Ilona hid her face against his neck.
“Then Josianne brought me some food. I was almost too tired to eat and I can’t imagine that they really could spare it, but I ate it all and then I fell asleep. I don’t know how long I slept. I know it was well into the next day. When I woke up, my flight overalls were gone and all I had were my shorts. Mind you, it wasn’t as if I could go anywhere and I didn’t dare leave that room. It took a while, but Alain finally turned up looking apologetic. He explained that, because I was so tall, it was difficult for him to find clothes for me, so Josianne was turning my overalls into regular clothes. He said that someone was making documents for me and that, when they were done, they would be moving me on. So…” He sighed. “I had to wait. I wasn’t allowed to leave that room, but I didn’t mind. After all, I was free and safe and I knew that there were people who were working to get me home. I slept some more and when I wasn’t sleeping, I just lay there, thinking. I’ll come back to that later. I was there for a couple of days and they finally sorted out my clothes. Then, on the third night, Alain took me out, back into the woods and I was handed over to someone else. That’s the way it was. I was passed on from place to place. The idea was to get me down to Brittany, to the coast and then put me on a boat. I’d be picked up in the channel by a Navy lighter. Unfortunately, after Dieppe, the krauts were a touch twitchy about the possibility of another attack from the sea, so that option was ruled out. There was talk of sending me south through the Pyrenees—or north. I was hidden away in a barn for a few days, while they tried to figure out what to do with me. As billets go, it wasn’t bad.”
He chuckled. “I remember that first morning, getting up and having a wash and a shave in a pail of water. I was busy hacking away at the stubble and I could’ve sworn that someone was watching me. Sure enough, I turned around and there were two kids standing there open-mouthed. I finally figured out, after being there a while, that I’m tall compared to your average Frenchman. They weren’t used to that. I got that reaction, more or less, wherever I went. In the end, it was decided that they’d keep me safe until they could get a plane in. They used them to drop off operatives.”
A cold breeze rattled the trees and Ilona shivered. Francis pulled the coat tighter around her.
“So, for the next few months, I was passed from pillar to post while they waited for the right opportunity to fly me out of there. It’s a touch and go business. Everything has to be just right. Hell, I’m surprised they didn’t cast runes or read a chicken’s entrails to determine the right time and location. Finally, about two weeks ago, everything fell into place. There was a pick up scheduled—an agent—and, in a pinch, they can squeeze another into the plane and I was the lucky one. I was bundled out of the last hiding place—another cellar—and nearly got caught. We were walking down a road. It was midnight, and we ran into a kraut patrol. We had to do some quick thinking. They told me to act as if I was mad. That wasn’t too hard, after weeks of skulking in dark places. The moon was bright so I just let my two companions haul me unceremoniously along the lane while I howled and sang at the moon. I hadn’t shaved for a few days and my clothes were pretty filthy by that time.”
He glanced down at her. “Did you know that your name means light? I just sang your name over and over again while pointing at the moon. I think their captain—or whatever he was—was tired and he wasn’t in the mood for dealing with a stinking mad man. He checked our documents and waved us on our way, throwing back some comment about lunatics needing to be locked up. That’s how lucky I was, Ilke. All that time I was there, and that was the only time I came across the enemy.
After that, everything seemed to fly past. We went into the woods, far into the woods, where they had cleared a landing strip. When they knew that the plane was coming in, they lit a few torches at the edge of the clearing. The plane landed, the engines still running and me and this other guy were bundled onto it and, that was it. Adieu, France. If I hadn’t been so tired and if I’d been on my own, I think I would’ve cried. Instead, I was crammed onto the other seat with another stranger. That’s my story. I was driven back to Debden, told that the squadron no longer existed and they asked if I wanted to join the other guys in the USAAF. They told me I’d be a captain, because of my flying experience and because the squadron leader reckoned I was a good man to have on your side in a dogfight. How could I refuse? So, here I am, back in one piece with a new rank and a smart new uniform.”
Ilona sat in silence for a few minutes. “I don’t know what to say,” she said, finally. “I’m just so happy that you had good fortune on your side and that you made it back in one piece.” She wanted him to kiss her again.
He did, taking her face between his cold hands. “So am I. I told you I had a lot of time to think,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I thought about you a lot.”
“I thought about you a lot too.”
He kept her face between his hands. “This is hard for me to put into words. I’m not like my father. He’s the poet of the family.” He paused and rested his forehead against hers. “Ironic… I go through all of that. I can talk about it without thinking, but now, I can’t think of the best way to say this. I need you, Ilke. I think that you need me and we need each other. Beyond that, I don’t know. We’re in the middle of a war. We can’t take anything for granted, and you probably know that better than anyone does. So, I was thinking…perhaps…sometime, as soon as we can get leave again, would you come away with me? Can we go somewhere? I want to go somewhere where no one can bother us. We can be alone, no strings, no vows and no promises. I want to get to know you better, Ilke.”
Longing rose in Ilona like a flame.
He placed his forefinger on her lips.
