A Mother's Love
Page 34
Ellie laughed. ‘Anything’s worth a go. Good luck, chuck.’
Chapter Fourteen
The world washed around Connor. Voices, some unknown, some familiar, came and went as he lay in a state of dreams. He wondered whether he was still trapped inside the Lancaster Lass, but as he could neither see nor feel the world around him it was impossible to know for sure. He had tried to cry out, to gain the attention of the voices, but he was too weak to make himself heard.
He turned his thoughts back to the attack. The last thing he remembered was having his finger squeezed on to the trigger with such force that he feared it might break under the pressure. He saw the Messerschmitt coming towards them and the pilot looking into his eyes, clearly signalling his intent to be the sole survivor. Connor had stared back with the same steely determination. There was only going to be one winner.
So who had been the victor? He tried hard to remember, but found that the only memory he had was of the German pilot hurtling towards him. He felt an icy chill. If he could not remember destroying the enemy, then surely there was only one answer. He must have lost the battle, and not only him, but all of the crew of the Lancaster Lass. Tears pricked his eyes. It explained why he could neither see nor feel anything. Then one of the voices came back, bringing with it an image of a small silver locket.
He and Aidan had gone to the kasbah in search of presents to take home. Aidan had bought his parents two small ornaments, a sphinx and a pyramid. Connor had chosen a beautifully embroidered shawl for his mother and an Egyptian hookah for his father.
Aidan had pointed accusingly at the water pipe. ‘Who’s that for?’
‘Dad,’ Connor had said with a grin.
‘But your dad doesn’t smoke. What’s he meant to do with it?’
Connor clutched the hookah defensively. ‘It’s a talking point. He’ll be able to tell all his friends he’s got one.’
‘How the hell do you intend to get it home? Ten to one says it’ll be in smithereens before we get back to Waddington.’
‘If it is it’ll be your fault, ’cos you’re the one in control of take-off and landing.’ Connor sniffed. He had peered at Aidan’s ornaments. ‘You’re just jealous ’cos mine’s bigger than yours.’
Chuckling, Aidan had shaken his head. ‘We’ll see. Have you finished here, only I wanted to see if I could find a ring for Ellie.’
Not wanting to admit that he had no desire to cart the hookah around the Kasbah, Connor had shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I don’t mind takin’ a wander.’ He paused briefly before adding, ‘What kind of ring?’
‘The sort of ring you can propose with, or, if it looks like she’s not keen, pass off as a really expensive gift.’ He chuckled.
Readjusting the hookah in his arms, Connor grinned. ‘Blimey, you have got it bad, haven’t you?’ He glanced around the various shops. ‘Young Geoff got his mam some earrings from Bajocchi which looked all right to me. Why don’t you try there?’ he said, jerking his head in the direction of the jewellers.
Some twenty minutes later the Murrays emerged from the shop. Aidan, having bought Ellie a thin gold band set with what the man claimed was a topaz, was already agonising about whether it would be the right size.
‘You can always have it sized when we get home,’ Connor had said reassuringly. ‘What did you think of the locket I got for Gwen? Do you think she’ll like it?’
Aidan cocked an eyebrow. ‘I should think she’ll love it; my question is why did you buy it for her? I know she was disappointed when she had to give Mrs Burgess’s locket back, but what’s that got to do with you?’
Connor shrugged. ‘I felt sorry for her. I know she can’t afford to buy summat like this, not the prices they charge back home, so I thought why not? Besides, I like Gwen, and depending on how she reacts to the necklace I thought I might see if she fancied going out with me to the cinema or summat similar when we get back.’
Now, Connor came to the realisation that he would never know whether Gwen would have accepted his gift. Come to that, she would never know he had bought the necklace in the first place. Lying in the darkness, he thought of the lives that would be affected because he had not managed to shoot the other plane down. He felt a tear trickle down the side of his cheek.
