‘I’m glad to hear your husband is alive, but I understand you have suffered the loss of a near relative. Your brother?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Fleur answered quietly.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t requested leave to go home.’
‘I—’ Fleur began and then faltered. She was about to admit that she believed she wasn’t wanted at home. She bit her lip and then altered what she had been about to say. ‘I thought – I mean – I didn’t think I’d be entitled to any more. Not for a while, ma’am.’
Caroline Davidson looked down at the papers on her desk, appearing to consult them. ‘Your friend, Morrison, has offered to cover your duties. She was trained in R/T work before remustering to become an intelligence officer. She feels – though she has not betrayed your confidence – that there are special circumstances in your case why a further period of compassionate leave should be granted to you.’ She looked up again, her clear blue eyes boring into Fleur’s. ‘I expect your parents would welcome your support at this time?’
Fleur licked her lips. Her heart was beating painfully. She didn’t like telling lies, yet if she agreed with her superior and was granted extra leave, she could go to see Robbie. Even if she was found out and punished, it would be worth it for a few extra precious hours with him.
Concentrating on her father’s feelings rather than her mother’s, Fleur was able to say truthfully, ‘Yes, ma’am, I’m sure they would.’
Caroline leant back in her chair and smiled, her blue eyes twinkling with a sudden mischief. ‘And, of course, if your transport arrangements should have to take you via Nottingham . . .’
Fleur stared at her for a moment, speechless. Really, she was thinking, sometimes their superior officers were capable of showing their human side.
Caroline straightened up and shuffled the papers on her desk with a brisk, businesslike movement. ‘I can’t let you go for a couple of weeks, I’m afraid. The forecasters think we’re in for a spell of good weather and you know what that means.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘So – we’ll see in a couple of weeks’ time. Come and see me then.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Fleur saluted smartly and left the office, still unable to believe her luck. But, she realized, it wasn’t so much down to luck as to her friend, Ruth. She went to find her to tell her what had transpired. Ruth listened with a wide grin on her face, particularly when Fleur reached the part about the transport arrangements.
‘She’s a nice old stick, really, though she can be a tartar if you kick over the traces.’
‘Old stick!’ Fleur laughed. ‘She can’t be much older than us.’
Ruth wrinkled her brow. ‘No, I suppose not when you think about it. I expect it’s just her rank that makes you think she must be as old as the hills.’
They laughed together and then Ruth’s smile faded. She eyed her friend keenly as she said, ‘Er, we’re not on duty until six. I – um – reckon we ought to cycle out to Mrs Jackson’s . . .’
Before she had finished speaking, Fleur was shaking her head. ‘Oh no, I can’t face her. Not yet. She was ever so fond of Kenny . . .’
‘I know,’ Ruth said softly and touched Fleur’s arm. ‘All the more reason why we should go and see her. And old Harry. If they’ve heard, they’ll wonder why we haven’t been to see them. And if they haven’t been told, then . . . then it’s us that ought to tell them.’
Fleur sighed deeply. ‘You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just – just . . .’
‘I know, I know,’ Ruth said softly. ‘But we’ll go together. I’ll be with you.’
Fleur was touched by her friend’s thoughtfulness. Despite her adamant declarations that she would not allow herself to get seriously involved with anyone whilst the war was on, Ruth had allowed herself to become fond of Fleur’s brother. And whilst she was strong, the same sadness that was in Fleur’s heart was mirrored in Ruth’s. Yet she was still sensitive to the feelings of others who had known – and liked – Kenny.
‘You’re right,’ Fleur said firmly, summoning up her own strength. ‘We ought to go. In fact, we’ll go right now before I chicken out.’
Ruth smiled. ‘Oh, you’re not one to do that.’ She linked her arm through Fleur’s as they went in search of their bicycles.
‘Oh, my dears,’ Mrs Jackson held out her arms, trying to embrace them both as they let themselves in through her back door and stepped into the kitchen. Tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks. ‘Harry only heard yesterday. He told me last night. We’re so very sorry. Your poor mother . . .’ She patted Fleur’s arm. ‘Sit down, dear. I’ll make a cup of tea.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Ruth said. ‘Then I’ll nip round to Harry’s. And you’ – she wagged her forefinger in Fleur’s face – ‘can get down to a bit of digging when you’ve drunk your tea. Do you good.’
