by Emma Fraser
How had he found her?
But it didn’t matter. She had the chance to see him one last time, and God help her, she couldn’t resist.
He was waiting for her in an open-topped jeep parked by the side of the road, his head resting against the back seat, his hat pushed down over his forehead. Wild, pulsating joy flooded through her. She hadn’t thought she’d ever see him again.
Checking that no one was around to see her, she hurried over to the car and coughed to let him know she was there – she’d learned never to surprise a soldier unless she meant to; it could result in her having her head blown off.
He started and pushed back his hat. ‘Christ, I didn’t hear a thing.’
She smiled. ‘Good. That means I’ve learned something.’ She opened the passenger door and climbed in next to him. The smell of his aftershave sent little spirals of desire through her belly.
‘We can’t stay here,’ he said, starting the car.
‘I know a place. Go down the road for a couple of miles and turn right. There’s a barn we can park the car in.’
They were silent as Richard drove. He seemed angry with her, as he well might be. She wondered how he’d found her and how much he knew about what she was doing. She pointed to the field she meant and leaped out to open the gate, closing it again once the jeep was through.
She ran past the vehicle and opened the barn doors so that Richard could drive in.
While he parked she leaned against the barn doors, trying to calm her racing heart.
He left the dimmed lights on and leaped over the driver’s door.
‘Come here,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Yes we do. Damn it, Irena, do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?’
Slowly she walked towards him. ‘I can’t stay long. I wouldn’t have come if you hadn’t threatened…’ She swallowed. Her mouth was so dry.
He stepped forward to meet her and took her face between his hands. ‘My darling, my love,’ he murmured. Then his mouth was on hers and she was drowning.
After a few moments she pulled away. She reached into the car and switched off the lights.
Now there was complete darkness. She felt him come to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. ‘I don’t remember you being shy,’ he murmured in her ear.
‘Someone might see the lights through a crack.’
She heard his sharp intake of breath and her skin cooled as he let her go. ‘Of course. I’d forgotten for a moment. An agent needs to know all that stuff.’
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could just make out the shape of him. ‘How did you find me?’ she asked.
‘Did you really think I wouldn’t?’ His voice was bitter. ‘Did you think those damn letters and postcards would fool me for long? Didn’t you think I would find it strange that every time I had leave and wanted to come and see you, you’d moved on to a different hospital? In the end, all it took was a couple of phone calls. None of the hospitals had ever heard of you.’
‘That still doesn’t explain how you found me.’
‘Once the penny dropped it wasn’t difficult. There aren’t that many training schools just for Poles in the country. Christ, Irena, how could you keep this from me?’
She moved towards him and placed her hands on his chest. ‘Don’t be angry with me.’
‘Why the hell not? You know I love you. I thought you loved me. Yet you’re going back to Poland. For God’s sake, darling, you could be killed. You don’t need to do this. If you don’t care about me, can’t you care about yourself? What do you think you’re going to achieve? We’ve got the Boche on the run. My unit is being sent to Italy. That can only mean one thing. It’s almost over.’
How many times had she heard that? It wouldn’t be over until the last German had been evicted from her country.
‘And if I asked you not to go, not to fly missions any more, what would you say?’
‘That’s different.’
‘Why is it different?’
‘Because it’s my duty. Because I’m an officer in the air force. I can’t refuse even if I wanted to. But no one is ordering you back to Poland.’
‘And do you want to? Stop flying? Even though you know,’ her voice caught, ‘that every time you climb in your plane it might be your last?’ She hardened her voice. ‘You’re a rarity, Richard. How many men who started flying with you are still alive?’
‘Damn it, Irena, we’re not talking about me. You know I have to do what I do.’
‘As I do. I love my country as much as you love yours.’
‘You’re a woman, Irena. A doctor. Let the men go. I’ll go to my father if I have to and tell him you have to be stopped.’
She had no doubt he would. It was unlikely Lord Glendale would be able to stop her going, but she couldn’t take the risk. She forced a smile to her lips.
‘There’s no need.’
‘What do you mean?’ The hope in his voice made her heart tighten.
‘I failed the course,’ she lied. ‘They don’t believe I’ll use my weapon if I had to. They can’t take the chance. They’re not sending me back to Poland. I’ll be working in Britain as a decoder for the agents in the field. I can’t tell you where.’
He eyed her suspiciously. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this straight away?’
‘I would have – if you’d given me the chance.’
