‘Does that satisfy you, Louise, or would you like Peter to explain further? I’m sure we could produce his doctor to confirm it, if you insist,’ Ellen said sarcastically.
Louise was hot with embarrassment. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I do apologise, Mr Chard. One is in such confusion these days.’
‘Think no more about it.’ Peter smiled easily as she retreated behind the safety of her mother’s affectations.
Clemence came to a decision about the self-assured young farmer, and her middle daughter’s association with him.
‘Then if that’s all settled, perhaps you would tell us more about the work that Ellen would be expected to do for you, Mr Chard.’
‘Certainly.’ He managed not to look at Ellen at that moment, but they both knew they had won. ‘And I would be honoured if you would call me Peter.’
Clemence nodded graciously. She listened intently as he outlined the need for proper farm accounting books to be kept, and in the process found a growing respect for her daughter who apparently was capable of dealing with such things.
While Ellen could hardly keep from laughing out loud. She was actually going to work for Peter Chard, with her mother’s approval! She hadn’t anticipated much argument from her father. As long as Clemence was satisfied that all was well, then Fred would go along with her decision.
She would work in the little room Peter used as an office, and sort out the enormous muddle of his books and papers. She would be a part of something solid and continuing, and it gave her such an astonishing feeling of well-being that she wondered why on earth she hadn’t got what was termed ‘a proper job’ before!
It would hardly take up all of her time, and she knew that. She might get bored with it. It wouldn’t be as exciting as campaigning or rallying, but it was a step towards her own independence, and as such she treasured it.
Chapter 9
The expertise with which Jacques de Ville landed his aircraft was second nature to him now. For a few seconds he sat with his gloved hands gripping the joystick, as if he was still somewhere above the clouds, and not safely on terra firma after all. It was only when he heard Phil Brakes yelling at him that if he was ever going to turn off the bloody engine they could get started on their few days’ leave, that Jacques let out a long-held breath without even realising he had been sitting so motionless.
They were on British soil. They were in the pleasant green of an English airfield, with the scented summer grass of Wiltshire beneath them. He switched off the engine, and the quiet was like balm to his senses.
There were no blasts from enemy guns. No shells bursting all around him. No skimming the Front lines and the trenches in his flimsy and battle-scarred machine to report back to Brighton Belle on the air raids he and his wing had performed. No need for pride in assessing the number of Jerries he had slaughtered, or the enemy aircraft he had sent down in a whine of smoke and flame, trying not to imagine the German pilot’s frenzy to get out, nor to hear his screams as his skin shrivelled like blackening paper scorched to a cinder in the fireplace. No sightings of the British Tommies and his own countrymen being torn to shreds beneath him in the midst of a brilliant red-orange glow that lit the sky and silhouetted remnants of bodies being flung into the air like rag dolls. No scenes of tattered corpses spread-eagled on barbed wire in No Man’s Land between the lines, hanging like pathetic bits of discarded washing. No more fear…
‘Are you going to sit there all day, Cap, or are you coming in to report? I’ve got me a nice little popsy tucked up and waiting for me, even if you don’t!’
Phil’s voice penetrated through the temporary deafness that always came after flying. Phil’s oil-blackened face peered at him from the outside of the plane, and Jacques forced a grin to his lips, chapped from exposure to the air. They had three days’ leave, and with the kind of desperation that every serviceman recognised, they were determined to forget the war for that brief while. If it were possible…
He scrambled stiffly out of the cockpit, slapping Phil on the shoulder in the strange wartime camaraderie that knit them together closer than Siamese twins. They knew more about one another than their own relatives.
Each loved and hated the knowledge. It was a responsibility that neither could shirk. If one of them met with disaster, the other would go through fire and hell to see that their nearest and dearest were informed. But that day was far away from the here and now, and Jacques spoke with forced heartiness.
‘I hope she’s worth it, Phil. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ he said as they headed for the operations room.