From out of the gloom he heard the voice which had reminded him of the necklace. ‘Connor, can you hear me, cariad? I’ve been talking to Ellie and she suggested that we might go dancing again, you know, like the time we were in Lincoln? And Arla’s wedding? You enjoyed that, didn’t you? There’s lots of excellent dance halls in London … Connor?’
Feeling the cold air against his wet cheek he tried to reach out with his hand, but it would not move. I have to make it move, he thought determinedly, because if I can move my hand then I can move my arm, and if I can move my arm then I can move my legs, and if I can move them … I can dance.
The voice came back, stronger this time. ‘Nurse! Come quickly! I think he’s trying to move. I think …’
Connor’s eyes slit open. At first he could only see blurred objects passing before him, but as he fought to focus, his eyes opened further, and he felt the warmth of a woman’s hand holding his own. He tried turning his head to see who it was, but there was no need: the woman had released his hand and was smoothing the hair from his brow. He frowned as he tried to focus on something swinging in front of him. It was like a pendulum. He thought he recognised it, but he could not be sure. Frustration getting the better of him, Connor focused all his attention on seeing what was before him, and like a fog lifting his vision returned. Gwen stood over him, a broad smile on her face and the locket he had brought back from Africa hanging from her neck. He smiled weakly.
Taking his hand again, she raised his knuckles to her lips and kissed them softly. ‘Welcome back, cariad.’
Thunder boomed in the distance and the lights in the stone cottage flickered ominously. Looking up from the paper in his hand, Aidan waited for the lights to come back on before returning to his mother’s letter.
My darling boy, Trying to stop that cousin of yours from doing chores around the farm is an impossible task! I’ve told him over and over that the only reason the doctors sent him to Springdale in the first place was because they thought the fresh air and absence of the stress of service life would make it the ideal place for him to recuperate.
But you know what your cousin’s like. He just can’t keep still, and how we’re meant to keep him away from the stress of service life when his pals keep writing to him is anybody’s guess.
The only respite we’ve had was when Gwen came to visit. She’s such a lovely, sensible girl; what’s more, she’s the only one he’d listen to, and now she’s gone we’re having to keep our eyes in the back of our heads just to keep an eye on the bugger. He might drive me potty, but I’m not half going to miss him when he goes back to Waddington in a couple of weeks’ time.
Aidan grinned. Connor was a doer, and standing by whilst others did all the work was never going to happen. He had said as much to Ellie.
‘I’m surprised he stayed in hospital for as long as he did. Mind you, he was practically in a coma for the first week so he didn’t have much choice. If it hadn’t been for Gwen spending every spare moment with him I sometimes wonder whether he’d have recovered as quickly as he did. I just wish we could’ve stayed longer. It felt as though we’d deserted him.’
Ellie had wound her finger around the telephone cord. ‘Time stands still for no man, and they needed you back at Waddington. I visited Connor as much as I could, but they had me up and down the country like a yo-yo. Mind you, you’re right about Gwen bringing him out of that deep sleep, or whatever it was.’
Gwen and Connor had been nigh on inseparable ever since the day he woke up, so Aidan had not been too surprised when his cousin telephoned him one night.
‘I know you’re probably goin’ to crow over it, but what you said about me an’ Gwen makin’ a perfect couple was right. We’ve decided to give it a go.’
Aidan chuckled. ‘Just a bit, although of course I wouldn’t dream of gloating, or saying I told you so.’
‘Which you just did,’ said Connor. ‘Well, you’ve every right; I just wish we’d listened sooner. Not that we’re in a hurry or anything like that, so don’t get your hopes up for a double wedding!’
Now Aidan’s eyes fell to the sentence where his mother spoke of Connor’s returning to light duties. Aidan could not wait for the day when he would see his cousin back at RAF Waddington. He knew that with the damage to Connor’s lung they would never fly together again, but it would still be good to see him round and about. His thoughts turned to Connor’s replacement. Jimmy, a young lad from Dundee whose given name was Eric, was keen-eyed and willing, but no matter how hard he tried Aidan never felt as comfortable with Jimmy in his crew as he had when Connor had been watching their backs.
