by Konig, Artor
“That June’s got it bad for poor old Simon; we won’t be able to get her attention for the next week or so,” Jim was predicting morbidly, “We may as well face the fact and, oh, hello love, what are you up to?”
“Ah, Haddock Mornay!” Alex told me happily, “This little lady knows her way around and she knows how to please; let me help you with this benevolent labour.” He went to it with good spirit, mixing and chopping, finding the spices I had been looking for and keeping an eye on the huge pot I had found. Jim watched for a few minutes while the kettle boiled, giving us all sorts of helpful advice. “Don’t forget to count your fingers after you’ve finished with that chopper. I’d use a spoon to stir that macaroni if I were you. Make sure that some of those mushrooms end up in the pot.”
Finding us to be less responsive than he had hoped, he collared his pot of tea, poured for us and then left us to it. We worked in companionable silence, getting in each other’s way and often duplicating our efforts. But there was rather a lot to be done in each department and we established a routine after a while. In good time we had decanted the sticky concoction into baking trays and loaded it into the oven. Alex then sat back, resting on his laurels, while I prepared the trolley to transport our offering.
The dish had achieved a fine state of crispness while I organised the trolley. Alex mashed another pot of tea to go with the meal while I heaved the baking trays out of the oven and dished up for everybody. The trolley was loaded at last and we migrated back to the lounge with the huge steaming bowls.
June leaped up when we appeared, “Oh, Cassandra, I’m sorry; why didn’t you call me? This looks rather smashing, I must say.”
“I noticed that you were a bit preoccupied.” I told her cheerfully, “But Alex came along and as he’s the expert in this field I let him to it.”
June had the good grace to blush, looking over her shoulder at Simon. He grinned happily, watching hungrily while we unloaded the trolley.
I sat in my corner, nibbling at the generous bowlful I had served myself, peering out through one of the windows at the field of rain-clotted darkness. The airfield was bare, the dusk heavy beneath the clouds. I was hungry; very hungry in fact; but I was almost too tired to feed myself. My hand was shaking with fatigue and cold, my attention was a million miles away, up in the gloomy void where the black wave was bearing down on us all. I forced myself to finish what was in my bowl, scraping out the last savoury scraps. I found my tea, glanced around the room before returning to the bleak view beyond the window. The room was warm and quiet, the lights low and the fire crackling. The boys were talking softly, or not talking at all, concentrating on their food and the homely atmosphere. Nobody paid much attention when I slipped from the room.
I deposited my clutter in the dishwasher, found another unguarded glass of milk and a neglected packet of biscuits before I made my way to my room. I almost bumped into the Doctor as I crossed the hall.
“You had enough, Cassandra?” He asked politely.
“It’s been a long day.” I replied evasively.
“Yes that it has been. Tomorrow will not be so demanding; only two flights planned for the morning and nothing much for the afternoon. We have made Black Crag ready; it’s just waiting for us to get there. But I’m busy making a schedule for our flight. I would like you to fly with me in Number One when we leave; it’ll be just the two of us; and I can show you the trace I’ve been tracking. Will that be acceptable to you?”
“Yes, of course, Doctor.” I replied without thinking. I was almost asleep as I stood but the idea seemed sound enough to me.
“There will be four crews of four and one extra in Number Three; June will be there. Then in Number One there will be us two; we might leave a bit before the others so I can find that trace; maybe it will mean something to you, maybe not. But then at least you will know as much as I do. Sleep well Cassandra; I’ll see you in the morning.” He nodded to me and turned away, to his own room.
The rest of the household was dispersing; the boys who had to face the night to get to their accommodation were already at the door. I slipped into my room, barring it against all intruders. I dug up the ‘phone next to the comlink and put a quick call through to Eddie and to my parents. There was not much that I felt I could tell them but I spoke sufficiently enthusiastically to set their minds at rest. After a final long shower I cast the rest of that weary day away. I set the alarm, turned out the lights and cast my long form down upon the silky chill of my duvet. I had barely the energy to creep under the protective warmth before I fell off to sleep.