‘That gives me plenty of leeway then,’ Phil said cheekily. He eyed his leader enviously. ‘If I had your luck with that little beauty you told me about, I might never report back. Seeing her, are you, Cap?’
‘Perhaps.’ Jacques held up two crossed fingers. Phil chuckled, his round face mischievously owl-like now with the white circles around his eyes where he had removed his goggles.
‘Garn. A bloody good-looking Frenchy like you! ‘Course you’re seeing her, and good luck to you. Still, I reckon I’ll be having just as good a time with mine. They’re all the same beneath the blankets, when all’s said and done.’
He whistled jubilantly as they reached the door of the operations room, and Jacques gave a sigh of relief. Phil was a good pal, one of the best, but he was in no mood to listen to his coarseness right now. And he was trying hard not to admit privately that he was suddenly nervous at the thought of seeing Angel Bannister again.
Apprehensive might be a more accurate way to describe how he felt. What if he had glorified in his mind their one magical night? What if they looked at one another and each saw a stranger? What if she didn’t come to the Swan Inn? He could hardly blame her. He presumed too much. He should never have written to her in the way he had, baring his soul, his heart.
She had never written to him – that was his fault, for not giving her his field address, but how did he know if she had wanted to write to him? He knew nothing about her, except that she had felt so gloriously right in his arms. And Jacques de Ville, who rarely felt uncertain about anything, was filled with anxiety and self-doubt for the first time in his life.
Well, he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out if she was coming or not. A few more hours, and he would know … a few more hours to find heaven or hell…
Margot had been installed at Meadowcroft for two weeks, and was pondering on whether or not she was really enjoying life with Angel’s family. It wasn’t that she minded the country all that much. It was just that time seemed to slow down so drearily, and she and Angel had always had such fun at college, where everything had moved at a fast pace.
And in London, of course – dear old London – everyone was so much busier and keener and – well, less countrified. There was no other way of putting it. Not that she would upset darling Angel for the world by telling her so.
If she was strictly honest, it wasn’t half as bad down here as Margot had expected. There had even been a bit of excitement on the day she arrived, when Angel had wanted to show her around the village, and she had borrowed Ellen’s bicycle and wobbled her way along the lanes with Angel on her own machine, amid shrieks of laughter.
It wasn’t the hideous excitement of the village murder, if one could apply the term to it, but real excitement. The sort that could get a girl’s pulse racing and put some extra colour into her cheeks.
A battalion of soldiers had arrived for billetting in the area, marching through the village and whistling those dear little army tunes that were becoming all the rage. ‘Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile…’
And all the village girls were smiling and giggling as the soldiers winked and waved, and the children marched along beside the soldiers, waving their Union flags, and trilling along with them. Such fun!
She and Angel had been in the village when the leading trucks came through, rattling on the cobblestones and stopping every now and then while the s
ergeants consulted sheafs of papers and detailed the lower ranks where they were to be billetted for the next couple of weeks.
‘There’s a new training area this side of Bristol,’ Angel told Margot. ‘Daddy said that Bristol is bursting at the seams with soldiers, so they’re having to find accommodation farther afield for them all. I suppose we’ll get our share.’
Margot looked at her with shining eyes. She was as dark as Angel was fair. They made a startling and attractive contrast as they leaned on their bicycles and waved the soldiers through.
‘I hope we’ll get some nice ones. Won’t your mother object frightfully, Angel?’
Angel laughed. ‘I daresay. Though Mother’s becoming frightfully resigned to everything the war is doing to us all. Haven’t you noticed that already?’
‘Yes, I have. She’s quite a lady, isn’t she? I can see where you girls get your independence.’
‘Except for Louise. She still hangs on to Mummy’s apron strings, in spite of being married.’
Margot gave a little snort.
‘Oh well, you can hardly count Stanley as a real man, can you? I mean, he’s not like any of these, is he?’
She waved furiously at the line of soldiers turning to whistle at them.
