by Molly Green
The young lad who drove her to the Adamsons’ house didn’t stop talking. Raine knew he was being friendly, but she would have preferred to be quiet for a few minutes after her ordeal.
A mile or so later he dropped her outside one of a row of semi-detached Victorian houses along a busy street, swung her suitcase from the boot and placed it on the short path leading to the front door.
‘Good luck, miss.’ He waved and vanished.
Raine tilted her head to look up at the house before she knocked. It had a deep bay window on the first floor flanked by a smaller but equally decorative window. On the ground floor was a matching bay and a curved arch forming a porch to the front door, painted maroon. The small front garden was neat and well kept and Raine imagined it would be the same at the back. It felt like an inviting house which would give her some respite. She only hoped Mr and Mrs Adamson would be equally happy to have two women they’d never met sharing their home.
She took a breath and raised her hand to the knocker. There was loud barking from within and the door opened immediately. An elderly gentleman stood there, holding the door wide, a small brown-and-white terrier at his heels. He was in his seventies, Raine guessed, with silver hair and a moustache to match, and kind, twinkling eyes. Best of all, he was beaming at her.
‘I’m Thomas Adamson. And you must be Lorraine. Come on in, love. We hoped you’d be early so you could settle in.’ He stepped aside to let her pass, the dog still barking at her but wagging his tail. ‘That’s enough noise, Bobby. Miss Linfoot is going to be with us for a while so you’d better be friendly.’ He bent to pat the dog, then rose up with a wince. ‘Not so supple as I once was,’ he said to Raine with a rueful expression. ‘Do you like dogs?’
Immediately Raine thought of Ronnie.
‘I’m not really used to them,’ she said, but instinctively she bent and patted Bobby’s head. ‘Good boy,’ she told him, and was rewarded with a lick on her hand.
‘He’s making friends with you already,’ Mr Adamson said, pride in his voice. ‘Come through, come through. My wife’s in the front room. She’s got arthritis, so she can’t move about too easily.’ His eyes fell on her case. ‘Why don’t I take that suitcase and show you your room first … then you can meet the missus.’ He picked up her case before she could protest.
Raine followed the broad figure up a curved flight of stairs to the landing. He opened one of the doors, but instead of being a bedroom it was another flight of narrow steps.
‘We’re only three bedrooms on the first floor, so we’ve had to put you in one of the attic rooms,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Both our sons are in the army, but they do manage to get home occasionally. And recently Barry got engaged, so with you and your colleague we’re going to be a full house.’
He opened a door to the left and entered, setting down the suitcase. It was a larger room than she’d expected, though only two-thirds would give her enough headroom. Nevertheless, a shaft of sunlight filtered through a dormer window, picking out the single bed. Inwardly, she sighed with relief.
Mr Adamson pulled open a door in the sloping wall to reveal the wardrobe.
‘Bit short of coat hangers,’ he said.
‘It’s absolutely fine,’ she assured him. ‘I haven’t brought that much, so I’ll quickly unpack and come down and meet Mrs Adamson, if that’s all right.’
‘Perfectly.’ Her host looked round the room in a vague manner. ‘Anything else you might need to know?’ He raised his white eyebrows.
‘Just where the bathroom is.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He glanced at the bed. ‘My wife’s put the towels out for you – on that chair.’ He nodded towards a Lloyd Loom chair with two neatly folded towels. ‘You and the other young lady – I forget her name – will have to share our bathroom. It’s on the first floor. Door second on the right. There’s a cloakroom downstairs and your colleague has a sink in her room. That does help. Anyway, my wife will sort those arrangements with you.’
How wonderful. Her own room. A bit of privacy.
‘Thank you very much,’ she said fervently.
‘Come and find us whenever you’re ready,’ he said. ‘No need to rush. I’ll make us all some tea and we’ll be in the sitting room. Don’t bother to knock.’
