“Here we go again,” he thought, before lining up the unaware Messerschmidt in his gun sights and firing off a two-second burst before peeling away as he spotted another manoeuvring to take up position behind him.
Scene 26, What’s in a name? 1940
It had been a few hard weeks for Ena. Although pleased to have left the smoke of London behind for the relative newness of Dagenham, she missed the familiar sights, sounds, and smells that had been part of her life for so many years. Just as her father had said, it had been easy to find work locally and she had been offered a job on the spot after approaching the Stirling works in response to their vacancies sign. Although she found the work boring and repetitive, the money was welcome and she had begun to make friends amongst the women there. The amorous Chargehand on the shop floor had been sizing her up from the day she started, but after making it plain nothing was ever going to happen, he gave up and switched his attentions to several of the other new arrivals who seemed more responsive to his blandishments. Although she could have caught a bus to work, unless it was raining she preferred to walk the four mile round trip, finding it helped her think and had the added bonus of saving some money. Her father, now back with the Regiment and currently somewhere in the north of England training men on how to protect from mustard gas, wrote to her every week and had sent a postal order to cover most of her first month's rent.
Surprisingly, she missed having Alexander around, something she hadn’t expected at all. When her father had suggested the move away from Peckham to the relative safety of Dagenham, she hadn’t thought he meant Alexander should go too. It had annoyed her at first, but there was something likeable about the way the young man seemed at the same time both vulnerable yet strangely in control. She couldn’t articulate what it was that she found interesting about him, even to herself, rather, it was just that when he was around she found herself attracted to him differently to other men she’d met before. Of course, she would never let him know this and had even been somewhat standoffish with him. It had taken Bill’s intervention to make her see Alexander in a new light, especially when her father had opened up for the first time and described exactly what he’d done for him in France. After that, Ena had tried to be a bit friendlier towards Alexander and open up a little more.
Years before, it had been her mother’s death that had changed Ena’s attitude towards people. Many of those she and her mother had thought were friends disappeared when the full seriousness of her illness had become known, almost as if they were scared of contracting the cancer themselves. Only a few had offered to help and as the weeks turned into months, even those had trailed off, almost as if their well of kindness had begun to run dry, leaving her to do almost everything herself. To her disgust, several of the husbands had tried to make overtures but with strings attached, the real price of their proffered help all too obvious. It had happened again, after the funeral, when on three occasions they’d even had the temerity to knock on her door, offering “assistance,” considering a young girl alone to be vulnerable and fair game. Obviously, she hadn’t mentioned this to Bill when he returned, for he would have felt honour bound to have a “talk” with them and probably get into trouble with the Army. Alexander, however, had been different and in the weeks she’d known him, had always acted the perfect gentleman, treating her as an equal despite the way she sometimes spoke to him.
To help with the rent she had responded to an advert in the factory canteen looking for people to offer lodgings for the women coming to work there and already had someone lined up to take the upstairs back bedroom that overlooked the gravel pit. If it worked out, on the occasional days when he was on leave, Alexander could either sleep in the small box room upstairs or on the sofa in the front room that was reserved for “best” and normally kept for visitors, not that she had many at the moment. He hadn’t objected and continued to help her out financially from his RAF pay, something she hadn’t expected and which added to her feelings of guilt over how she had earlier treated him.
Having worked double shifts for the past few weeks, Ena had ensured that she would have the weekend off and hoped that Alexander had also been able to get his leave to coincide. With the attacks on the airfields having now switched to London, she hoped his leave wouldn’t again be cancelled at short notice.
The last of the weeks washing having been put through the cast iron mangle and hung up to dry on the line in the back garden, Ena was throwing out the soapy white water onto the lawn when she heard a knock on the front door and caught sight of a tall, uniformed shadow through the frosted glass of the door that was unmistakably Alexanders.
“Coming,” she called out, quickly untying her apron and hanging it up on a hook in the kitchen, then hurrying to open the door. She pulled it open and stepped forward to welcome him but stopped in shock when she saw him. Although Alexander’s face remained the same, his eyes told Ena everything she needed to know, recognising the look her father had on occasion come home from abroad with. Words caught in her throat and the friendly greeting she had meant to say was replaced with something completely different.
“Oh, Alexander, what’s happened to you?” she said, stepping back and allowing him to dip down and enter, removing his cap as he did so.
He stood there for a moment before speaking, “Hello, Ena, it’s nice to see you. How are you doing?” his voice less confident than she had heard before and with barely a trace of his previous accent. Inside his calm exterior, Alexander wanted to do nothing more than open up with all the horrors he’d seen and heard these past months, but he had learned about the English way of doing things and tried to keep his emotions bottled up. Recognising the signs and sensing some of what he was feeling, Ena took his hat and carryall and hung them both up on the coat rack, then turned back to face him.
“Cup of tea?” she asked, the remedy for all of mankind’s ills.
He nodded and followed her into the small galley kitchen, situated at the back of the house. “How have you been, Ena? Anything new to report? He looked around, noticing the subtle changes she had made to the place, looking out the window at the washing gently flapping in the light breeze. “Been busy, I see.”
