by Lily Baxter
‘Have you met Lionel Castle, Miranda? He’s Gil’s squadron leader and best friend.’
Lionel slid off the bar stool and held out his hand. ‘How do you do, Miranda? Gil was always talking about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’
Angela gave her a gentle push towards him. ‘Here’s your chance, darling. Don’t get in a funk now.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘HOW DO YOU do?’ Miranda shook hands.
Angela slipped her arm around Lionel’s shoulders. ‘I think Miranda wants to ask you something, don’t you, darling?’
‘It seems an awful cheek when we’ve only just met,’ Miranda murmured, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. She gave him a sideways glance and was surprised to see that he was regarding her with a sympathetic smile.
‘It’s all right, Miranda. Angela’s filled me in on the background and I’d be only too pleased to help.’
‘You would? I mean, that’s very good of you.’
His eyes crinkled at the corners and Miranda could see what had attracted Angela to him. He was not the best-looking man in the bar but he had kind eyes and a generous mouth. He gave the impression of being someone you could trust utterly and completely. She found herself launching into a detailed account of her visit to The Gables and her confrontation with Mrs Maddern outside the hospital. ‘I know she’s only trying to protect her son, but I wouldn’t abandon Gil. Even if he spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair I’d always be there for him.’
Lionel nodded. ‘I’m sure you would, and these things have a way of working themselves out. We don’t know for certain that Gil won’t walk again. He hasn’t been invalided out of the RAF so the powers that be are obviously working on the assumption that he’ll be fit enough to return to duty at some time in the future.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Miranda fumbled in her handbag and brought out the hanky that Gil had given her in what seemed now like another lifetime. It had been laundered again and again, but she kept it with her as if it were a talisman against ill fortune. She blew her nose, making a pretence of having a cold.
‘We all have to keep positive,’ Lionel said firmly. ‘You in particular mustn’t give up on him, Miranda. He never stopped talking about you from the day you met. If ever a chap was smitten it was Gil. I’ll forward your letters with pleasure.’
Angela beamed at him. ‘You’re an absolute poppet, Lionel. But what happens if Mummy Maddern finds out?’
‘Gil’s a big boy and he’s quite able to make his own decisions. He doesn’t need his mother to take over his life, even if she has the best of intentions.’ Lionel pushed his pint glass across the counter, raising his hand to catch the barman’s eye. ‘Another pint, please, squire, and whatever the ladies want.’
‘I’ll have a G and T, please, darling,’ Angela said with a hearty sigh. ‘I need a pick-me-up after listening to Miranda’s tussle with her future mother-in-law.’
‘Hold on,’ Miranda protested. ‘You’re going too fast, Angela. I haven’t said anything about marriage.’
‘Call me a romantic, but I can see it happening,’ Angela said, slanting a mischievous look in Lionel’s direction.
He smiled indulgently. ‘Is that a hint?’
‘It might be, or it might not.’ Angela covered his hand with hers. ‘But life is too short to be cautious, darling. Maybe we ought to give it serious consideration.’
The barman gave them a superior look as he served Angela’s drink. He turned his attention to Miranda. ‘What’s yours, miss?’
‘A glass of cider, please.’
‘Wait a moment, squire.’ Lionel slipped his hand into his breast pocket and produced a small jeweller’s box. ‘I wasn’t going to do this here, but this seems like a good moment, although I’m not going down on my knees.’ He flipped the lid open to reveal a diamond ring, holding it out to Angela with a tentative smile. ‘You’ve all but done the job for me, my love. Will you?’
With a squeal of delight, Angela flung her arms around his neck. ‘Of course I will, Lionel. I thought you’d never ask.’ She released him, holding out her left hand. ‘Make it official, darling.’
He slipped the ring on her fourth finger, receiving a round of applause, whistles and shouts of encouragement from everyone in the bar.
