‘They were being foolhardy, taking risks. You saw the danger.’
‘How can I go back to flying if I’m that terrified?’
‘Everyone is afraid. But, Steve, you didn’t run away, you stepped forward to save them. Remember that.’
He laughed suddenly. ‘Now who’s the rock!’
Chapter Twelve
A YEAR TO the day since he had been shot down, Steve returned to East Grinstead, not for an operation but to be declared fit enough to be discharged. ‘I’ll recommend you be invalided out,’ the great man said, having reassured himself that there was nothing more he could do for his patient. Steve could use his hands and hardly noticed the scars on them; the terrible pain was a distant memory, but not so distant he could forget it completely. He would never be the handsome man he once was, but the work Mr McIndoe had done on his eyes and nose had been nothing short of miraculous. He didn’t like the reflection he saw in the mirror each morning but he had become sort of used to it, and he supposed his nearest and dearest had too. He often thought of what Donny had said: ‘At least everyone can see you’ve done your bit.’ He’d try very hard to wear his face with pride.
‘I want to go back to flying. I’ve got unfinished business to attend to.’
McIndoe sighed heavily; he had heard it all before. ‘If you must, you must, but it’s not me you have to convince, it’s the bods at Central Medical.’
‘OK, when?’
‘Enjoy your Christmas first. Go home on leave and I’ll notify them. They’ll send you an appointment.’
He really couldn’t expect anything more and rose to go, holding out his hand. ‘Thank you, sir. Thank you for working miracles. I know I haven’t been the easiest of patients.’
McIndoe took the outstretched hand and grasped it firmly. There was a time when such a gesture would have had Steve screaming in agony; now the pressure was reassuring. ‘You’re not the worst by a long way and I could not have done anything without your cooperation and the help of the whole team, and that includes Sister Drummond and the staff at Beckbridge.’
‘I know.’
Steve picked up his cap, set it at a jaunty angle and went out to the taxi he had ordered to take him to the station.
Joyce looked up as the door of Beck Cottage opened and a woman breezed in for all the world as if she owned the place, and stood looking round her. She was plump and wearing a thick tweed coat and a fox fur. Her hair, bright as a carrot, was arranged in neat waves under a beige felt hat with a long green feather. Joyce, rolling out pastry to make mince pies, stared at the apparition for several seconds and then yelled. ‘Val! It can’t be.’
‘Then I’d sure like to know who it could be.’ The accent was a mixture of Canadian and Norfolk.
Joyce collapsed into a chair and stared at her sister, unable to believe what she saw. ‘How’d you get here?’
Valerie came further into the room and kissed her sister’s cheek, wafting expensive perfume as she did so. ‘If you make us a cuppa, I’ll tell you. Oliver’s just paying off the cab.’
‘Oliver’s here too?’
‘Yup.’ She took off her coat and hung it over the back of a chair, revealing a peach-coloured light wool dress such as would make any clothes-starved Englishwoman green with envy. Her heavy make-up covered any lines she might have had but did nothing to disguise her many chins. They seemed to be emphasised by an ostentatious diamond necklace and matching earrings. She sat down at the kitchen table as the door opened again and Oliver Donovan stood on the threshold. He was in the uniform of an army major, a little older, a little more portly, but still handsome, still easily recognisable. ‘Come in, Ollie and shut the door,’ Val said. ‘You’re letting the cold in. We’ve given my sister a bit of a shock.’
‘You can say that again.’ Joyce got up and took the kettle to the scullery to fill it from a pail of water brought in from the well down the garden. Returning, she lifted the cover off the range and set the kettle to boil. ‘Now tell me how you managed to get here. And what’s Oliver doing in uniform?’ She opened the door of the stove and rattled a poker through the bars to stir the fire into life.
‘We came over on a converted liner.’ Valerie giggled, reminding Joyce of what she was like as a youngster, full of life, always laughing. ‘It was full of men, there was only a handful of us women. We had a whale of a time.’
‘Why?’ She looked from one to the other.
