Just Desserts

by Jan Jones

  ‘Jack said the tarn had swallowed the plane. He’d told the police. Nothing more we could do, so we got on with giving Andrew Collins a good send off.’

  ‘You knew it was him? How?’

  ‘We thought it must be, it being his cousin’s wedding next day and him having been borrowing aeroplanes to fly home since the beginning of the war.’

  Leo flashed a glance at Penny. So it was what they’d thought. Andrew Collins had ‘won’ a plane for the weekend and the flight had gone wrong.

  Penny, however, had seen the sly amusement in the old man’s face earlier. ‘Jack Scrivener doesn’t sound like the sort of chap who’d have a lot of money to spare for the football pools,’ she said. ‘Did he do them often?’

  The old blue eyes met hers. ‘Just that once, lass.’

  ‘I knew it,’ said Leo as they left. ‘The aftermath of the crash was fixed. I knew that miserable, niggardly paragraph in the paper didn’t ring true. Normally you find a character like Jack Scrivener and you can’t shut them up.’ He stared at Penny, not really seeing her. ‘But why?’ he said, thinking aloud. ‘Planes came down all the time in the early fifties. Pilots borrowed them illegally because that’s what they’d got used to. Why was this time different? Why would the authorities cover it up instead of making an example of Collins? Can we go to the tarn again?’

  There was wry understanding in her face. ‘Sure.’

  They drove the short distance to peaceful, serene Long Tarn. It was completely quiet. Dogs frolicked on the far side. There were kids skimming stones by the water’s edge. Any place less like the setting for a dreadful air crash was hard to imagine.

  ‘Perhaps it was the plane itself?’ suggested Penny in a practical voice. ‘Maybe the model was one the company were trying to sell? Could they have covered it up because they didn’t want it known that it was dangerous under certain circumstances?’

  ‘That’s one possibility. I can find out.’ Leo stared around in frustration. ‘I just … I just have a gut feeling that there’s something more. I’m missing something.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Penny. ‘Let’s deliver Rachel’s forms to my son-in-law and then get home. I could do with lunch – and I daresay you wouldn’t say no to a bite to eat.’

  He quirked a sideways look at her. ‘Never do.’

  She stopped outside Tom’s lab and took the envelope inside. Leo stayed with the car, leaning against it to stretch his legs, listening to the seagulls and the sound of the waves slapping against the cliffs below. He kept his eyes on the horizon, carefully not watching the men working at the Lowdale Screw Fittings site directly, but noticing the comings and goings with a minuteness that would have surprised anyone observing him. Which they were. He had no doubt of that. Just what was going on here? Maybe Penny was right and he was thinking of too many things at once to make sense of any of them.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said when she came back out. ‘I’m being a complete grouch over this Andrew Collins story. I need to push it to the back of my mind and wait for the thing I’ve missed to surface.’

  Penny rolled her eyes. ‘I am so glad I don’t live in your head. I’ve got some nice chicken soup at home – it’ll do you the power of good.’

  Leo laughed. ‘Don’t. You sounded just like my mum then.’ A thought suddenly struck him. ‘Listen – I’d like to interview Henrietta Ingle in person. Do you want to come too? My parents would put you up overnight.’

  ‘I … ‘ Penny stared at him, clearly flustered. ‘All I had in mind for the WI history was phoning her or writing.’

  ‘But wouldn’t it be nice – as part of the project – to meet the woman who started it all?’

  ‘Maybe. I’ll think about it. There’s no hurry.’

  He grinned. ‘There is, you know. Didn’t you say the Salthaven Show was struggling for entries? If I can get Mrs Ingle into this week’s paper as a ‘Famous Daughter of Salthaven’, it will ramp up the publicity for the show no end.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Oh, you wretch, Leo. You’re right. And now I’ll feel guilty if I don’t go.’

  ‘Up for it then?’

  ‘You’re doing it again. You’re rushing me.’

  ‘Somebody has to. You’d never move out of your rut at all, left to yourself.’

  ‘It’s a nice rut.’ But she was tempted, he could see that.

  ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘You know you want to.’

  ‘I … oh, I must be mad. Yes, all right.’ She switched on the ignition and pulled away. ‘I daresay you’d like me to drive us there too.’