‘We’ve all changed, haven’t we?’ Angel said, waving dutifully. ‘Can you imagine this kind of behaviour being condoned a year ago? It would be scandalous – and even now, we’re getting some very funny looks from some of the village folk. We’d better go home before I disgrace myself by forgetting that I’m Miss Bannister from the big house!’
They turned reluctantly away from all the noise and excitement.
‘How’s Ellen getting on with her farmer?’ Margot said as they wheeled their bicycles through the unusually crowded village and into the open lanes. ‘I haven’t seen her yet.’
‘I think it’s all fairly blissful,’ Angel commented. ‘Though if you’re looking for a romance there, don’t bother. Ellen’s just not interested.’
‘What a funny girl!’ Margot smiled broadly. ‘She’s not much like her sister then, is she?’
‘As a matter of fact, Margot,’ Angel said in a studied voice. ‘I rather wanted to talk to you about that.’
Margot slid off the bicycle in an ungainly heap.
‘I knew there was something going on! I could tell by your voice on the telephone – and it’s not just the fact that you kept your driving prowess a secret from me! We’ve shared too many secrets, darling, and you’ve had that about-to-burst look all over you ever since I arrived! So do tell me, before I begin imagining all sorts of things!’
They walked slowly, leaning on the bicycles. Angel didn’t look at Margot as she told her everything in a rush. About the night she and Jacques had met, when she had spent the night in an hotel in London instead of going straight home; about the awful fuss when her mother had discovered her faux pas; about the roses, and the letter that had arrived recently.
Only then did she glance at Margot, to see her friend’s eyes round and shining and admiring.
‘I say, old thing, what a simply marvellous adventure. And have you fallen madly in love with your Frenchman? Is it the Real Thing, as they say?’
‘Of course it is! Do you think I’m in the habit of spending the night with every stranger I meet?’ She bit her lip as the angry words tumbled out.
‘Oh Margot, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just – it’s just –’
Margot’s voice was gentle.
‘It doesn’t matter. I’m a thoughtless idiot for being flippant as usual. I’m the one who should be sorry, Angel darling.’
Angel turned away again, her face fiery.
‘I haven’t told you everything yet. I feel so guilty for involving you in deception without your knowledge, Margot, and I ask your forgiveness for that –’
‘Don’t be silly. When did you need to ask?’
‘I’m asking now,’ Angel said carefully.
Margot stopped walking again, and Angel was obliged to stop too, turning to face her. A long way behind them, the slow march of footsteps and a distant singing told of the soldiers’ progress through the village.
‘Is there a chance for you to see him again? Is he on leave? Tell me what you want me to do,’ Margot said instantly.
Weak tears filled Angel’s eyes.
‘Oh, I can’t think why I was getting such cold feet about asking you. You’re the tops, Margot –’
Margot was brisk and businesslike. ‘Well, I might be if you tell me of your plan. You do have a plan, I suppose?’
They moved hastily onto the grass verge as the trucks came slowly through the lane, followed by a depleted line of soldiers. The truck driver learned his head out of the window.
‘Can you tell me the way to a place called Meadowcroft, ladies? Sounds like a few of these lads are going to have it cushy for a few weeks,’ he added cheekily. ‘Real lady of the manor in residence, so I’m told.’
Angel kept a straight face as she pointed out the direction of the house. So they were to get their quota of soldiers after all. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or irritated, since civilians clearly had little say in the matter.
They waited until the little convoy had gone, but Margot’s interest in the soldiers was less than her excitement over Angel’s plan, which she quickly outlined.
‘It’ll be no trouble at all, darling. Auntie doesn’t have a telephone, but she could easily be contacting me from a friend’s house, but we’ll make it clear that it’ll be no use your mother calling her to check up on you. You must call your mother from your hotel to say that you’ve arrived safely, and while you’re in the arms of your beloved, I shall make the supreme sacrifice and visit dear old Auntie, who will be absolutely delighted to see me. When Jacques’ leave is up, you can drive to Auntie’s cottage and collect me. How does that sound?’
