‘Visiting my friend and her new baby.’

  ‘You just went without telling me?’

  Elspeth shrugged. She didn’t know what to say. Yes, she had gone to see Izzy without telling him. She knew that if they stayed married, she’d do it again. She hated herself for that. And rather disliked him for putting up with it. Well, she imagined he would put up with it.

  ‘You got off the train and went to see your friend and didn’t say anything. That’s the sort of wife you are?’

  ‘So it seems,’ said Elspeth. She told him she needed a cup of tea. He followed her to the kitchen. ‘You just got off the train and disappeared.’

  ‘I know,’ said Elspeth. ‘It wasn’t planned. I just did it. I was on the platform, the guard blew his whistle and the train moved off and I watched it. I couldn’t move. I just stood.’

  ‘I looked for you on that train. I went up and down the corridor looking for you. Then I got off and took the train back to York. Looked for you everywhere in the station. Called your name. Asked the porters if they’d seen you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ said Elspeth. ‘I’m really sorry.’ She filled the kettle.

  ‘Then I thought I’d missed you. You’d got the next train to London. So I got the one after that. By then it was late. So I slept in the station and got the first train to Southampton. I was sure you’d be there. But you weren’t.’

  Elspeth warmed the teapot, put in two scoops of tea and filled it with boiling water. ‘Do we have any milk?’

  He shook his head.

  She sniffed the air. ‘Have you been cooking fish?’

  He told her he had.

  ‘Where did you get it?’

  He pointed to the world beyond the window. ‘There’s a river out there.’