“It’s a big thing I’m asking of you. Don’t answer me now. Think about it, really think about it. I’ll accept whatever you decide. I don’t ask this lightly, because I respect you and you are the one person in this life that I trust and care about more than anyone. Promise me that you’ll think about it, Ilke.”
“I’ll think very hard about it,” she replied. “I’ll think about it and I’ll write to you.”
His eyes were warm. “You keep me sane and calm.”
“And you say that your father is the poet of the family?” Tears stung her eyes.
He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her eyes. “I guess I have my moments.” He smiled. “I hate to say this, but we should probably get back to the house before they start wondering what’s happened to us.”
“You’re right, of course. Ash is probably peering through every window of the house trying to see what we’re up to.”
“I think that’s why my mother liked this place so much, because it was private and quiet and, when she was here, everyone knew better than to disturb her.” He rose and held out his hand. “Let’s get back.”
She took it and stood. “All right. It’s getting a bit cold out here anyway.”
They walked slowly across the lawn. Francis squeezed her hand. “I’m going to spend the rest of my leave sleeping, once you’re gone. I’ve never wanted to sleep as much as I do now. I wish I was traveling back with you.”
“You need to rest.”
“I need you.”
They paused on the front porch.
She nodded and closed her eyes when he kissed her once more—a kiss full of heat and promise.
Back in the warmth of the house, no one questioned their long absence when they walked into the sitting room, holding hands and flushed from the cold. Mrs. Reardon wondered aloud whether Francis wanted to play the piano, being that they had all missed his playing on Christmas Eve. He sat down at the bench, leaving space for Ilke to sit beside him.
“All right, but only if Ilke will sing.”
“I’ll sing if someone will bring me a glass of wine.”
“I’ll fetch you one.” Charlie poured a generous glass from the open bottle on the sideboard. “Here you go.”
Sh
e smiled, thanked him and took a mouthful while Francis played the opening notes of These Foolish Things. A few of the songs from the previous Christmas followed, as the gray afternoon faded to dusk and Mrs. Reardon drew the curtains.
“How about this one?” He played the introduction to As Time goes By.
“Yes, please.”
Francis joined in and, when it came to the chorus, Aislinn and Charlie sang along too and, as the last note faded, everyone applauded. A bit later, Francis tried to teach her to play one part of Heart and Soul. By then Ilona had drunk enough wine to give her the courage to sing without fear. It had also destroyed her concentration and the impromptu lesson had dissolved into laughter.
“I think you’d better stick to driving lorries, because your hands are better suited for wrestling heavy gear sticks.”
Ilona laughed at his blunt assessment of her skills. It took another glass of wine to get her right and singing again until her throat began to burn.
“That’s about all, folks. Ilke’s voice is getting a little scratchy.” Francis flexed his fingers. “So. I’ll play one last tune.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “This one’s for you. Every time I hear it or play it, I want to dance with you.” He bent over the keyboard and she recognized the tune immediately as the slow, sweet notes of Solace drifted across the silent room. Ilona had never really considered it a piece to dance to but, while she listened, the heat rose to her cheeks because she realized, with a languid twist of her gut what kind of dance Francis was referring to. He caught her eye and winked and, bold with the wine, she winked back.
It was inevitable that after the music, the evening had to end. Ilona remembered that she had a train to catch in the morning. Everyone gathered on the front porch to say goodbye, turning a blind eye as Francis drew Ilona to one side and kissed her warmly.
“Write when you can,” he told her.
She nodded. “I will, soon. I promise.”
“Take care.”
“And you. Please be careful.” Ilona reluctantly let Aislinn take her arm and lead her down onto the dark drive.
On the walk home, Aislinn kept hold of her. “You two seem very, very close and you were gone a long time.”
“We had a lot of talking to do.”
“Are you sure? You both looked rather flushed when you came back in.”
“Ash, in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold out here.”
Her sister giggled. “I don’t really notice these days, because being pregnant is like having your own personal heater. Charlie’s always complaining because I kick the bedclothes off in the night and he ends up freezing to death, but that’s beside the point. It seems to me like you and Francis have reached some sort of ‘understanding’.”
“We’re just good friends. That’s all. Surely that’s better than how it was when we first met him.”
“Yes, it is. I can’t believe how different he is. He’s actually quite charming and funny.”
Ilona wanted to tell her sister that he was so much more than that, but held her tongue and she was spared further questions when Charlie joined them. For once, she was grateful for his ceaseless chatter.
* * * *
Ilona tried to eat a hurried breakfast before catching the train. Her mother sat across the table from her, slowly stirring her tea. “You and Francis are getting along rather well, dear.”
“Yes, we are, aren’t we?” Ilona smiled and reached for another piece of toast. “He’s good company. That’s all.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Good company? It seems like more than that to me, my dear. You seemed very happy to see each other.”
“Mama, he was shot down and missing for four months. Of course we were happy to see each other.”
“If you say so. Just be careful, darling. I would hate to see either of you get hurt.”