‘Treat her to champagne, you skinflint.’ The shout from the ingle nook made everyone laugh and Lionel bowed to his audience. ‘I’d buy drinks all round but I’m afraid that my squadron leader’s pay won’t run to it.’ He turned back to the barman amidst catcalls and boos. ‘But if you’ve got a bottle of champers, that would be super.’
Angela and Lionel were married three weeks later in the village church. Her parents could not attend as they were in India where her father was employed in the colonial service, and her only brother was captain of a destroyer on convoy duty in the Atlantic. The girls from hut five were her wartime family and all those who were not on duty attended the ceremony, including their section leader and Corporal Fox. It was a quiet affair with a wedding breakfast in the pub followed by a one night honeymoon in a country hotel not far from the aerodrome, but Angela could not have looked happier had she been married in Westminster Abbey with a celebration at the Ritz and the prospect of a honeymoon in the Bahamas.
When she returned to hut five after the wedding Miranda had her first opportunity to read the letter that Lionel had given her just before the ceremony. She sat on her bed and her fingers trembled as she opened the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper. The writing was spidery and the message was short, but it was from Gil and he told her how happy he was that she had taken the trouble to write to him. He explained that it was difficult to hold a pen with his right arm still in plaster, but it seemed that he had only received one or two of the letters that she had sent before Lionel had agreed to forward them. She clenched her fists and pummelled the hard flock mattress in a fit of impotent rage. ‘Bloody war,’ she muttered. ‘Bloody, bloody war.’
She was on duty that night, having volunteered so that at least one other girl could stay and enjoy the party. Audrey and a shy new recruit called Mabel had also said they would do the graveyard shift, and after a quick wash and tidying her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck Miranda went to the ops room to take over from Janice, who wanted to hear all the details of the wedding before she went off duty.
It was a busy night and Miranda had little time to think about anything but the task in hand. She was relieved at eight o’clock next morning and a pale yellow sun was forcing its way through the clouds as she crossed the forecourt heading for hut five. She heard her name being called and stopped, turning her head to see her section leader beckoning her from the steps of the priory. She went to her office expecting the worst. No one was summoned to the inner sanctum unless it was bad news.
‘I’m so sorry, Beddoes. We had a similar conversation not so long ago, and now I’m afraid I have to give you more sad news. Please sit down.’
Miranda thought immediately of Gil and she sat down rather more suddenly than she intended. ‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘I have to inform you that your aunt, Mrs Isabel Beddoes, was at work in the torpedo factory when it took a direct hit last night. Your grandmother telephoned me early this morning. There were several fatalities and your aunt, sadly, was one of them. I am truly sorry, Miranda.’
‘Izzie’s dead?’ Miranda stared at the officer, hardly able to believe her ears. ‘She can’t be. There must be some mistake.’
‘I’m afraid not. Your grandmother was absolutely certain of the facts.’
‘But she was pregnant,’ Miranda murmured, shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe that both she and her baby are dead.’ She covered her eyes with her hands, trying to banish the vision of Izzie’s happy face on her wedding day. She took a deep breath, struggling to retain her self-control as the section leader maintained a tactful silence. She dropped her hands to her lap, shaking her head. ‘Poor Jack. He’ll be devastated.’
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‘Would you like to talk to the padre? Perhaps he could help you through this.’
‘No, but thank you.’ She rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘There’s one thing you could do for me, ma’am.’
‘If it’s within my power, then yes, of course I will.’
‘I was thinking about it before this terrible thing happened, but I’d like a transfer to another station. If possible I’d like to be nearer home. I know that’s what everyone would want, but my …’ She hesitated, finding it difficult to put her relationship with Gil into words. ‘My close friend, Flight Lieutenant Maddern, is in Southampton hospital and I’ve only been able to visit him once. My grandparents are elderly and they need me. If it’s at all possible please could you work something out?’
‘In the normal course of things I’d have to say no, but yours is a rather special case. I can’t promise anything but I’ll see what I can do. If it were simply up to me I wouldn’t hesitate, but I have to go through official channels.’
