Inherit the Skies

by Janet Tanner

  ‘Of course it’s not inconvenient, Max,’ she said warmly. ‘ I’m really glad to see you. I’d almost given you up for lost. Adam is here. He will be pleased too. He came to see you today, he said, but you were too busy to let him in.’

  ‘Yes … yes … always busy …’

  Sarah led Max into the living-room. Adam’s face told her that he felt just as she did – frustration mingled with relief that Max had knocked when he did and not a few minutes later and determination that at all costs he must not realise that his arrival was less than welcome.

  ‘Max, my friend! Good to see you!’

  ‘I shall put the pan on to cook your bacon, Max, just as I promised,’ Sarah said. ‘And I will leave you two alone to talk while I do it.’

  When she returned half an hour later with a plate of crispy bacon, eggs and bubble and squeak, made from potato with the cabbage she had cooked for her dinner and not wanted, the two men were deep in conversation, another hour and it became crystal clear they were set to make a night of it.

  Sarah smiled ruefully but she was glad to see Max a little more like his old self. If anyone could snap him out of his black depression it was Adam. And there was always tomorrow. Two more days, he had said. Thank goodness for two more days – perhaps the only ones they would ever have.

  It was midnight before Max made a move. By this time he had drunk a good deal of Sarah’s brandy and was a little unsteady on his feet.

  ‘I’ll drive you home, Max,’ Adam offered.

  ‘No, old boy, you want to stay here with Sarah …’ Max was sufficiently rosy to have forgotten that Adam was a married man – and his wife was not Sarah!

  ‘It’s all right, you’ll need someone to take your boots off and put you to bed by the look of you,’ Adam said good humouredly. Except for the fact that he had not had nearly long enough alone with Sarah he had enjoyed the evening enormously. Now he took her aside, pulling her into the dimly lit hall and kissing her.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Is it really necessary for you to go to work?’

  ‘I expect I could find an excuse to stay at home for the day.’

  ‘Good. Do that. I’ll come over after breakfast.’ He kissed her again, then pulled away, whistling through his teeth. ‘No more now. Don’t you know what you do to me?’

  ‘No,’ she teased. ‘What?’

  ‘If you don’t know now you never will,’ he retorted. ‘But I will give you a clue. It is liable to make me stop behaving like a gentleman.’

  ‘Oh Adam, get along with you!’ She gave him a little push. ‘I believe you are as tiddly as Max!’

  ‘No, it’s just the effect you have on me.’

  ‘Adam?’ called Max. ‘Adam – where are you?’

  ‘I’m just coming.’ He grinned at Sarah. ‘ Goodnight, my love.’

  ‘Goodnight. Take care.’

  When they had gone she stood at the door of her cottage staring out into the velvet darkness, at the trees silhouetted against the sky and the myriad of stars which studded it. And for a moment the magic returned, taking away all guilt and frustration, imbuing her only with warmth and love.

  Perhaps Adam would soon be going away again. Perhaps the time they would have together would be all too short – a few brief stolen hours. But Sarah believed in that moment that she had never been happier in all her life and wondered if she would ever be quite as happy again.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Unusually for him Adam overslept. Day after day, month upon month of rising before dawn had instilled in him a habit that he had begun to believe was unbreakable – however tired he might be he was awake at precisely the same time. The first day of his furlough had been the same – his body clock was ignorant of the fact that there was no compulsion to leap out of bed and begin the day, and he had been torn between enjoying the luxury of lying for as long as he liked between the sheets and annoyance that he was seemingly unable to take advantage of the opportunity to sleep, sleep, sleep.

  Today however was an exception. When he awoke daylight was streaming in through the curtains, daylight several hours old, not the first cold crack of dawn. He stretched, enjoying the sense of well being, and the memories of the previous evening’s pleasures came flooding back and with them anticipation for the coming day. He got up, crossed to the window and drew back the curtains to let in the full beauty of the morning then poured cold water into the basin on the wash stand and splashed it over him. Here at Chewton Leigh he could have hot water if he wished – a pull on the bell rope and as much as he required would be brought to him. But he preferred the invigorating cold he was used to.