‘I wanted to do something for the war,’ Oliver said. ‘I’m not too old to be useful, so I worried the powers-that-be until they gave me a uniform and a job. It’s hush hush at the moment.’
‘The second front at last?’
He tapped the side of his nose, but didn’t answer. She turned as the kettle whistled and set about making a pot of tea. ‘What about you, Val? You haven’t been given a job, have you?’
‘No, not me. But I wanted to come and Ollie wangled me a berth, so here I am, for the duration. Ollie’s got a few days before he has to report. We’ll stay at The Jolly Brewers.’
‘You can stay here. There’s no one here but me, though I was hoping Ken would be home for Christmas. Ian’s been sent abroad, don’t know where, of course…’ She poured milk and tea into the cups and put them on the side of the table away from where she was working.
‘Where’s Stella?’
‘She’s working in a factory in Northampton and lives in digs. She might get back for Christmas.’
‘Aren’t you lonely?’
‘No time to be lonely. I’ve got my job at the post office and that keeps me busy.’ She went back to her pastry board. ‘I’d better get these mince pies done, though I was wondering why I was bothering if there was only me and Ma to eat them. Still, now you’re here… Will you stay for Christmas?’
‘Yes, if you’ll have us.’
‘Have you! I’m thrilled to bits.’
‘How’s Ma?’
‘Same as ever. She misses Stella and Ken but she copes very well. I’ll go and fetch her over when I get these in the oven.’ She was busy cutting out rounds as she spoke and putting them in a bun tin.
‘I’ll fetch her,’ Oliver said.
‘Have you seen anything of Wayne lately?’ Valerie asked, when the door had closed on him.
‘Not since the early summer. Why?’
‘I’m worried about him. He was wounded and I think he must ha’ returned to duty too soon. His last letter was kinda strange.’
‘What do you mean, strange?’
‘Don’t know exactly; it just didn’t sound like him. It was all stiff, as if he had something on his mind and couldn’t say what it was.’
‘Well, his letters are censored, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, but he usually manages a bit of a joke or a tale about some of his men, and he’s always written about Beckbridge and what’s happening here. Not a word about that. And not a word about Laura either. He’d always said a lot about her. D’you think they had a row?’
‘Don’t know. No doubt you’ll meet her. Perhaps she’ll tell you.’
‘Is she still working up at the Hall?’
‘Yes. It’s nuff’n like it were in the old days. There’s only Mr and Mrs Ward to staff it now, except service people, o’ course. No doubt Wayne told you it’s a hospital for burnt airmen. Lady Helen helps to run it. Steve Wainright was a patient there. He’s in the RAF, or he was ’til he was shot down. Terrible burns, he had. Hard to look him in the face at the beginning, but he don’ look so bad now. I expect you’ll meet him and Jenny and Kathy too.’
The back door was opened and Oliver ushered Lily into the room. She dashed across the room and flung herself at Valerie. ‘Why didn’t you let us know you were coming? I was never so shocked in all my life when Oliver walked into my kitchen.’ She stepped back from Valerie’s embrace to peer at her. ‘You haven’t changed much. A bit fatter, but then you haven’t had rationing like we have. And no grey hairs, but that’s due to the bottle, i’n’t it?’
‘Oh, Ma, yo
u do know how to make a girl feel good.’
‘I speak my mind. Now, Oliver, he don’t look a day older than when I last saw him, ’cept he looks more distinguished. Grey sideburns suit him.’
‘Thank you, Ma,’ he said.
‘We’ll have to celebrate. Let’s all go down to the pub for a meal and a knees-up tonight. Joe will rustle something up for us seein’s it’s a special occasion.’
They agreed it would be a good idea, and when they had finished their tea and sampled the freshly cooked mince pies, Oliver and Valerie unpacked in Joyce’s bedroom and Joyce moved her things into Ken’s room. Then they set off for The Jolly Brewers. Joyce and Valerie had hardly drawn breath since they had been reunited, and by the time they reached the pub Valerie was au fait with everything that had happened in Beckbridge in the last twenty-five years. It had all been told in letters, but that wasn’t the same as talking about it, mulling it over, offering opinions. Joyce heard all about life in Canada, which filled her with envy.