Miranda nodded dully. ‘I understand.’
‘You’ll be excused duties this evening. Now try to get some rest.’
‘May I have permission to phone home, ma’am?’
She rose to her feet. ‘Of course. Use the telephone in the outer office.’
What strings the section leader had pulled Miranda was never to know, but by the end of the week her transfer had come through, and she could hardly believe her luck when she discovered that she was being sent to RAF Warmwell. On her last night the girls threw a party in hut five which went on long after lights out, courtesy of Corporal Fox, who in a sudden spurt of generosity had donated a bottle of gin to the proceedings.
Miranda could never have imagined how sad she would be feeling on saying goodbye to the friends she had made at Henlow Priory. When she left next morning there were tears all round and promises to keep in touch, even though Miranda knew that most of these, although well intentioned, would soon be broken. Perhaps she would hear from Angela from time to time, but she doubted if Val or Audrey would sit down and put pen to paper. Janice was soon to marry Cyril Shakeshaft, her boyfriend with the safe job at the gas board, and Gloria was being transferred and taking her twenty a day habit to the plotting room at RAF Filton. The old team was splitting up and Miranda could not help feeling some regret as she climbed into the truck which happened to be going into town to collect supplies from the depot. She leaned out of the window, waving to Val and Janice who had just come off night duty and were strolling across the gravel drive towards the mess.
The driver dropped her off at the station, and wished her good luck as he climbed back into the cab. He drove off and she knew that this was her final goodbye to Henlow Priory, but she was going home, or as near home as was possible in wartime. She would at least be able to offer some comfort to Jack, but she could only imagine how he must be feeling at this moment. She had lost her father, it was true, but Jack had lost his elder brother and now his wife and unborn child had been taken from him. In any other circumstances Miranda would have been overjoyed to be returning home, but it would hardly be a happy homecoming. She tried to keep her thoughts positive during the long journey involving several changes of train, and by the time she reached Weymouth station she was tired, hungry and looking forward to sleeping in her own bed, if only for one night. Tomorrow she was to report to Warmwell, and then she would have to face Raif who must also be racked with grief. It was not going to be easy.
As she stepped out of the station she was surprised once again to see Tommy standing by an army staff car, smoking a cigarette. Taking a last drag he tossed it on the ground and strode towards her, grinning. ‘Give us your case, Miranda.’
She handed it to him. ‘Have you come especially to meet me?’
He opened the passenger door and tossed her suitcase onto the back seat. ‘Rita told me you were coming and I had to bring the colonel into town. He said I could pick you up and take you home. Hop in.’
Miranda needed no second bidding. She slumped down onto the padded leather with a sigh of relief. ‘I thought I might have to walk.’
Tommy slipped into the driver’s seat. ‘I’ll have you back at Highcliffe in two ticks.’ He started the engine. ‘Sorry to hear about young Mrs Beddoes. I only met her the once, but it’s still very sad.’
‘Yes, thanks, Tommy.’
He shot her a sideways glance as he pulled out of the station forecourt. ‘I know someone who’ll be very pleased to see you.’
‘Rita?’
‘Yes, of course. She’s organised a billet for you at the castle, sharing a room with her.’
‘The castle? Is it a pub?’
Tommy chuckled. ‘No, it’s a joke. Some of the officers are billeted at Woodsford Castle, but Rita and a couple of the other girls are living in a tumbledown farmhouse on the edge of the village. They call it their castle.’
‘I can’t wait to see it.’
They lapsed into silence for the rest of the short ride to Highcliffe and Tommy left her at the gate, driving back into town to collect his colonel. Miranda walked slowly down the path towards the house. For the first time she was afraid of what she was going to face when she entered the house of sadness. She wondered how her grandparents and Jack were coping with the second tragedy to befall the family in such a short space of time. She had been thinking about it during the long train journey, and she had realised with a sense of shock that she had not yet come to terms with the loss of her father. He might have been a rather distant figure while she was growing up, but she remembered how much she had looked forward to seeing him when he came home on leave, and how sad she had felt when he went away again. But he was gone forever now, and so were Izzie and her baby.