Queeklechirp was doing a valiant impersonation of a full symphony orchestra a good half-hour before my alarm had even begun to wind itself up. I stirred myself reluctantly; I was very warm; but the rest of the room certainly was not. I had misplaced my attire during a warm spell in the middle of the night; where I did not know; hence my reluctance to creep from beneath that warm duvet. I found my dressing gown and shut down the alarm. I worked myself up to the windowsill, catching a glimpse of the intrepid songster as he posed upon the window frame. He fluffed his feathers at me disparagingly when he noticed me peering at him, before flying off into the misty dark. Why he had bothered to get up so early was beyond me.
I psyched myself into the day before emerging from my room to confront the darkness of the rest of the farmhouse. I glanced down the side passage where the other rooms were, seeing light under the doors of one or two of them. The Doctor came briskly from his room, striding swiftly down the passage to where I waited. He greeted me affably as we made our way to the kitchen; the only sensible place to go to at that hour. I flicked on the lights as he strode across to where the large range glowed sullenly.
“I have frozen fingers over here.” He told me confidingly, “Ah, this old cooker is just the thing.” I found some jasmine tea, another exotic that June had squirreled away in her hoard. Having never tried it before, I dumped a few spoons into the pot while waiting for the kettle to boil. The Doctor was shovelling out a generous portion of cereal; I nodded when he glanced questioningly at me.
There was a rattle from the front door; I went over to it just as whoever-it-was knocked softly. I swung open the door, pegging it to its hook and trotted back to where my kettle was making shrill noises. Simon and James came along after me, obviously a bit cold from the fog outside. James shut the door behind him, telling me that it was a cruel shame to let the fog in.
I collected my bowl from the Doctor in return for a cup of the fragrant tea. James sniffed appreciatively, “That’s a new one, Cassandra; it smells jolly interesting.” He grinned cheerfully as I placed mugs-full in his and Simon’s hands. We got to our breakfast quickly, eager not to waste any more time than we had to. Jim came plodding in, glared at the teapot busy emitting its alluring fragrant steam, before deciding with conscious effort to put a good face on it.
“Between June and Queeklechirp a fellow doesn’t get a chance.” He grumbled, finding himself a bowl and a mug. June entered just then, all fresh and cheerful. “Morning all, morning Simon love; Cassandra, I see you’ve found my hidden special; how did you know I was just dying for a cup?”
“You’re teaching the poor child bad habits.” Jim told her crossly, “She was all sensible yesterday now she’s brewing this witch’s potion.”
“She’s learning good taste, not bad habits.” June riposted happily, “Admit it Jim, you’re loving every drop of it.”
Jim grunted cynically, finishing his tea and cereal in a thoughtful silence.
“I’ll get the old barn open.” He told us, “Fly when you’re ready.” He pottered off out of the kitchen, into the misty dusk of that chill morning. I looked at James.
“Are you ready to fly?”
“Aces high!” He laughed, finishing his cereal quickly. The Doctor smiled at his enthusiasm, nodding to me. I finished my tea and followed James out of the room.
“Number Four again?” James asked as we trotted through the mist to where the barn door already
stood open. The interior of the barn was dim; Jim had not turned on all the lights. He stood in the middle of the barn looking over some obscure object on one of the mobile workbenches. He glanced up as we came, his face cheerful.
“Let me unlock the birds; give me half a mo’.” He told us as he took up a short silver remote control with a panel of buttons on one end. His hand played deftly over the buttons for a few seconds then he wheeled the workbench back to the side of the hall.
I looked at the complicated wires and gadgets on the trolley, seeing that it was a radio system of some sort but not learning all that much from just looking. James and I made our way to Number Four as the Doctor and Brett, followed by Craig and Simon, came into the barn. Andrew followed, looking no more cheerful this morning than he had on the morning before. But he was sharp-eyed and his bearing was confident. He and Simon went to Number Two as James and I settled into number Four. Craig and the Doctor made their way to Number One. Roger collected Brett and made his way to Number Three.