He buried his face in her neck. ‘Thank God, I’ve been going crazy thinking about it. If anything happened to you…’
‘My love, nothing is going to happen to me. We might not be able to see each other for a while, that’s all.’ She unfastened the necklace and held it out to him. ‘If you’re going to Italy, you’ll be flying missions again. Please take this. It will protect you the way it’s protected me.’
He took it from her hand. ‘No, darling, it’s kept you safe this long – you keep it. As long as you’re wearing it, I’ll know you’re all right.’
She knew him well enough to know there was no point in arguing, so she lifted her hair so he could clasp it around her neck.
When he’d finished, she threaded her hands through his hair. ‘Now, najdroz.sza, let’s not waste any more time talking.’
Two days later she was parachuted into Poland.
Chapter 44
Skye, 1989
‘She went back? You mean after the war?’
‘During.’ Katherine placed her knitting on the table and studied Sarah for a while. ‘All I know is that she did some sort of training with Special Operations or some such and they dropped her back in Poland. Poor Richard was devastated when he discovered she’d gone.’
‘Richard was in love with Irena?’ She would have sworn he was in love with Magdalena.
‘Absolutely besotted.’
‘Was she in love with him?’
‘Not at first. She was engaged to an officer in the Polish cavalry. I know she hoped for a long time that he survived. Sadly he didn’t. But, even before she learned of her fiancé’s death, I could tell she was attracted to Richard. It would have been difficult for her not to have been. If you’d met Richard back in those days, you would have known that any woman would have fallen for him. He was RAF and our pilots were heroes. Everyone adored them, particularly after the Battle of Britain. They were the glamour boys of the time. A bit like Rock Hudson was in his heyday.’
Sarah had only vaguely heard of Rock Hudson but she got Katherine’s drift. She wondered if Katherine had been in love with Richard too, even a little. It seemed as if Katherine had guessed what she was thinking.
‘I never saw Richard that way. I couldn’t. Even if I hadn’t known him when we were both children, he was my cousin. Not that he knew… oh, never mind that now. I mustn’t let my mouth run away with me. It’s just so long since I talked about any of this.’
Although Sarah was curious to know what Katherine had been about to say, she decided to leave it for the time
being. She’d learned it didn’t take much to distract Katherine and there was so much she was desperate to know. Particularly the bit about Richard being in love with Irena and not Magdalena.
‘Maybe Richard met Magdalena later?’
‘If he did, he never mentioned her. But then again, our generation is not a kiss-and-tell one and Richard, especially in his later years, was an intensely private person.’
‘What happened to Irena’s fiancé?’
‘He was shot by the Russians. Quite early on in the war, she found out later. I think his death was part of the reason she went back to Poland.’ Katherine stood and added some peat to the stove. ‘I never actually spoke to Irena about her decision to return to Poland. She was – not secretive exactly – but not prone to confidences. Anyway, I imagine she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about her work with the SOE – Official Secrets Act, you know. And as far as I’m aware she didn’t tell anyone, not even Richard – especially not Richard. I suspect, apart from the need for secrecy, she knew he would have moved heaven and earth to stop her.’ Katherine glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Is that the time? Neil will be coming in soon for his lunch and I’ve not got it ready for him.’
‘Neil?’
‘My grandson. He’s been staying with me this last week.’
Sarah reluctantly got to her feet. There was so much more she wanted to know. ‘I should let you get on,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I could come back later?’
‘You’re very welcome to stay for lunch. It won’t be much. Some soup and a little stew and potatoes.’
It was impossible to imagine eating another meal so soon after the feast she’d so recently polished off.
‘It’s very kind of you to ask me, but I don’t want to intrude.’
‘You wouldn’t be. I’m sure Neil would be glad of some younger company. I worry he gets bored here. Young people do seem to need to be doing things all the time.’
‘No, really. Perhaps you could come to me for dinner? What about tonight? Or tomorrow if that suits you better? I’m only here for two more nights. I don’t want to leave Mum too long.’
‘Could I send Neil down to the house later to let you know? He can help you light the stove at the same time.’
Back at Borreraig House, instead of going inside, Sarah went down to the bay and sat, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring out at the loch. Could Richard have been in love with two women? It was entirely possible – even likely – that Irena had been killed in Poland. Richard might have sought comfort with Magdalena. But that still didn’t explain the connection between Mum, Richard and the elusive Magdalena.
However, if the solicitors ever found her, Magdalena might be able to tell her who Mum’s parents were. It seemed every time she thought she was getting close to uncovering the truth about her mother’s past it was only to find herself in another blind alley.