As they sipped their tea, Fleur asked tentatively, ‘You . . . you had heard about Robbie? That he’s safe?’
The old lady nodded and smiled. ‘Yes. Harry heard that at the same time.’ She sighed. ‘Dearie me, what terrible times we’re living in. We were thrilled to hear that, but then the awful news about that lovely boy . . .’ She wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of her apron. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
Ruth returned a few minutes later with Harry in tow. The old man patted Fleur on the shoulder and just said, ‘Now then, lass,’ but the tone of his voice and his action spoke volumes. His sympathy and understanding, though not put into words, were very real. ‘Plenty of work in the garden, lass. Need any help?’
Fleur smiled tremulously. Robbie was out of action for some time and Kenny . . . Poor Kenny. She’d never hear his cheerful whistle and see his broad grin again. Oh, how she would miss him and not just for his help in the garden.
‘I’d better get on. I – we – can’t stay long today.’
‘I’ll bring your tea out to you then.’
Minutes later Fleur was digging in the garden. So many times Kenny had been here beside her, helping her. She had thought that the memory, the poignancy, would be upsetting, but in fact she found it comforted her. She kept glancing up, half expecting to see him a few feet away digging alongside her. Involuntarily, her ears strained for his merry whistle. But there was only the sound of the wind rustling in the apple tree and the sound of bird song.
When Ruth brought out their tea, the two girls sat together on the bench beneath the tree.
‘Robbie’ll soon be back here with you, sitting under the apple tree.’ They smiled at each other.
Fleur nodded, though just at this moment she could not share her thoughts with Ruth. There was another thought that had just crept its way into her mind. I wonder, she was thinking, if Dr Collins has heard that his son is still alive.
Louisa was waiting at the front door when her husband drew his car to a halt in front of the house and climbed wearily out of it.
Oh, he looks so tired, Louisa thought. This war’s almost as bad for him as the last one. She had been waiting on tenterhooks for hours, ever since she had heard the two pieces of news. One would bring him further sadness. And the other? Well, of course he would be glad that Robbie was safe. But with that piece of news would come further complications. Louisa knew he had visited Meg. He had told her on his return from the city.
‘There are to be no more secrets between us, Louisa,’ he had said, taking her hands in his. ‘You have been a dear, dear girl in being so understanding and – and forgiving – and the last thing I want to do is to cause you any more pain, but—’ Here he’d paused, not knowing quite how to continue, so Louisa had squeezed his hands and said softly, ‘Philip – I do trust you. As long as you promise to tell me everything, we can deal with whatever happens – together.’
‘Oh, my dear,’ he had said, taking her in his arms and holding her close. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
Then she had laughed, trying to lighten the emotion of the moment, and teasing him had said, ‘No, you don’t.�
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And then they had sat down together, the glow from the fire in the grate giving them the only light in the room, whilst he had told her of his visit to Meg. He ended by saying, ‘I shan’t see her again, Louisa, I promise you that unless . . . unless by some miracle Robbie comes back. Because . . . because I told her that if he did then . . . then—’ Again, he had faltered not wanting to hurt her.
But Louisa was not only forgiving, she was compassionate and she finished the sentence for him. ‘You’d want to meet him and get to know him.’
He nodded, but he had such a hangdog expression on his face, like a naughty boy that had been caught scrumping apples, that Louisa had laughed aloud and touched his cheek. ‘Oh, my dear, of course you would. He’s your son.’
‘You – you wouldn’t mind?’