‘Everyone said it wouldn’t work,’ Valerie told her. ‘Marrying a Canadian, I mean. Ma and Pa said I was going off into the unknown and if it didn’t work out I’d be all alone in a strange country, and, even if we did stay together, I’d be treated worse than a skivvy. To hear them talk you’d ha’ thought I was going to marry a savage and live in the wilderness.’ She laughed suddenly, a noisy genial sound. ‘It was nothing like that, not for me, and I knew Oliver wouldn’t let me down. We had to work like blacks to build the business, but we made it together. I’n’t that right, Ollie?’ Her husband nodded and she went on. ‘We’ve got six garages now, selling cars and doing maintenance. They’ve all got good managers, so Ollie don’t really need to go to work at all. It’s why he was so keen to come over. And when he told me he was definitely coming, I sure wasn’t going to be left behind.’
‘Weren’t you afraid of being torpedoed?’
‘It crossed my mind, but what the hell, you can only die once. Besides, the U-boats have been beat, haven’t they?’
‘Hev they?’ Joyce said vaguely. She had just seen Steve going into The Jolly Brewers. He was in uniform and she wondered why. He had become a familiar sight about the village, but was usually in a thick pullover with his corduroys tucked into Wellington boots, helping with the farm work when he wasn’t up at the Hall.
‘Anyway, I’m here now and Ollie is going to try and find out where Wayne is before he reports for duty. Wouldn’t it be grand if he could get some leave while we’re here?’
They let themselves into the pub, carefully shutting the outer door before opening the inner one, a habit the patrons of the establishment had acquired because of the blackout. The bar was warm and smoky. The regulars were in their usual places, playing dominoes or darts or shove ha’penny, a half pint of beer at their elbows. Steve had just taken his beer to a seat in the corner.
‘All alone, Steve?’ Joyce asked. ‘Mind if we join you?’
‘Help yourself.’
‘This is my sister, Valerie, and her husband Oliver. And this is Steve Wainright, Kathy’s son.’
Steve rose and shook hands with them, but his mind registered that these must be Wayne Donovan’s parents.
‘I remember Kathy,’ Valerie said, trying not to notice his face. ‘And William. I suppose he’s running the farm now?’
‘Yes, my Wainright grandparents died some years ago.’
‘You’ll be taking over yourself one day, won’t you?’
‘Yes, but not yet. Dad’s in splendid health and I’ve got a war to fight.’
‘I thought you’d finished with all that,’ Joyce said. ‘Surely they don’t expect you to go back?’
‘Why not? I can still fly. The country can’t afford to leave experienced pilots kicking their heels.’
She turned to her sister. ‘Steve and Ken were flying together when they were hit. Ken bailed out, but Steve tried to land the aircraft and got burnt. The medics have done a grand job on you, haven’t they, Steve? He was sent to Beckbridge Hall to be looked after between ops, so Kathy was able to see a lot of him. And Laura nursed him.’
‘Laura?’ Oliver said. ‘Isn’t that the girl Wayne says he’s crazy about?’
‘That’s the one,’ Valerie confirmed.
‘I should like to meet her. Is she still there?’
Steve didn’t hear Joyce’s answer. He didn’t want to listen to the rest of the conversation but he couldn’t get out without pushing past them, and so he was obliged to sit there, sipping his beer and listening to them going on about Laura and Wayne until he wanted to yell out in frustration. But in a self-flagellating way he also wanted to know the worst; he wanted to be sure there was no hope for him.
‘Are you going up to the Hall?’ Lily asked Oliver, looking at him with her head on one side.
‘Is there any reason why I should not?’ It was said defensively.
‘No, I suppose not. It’s a convalescent hospital now, not the stately home it once was. It’s full of airmen like Steve here, and doctors and nurses and orderlies.’
‘I know that. Wayne told us.’
‘The Earl and Countess are long dead.’ She gave him another searching look. ‘So is Captain Barstairs. He never came back from France.’
If Barstairs hadn’t come back from France, then the Earl had lied to him. It set Oliver wondering, all over again, why Helen had never answered his letters. ‘What about Lady Helen?’