‘Wonderful! I knew I could rely on you, Margot. I shall never be able to repay you.’
‘You probably will, one of these days. I haven’t given up hope of finding myself a lover yet!’ she teased. ‘I shall call on you for assistance then, Angel.’
‘You’ll have it,’ Angel said at once.
It all worked incredibly easily. The presence of the four soldiers billetted in the big house deflected some of Clemence’s attention from the girls. She found it frequently necessary to pacify Cook’s irritation at having to prepare meals for four extra heartily-eating men, when food was beginning to be in short supply. She greeted Margot’s request a few days later with nothing short of undisguised relief.
‘I’m sorry I was out when your dear Auntie telephoned, Margot dear, but I see no reason why you shouldn’t visit her for a few days. And it was charming of her to invite Angel too.’
‘She didn’t invite me. I did ask Margot while she was speaking on the telephone, but no luck,’ Ellen pretended to pull a face, adding her weight to the authenticity of the tale. To her horror, Clemence took her seriously.
‘Perhaps Margot would write to ask her Aunt if you could go too, Ellen –’
‘Oh no, I was only teasing! I’m far too busy at the farm,’ Ellen said hastily. ‘Besides, Margot is really Angel’s friend. I wouldn’t want to chime in.’
‘You know you wouldn’t do that,’ Margot said. ‘But unfortunately, Auntie’s cottage is very small, and there’s not much room for visitors. We shall have to squeeze up as it is.’
‘That’s settled, then,’ Ellen said with relief. ‘At least we’ll have a bit more room around here with you two out of the way. Perhaps Louise will be a bit less rattled with more space in the house too.’
‘That’s not very gracious of you, Ellen dear.’
‘Oh, Margot knows what I mean. She’s not the sort to take offence, Mother!’
‘Of course not,’ Margot said brightly. ‘Then is it all right for Angel and me to go at the end of the month, Lady Bannister? That was the time Auntie mentioned.’
Clemence smiled, pleased at the girl
’s consideration in visiting an elderly aunt. ‘I’ll have to confirm it with Angel’s father, but I’m sure he’ll make no objection.’
They drove away from Meadowcroft in bright sunshine. The two small suitcases were stowed securely, and Angel promised Clemence that she would telephone as soon as possible to report on their safe arrival. Only when they had got well away from the house and were spinning along the road in a north easterly direction, did she let out a gleeful whoop of relief.
‘I never thought we’d actually do it! Oh, Margot, are we very wicked?’
Margot laughed, pulling off her straw hat and letting the warm breeze lift her dark hair as she leaned back against the seat. Angel discarded her own hat with a little gesture of bravado, uncaring as the pins tumbled out of her fair hair to let it cascade around her shoulders, and Margot openly admired her friend’s confidence in handling the motor.
‘Well, if you’re not going to be, darling, this whole escapade is a waste of time!’
A thrill as sweet and sharp as a flame ran through Angel’s body. This day had seemed as though it would never arrive. But she was really on her way to meet Jacques. She was going to stay with him at the Swan Inn, and it would be as ecstatic as the first time … her heart jolted, and she spoke without thinking, her voice abrupt with sudden nerves.
‘I’m scared.’ She ran her tongue around lips that were suddenly dry.
‘Of Jacques?’
She shook her head vigorously. Her hair swung over her shoulders like a shining cloud.
‘Not of Jacques. Of me. Perhaps I’ve just been imagining how wonderful it all was. Our feelings might have changed. Could I have been in love with love, and not with the man?’
Margot spoke frankly. ‘You’re such a goose, Angel. If you could see the way your eyes sparkle when you speak of him, and the way they soften when you’re thinking of him, you wouldn’t question it. It’s perfectly obvious that you love the man!’
The Bannister Girls Page 12