When the sun disappeared behind some clouds and it became chilly she roused herself and went back inside. No longer warmed by the sun streaming in the windows, the house was getting cool. She tried again to light the Rayburn, but failed miserably. She was ready to kick the thing when she heard a masculine voice call out and a man appeared at her kitchen door.
She pushed a lock of hair from her face. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you knock.’
He was tall and wearing jeans and a pair of high wellingtons rolled down to his knees. He looked as if he needed a shave and his jumper had seen better days. His thick dark hair was wind-tossed, his cheeks ruddy from the wind and his eyes a startling shade of blue.
‘No one knocks around here.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m Neil, by the way.’
This was Neil? Flustered, Sarah rubbed her sooty fingers on her jeans before shaking his out-stretched hand. She’d imagined Katherine’s grandson to be younger, just out of school perhaps, and certainly not around her age.
‘My grandmother asked me to bring you these.’ He placed a plastic Co-op bag on the table. She opened it – stared at the salmon and crab inside – and quickly closed it again.
‘Please thank her for me. But what do I do with the crab? It’s still alive.’
‘Er, boil some water in a pan and drop it in.’
‘Alive! I couldn’t possibly.’
A slow smile crossed his face. ‘My last girlfriend didn’t like cooking them alive either. Pass me a knife – or anything else you can find with a sharp point.’
She reached into the cupboard and finding a cake tester, passed it to him. She winced when he stuck it into the shell, but at least the crab no longer waved its claws at her.
‘Once it’s dead, you have to cook it straight away. Now would be good.’
‘For how long?’
Amusement gleamed in his blue eyes. ‘Look, why don’t you boil the kettle and I’ll do it for you? Oh and stick the salmon in the fridge. You should cook it soon as.’
‘At least that sorts dinner for the next couple of days.’ Sarah set the kettle on the two-ring stove. ‘Did your grandmother say which evening suits her best?’
‘Tomorrow, she says, if that’s all right with you? I have plans to eat out myself so she won’t have to make me anything.’
‘You won’t be joining us then?’ She felt vaguely disappointed.
‘No, but thank you.’ He squatted on his haunches in front of the stove. ‘Right then, let’s get this fire lit.’ He started crumpling some newspapers he’d brought with him and tossed them into the stove. He left the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with an enamel bucket of peat, which he added to the fire. He worked silently, not appearing to feel the need to make small talk.
‘Thank you,’ she said when the fire was burning to his satisfaction and he’d closed the stove door.
‘It’s no bother.’ He folded his arms and leaned against the worktop.
‘Cup of tea?’
‘No thanks. I’ll need to be on my way once that crab’s cooked.’ They waited in silence until the kettle boiled. She found a pot and passed it to him. He filled it with water, threw in the crab, jammed a lid on top and put the pot back on the stove.
‘I hope I haven’t upset your grandmother by asking her about the past,’ Sarah said when he was finished.
He laughed. ‘Upset Gran! She’s as tough as old boots, as you’ll soon discover.’
‘She told me she was a nurse during the war.’
‘More than a match for my grandfather and he was quite a character too.’
‘I heard he was a war hero. What about your parents?’ For some reason this man piqued her curiosity.
‘Dad met my mother when he was nineteen, got her pregnant, married her – as they did in those days – but buggered off soon after. He lives in Italy now. He’s an artist, or at least that’s what he tells everyone. I doubt he’s sold a painting in his life.’
Odd that they should both have parents who were artists.
He peered into the pot. ‘This big boy is ready.’ He took the pot over to the sink and emptied it, a cloud of sea-smelling vapour rising into the kitchen. ‘Wait until it’s cool, then break the claws open with a hammer.’
Sarah looked at the crab doubtfully.
‘Right then,’ Neil said, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘See you around.’
And with that he was gone.
The following morning the sun had come out. She’d brought a manuscript to copy-edit with her but, unable to concentrate, she decided work could wait. She tugged on her wellington boots and headed up the rutted track that constituted the driveway. Although she’d thought she wouldn’t, she had slept soundly last night. Possibly due to the number of glasses of wine she’d glugged with her solitary supper.
She was almost at the end of the driveway when she met Neil. Her heart did a weird flippy thing.
‘Hello there. Were you coming to see Gran? She’s out, I’m afraid.’
Damn. She was desperate to hear what else Katherine had to tell her. ‘Might as well go for a walk then. Ca
n you suggest one?’
‘How about Galtrigill? It was where the boatman who rowed Bonny Prince Charlie used to live.’
‘Sounds good. Which way?’
‘We could follow the road, but let’s walk by the cliffs. It’s better.’
‘We?’
He grinned. ‘We.’