  He laughed aloud. This trip was going to be fun.

  Chapter Four

  As Penny drove through Salthaven to pick Leo up from his boat, she had the uneasy feeling that this trip was likely to wreck their friendship. What had she been thinking of to let him persuade her that they should interview Henrietta Ingle together? Not that the interview would be a problem – after her explanatory phone call with Mrs Ingle’s daughter she was looking forward to meeting the sprightly old lady. No, it was driving two hundred odd miles in her car with Leo that was worrying her.

  Journeys with her ex-husband had been fraught with stress. Julian had required constant attention while he was driving, and whenever she had spelled him behind the wheel he had criticised hers. When the children were small, she’d had to divide the entire trip between keeping them amused and placating him.

  But no sooner had she parked by the boat than Leo threw his overnight bag cheerfully on the back seat, saying he’d been up until four in the morning reading the WI archives. Was it all right with her if he reclined the seat and slept? As music from the car’s CD player washed over them, Penny reflected that being with Leo was constantly surprising.

  Mrs Ingle, when they found the address, was a joy, just as full of the vigour that had endeared her to the younger WI members all those years ago as Penny had expected. She rocked with laughter when reminded of the incident with the tin tacks and the farms inspector when she and Elsie Fell had been trying out guerrilla offensives against enemy tanks.

  ‘I’ve never cycled so fast in my life as I did to get away then! But you know, dear, we had the best of intentions. Did you say you were Mrs Astley’s granddaughter? My word, she was a terror at Make Do And Mend. The uses that woman could get out of an old pair of bloomers was just astounding.’

  ‘She was still doing that up to the day she died,’ said Penny with a grin. ‘She even left instructions not to waste a whole gravestone on her when there was plenty of space below Grandpa’s name to add her own. Rationing was just a glorious excuse, really.’

  Mrs Ingle snorted appreciatively.

  ‘Can you tell me a bit about the start of the WI?’ asked Penny. ‘I’ve been volunteered to write a brief history for the seventieth anniversary. I saw there were two ladies who alternated as president …’

  She stopped. Mrs Ingle was chuckling again. ‘Lady Ribblethwaite and Mrs Barnes,’ she said. ‘Oh, my dear, I’d forgotten. They were priceless, those two. The more they hated each other, the more scrupulously polite they were.’

  ‘The families still aren’t very friendly today. Why the dislike? Just old family versus new money?’

  ‘Very much so. Lady R couldn’t get used to the fact that she wasn’t queen of the district any more and Mrs B didn’t see why her money and education wasn’t as good as anyone else. Everything they did – however fine the intentions – rubbed the other one up the wrong way.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Leo. ‘We won’t use actual names in the article.’

  ‘Let me see … Well, one time we were raising funds for the war effort and Lady Ribblethwaite decided to hold a recital. Everyone had a set piece in those days and it didn’t really matter that we’d all heard everyone else’s twenty times before. She took it for granted that she would be organising it and simply roped people in – which didn’t go down well with the rank and file. Anyway, the day before – as part of our regular programme – Mrs Barnes gave a demonstration of stretc
hing the weekly budget by making Jerusalem artichoke soup. We did a fearful lot of that. Twenty ways with dried eggs, that sort of thing. I don’t know whether you’ve ever had Jerusalem artichokes? They grow like weeds, you know, so weren’t rationed and could be used to eke out normal vegetables. I must say by the end of the war I felt that if I never ate another one it would have been too soon. But this was the beginning of the war, and if you aren’t used to Jerusalem artichokes they can have a rather unfortunate effect on the digestive system. Which they did. On everyone. All through Lady R’s concert. She was convinced Mrs B had done it on purpose. Fortunately Elsie and I had been drummed in for front-of-house duties so were able to escape outside whenever we couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. I thought I was going to die laughing.’

  Penny wiped her eyes. ‘Oh, that’s fabulous.’

  ‘Then there was the birthday cake. Do you still have that every year?’

  Penny nodded.

  ‘With rationing in force, no one could make a whole one, so we pooled our ingredients. Some of the flour was definitely greyer than others, the butter was on the scanty side and Mrs B claimed privately that Lady R – who had a very sweet tooth – had added her ounce of sugar so quick that she couldn’t swear it had gone in at all. But it only tasted a little bit tart and we all had a slice, so that’s what counts.’