When he’d disappeared Raine breathed out. She took stock of what would now be her new home. In spite of the sloping ceilings where she would have to duck, the main part was a good height and the room looked as though it had been recently decorated, though it was sparsely furnished. The floor was linoleum of an indistinguishable colour, cheered with a large, richly patterned dark red rug by the side of the bed. There was a heavy chest of drawers on the far side and a bedside table with a lamp. Lovely. She’d be able to read at night … something she hadn’t been able to do since she’d shared a room with Suzanne who needed her sleep. At the thought of Suzy, she gulped. She knew she was going to miss her sisters terribly.
Raine stepped over to the dormer window to see people scurrying by, all seeming to have a purpose. Women were balancing shopping bags with children too young to go to school hanging on their arms, the kiddies stumbling and crying. She noticed a couple of businessmen walking on the other side of the road deep in conversation. A bus pulled up at a stop only a few yards from the Adamsons’ house, where several people alighted.
She watched for a minute or two then opened the window. Immediately, it was noisier – a child’s scream, a motorbike roaring past – and she could smell the fumes from the bus. There was only the odd motorcar since the petrol rationing, but a horse and milk cart slowly clip-clopped its way along the road. She smiled at the lack of urgency of the animal and its driver. They were obviously carrying on normally, war or no war.
The warm summer air fanned her cheek. This room would be her refuge. She only hoped the new pilot would be nice. With a light heart she hurried downstairs.
Voices came from behind one of the doors. She opened it and immediately Bobby ran towards her, giving little whines of delight.
‘Come in, my dear,’ called an elderly plump lady. She was sitting as upright as the straight-backed chair encouraged, her misshapen fingers gripping her knitting needles as she slowly proceeded along the row.
Raine’s first impression was that she looked formidable in her dark grey plaid dress, her silver hair severely pulled back from her face in a bun, her lips devoid of colour. But as she tilted her head towards Raine and their eyes met, Raine saw that her smile was as wide and genuine as her husband’s.
‘Do come and sit down,’ she said, gesturing for Raine to take one of the pair of leatherette armchairs. ‘You must be tired with your journey.’ Before Raine could answer, Mrs Adamson said, ‘Tom’s in the kitchen making tea for us all. I’m sure you could do with one.’
Her hosts were very similar in that they both talked nineteen to the dozen without waiting for any reply. Raine hid a grin. But they were making her welcome and that was heavenly. Bobby, the dog, was soon snoring softly in his basket.
‘I think you girls are wonderful,’ Mrs Adamson said, shaking her head as she took up her knitting again. ‘Flying those great machines all on your own. They scare me to death. You wouldn’t catch me up in one.’
Raine smiled. ‘The training gives you everything you need to know and, besides, I’ve always wanted to fly.’
‘Your poor mother must be worried sick with all those Germans in the sky trying to shoot down our boys.’ Mrs Adamson heaved a sigh from her full bosom. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about – but I suppose Mr Churchill knows what he’s doing.’
‘Tell me about your sons,’ Raine said, desperate to change the subject from her mother.
Mrs Adamson’s face clouded. ‘Danny and Barry? I worry about them night and day, though they tell me not to,’ she said. ‘They’re in the army – officers, both of them,’ she finished on a note of pride.
‘You must be so proud of them,’ Raine said. ‘And I hear Barry’s just got engaged.’
‘Yes.’ Mrs Adamson beamed. ‘To a sweet girl. Daphne. She’ll make Barry a wonderful wife … and a lovely daughter-in-law.’
‘Tea up.’ Mr Adamson wheeled in a trolley. ‘Shall I be mother?’
‘Oh, yes, dear, you’re better at it than me these days. My hands are so shaky.’
Mr Adamson poured a cup for Raine and handed one to his wife. As Mrs Adamson put out her hand to take it, the cup rattled in its saucer. Raine turned her head away, pretending not to notice. She took a sip of the warm weak tea.
There was a sudden loud knock at the door.
‘Now who can that be?’ Mrs Adamson said. ‘We’re not expecting anyone, are we, dear?’ She looked at her husband for confirmation.
The knock was more impatient this time and Bobby leapt up and began to bark.
‘Let me get it for you.’ Raine sprang to her feet.
‘Oh, how kind,’ Mrs Adamson said, beginning another row of her knitting.
‘Stay here, Bobby!’ Mr Adamson ordered, as he struggled from his chair.
Bobby gave his master a reproachful look but lay down in his basket again, his ears on full alert.