“Don’t worry, Mama. I won’t let that happen. Anyway, who knows where either of us will end up? He’s in the USAAF now and he could end up anywhere, even in the Pacific.” She hoped that that would never happen. “And you know what the RAF is like. I could end up being moved on someone’s whim, to the other side of the country. It’s just nice to have a friend who knows what it’s like.”
“I suppose it is.” Her mother looked doubtful. “I know that the Reardons’ are delighted that the two of you get along so well. As long as you’re happy, Ilke, that’s all that your father and I really care about.”
“I’m happy,” she replied. “I’ll be even happier if I catch the train.”
Chapter Seventeen
Dear Francis,
Here it is, Duxford and January. The wind is so cold and cuts right through you, but then, you would remember that. At least the hut is warm and it’s great to get back there at the end of a long day. I hope you enjoyed the rest of your Christmas leave and are getting into the routine again without too much difficulty. Is it very different from being in the RAF? I am looking forward to seeing the new uniform. This brings me to the real intent of this letter. I should like to see you in that new uniform. You did tell me to take my time and really think about what you proposed and I have thought of nothing else since I returned.
You’re right, Francis. I do need you and I believe we need each other. I can think of nothing that I’d like more than to go away with you, somewhere peaceful, and forget about the world for a few days. Sooner, rather than later, not just because of how I feel, right now, but because there is talk that the Americans will be taking over Duxford in the spring, and we shall all be scattered to the four winds. I would hate to end up stuck in some remote corner of Scotland while you are still down here. Especially, now, since we are only a few miles apart, it would be easier to arrange something I don’t take much leave, so I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting a few days.
I hope you can get away. Now that my mind is made up, I can think of nothing else.
Regards,
Ilke
Dear Ilke,
You’re saying yes? You would really do this? When I read your letter I wanted to jump in my plane and do a Victory Roll. Instead, since I was sitting on my bed in the barracks, I had to pretend that it was just the usual bread and butter letter, which you and I always exchange. Like you, I can now think of nothing else. I have been trying to figure out where we can go and, once again, Harry has come up with the goods. I think he feels guilty for what happened at Dieppe, although I’ve told him time and time again that there was nothing he could have done and that he did the best thing by getting out of there in one piece. He says I can borrow his car and, even better, his friend, the landlord at the local pub, has a sister-in-law who has a small cottage that she lets out. Here’s the part where kismet comes in, once more. The cottage is by the river, south of Grantchester. It’s out in the middle of nowhere, down a long track, so it is very secluded. She would be glad of the income, given that most of it comes in the summer, so it should not be a problem to arrange. Apparently, it’s pretty basic, but there are fireplaces in the rooms that matter—living room and bedroom—and there’s a wireless, so we’ll have music. I know you are hopeless at cooking, but I think I can take care of that, if we find the time to eat. The bonus, of course, is that it’s not far, so we don’t have to worry about petrol rationing. We can get fresh eggs and milk from the farm and there will be plenty of firewood.
Now we have to work out when. We are about to start training in our brand new planes. I’ll be saying goodbye to my beloved Spitfires and learning how to fly a Thunderbolt. We saw our first one yesterday when one of the top brass came to pay us a call. He told us that he had a ‘surprise’ for us and, while he was talking, we heard an engine outside. It sounded rough and loud, like an elephant clearing its throat. We all trailed outside to have a look and there was this beast standing next to one of the Spits. It was monstrous. Its wing tip was as high as the cockpit of the Spitfire. It’s not the most elegant of planes, especially standing next to one of our beautiful, graceful little Spitfires. It’s like
comparing a carthorse to a thoroughbred. I can’t say I’m looking forward to the change. For a start, as much as I complained about the snugness of the Spitfire, at least it felt like it fit, as if I was part of the plane. The cockpit in this thing is enormous. One wag said he’d break his leg if he fell off the seat. I hate to think what it’s going to be like to fly, so be prepared for a lot of complaining from me.
Realistically, I think it will be the middle of February before I can expect to get away. I don’t know that I can wait that long, but I guess I’ll have to. Provided I don’t splatter one of these Thunderbolts and myself all over the runway. I just know that it will be worth the wait. Please bear with me.
We deserve this, Ilke.
Regards, etc.
Francis
* * * *
“Are you sure about this, Ilke?”
The three girls warmed themselves by the fire in the John Barleycorn.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m sure, very sure.”
Betty lit a cigarette and watched the smoke spiral lazily into the dark beam above her. “I can’t say that I blame you. He is rather good looking. This ‘no strings, no promises, no vows’ business, do you really think it will work?”
Ilona shrugged. “I don’t know, but I know that I want this. I know it makes me seem like a loose woman, but I’d rather do it with Francis than anyone else. In fact, I wouldn’t want to with anyone else. We are good friends. We understand each other.”
“I don’t know.” Lily studied her drink. “What happens if you end up falling in love? What if he does and you don’t, or you do and he doesn’t? Then it gets complicated or, even worse, he falls in love with someone else, or you do.”
“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. I can’t imagine that it will. We both believe that, because we can be certain of nothing, we find our comforts where we can and”—she blushed—“if his kisses are anything to go by…”
A Kestrel Rising Page 16