  Penny felt a stirring of loss. ‘Sharing sugar and marge is much cosier than everyone putting money towards the ingredients like we do today. Maybe I should suggest it for next year.’

  Mrs Ingle grinned with impish approval. ‘Another thing we did was to start up the Salthaven Show. Not straight away. It was on the radio, I think, the Red Cross made an urgent appeal for money to replenish their funds after air raids had devastated towns and cities. So we held a produce and flower show. It was such a success that we did it every year after that, either for the Red Cross, or the Seaman’s Mission, or Dig for Victory funds, or some such. We managed a surprising range of items, but oh it was lovely when sugar rationing was lifted and we could have jam again.’

  ‘That’s always been a popular class,’ said Penny with a laugh. ‘No one makes jam at all for a whole year – then kitchens all over Salthaven fill up with scalding, sugary steam! Oh, and we still give the Ingle Cup for the most unusual ingredients used in a dish. Was that your idea?’

  Mrs Ingle looked smug. ‘Yes, it was partly for fun – it’s so important to have a good giggle now and again – and it was partly to get people through the door to see and taste the combinations. A PR stunt, they’d call it these days.’

  Penny was impressed. The young Henrietta had been a smart operator. ‘Something to stop the show becoming stale,’ she mused. ‘It’s a grand idea. Entries have been dropping off gradually for years. The show is part of Salthaven’s heritage – I don’t want it to fold.’

  Leo leaned forward. ‘Which is exactly why we need Mrs Ingle’s history and reminiscences for the paper. It’ll be a story for me, and a nice advertisement for the WI and the Salthaven Show. ‘These women laughed so others could live!’’

  Penny sat back and listened as Leo took over the interview. It seemed that Mrs Ingle had done all sorts of things with her life since her husband’s job had taken her away from Salthaven after the war. Bringing up a family, jumping out of aeroplanes for charity, knitting scarves and gloves for London’s homeless …

  ‘You don’t realise how little they have until you’ve spent a night sleeping on the street, wrapped in a bin bag,’ she said conversationally.

  ‘No,’ said Penny, taken aback.

  Leo’s pencil was flying across the page. ‘Have you returned to Salthaven at all? Would you like to see it again?’ he asked at the end. ‘Maybe for the WI birthday celebrations next year?’

  Henrietta Ingle chuckled. ‘What a splendid idea. I’d love to. Just as long as Jerusalem artichoke soup isn’t on the menu.’

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ said Leo as they parked at the RAF museum so Penny could look at the de Havilland Vampire before they headed to his parents’ house for the evening. ‘I thought you’d be full of admiration for the old girl.’

  ‘Oh, I am. But also humbled,’ said Penny ruefully. ‘She was so lively! She’s put so much into life and got so much out of it. It made me realise Aunt Bridget was right. I’m in a nice, comfortable, wall-to-wall-carpeted rut. What do I have to show for all these years?’

  You cheer me up , thought Leo. You don’t stand for any nonsense. And then, shaken, You’ve given me a reason to change direction. ‘Oh, I don’t know. You’re coming out of your shell nicely,’ he said aloud. ‘You wait until you see the plane. That’ll make you think twice about parachute jumps.’

  And it did. Leo watched her as she looked in horror at the tiny metal shell similar to those in which countless young men had hurtled through the sky in order to bring about today’s commercial aviation.

  ‘I think I need tea,’ she said faintly. She looked at it again. ‘Your crashed plane can’t be in Long Tarn. I don’t believe it.’

  Leo didn’t believe it either. He was about to say so when Penny swayed. He glanced at her with concern. ‘Tell you what,’ he said, taking her elbow and steering her towards the café. ‘We’ll have tea and a bun here, then go to my parents’ place. It isn’t far. We’ll tell them you need a lie down before facing the third degree on how I’m fitting into Salthaven society.’

  ‘Did you find out if you can see Daniel while you’re down here?’

  Leo heard his voice hardening. ‘No point even asking. I saw him last week, so Kayleigh won’t let me. It’s the only way she can hurt me now, and I refuse to give her the pleasure of refusing my requests.’