‘It was like having eyes in the back of my head when Connor was with me; we always knew what the other was thinking,’ Aidan had explained to Ellie after his first flight with the new crew member. ‘Jimmy’s a grand chap, but every time we go up it feels as if I’m flying blind, with no clue as to what’s going on behind me. I know it’s not his fault, but he’ll never replace Connor, and I don’t feel as safe as I did when Connor had my back.’
He glanced down at the letter and continued to read.
I still don’t think they should have sent you all back out. You know how I believe in omens, and the fact that you made it down in one piece should be enough to make the RAF realise that you shouldn’t be asked to do any more operations. You’d worked as a team for a long time, and putting someone new into the mix is never a good idea. I know you can’t and won’t ask to be relieved from flying duties, I just wish this damned war would come to an end, so that I can have you back home where you belong. And I don’t think they should be sending Connor back to Waddington. They should send him home where he can drive his mother insane with his constant flouting of the rules!
Folding the letter, Aidan walked over to the window and looked out at the thick bank of black cloud. He had forbidden anyone to tell his mother that he had also been shot the night they landed in Biggin Hill.
‘But she’s your mother!’ Ellie had said, her voice racked with guilt. ‘If anyone should know surely it should be her?’
‘Have you any idea what she’d do if she found out I’d been shot as well as our Connor?’
‘Be concerned?’
‘She’d be on the phone begging my superiors not to let me back in the Lancaster Lass, and she’d plague me to distraction with phone calls and letters. I’ve enough to worry about when I’m up there without her making things worse.’
‘I know how she feels. You were lucky to escape the last attack, and the crash landing, but what if you’re not so lucky third time round? what if you get shot again?’
Trying to reassure someone over the telephone when they’re hundreds of miles away was a hard task, but Aidan had done his best.
‘We’re winning, Ellie. Day by day we’re taking back more land, and driving the Hun back to his homeland. I can’t give up now, and I know you don’t want me to, not really. Besides, I’ve got to do it for Connor. He laid his life on the line keeping the rest of us safe, and I know he’d give anything to be back in his turret doing his bit.’
She sighed heavily. ‘If you really don’t want me to mention it to your mother then I promise I won’t.’
‘That’s my girl.’ He changed the subject in a bid to brighten the mood. ‘Have you heard from Arla and Archie? Have they mastered the lingo yet?’
Ellie had chuckled as she relayed Arla’s last epistle. ‘She thought they ate snails because food was so scarce. She said she couldn’t believe it when they told her they were a normal part of the French diet. She reckons that’s why they smother everything in garlic, so that it tastes better.’
The door to the cottage opened and Ginge peered through the aperture. ‘They reckon the storm’s goin’ to pass before we take off. You ready for debriefing?’
Nodding, Aidan began to make his way to the door before doubling back and opening the little drawer that served as his bedside cabinet. As his fingers closed over the matchbox he remembered the conversation he’d had with Ellie the morning after arriving in Biggin Hill.
‘It’s a funny thing, but the last thing I remember before landing was an overpowering scent of Lavendar. I wasn’t the only one who could smell it – we all could.’
Ellie’s mouth had dropped open. ‘Lavender was my mother’s favourite flower. She used to get those little cushions with it inside and stick them in our clothes drawer to make the clothes smell nice. I know you don’t believe in luck or superstition or anything like that, but I reckon she was with you last night, keeping you all safe.’
Before he had left Biggin Hill, she had handed him a sprig of lavender. ‘Promise me you’ll take it with you every time you fly?’
He had looked around for something to keep the delicate flower from being crushed. He picked up one of the matchboxes from the tortoise stove and gave it an experimental shake before pushing it open and taking out the two remaining matches. He put the sprig inside the empty box and tucked it into the top pocket of his flying jacket. Leaning forward, he whispered, ‘I promise,’ and kissed her softly on the lips.