  He was dimly aware of the telephone bell shrilling in the distance but he took little notice and was surprised when there was a tap at his door and the considerate Evans called softly: ‘Mr Adam – are you awake?’

  He pulled on his shirt and crossed to the door, buttoning it as he went.

  ‘What is it, Evans?’

  ‘Telephone – for you sir.’

  ‘For me? At this time of day?’ For some reason Sarah had flashed into his mind. Perhaps something had happened to Eric.

  ‘I think it may be your aerodrome,’ Evans said in his curiously pedantic way.

  Adam ran down the stairs and into the hall. Sunlight was making bright patterns on the polished stone floor. He took the telephone.

  ‘Adam Bailey.’

  ‘Bailey – Major Marchment here. Look, I’m sorry to interrupt your hard-earned leave, old man, but we have a problem here. Farrant was killed last night.’

  Farrant had joint command of the new squadron with Adam, Major Marchment was the ‘desk man’.

  ‘Farrant was!’ Adam exclaimed. ‘Christ! How?’

  ‘Bit of a mystery. Took up a plane and … well, you’ll hear the details when you get back. But I’m afraid it’s going to have to be sooner rather than later. Can’t leave the baby without a nursemaid.’

  Adam swore. ‘ You mean …?’

  ‘I mean you will have to cut your leave short, old man. I know it’s a bother but there is no alternative. How soon can you be here?’

  Adam passed a hand over his eyes, thinking. ‘ By lunchtime – as long as the jalopy doesn’t let me down.’

  ‘Good. It had better not. I need you here, Adam – and quickly. There are things that need sorting out.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Adam said.

  He replaced the telephone and stood glaring at it. Damn and blast. Farrant dead, the whole thing cloaked in mystery. Without knowing a single fact he could hazard a guess as to the reason. Farrant was a brilliant pilot and a daring leader. But on occasions he drank more than was good for him and when he did he could become reckless, juvenile almost. Perhaps there had been a party in the mess last night – and a wager of some sort. If Farrant had taken a plane up for a lark it was unforgiveable, the sort of damn fool thing even a raw recruit should know better than to do. But it was that streak of recklessness that made good fighter pilots. In all likelihood Farrant had been showing off. Now he was dead. The new squadron would have to be reorganised and Adam’s leave was to be cut short.

  He swore again. Serve him right for looking forward to spending the day with Sarah. Serve him damned well right!

  He turned to go back upstairs, returning to the fastening of his shirt buttons as he went. He’d pack now and have breakfast, then it would mean leaving immediately if he was to be back at base by lunchtime as he had promised. Well, he might as well break the news to Alicia right away – not that she would be much upset by it. She had scarcely noticed he was here and probably had not the slightest notion of when he was due to leave.

  Voices were coming from the old nursery which Alicia had converted into a day room for her convalescent officers and he looked in. Two young men were there, reading the morning’s papers and commenting on the news, one with a fully plastered leg resting on a footstool, the other squinting from a gap in the heavy bandages which covered his face. He had been badly burned and was undergo
ing a course of operations to rebuild his shattered features. It was a tribute to Alicia that the eminent surgeon in charge of the case had allowed him to come to Chewton Leigh between the various stages.

  ‘Have you seen my wife?’ Adam enquired.

  The burn case’s face was too heavily bandaged to reveal any expression but a dark flush rose in the other man’s neck, spreading swiftly up to suffuse his cheeks. He seemed totally lost for words.

  Adam felt a twist of irritation. How the heck did Alicia put up with these shell-shock cases? Tragic they might be but for the life of him he could not have spent day after day caring for a man who turned into a nervous wreck every time he was spoken to.

  ‘You don’t know where she is?’ he asked shortly.

  ‘N-no …’ Plastered leg shook his head jerkily.