  All the same, the subject niggled at him and came up again at dinner. Leo had issued his parents with strict instructions about not cross-examining Penny, and was grateful to them for treating her simply as a friend. Unfortunately, this meant his mother needed to fill in the conversational gaps left by her not asking how long they had known each other and please was anything going to come of it?

  ‘It’s a shame,’ she said chattily to Penny. ‘Daniel is desperate to see Leo’s boat, but Kayleigh won’t allow it. Says Leo isn’t fit and would let him drown or something. She only lets Daniel stay over here because we are with them. Perfectly ridiculous. It’s only Leo’s leg, and that’s getting easier all the time. He was fit enough to provide for them while they were a family, wasn’t he?’

  Leo winced. He loved his mother but she was as voluble as she was partisan. He looked apologetically at Penny. She was frowning with concentration in the way he had learnt to recognise.

  ‘What about a holiday?’ she said slowly. ‘Leo told me you’d all had a week on a farm last year. I’m going to be renting out my late mother’s bungalow soon. Why shouldn’t you book it for a fortnight and bring Daniel with you? I wouldn’t charge, of course.’

  There was a silence round the table. Leo’s eyes locked with Penny’s. ‘You mean it?’

  ‘Of course. It’s childproof. There’s a fenced garden and space for a car. And it’s in the same town as your boat. There’s plenty to do in Salthaven. It’s a really obvious solution. Just pick the dates.’

  His mother exclaimed at what a good idea it was. She loved Salthaven’s small shops and they could visit Great-uncle Charles at the same time and check that the residential home was treating him well. Leo barely heard her. He was still looking at Penny.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

  On the way back to Salthaven the next day, Leo flipped constantly between his laptop and his phone. Aware of him out of the corner of her eye, Penny marvelled at how he was simultaneously writing his article on Henrietta Ingle and tracking down the details of someone who might just have access to the original records on Andrew Collins’s crashed aeroplane.

  His phone rang for the umpteenth time. ‘Hi, mate,’ said Leo after a quick glance at the display. ‘Got anything for me? Really?’ His free hand flew over the number pad of the lapto
p. ‘That’s terrific. Cheers. I owe you.’ Hardly pausing for breath he broke the connection and keyed in the number he’d just made a note of. ‘Mr Fraser? Good morning, my name is Leo Williams and I’m enquiring into …’

  Penny continued to drive. This was a very different Leo to the ingenuous journalist who happily invited himself to lunch in search of a story or who took advantage of any free offers going as a matter of right. Or was it? Even over lunch the other day he’d had that touch of watchfulness, asking just the right questions of her son-in-law to trigger a flood of information about Lowdale Screw Fittings that Tom didn’t even know he possessed.

  Now he was concentrating, typing one-handed while listening to the man on the other end of the phone. ‘Thank you,’ he said eventually. ‘You’ve been very helpful. I appreciate it.’ He shut off the phone and sat quite still, staring ahead as the car ate up another mile of motorway. ‘There was nothing special about Andrew Collins’s plane,’ he said at last. ‘It was a normal development aircraft, no orders waiting on it, nothing sensitive fitted to it, just a slightly different taper to the wing that they’d already changed in the next version anyway.’

  ‘Did he know what Andrew Collins was supposed to be doing during the test flight?’

  Leo snorted. ‘Getting home for his mate’s stag night, I suspect. It was marked in the log as ‘Night flight. Lost.’ No other information.’ He looked at her. ‘If I buy you lunch at the next service station, can you bear to take us up to the tarn again?’

  After a drive of more than two hundred miles, Penny would rather have flopped on her sofa with a mug of tea. ‘As it’s you,’ she said with a sigh.

  But during the quick meal he changed his mind. ‘Forget it, I need to get this copy to the Messenger in time for this week’s issue. Make sure people know about the show. Can you drop me at the office instead?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Her route home from the newspaper office took her past Leo’s boat. Penny slowed down, frowning, seeing a couple of men peering intently at the neat, blue-hulled cruiser. There was nothing unusual in them looking, Salthaven was a pretty town, people often strolled alongside the river watching the boats. But these two … Penny couldn’t quite define it, but they were too still, they seemed to be there for a purpose. On impulse, she parked and went to sit on one of the fancy benches lining the waterside.