Raine opened the door to a petite young woman, maybe two or three years older than herself, her strawberry blonde curls escaping from her pert straw hat, smiling in the way of a woman who is used to having men falling over themselves to rush to her aid. A suitcase, almost as tall as her, stood alongside. Raine glanced over the girl’s shoulder and was just in time to see the rear end of a large cream car as it vanished down the road.
‘Hello, I’m Stephanie Lee-Jones. And you must be Lorraine.’ She stuck out a hand and Raine couldn’t help noticing the long, manicured nails painted shocking pink.
‘That’s right.’ Raine briefly shook her hand and stepped aside. ‘Raine Linfoot. I don’t believe the Adamsons are expecting you until tomorrow. But come in. I’ve only just arrived myself.’
‘There’s been a mix-up on the times,’ Stephanie said, attempting to pick up her suitcase. She hesitated, then looked up at Raine. ‘I can’t lift this thing. The driver had to carry it to the door.’ She looked down at her shoes. ‘And these heels don’t help,’ she added.
‘Here, let me have it,’ Raine said automatically, then immediately wished she hadn’t offered as she struggled to pick the case up under the watchful eye of Stephanie. She let it drop with a thud in the hallway. ‘Come and meet our hosts.’
As soon as Raine opened the sitting room door, Bobby barked and shot out of his basket, his tail wagging hard. He jumped up at Stephanie, his front paws firmly pinned to her skirt, causing her to stumble backwards.
‘Bobby! Naughty! Come here at once!’ Mr Adamson got hold of Bobby’s collar and pulled him away. ‘Into your basket!’ He looked at Stephanie. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear. You’re probably not used to dogs.’
‘I’m not,’ Stephanie said, white-faced. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m scared of them.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. Our Bobby wouldn’t hurt a fly,’ Mrs Adamson said. ‘He always pretends to be fierce with the tradesmen.’ She squinted at Stephanie who looked visibly shaken. ‘It’s Hetty, isn’t it? The baker’s daughter. We haven’t seen you for some time, but I thought you were fond of Bobby. No matter. Mrs Fuller said you were coming home on leave and would pop in and see us …’
‘No, this isn’t Hetty,’ Raine said, biting her lip hard to stop herself from laughing aloud at Stephanie’s shocked expression, ‘it’s Miss Stephanie Lee-Jones, your other pilot.’
Mrs Adamson gave a gasp of dismay. ‘But you’re not expected until tomorrow and I haven’t made up the bed. I must—’ She broke off as she tried to pull herself from the chair.
‘Now, dear, don’t upset yourself,’ Mr Adamson said. ‘I’m sure the girls are able to make up a bed.’ He turned to Stephanie. ‘Do forgive my wife. She hasn’t got her glasses on and she’s a little short-sighted. Come and sit down. I only made the tea ten minutes ago.’
‘I’d prefer to see my room first, if you don’t mind,’ Stephanie said in a stiff tone. ‘Get unpacked, et cetera.’
‘I’ll take your case upstairs, then.’ Mr Adamson heaved it towards the door.
Raine couldn’t allow him to struggle with it up two flights of stairs.
‘It’s all right, Mr Adamson,’ she said. ‘Stephanie and I will carry it between us.’
‘If you’re quite sure.’ Mr Adamson retrieved his seat, panting a little.
‘I’m sorry I can’t help,’ Stephanie said to Raine’s disbelief. ‘It’s these heels.’ She nodded towards them as though to convince Raine she wasn’t exaggerating.
Managing to stop herself from giving the girl a piece of her mind, Raine half pushed, half pulled the suitcase up the first flight of stairs, Stephanie grumbling all the while about the long journey she’d had stuck in a motorcar and the driver refusing to stop so she could stretch her legs.
‘I’m bursting to go to the lavatory,’ Stephanie said as they stepped onto the first landing.
‘Bathroom’s the second door on the right,’ Raine answered a little curtly as she began to haul the case up the second flight.
What on earth was the woman carrying? By the look of her it was probably full of lipsticks and nail varnish and high heels, she thought resentfully.