Once safely within the cabin of our craft James set to the pre-flight briskly, firing up the jets as soon as he was finished with it. Barely three minutes later we were high in the air over the base heading east decisively. James was at ease with the craft, enjoying the flight for its own sake and going just where I told him to. We attained my objective quite quickly. James was a bit puzzled at being told to slow down here in the middle of the Pacific but he caught on to the game quickly.
“You want a look at this Crag the doc’s been gossiping about?” He asked with a mischievous grin, “I must say I’m a bit curious about it as well. Here goes then.” He brought the craft plummeting down through the storm-dense atmosphere, hurtling along under the guidance of the monitors, to rip the craft around, unwrack the rotors and leave us hovering within a mile of the place marked on the Wren’s world atlas.
My first sight of Black Crag reassured me to a great extent even as the enigma I experienced flowed swiftly into focus. Here, it was plain, was a much better deal than the shacks and tents I had envisaged; but who would go to the trouble of building a castle here in the perfect centre of nowhere, I would not even hazard a guess at. We looked at the island and its lagoon, the blue waters of the atoll turbid under a local storm. We didn’t have much to say about the place, but James’ comment seemed to sum things up, “There’s a rum do in the jolly old briny.” He told me confidingly, “Shall we look closer or shall we trot along home?”
“Let’s swoop down and give the old Crag a gander, old man, then we’ll head home.” I replied thoughtfully.
“This is home.” James said, the thought suddenly striking him, “So we may as well have a look at it.” He edged the sleek craft forwards, downwards, closer to the threat-filled black mass of stone.
“I wonder where we’re supposed to park the Wrens?” He mused as we went around the Crag. There was no space for the craft in the castle or on its courtyard.
“Down on that level bit?” I suggested.
“No,” James demurred at once, “The Doctor likes to have his birds all tucked up at night; he wouldn’t even consider a place where there was no cover for them.”
“You’re right. But I see no place where they could roost unless it’s in one of those caves.” I peered thoughtfully at the black holes in the cliff.
“You’re daft, you are.” James told me cheerfully, “We’ll find out soon enough anyway; let’s buzz off home.”
“Right-ho captain.” I agreed as he turned the sleek craft east.
Two other craft were parked on the circle when we arrived back at the base; they were being loaded up with various odds and ends the Doctor proposed we take with us. The Doctor himself was still out with Craig, Roger and Brett still being out as well. James brought Number Four down in a perfect landing while I relaxed on the dark blue couch beside him. He shut down the systems deftly as Harry came up to my door. I opened it up to hear what he had to say; “Open up the rear storage hatch and the back door please, Cassandra.”
“Right Harry; these two buttons, isn’t it?”
“So right.” He agreed as the rear hatch opened. I clambered down, stretching comfortably in the warm sun that was showing over the barn to the east. Queeklechirp and company were squabbling over some trifle by the farmhouse door. I walked that way, bent on finding myself some more tea. June appeared at the farmhouse door, heaving a mismatched assortment of cases, staggering under the load. I recognised my own cases amongst them, “Oh, you’ve packed for me?” I asked happily; packing wasn’t one of my favourite tasks.
“Yes, dear; take yours and the Doctor’s along to the heap next to Garreth; this is all for number One; thanks, love.” We divided the load between us and went our own way, June trotting beside me to keep pace with my longer legs. Her load went straight to Number Two and Simon slung it into the spacious interior. The small hatch under the platinum-encased reactor was already as full as it was going to be. Peter was battening down each item as Simon gave it to him. They greeted me cheerfully. Jim walked up with his sensible pair of leather cases, his face full of mischief when he saw June, “Don’t worry about your tea, dear; I’ve packed it all in that round container in the kitchen.”
“Oh, you; my tea, my tea,” She turned and fled towards the house, her pleasant face stricken. Simon chuckled, “You two have been having that little war for a time, haven’t you?” He asked Jim.