“It doesn’t do itself. I don’t have a batman to do any of this for me,” she said, without thinking, instantly regretting the words as they came out. “Sorry, Alex, I didn’t mean it to sound like that”
“That’s alright, Ena.” He walked back out into the hall and for a horrid, stomach churning moment, Ena thought he was going to leave but instead he rummaged through his carryall and produced something that he held behind him before walking back towards her.
“I’ve got something for you, “he said, smiling. “Guess?”
Immensely relieved he hadn’t taken offence and feeling horrible about how she’d spoken to him, Ena simply shook her head. With a flourish, Alexander produced a two-pound bag of Tate and Lyle sugar lumps in a blue and white box, a whole month’s worth of rations, and handed it over with a small smile.
“I won it playing cards. I seem to have a knack for cards but now the others don’t play with me anymore, so make the most of it.”
Ena rinsed out the kettle, refilled it and lit the cooker ring so she could boil the water. Alexander watched as she carefully measured out the dried tea and got everything ready for when the water was boiled. He’d hoped her attitude towards him might have continued to improve, but obviously not, so he compartmentalised it along with all his other problems and tried to ignore the sharp, almost visceral pain that her reaction to him had provoked.
“I got a letter from Bill, two days ago,” he said, trying to change the subject, standing by the back door and looking out of the window, “He seems to be enjoying himself training up the new recruits.” He turned around and almost bumped into Ena, who had quietly moved behind him. “Oh, Sorry,” he said automatically.
“No, it’s me that should be sorry, Alex. I don’t know why I snapped at you and I’m really sorry for doing so. Forgive
me?” She looked up at him and for a moment Alexander found himself looking into her brown eyes and wanting to do nothing more than kiss her, but the moment passed and he smiled instead.
“Of course, I’m just glad you and Bill have sort of adopted me. There's nothing to apologise for, honestly.”
Impulsively, Ena leant forward and put her arms around him, resting the side of her head on his broad chest. Taken aback, Alexander put one arm around her, not quite knowing what to do with the other, so settled for patting her right shoulder, almost half-heartedly.
“You can hug me properly, you know. I won’t break,” she said into the lapel of his uniform, which made them both laugh, Alexander finding her comment really funny for some reason.
“You have a lovely laugh, Alex,” said Ena, breaking away and moving to the kettle as it began to whistle, warning them the water had boiled, looking to hide the flush she could feel rising up from her neck.
A short while later they were sitting in the front room, waiting for the tea to infuse in the pot before pouring. The sofa they were sitting on had seen better days and in places, some of the horsehair was sticking through the material, but with new furniture being both hard to get hold of and expensive due to the war effort, everyone had to make do.
“What’s it like, Alex? The radio keeps saying how many planes we are shooting down and how brave everyone is being, but I know that’s only half the story.” Ena looked him in the eyes, searching his face. “They say the eyes are a window into one’s soul and since you joined the RAF I can see the change in yours.”
Alexander stayed quite for a moment, wondering how much he should say. None of it was secret, but he didn’t want to burden her with the knowledge of how close they had been to defeat before the Germans switched away from bombing the airfields, nor how the constant fear of being burned in the cockpit from an exploding or leaking fuel tank haunted many of the pilots. He decided to be truthful, for if she was anything like her father, she’d not shirk from hearing the truth.
“It’s rough, Ena. It seems like every other day there’s a new face around the table to take the place of a missing pilot. And these new kids haven’t had enough flight time before they get sent up with the rest of us. We try and watch out for them but they all think they’re somehow immortal.”
Watching him closely, Ena watched as his face changed and took on a haunted look. Instinctively she held out her hand and placed it over his. Alexander looked at her, his eyes hinting at something that only he could see. He sighed deeply, remembering. He looked down at her hand resting on his and put his other one on top.
“The worst of it is remembering the sound of men burning to death in their cockpits. You hear them screaming as their plane plummets to earth and you will it to end so they are quickly put out of their misery, but it’s amazing how long a body can cling to life and keep screaming.” Alexander looked at her, the beginnings of hot tears in his eyes as he remembered things no-one should have to witness.
“That’s bad enough but then you switch off to concentrate on staying alive but the next time you get back into the cockpit you can’t help but wonder if it’s going to be your turn next.” He sighed again. “In the still of the night, when you can’t sleep, you get to wondering why it was you that came back. No matter how much you try and rationalise it to yourself, there’s the feeling of guilt that you survived. The easy bit is the flying and fighting.”
Alexander became quiet and Ena knew that this was not the time to comment or press for more information, so she simply sat there and waited for him to continue or move onto another subject, yet again finding his vulnerability and willingness to discuss such things refreshingly different from other men.
Alexander and Ena talked for a good hour, then Alexander changed out of his uniform into more appropriate clothing for walking. The sun was high in the sky and the day was warming up nicely, so they decided to go for a walk across the mainly open fields between the house and the Ford factory near the River Thames. Numerous footpaths crisscrossed the fields and a lot of the ground had been given over to allotments for people to grow their own food, encouraged by the “Dig for Victory” campaign still being promoted on the radio and in the newspapers. The sky above was a beautiful clear blue, without a cloud to be seen.