Her forehead perspiring with the exertion, Raine opened the bedroom door at the opposite end of hers and was about to shove the damned suitcase in the doorway and leave, when curiosity won. She dropped the case with relief for her aching arm and looked around.
It was a slightly bigger room, and the window at the far end was larger. She walked over and peered out. Mmm. Stephanie had definitely got the better view. Her eyes swept over the fields in the distance and the arrangements of allotments and little sheds close to the back of the house. She heard light footsteps up the stairs.
‘What’s the view like?’ Stephanie stepped into the room, obviously recovered from Bobby’s exuberance.
Raine turned. ‘Very nice – a lot quieter than mine which faces the road. And you have a sink, no less.’
‘Hmm.’ Stephanie stared at Raine under thick black lashes. ‘I’m used to having my own bathroom. Don’t know what Mummy and Daddy would say to just a handbasin.’ She looked about her. ‘And it’s so small.’
‘I’m sure it will all work out and we’ll get used to everything,’ Raine said, becoming thoroughly annoyed with the woman for worrying about what her parents would say to such a primitive set-up. We don’t like to think of our child living in reduced circumstances, they’d probably say to one another, she thought scornfully. She bit back a retort and instead politely asked, ‘Have you come far today?’
‘Kensington.’
How on earth did you manage to come all that way by car with petrol rationing? Raine almost blurted. But she supposed someone with a double-barrelled name would be used to travelling in style. Stephanie Lee-Jones oozed wealth, from the top of her shiny blonde hair to her expensive-looking high heels.
‘Did you say your name was Raine?’
Raine nodded in response.
‘I’ve never heard that name.’ Stephanie studied her with baby-blue eyes.
‘It’s Lorraine, but I rarely use it.’
‘Then I shall call you Lorraine,’ Stephanie said as though that was the end of the matter. ‘I think it’s nicer.’ She paused. ‘And please don’t ever think of calling me “Steph”. Or even worse, “Stevie”.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Raine said. ‘And far as I’m concerned, it’s only my friends who call me Raine, anyway.’
With that she swung out of the room, only just hearing Stephanie’s murmured, ‘Thank you for bringing up my case.’
Chapter Thirteen
Not a good start, Raine thought, annoyed with herself that she’d been overtly irritable, but really, Stephanie was too privileged for words. She would be from a big house in its own grounds and still have servants if they hadn’t already volunteered to go off to war. What kind of pilo
t was she if she couldn’t look after herself? Who couldn’t even manage that damned tank she called a suitcase. Raine shrugged. It wasn’t her concern and presumably she and Stephanie wouldn’t see that much of one another. Even if they were on the same shift they’d be delivering to different airfields.
And at the back of it, wasn’t she just a teensy bit jealous of Stephanie’s upbringing where money was no object? Just then, the scene downstairs where Mrs Adamson thought Stephanie was Hetty, the baker’s daughter, came to mind. Stephanie’s horrified expression. Raine couldn’t help breaking into a smile as she saw the funny side. Then laughter took hold as she sat on the edge of her bed, tears of mirth rolling down her face. Desperately she tried to control herself but it only ended in a snort.
Someone’s voice pierced through her laughter. Stephanie.
‘Lorraine! What is it?’
‘N-n-nothing,’ Raine stuttered, looking up at her and breaking into a fresh peal of laughter. The next thing she felt was a hard slap on her cheek.
‘Stop it at once!’
There was a harsh silence. What on earth was the matter with the stupid woman? Raine brought her hand up to her flaming cheek.
‘Why the devil did you do that?’
‘You were hysterical,’ Stephanie accused, standing over her. ‘I had to do something drastic.’
Raine blinked. ‘How dare you! Of course I wasn’t hysterical. In future, keep your hands to yourself.’ And then an image of the barrage balloons flashed in front of her and she trembled.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, Lorraine?’ Stephanie plonked herself on the bed beside her. ‘I know I’ve only just met you but you seemed a bit out of control.’
Raine heaved a sigh. ‘I was laughing because I suddenly saw the funny side of something, but it was probably just pure relief.’ She paused and looked directly at Stephanie. ‘I nearly had a fatal accident this morning and I don’t know how I got out of it.’