She hesitated for a moment before raising the doorknocker and letting it fall so that its sound echoed around the entrance hall like the toll of a monastery bell. She braced herself to meet her grandmother with a cheerful face but it was Annie who opened the door, greeting her with a genuine smile of welcome. ‘Thank goodness you’ve come, Miranda. It’s a pity they didn’t send you home in time for the funeral, but you’re here now and that’s all that matters.’
She stepped over the threshold. ‘How are they taking it, Annie?’
‘I’ve never seen Mrs B so down, but it’ll do her the world of good to have you at home.’
‘I’m only here until tomorrow. I’ve got to report to my new posting in the morning.’
‘Well, that’s better than nothing. It’ll buck her up to know that you’re going to be close and she’ll see you more often. The major has tried to cheer her up, but he’s more upset than he lets on. I don’t think he’s quite got over all that hoo-ha with Max Carstairs.’
‘Max has lost his only daughter and his grandchild. You’d think it would bring the two families closer together.’ Miranda dropped her case onto the tiled floor and taking off her cap she tossed it onto the hallstand. She felt a little more relaxed now that she was home, despite the sad circumstances that had brought her here. The old house seemed to live in a time warp where nothing changed. The smell of Mansion polish and Brasso still lingered in the air, but the elephant table needed dusting and the stair carpet was threadbare in places. The grandfather clock had stopped at half past six and no one had bothered to adjust the weights and get it started again.
Annie picked up Miranda’s case. ‘You’ll find Mrs B in her sitting room. She’s done nothing but sit and stare out of the window since we got the news about Mrs Jack.’
‘That’s not like Granny. She’s always bounced back in the past. This must have hit her harder than I imagined. I didn’t know she was so fond of Izzie.’
‘A person can only take so much and I think she’d reached her limit. She hasn’t eaten enough to keep a fly alive. Maybe she’ll pick up now you’re here.’
‘I’ll go and see her now, and then perhaps we could both have something to eat. I had a sandwich at Waterloo but it was awful.’
‘Look on the bright side
,’ Annie said with a grim smile. ‘At least you won’t have to pretend to enjoy your granny’s rock cakes today. The poor soul hasn’t felt like baking, and we can’t barter for extras from Farmer Drake now we’ve run out of the embrocation. Mind you, Elzevir’s been much better for being sober.’ She headed for the stairs. ‘I’ll put your things in your room and then I’ll see what I can find in the pantry, but don’t expect anything fancy.’
Miranda went to the small sitting room and found her grandmother, as Annie had predicted, sitting in her chair staring out over the garden to the sea with Dickens curled up asleep on her lap. ‘Granny.’
Maggie turned her head and Miranda was shocked by the gauntness of her face and the dark shadows underlining her eyes. Granny had always looked younger than her years but suddenly she looked her age and more. Miranda rushed over to put her arms around her. ‘I’m here now. I came as soon as I could.’ Dickens leapt to the floor, waving his tail in affront, and went to sit on the windowsill where he proceeded to wash himself.
‘There’s no need to strangle me, dear,’ Maggie said, sounding a little more like her old self. She returned the hug and then pushed Miranda gently away. ‘Sit down and let me look at you.’
Miranda pulled up the stool and sat down. ‘How is Jack taking it, Granny?’
‘Badly, I’m afraid. He’s got a couple of days’ compassionate leave left, but I’m afraid he’s in no fit state to fly a plane. He stays in his room, pacing the floor or standing on the widow’s walk staring into nothing. He won’t eat and I doubt if he sleeps much either. I’ve never seen him like this, Miranda. It frightens me.’
‘I’ve never known you to be scared of anything, Granny. If you give up then who do we turn to? Maybe Jack needs you to give him a proverbial kick up the arse.’