Alexander was glad to have changed out of uniform and soon found himself warming up nicely, rolling up his sleeves and even Ena had taken off her light blue cardigan as they walked. Every now and then they both stopped to watch as they heard the familiar drone of fighters taken off from the airfield and on occasion flying overhead on their way to intercept the enemy or simply go out on a regular patrol. On this balmy, summer day it seemed surreal to Alexander that here on the ground everything seemed so normal yet in the skies above a vicious war was being fought.
They kept walking, following on their left a small stream that wound it’s way along until eventually emptying itself into the River Thames about two miles away. Although they were walking aimlessly, apart from the sheer pleasure of being in the open and in each other’s company, their unintended destination was an imposing Victorian pumping station, rising several stories and dominating the flat ground all around. Beyond that lay the old red brick TB Sanitorium, now converted into an emergency hospital for the wounded coming out of the London bombings.
Somewhere along their walk, they found themselves holding hands, the gesture seeming natural to them both. They spoke of many things, their talk ranging over a wide range of topics. Ena was always a mine of information on the history of London and England. In turn, she found Alexander’s grasp of science and engineering quite amazing, if a bit unbelievable. She particularly loved his imaginings of the far future, where everyone had such amazing tools at their disposal, even if some of his ideas did seem completely far-fetched or downright impossible.
Having finally reached the pumping station, which was even more impressive up close with it’s cast iron and carved stone ornamentation, they decided to take a circular route home, which coincidentally took them past one of the local public houses, a timber-framed, white-washed building obviously already several hundred years old. Outside, a sign depicting a large Bull proudly proclaimed its name. Deciding to break their walk and enjoy a pint of beer, they went in, noticing how dark it was compared to the bright summer sun outside. The familiar smell of stale, spilt beer rose from the old wooden floor which matched in colour the tables and chairs set along the walls and windows. Sitting down by the window, Alexander noticed how the wooden arms of his chair had been rubbed to a high polish over the years by countless arms. He looked up and saw the familiar dark yellowy brown of the ceilings, stained that way by decades of cigarette smoke. A few elderly gentlemen had looked up when they’d entered, their eyes following Alexander as he went to the bar and ordered their drinks. Used to being stared at because of his height and tanned complexion, Alexander caught their eyes and nodded at them in greeting at which they turned away and returned to whatever they had been doing before.
Returning to the table where Ena was waiting for him with two pints of light and bitter, she remarked on his smile.
“You look happy, Alex, why are you smiling?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really,” he replied, putting the two glasses down on the table, “it’s just funny the way I still get looks from people.”
“Well, you are a big chap, Alex, that’s for sure,” she chuckled, matching his smile with one of her own that Alexander felt lit up the room. “pay no attention, this sort of thing happens all the time from the regulars when you go into a strange pub, trust me on this.”
Ena paused for a moment. “Now you’ve sort of brought the subject up, you have changed, you know. Your accent has almost gone completely and your skin colour has lightened too.” She leaned across and took hold of his arm, examining it and laughing as she spoke. “Yes, you just look like you have a good suntan now. Fancy that, perhaps the English rain washed some of it off.”
She caught his eye again
. “There’s definitely more to you than meet the eye, Alexander Doone.”
“And there I was thinking it was just my devastatingly good looks, Ena.”
As they spoke, an old dog with grizzled grey fur and of indeterminate parentage, ambled slowly over to them and sat down at Alexander's feet, resting its head close to his left foot. Belonging to either the publican or one of the regulars, it seemed part of the furniture and was obviously at home with strangers.
Ena looked at the dog and then at Alexander, before commenting. “Well, there’s someone in here that agrees with your assessment, Alex.”
Without thinking, Alexander responded, leaning slightly towards her across the table, “And what do you think, Ena?”
Her smile slowly faded, but not completely, traces of it lingering at the corners of her mouth and eyes. She leaned forward, but only to pick up her pint and take a good drink, before putting it back down and leaning back, her eyes never once leaving his.
“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it, Alex?” her brown eyes twinkling with mischief, picking up her pint glass again and taking another drink.
Inwardly, Alexander was cursing himself for having spoken. For the life of him, he didn’t know why he’d said that but was relieved and intrigued in equal measure at Ena’s reaction to his comment. Vimes was no help, and he could feel him just sitting there in his mind, finding this all so amusing. Not knowing what to say next, he sat there without saying anything and it was Ena that broke the silence.
“Oh, for goodness sake, Alex, you are no good at this are you?” she said, smiling broadly. I swear teasing you is like shooting fish in a barrel! You can be so serious at times.” Ena looked at his face, which was like an open book to her, feeling a little sorry for him. She leaned forward and spoke quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear her.
“I do think you are handsome and yes, I do like you. The dog has obviously good taste,” and with that, she laughed again at his expression. “I can’t believe you said you were good at cards. I’m surprised you won anything as I can read you like a book.” She leant across and took his hand. “Come on, drink up,” finishing what was left of her drink in one go and standing up for emphasis.
Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy Page 29