Now, Aidan placed the matchbox in his top pocket and fastened the flap. Superstition or not, he was not going to take any chances. Passing the bed which used to be Connor’s, he picked up his walking cane and made his way to the debriefing room.
Arla waved to the postman as he reached the top of the lane. ‘Bonjour, Monsieur Bouchet.’
Without dismounting he produced a letter from his satchel. ‘Bonjour! Juste celui aujourd’hui.’
Arla grinned. ‘Just the one today?’
He gave her a small round of applause. ‘Very good! Your French is improving every time we meet.’
Taking the letter, she gave a small curtsy. ‘Merci, but it will be a long time before I’m fluent.’
His brow furrowed. ‘Fluent?’
Arla tapped the envelope against her chin. ‘Oh cripes, let me see … parler naturel?’
‘Ahh, courant, I think you mean courant.’
Arla nodded. ‘Shall I see you tomorrow, or will it be Leo?’
‘It will be me. Leo has gone to visit his family.’ Pushing his foot down on to the pedal he called out over his shoulder, ‘Au revoir.’
Within weeks of the VE day celebrations Arla and Archie had been demobbed and decided that rather than go straight home they would make the most of their time in France by purchasing two bicycles and stopping off in B and Bs or, when money began to run short, offering labour in exchange for their keep, which was how they had stumbled across their present accommodation.
They had been cycling through Bordeaux when they had come across a sign at the end of a long driveway asking for help with the grape harvest.
‘What d’you reckon?’ Archie said, pointing down the winding drive where a large house was just visible amongst the trees.
Arla shrugged. ‘Worth a try, but it could be an old sign.’
Turning his bicycle in the direction of the driveway he beckoned her to follow him. ‘Only one way to find out!’
Looking at the old house, Arla thought it must be deserted. ‘Look at all those windows, and not one of ’em isn’t caked in cobwebs or dust.’ She glanced at Archie and shuddered. ‘Do you think something awful might have happened to the owner? Some of these places were under German occupation—’ She stopped speaking as the handle to the front door bobbed and weaved as if someone on the other side was trying to get it open. A croaky voice called out, ‘Pousser!’
Arla and Archie exchanged glances. ‘Your French
is better than mine,’ Archie said.
‘Anglais? Push!’
They pushed the door with one accord and found on the other side a small Frenchman with a balding head, who judging by his stance was suffering with crippling arthritis.
Monsieur Dubois welcomed Archie and Arla with open arms, and after some false starts they soon worked out that his house had indeed been under German occupation, his wife Louise had died some eighteen months back and their only son, Antoine, had been killed whilst serving his country. Monsieur Dubois was unable to cope on his own, and with the Germans now gone the family vineyard had fallen into decline. Originally Arla and Archie had only planned to stay for a few days before moving on, but after seeing the problems the old man was having, Arla suggested that they might see if they could make it a more permanent arrangement.
‘We’ve nothing to go back for except our families, but other than that neither of us has a job, let alone a home to go to. I know we could live with our parents, but it’s hardly the life of a married couple, is it? Why don’t we put it to Monsier Dubois and see what he thinks? I can’t see him turning us down. He’s already said he’d be lost without us, he can hardly walk let alone pick the grapes, and I love it here and I know you do too. Can’t we at least ask him what he thinks?’
Archie nodded. ‘But don’t get upset if he turns us down. It must have been hard enough having to ask strangers for help without having them move in.’
When they had approached the old man with their proposal they had expected some deliberation as he considered the idea. What they had not expected were tears.
‘You ’ave been delivered to me by the angels; I knew it to be so when you came to my ’ouse. I could not ’ave asked for better than you and your good ’usband. Between you, you have breathed new life into the vineyard as well as the ’ouse. My poor sweet Louise would ’ave been so upset to see ’ow ’er beautiful ’ome had turned into a ’ouse with no soul, but thanks to you, Arla, it is a ’appy ’ome once more.’