“We’ve been at it a couple of years now; long enough for me to get away with that leg-pull.” The older man confided, “Ever since she first tried me with a cup of Lapsang Souchong, we’ve been teasing each other.”
“What’s that?” James asked.
“It’s a smoked tea; quite fragrant with a flavour that distinctly needs getting used to.” Jim told him, “It’s one of my favourites; but don’t tell June that.”
“Could do with a cuppa; do you think she would oblige?” James asked; he could do with a dozen cups a day and still find the time to experiment.
“That’s what I was going to find out a moment ago when she loaded me up with all those cases.” I told him, “Let’s have another try and see if she’s found it yet.”
“Right-ho.” James agreed at once. We headed away back to the kitchen, our bearing seething with determination. Once again our progress was blocked at the door, again by June but she had the answer to our prayers on a laden trolley before her.
“Oh, gosh; I’m glad you turned up just now; help me with this blasted trolley.” She gasped, bent on trying to push it down the three steps without upsetting the fuming teapot.
“Blimey love you don’t do it like that,” James told her in a panic, “Here Cassandra, lend a hand on that side.”
We fought the reluctant trolley down the steps, through the horde of twittering sparrows and onto the glistening macadam. Overhead another Wren came hurtling past, the roar of its jets rattling the cups and saucers on the tray.
“I don’t know that this is a good idea.” June mused, watching Number Five settle on its spot, close to the pile of goods still to be loaded, “There’s Number One still to come in.”
“She’s on her way,” I told her, looking northeast, “Coming in low and fast.”
“Fixed-wing landing at speed; the doc must have fed Craig a bit of raw nerve.” James gasped as the craft swooped down, its jets bellowing. The silver missile touched down in a cloud of spray, its jets in retro-thrust and accelerating savagely to cut the craft’s velocity. From mach two to a sedate walking pace the Wren went over the three-mile length of the runway, taxiing into its spot in the circle and unwracking its rotors. We all raised a cheer as the doors opened and the intrepid pilot emerged. James and June dashed forth to have a word with Craig as he emerged, leaving me to wrestle the reluctant trolley over the macadam.
The crowd surged towards me, Jim in the front, the Doctor towards the rear. I poured a cup for myself and the Doctor and passed through the crowd to him.
“Cheers, Doctor.”
“Thank you, Cassa
ndra, just what I needed.” He replied.
“We’ll start loading up Number One and Five.” Garreth said from close behind us, “Then we’re all set.”
“Good show; we’ll finish that, have a quick bite then we’ll be on our way.”
“I’ll dig up some sandwiches.” I offered at once.
“Solid plan.” The Doctor commended, “I’ve decided we’ll fly in chevron, number One leading,” We walked over the macadam, me pushing the trolley, the Doctor drinking his tea. He glanced around him before continuing, “I’ll work up the trace, you fly; there is something else I’ll show you once we’re aloft.” He helped me lift the trolley up the three steps, his lithe form showing no effort as he lifted the solid old trolley. He left me to find my way to the kitchen while he walked swiftly back to the fleet.
In the kitchen I found a state of turmoil; June was obviously having trouble at deciding just what she would take and what would be left behind. But in the middle of the kitchen table, more or less submerged beneath other assorted items, was her jealously guarded hoard of teas. I poked around amongst them, mindful of James’ curiosity. I found the tea in question right at the bottom and at the back of the pile. Thereafter matters were straightforward. I used the last of the bread and cheese, the last of the milk and sugar going into their silver containers. The trolley was generously laden by the time I had finished.
There was a clatter of boots and shoes at the door as everybody assembled in the lounge one last time. I gave the trolley over to Jim as he appeared at the door and then scampered into my room to see if anything had been forgotten. My tired and dog-eared puppy-slippers were in my pocket when I walked back to the lounge.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t miss those.” June told me crossly, “I especially went to town this morning to get you another pair of pink puppy slippers; now in your suitcase. Those slippers are really disreputable, pet.”