  ‘I think she went downstairs,’ the other young man offered. His voice at least sounded quite normal but it was slightly unnerving to hear it emanating from that swathe of bandages.

  ‘Thanks,’ Adam said hastily, backing out of the room.

  As he did so he heard Alicia’s unmistakeable throaty laugh coming not from downstairs but from one of the ‘ convalescent’ rooms. He strode along the landing, knocked briefly on the door and without waiting for an answer threw it open. Then he drew up short with shock. Semi-clothed, her hair loose about her face, Alicia was romping on the bed with a young man.

  Not that romping was quite the right word, Adam realised, though it was the first one which occurred to him. To say that Alicia was ministering to him might have been a more accurate description since the young man, another of her recuperating officers, was clearly in no state to actually romp. That he was enjoying Alicia’s attentions however was obvious even at first glance.

  As the door opened Alicia raised her head. Her lips were moist, her tongue flicked over them lasciviously as it had flicked over the body of the young man. At first she looked startled then a slow smile curved those wet lips and her eyes narrowed like a cat’s. Though he spared him barely a glance Adam was aware of the shock and mortification on the boy’s handsome face; he lay motionless, only his stomach heaving in shallow ripples beneath Alicia’s scarlet tipped fingers. Disgust rose like bile in Adam’s throat and without a word he strode out slamming the door behind him.

  The slut! he thought furiously. He had never been under any illusions about Alicia’s morality but somehow it had not dawned on him that she would sink to this.

  He was in his room packing his bag when the door opened and she came in. He glanced at her and away again, as repelled by her now immaculate appearance as he had been by her disarray.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look as though I’m doing? I’m packing.’

  ‘Not because of me, I hope.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Alicia.’ He slammed the case shut. ‘I have to go back to my squadron. That is what I was coming to tell you when I found you with that … boy of yours.’

  ‘Ah.’ She crossed to the foot of the bed, reaching for one of the elaborate brass balls that decorated it and running her fingers around it. ‘I am sorry about that, Adam.’

  ‘Sorry?’ He laughed shortly. ‘Since when have you been sorry about anything?’

  ‘Adam!’ she reproached him. ‘What a horrid thing to say. You make me sound like a monster.’ He did not reply and after a moment she went on: ‘What I mean is that I am sorry you had to find us. It wasn’t very nice for you – or if it comes to that for poor Douglas. But you are quite right, I am not in the least bit sorry for what I did. Why should I be? If I can make a poor boy feel better where is the harm in that? It’s not as if you and I …’

  ‘Very true. Though you might at least have the decency to be discreet about it. It was perfectly obvious your other guests knew what was going on. It was as embarrassing for them as it was for us.’

  ‘Only because you happened to come looking for me. They wouldn’t have turned a hair otherwise.’

  ‘Really? Your affaire is so blatant that it is not only common knowledge but also taken for granted?’

  Alicia’s mouth opened in surprise, then to his amazement she threw back her head and laughed.

  ‘Darling – how quaint! An affaire!’

  ‘How else would you describe it?’

  She considered and her poise was infuriating to him.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded.

  ‘Adam, I think we have a little misunderstanding here.’ Her tone was soothing.

  ‘Really? You are about to tell me I was mistaken in what I saw?’

  ‘Oh … no. No, not in what you saw – the interpretation you are placing on it. Let me explain … my officers have been through hell. Some of them are still there. The whole object of them coming here is to assist in their recuperation. I … like to do what I can to help them.’

  He stared at her, scarcely able to believe what she was saying.

  ‘Help them? You mean …?’

  She laughed again. ‘Oh Adam, don’t look so shocked! I thought you of all people would understand. You must know young men very like the ones who come here to Chewton Leigh. Some of them are disfigured, some have lost limbs. They are terribly afraid, most of them, that they are no longer attractive to women – or even capable of … well, love. I reassure them if they want me to, that’s all.’

  ‘Now let’s get this straight, Alicia. Are you telling me that that young man is not the first …?’

  ‘Well, of course not, darling.’