She had shaken her head. ‘Not now, no. Once I would’ve done. Once I would have minded dreadfully. You were right when you said that my idea that we could perhaps have adopted him was foolish. I was, as you so rightly said, only speaking with the benefit of hindsight. I’ve thought about what you said a lot since we talked and I’ve admitted to myself that, no, at the time I would have been far too upset to have even thought such a thing. But . . . but not now. I’m older and I hope a lot wiser. What happened in the past cannot be changed. He’s your son. There’s no denying that. I saw it for myself. Of course, if we’d had children of our own then it might have taken a little more thinking about, for their sake. It would have been a shock for them to discover they had a half-brother, but since we haven’t . . .’ Her voice trailed away.
Philip had squeezed her hand. ‘I . . . I don’t think Meg would let us see him very often. I mean I don’t think she would want him to become – well – part of our family.’
Louisa had smiled softly. ‘If the Lord is good to us and he comes back, then I don’t think she will have any say in the matter. He’s a grown man and he will make his own decision.’
Philip had sighed heavily. ‘Only if she agrees to tell him that I am his natural father.’
Louisa’s eyes had widened. ‘You . . . you mean he didn’t know? She never told him?’
Philip shook his head.
‘Oh,’ was all Louisa had said then and silence had fallen between them. They’d not spoken of the matter again but now, as she waited at the door to greet him, she knew they had a great deal to discuss. The miracle – and all that it entailed – had happened.
He was coming up the path towards her now, smiling as he approached. ‘Hello, my dear.’ Then, as he became aware of her anxious face, he added, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No – yes, well – oh, come in, Philip. Your supper’s all ready. We’ll talk later.’
He glanced at her, seeing she was on edge, but he said mildly, ‘Whatever you say, my dear,’ as she helped him out of his coat and took his medical bag out of his hand.
Louisa picked at the food on her plate, eating so little that at last Philip leant towards her across the table and said, ‘I think, my dear, you’d better tell me now, else you’re going to waste all this lovely food you’ve spent hours preparing. And’ – he smiled – ‘you’re making me so nervous that my appetite’s disappearing by the minute. Now, tell me. What has happened?’
Louisa laid down her knife and fork and looked up at him. ‘Firstly, I must tell you that poor Kenny has been killed. In training, would you believe? Isn’t that cruel? I’ve been to see Betsy today and she’s in a dreadful state. Poor Jake too. He’s like a zombie. Just going through the motions of work but . . . but they’re both devastated.’
Philip’s face fell into lines of sadness and he let out a long, deep sigh. ‘Oh dear. I’m so very sorry to hear that.’
There was silence between them whilst they each spared a thought for the boy whose life had been so cruelly snatched away before Louisa added, ‘But there is good news.’
Philip smiled bleakly as if nothing could be counted as ‘good news’ after what she had just told him.
Watching his face, she said softly, ‘Robbie is alive.’
His head jerked up and she saw the spark in his eyes and knew that, whatever it cost her, she had to let him get to know his son.
‘Alive? How – I mean – what happened? Do you know?’
‘Jake told me. He didn’t mention it in front of Betsy, but he followed me out into the yard to tell me. Robbie’s plane came down in the sea only just off the coast and the local lifeboat rescued all the crew. He has a broken leg, but apart from that, he’s fine.’
Philip let out the breath he’d been holding in a huge sigh of relief whilst Louisa went on. ‘It seems that Fleur didn’t know until she arrived at Meg’s house in Nottingham. She’d been granted compassionate leave to go to see his mother only to walk in and find him sitting there. It seems they didn’t even know on the station until just before she got back. There’d been an air raid and all the telephone lines were down. And then, when she was so happy, she went to Middleditch Farm on her way back to camp only to hear that Kenny had been killed.’
‘Good news one minute and bad the next, eh?’ Philip said. ‘Poor Fleur.’
‘Betsy’s turned totally against her. She’s blaming Fleur for it happening.’
‘For Kenny volunteering, you mean?’
Louisa nodded.
He sighed. ‘I’ll have to go and see her. Betsy, I mean. See if I can talk to her. I might be able to help.’
‘Philip – there’s something else.’
He glanced at her, waiting.
‘Jake told me that after Robbie was posted missing, presumed killed, Fleur pressed her father to tell her about . . . about the past.’ She ran her tongue nervously around her lips but Philip finished her sentence for her.