‘She’s still there. What d’yew want to see her for?’
Steve detected undercurrents to the conversation that had not been there before. Mrs Wilson seemed to be advising Major Donovan against visiting the Hall and he wondered why. Both Valerie and Joyce were looking at her in a bemused kind of way.
‘I didn’t say I did. I said I wanted to meet Laura.’
‘She’s always very busy, isn’t she, Steve? Works funny hours.’
‘Yes,’ he said.
Oliver suddenly became aware of a conspiracy and wondered at it. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing,’ Joyce said. ‘You go if you want to. If she’s on duty, she’ll be able to tell you when she’s off. We’ll invite her to a meal. Christmas dinner if she can make it.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if Wayne came for Christmas,’ Valerie cried. ‘And Ken and Ian and Stella; a really family Christmas.’
‘In the middle of a war?’ Lily put in. ‘Some hopes of that.’
‘I must be going,’ Steve said. ‘I only popped in for a quick one.’ He got up and pushed his way past them. ‘Nice to have met you, Mrs Donovan. Major.’ He shook hands with them and made his escape.
It was a cold night – freezing, he decided. The sky was clear and the road and hedges were illuminated in an ethereal kind of light. He looked up. The moon and stars hung there as they always had; there were no aircraft, friend or foe. The Luftwaffe were as good as beaten, the British Navy once more controlled the seas, and he did not doubt the second front that everyone had been talking about for months would not be long in coming. He would be there. He had been in at the beginning and he wanted to be in at the end. He would try not to think of Laura. Or Wayne Donovan. Or anything except getting the job done.
He was due back at the Hall but had promised his mother he would go in and tell her what Mr McIndoe had said, so he turned in at the farm gate. Meg and Daphne were crossing the yard to go to their quarters and he stopped to bid them goodnight.
‘How did you get on?’ Meg asked.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘They don’t want to see me any more. Apparently I’m cured.’
‘So you’ve got your discharge?’
‘No, I have to go before a medical board and it’s up to them to decide if I’m fit for duty.’ He said it almost regretfully, having decided not to let his mother know that he was going to do his damnedest to convince them he was, and that meant deceiving anyone who could tell her. ‘But not until the New Year.’
‘Good, you’ll be here for Christmas,’ Meg sa
id. ‘That will please your mother. She’s waiting for you.’
‘Right. I’ll go and give her the good news. Goodnight, girls.’
He left them and went into the kitchen. His mother and Gran had been doing some Christmas baking and the room struck warm after the cold outside. He shed his cap and overcoat, leaving them on the back of the leather sofa as he went to kiss them both. ‘I’m back, safe and sound.’
‘How did you get on?’
‘OK. I’ve been given leave until I go before a medical board.’
‘And they’ll decide you have done your bit and can spend the rest of the war at home, helping on the farm, I hope.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ He sat at the table and picked up one of the mince pies cooling on a rack.
‘Be careful, that’s very hot,’ his mother said. ‘Which train did you catch?’
‘I got to Attlesham about seven and caught a bus.’
‘Why didn’t you ring from the station? Someone would have fetched you.’
‘It was too cold to hang around. Anyway, when I got off the bus I nipped into The Jolly Brewers for a quick one. You’ll never guess who was there.’
‘No, so tell us.’
‘Joyce’s sister, Valerie, and her husband. All the way from Canada.’
‘No? How did they manage that?’
‘Came over on a troopship, apparently. He was in uniform. According to Joyce, Oliver’s been given a hush-hush job to do with the second front and Valerie managed to get a berth on the ship bringing him over.’
‘How long are they here for?’ his grandmother asked.
‘Don’t know. Over Christmas, they said.’
‘That’ll put the cat among the pigeons.’
‘Why?’
‘That’s all over and done with,’ Kathy put in quickly, addressing her mother. ‘No point in bringing it up again now.’
‘What’s over and done with?’ he demanded.
‘The past,’ she said.
‘It always catches up with you in the end,’ Alice said. ‘Helen is going to learn that, I reckon.’
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