  ‘And …’ he gesticulated in the direction of the day room, ‘the others?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ She said it blandly. ‘Now don’t be cross, Adam. I don’t want to quarrel if you are going away. I’m still very fond of you, you know.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t believe this. My wife …’

  ‘Don’t be a dog in the manger. You don’t want me.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I don’t object to you behaving like a common whore.’

  ‘Oh Adam, don’t let’s name call. You didn’t object to me nursing them. What’s the difference? I have spent hours listening to them pouring out their hearts – that helps heal their mind and spirit. The doctors have already done their best to heal their bodies. I just … try to make them whole again.’

  ‘Very commendable,’ he said drily and almost believed it until he saw the way her fingers were caressing the brass ball on the bedpost, slow, sensuous strokes until her nails touched and scratched the polished surface.

  Alicia the philanthropist. For a brief moment it had almost been possible to believe in her. But of course she did not exist – or would not exist if it had not suited her own needs and desires. Her appetite, he knew, was insatiable – in the boys passing through her hands she had found a new and gratifying menu.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said.

  ‘Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?’

  The look he gave her was of utter disdain. He picked up his suitcase.

  ‘Don’t expect me to join the queue.’

  ‘Adam! Don’t be this way! You know you are the one person in the whole world for whom such a thing would be completely unnecessary. You are all I have ever wanted. The trouble is …’

  ‘Goodbye, Alicia,’ he said coldly.

  ‘Goodbye, Adam.’ Her tone was regretful. ‘Come home safely. Who knows, things may seem different when the war is over. Circumstances may have changed. And perhaps we shall be able to try again …’

  He did not reply.

  Halfway down the stairs he remembered that Sarah was expecting him. Damn Alicia for both distracting and delaying him! He dared not make a detour to see her on his way back to his base for he did not trust himself to make the visit a quick one. Just thinking of her made the blood pound in his veins and his body ache to consummate what they had begun last night; if she were there in the flesh he knew he would be unable to resist.

  He went back to his room and penned a note of explanation. As he descende
d the stairs for the second time he saw Evans in the hall and called to him.

  ‘Have my motor brought round immediately, please. And would you see that this note is delivered to Mrs Gardiner at her home at once?’

  Then after the briefest of farewells to those of the family who were still lingering in the breakfast room he ran down the steps, threw his suitcase into the motor, and with a fierce revving of the engine drove away from the house.

  ‘Evans – did I hear Mr Adam asking you to deliver a letter to Mrs Gardiner?’ Alicia asked.

  ‘Yes, Madam. I was going to ask Peter to get on his bicycle and ride over with it right away.’

  Peter was the gardener’s boy, a willing enough lad, but the servant shortage extended to the estate staff and he slaved from morning till night attempting to do the work that had once kept four men busy.

  ‘Don’t trouble Peter,’ Alicia said. ‘He has enough on his plate just now. I shall be seeing Mrs Gardiner myself later. I’ll see she gets it.’

  ‘But Madam …’

  ‘Not another word, Evans. It’s no bother. May I have the letter please?’ Alicia smiled sweetly but there was no mistaking her authority. Evans gave a small resigned nod. He did not like having his orders countermanded but then neither did he approve of Miss Alicia’s husband sending notes to another woman, even if that woman was Miss Sarah. Miss Alicia was, after all, the daughter of his employer and it was to her that he owed his allegiance. If there was something ‘funny’ going on then he was glad Miss Alicia would be able to put a stop to it. If not … well, it was none of his business anyway.

  His expression inscrutable as ever, Evans fetched the note and handed it to Alicia.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The news came at the beginning of August, just a week before Adam was due to come home for fourteen days’ leave.

  As soon as she reached the works Gilbert called Sarah into his office and the moment she saw his grave face she knew this was no call to discuss business. Something bad had happened. She stopped in the doorway, unable to move for the whole of her body, together with her legs, seemed to have turned to jelly and the dread was like a great dark bird hovering over her and casting a shadow so black it paralysed her.