‘And he did. He told her just who Robbie’s father is?’
‘Yes,’ Louisa whispered.
‘And you think she’ll tell Robbie?’
‘Well – yes.’
‘D’you think Meg realizes Fleur knows?’
Louisa shrugged. ‘Jake says he swore her to secrecy. Made her promise never to say a word to Meg, but, I mean, now he’s come back . . .’
‘Who’s to know what will happen?’ he murmured and, whilst his wife picked up her knife and fork to finish her meal, Philip sat lost in thought.
Forty-Five
Two weeks later, having been granted special leave, the thoughts that now occupied Philip’s waking hours also slipped into Fleur’s mind. She didn’t like having secrets from Robbie, but as her father had once said to her they weren’t their secrets to tell.
She went straight to Middleditch Farm, but her mother would not speak to her, would not even acknowledge her presence and deliberately turned her back on her. Fleur stayed only an hour, talking with her father in the yard and then begging a lift to the station to catch the train to the Junction and then on to Nottingham, arriving late in the afternoon at the terraced house. She had, of course, written every other day to Robbie, so he knew about Kenny, but she had not mentioned anything about what Jake had told her. Nor did she intend to. She had made up her mind. It was Meg’s place to tell her son, not Fleur’s. She wondered if she had already done so. Though Fleur knew nothing of Philip’s visit and the quandary Meg now found herself in, she did believe that Robbie should know the truth. But it wasn’t her place to tell him.
‘Well, if it’s not Long John Silver.’ She grinned as the door opened and Robbie stood there.
‘Darling! How wonderful,’ he said, pulling her inside, shutting the door and enfolding her in a bear-like hug all in one movement. ‘However did you wangle more leave?’
‘Ma’am’s been very good. She actually called me to her office. This is supposed to be compassionate leave for Kenny, but I’m not really wanted at home . . .’ And then she could say no more, because he was kissing her hungrily.
Some time later, they emerged into the light of the kitchen. ‘Look who’s here,’ Robbie said, limping into the room.
‘As if I hadn’t g
uessed.’ Smiling, Meg got to her feet and hugged Fleur. ‘Darling girl, we’re so sorry to hear about Kenny. How are your mother and father?’
Fleur pressed her lips together. ‘Not good.’
‘Here, come and sit by the fire. I’ll make some tea.’
‘I’ve been to the farm today, but Mum won’t even speak to me. She blames me, you see.’
‘Yes, you said before. I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but . . .’ She left the sentence unfinished but they all understood.
Fleur glanced towards the old man’s empty chair beside the range. ‘Where’s Pops? Is he all right?’
‘He is now Robbie’s safe. He’s in bed, but he always goes early. He’s fine. Better than he was.’
Fleur smiled with relief and sat down in his chair.
‘There, love, drink that.’ As Meg handed her a cup of tea, Fleur looked up and met the older woman’s gaze. There was no mistaking the look of pleading in her eyes. Don’t tell him, she was asking silently. Don’t say anything. Unseen by Robbie, who had hopped out of the kitchen into the scullery in search of something to eat, Fleur smiled and gave a little nod.
Meg bent closer and whispered, ‘I shall tell him, Fleur. I just . . . just haven’t had the right moment.’
‘It’s all right. I promise I won’t say—’
‘And what are you two whispering about?’
‘I was just asking your mother if you’ve been behaving yourself.’
Robbie laughed and pulled a face. ‘I’m bored out of my skull.’
Meg, straightening up, laughed. ‘We’re not very exciting company, I’m afraid. Just me and the old man.’
‘I didn’t mean that, Ma. I love being with you. It’s just that it’s all going on without me.’
‘Just be thankful it is for a while,’ Fleur replied tartly. ‘It’s giving us all a bit of a rest knowing you’re safe. Think about us for once instead of being the hero.’
There was silence until Fleur covered her face and said contritely, ‘Oh, I’m sorry – I’m so sorry. That sounded awful. It came out all wrong. I just . . . I just – what with you going missing and we all thought you were dead and then Kenny . . .’
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