Can Dreams Come True?

by Oliver, Marina

  This was utterly wonderful. She felt free, joyous, all cares and problems left behind on the ground. What was it like to be a bird, for ever in this situation? She laughed at her fancies. Birds came down to the ground, they roosted in trees, built nests. But whenever they wished they had the freedom to fly.

  'We'd better go back now,' Tom said, breaking into her thoughts. 'Gently now, turn slowly. We can head straight towards St Matthew's Church. Can you see the spire on the top of the hill?'

  Kate looked. It was so small, yet when she shopped in the market it towered above her, perched on its hill overlooking the town. 'I can see it.'

  'From where we are the aerodrome is just to the left, but I'll take over when we're near enough to come in. Hold your hands lightly on the controls to get the feel of what I do. You'll be landing by yourself soon.'

  Kate's spirits slumped. She had only two lessons. She would never get as far as flying solo, or even taking off and landing. Then she chided herself for being defeatist. If it took her the rest of her life she would save enough money to have more lessons. She'd find extra jobs. The market people often needed an hour or so of help. She could persuade her boss to lend her one of the spare machines, and she could make up gloves at home. Lots of women, especially after they married and had children, did outwork. It was the normal system, very few actually worked in the factories.

  She forced herself to concentrate on Tom's commentary as he landed the plane and taxied it towards the clubhouse. 'I see Mr Llewellyn's here,' he said. 'Tell him you'll soon be rivalling him, even racing him. You're going to be a natural. That was a very impressive performance for a first lesson, young lady. At least you can tell left from right, which he finds difficult! You're coming next Saturday afternoon, same time, for the next lesson? I'll look forward to it. You'll soon be going solo.'

  Kate clambered out of the cockpit. Her legs were shaking, and she had to cling to the struts for a moment. 'That was wonderful! Thank you so much, Mr Seward.'

  *

  It was the end of January, and Robert was back in Birmingham for a week. As soon as he had a moment he put in a call to Lionel Summers in Cambridge.

  'Have you had any luck finding Kate Martins?' he asked.

  'No. I asked Mrs Carstairs and she was unhelpful, told me I was wasting my time and Kate was not at all the girl she'd once thought. Then I asked Mr Carstairs. I thought he was likely to be more sympathetic. He didn't know anything, he said.'

  'And I got the same response. Thanks, Lionel. If I hear anything useful I'll let you know.'

  Robert put down the telephone. The only other avenue he could now see was to contact all his former school friends. He'd contact Norman, back from honeymoon but living in London. He could leave a day early for Paris and call on Norman on the way. Before then he would telephone or write to everyone he was still in touch with from school, ask if they knew Kate, and for addresses of other men. The school might have addresses for the Old Boys' Club. Tomorrow he'd go again to the market.

  This time he was in luck. Asking once more at the stalls in the Bull Ring, he was directed to Bella.

  'Used ter know young Kate well, might have kept in touch, mate.'

  Bella was at first suspicious. 'Why do you want ter know about Kate?' she demanded.

  'I heard she might be in need of help. Did you know she'd left her last job? I understand she was unfairly dismissed.'

  'Why? Did they blame her for Maggie's husband?'

  'Maggie? Her husband? What do you know?'

  Bella sighed. 'You seem OK. Maggie's her sister, and when her Sam got a job in Coventry they moved there. But Sam got in with a bad lot again, and he's been in gaol for nigh on a year.'

  'How do you know this? Are you in touch with them?'

  'No, but me sister saw summat in Coventry paper. He lived near her, that's why she was interested, and it said as how Sam Pritchard came from Brum and had once worked in the Market Hall. She sent it me, thought I might have known him too.'

  'Did it say anything else? Where his family lived?'

  'No, but me sister will know.'

  'You've been so helpful, thank you so much!' He handed her a five pound note and she raised her eyebrows.

  'It must mean a lot ter you, ter find little Kate.'

  'It does!'

  'Well, make sure you're good to 'er! Lass has had a hard life so far. And tell her not ter ferget her old pals. I'd like ter see her again one day.'

  'I'll tell her.'

  The following day he started out early and drove to Coventry. Bella's sister gave him an address, but warned him that she thought the family had moved. He thanked her, and went to investigate.

  After some moments, when he thought the house was empty, a woman answered the door, and he asked for Mrs Pritchard.

  'That lot? They moved, and good riddance, nasty lot, all of 'em.'

  Robert jingled some coins in his pocket. 'Do you know where?'

  Her eyes glittered, but after a pause she shook her head. 'No, and I don't want ter know. Yer can take yer bribes somewhere else.'

  Robert let out his breath slowly. Was this another dead end? He began to ask around at some of the other houses, but they were mostly lodging houses and no one knew anything about the Pritchard family. Kate might be in Coventry, but it was a big place.

  He then asked at the post office, but they said there were too many Pritchards and Martins, and they wouldn't give him any addresses. Then he tried the various corner shops near the first address. At the third he found a woman who remembered a Mrs Martins, and his hopes rose once more.

  'Odd sort of woman,' she said, 'she came in a few times, but then she accused me of giving short change, which I never, and I didn't see her again.'

  She told him where she thought this Mrs Martins had lived, but there was no one in at any of the likely houses, and by this time he had to get back to Birmingham. Mrs Carstairs had invited him for dinner and he'd better hurry or he'd be late.

  *

  Daphne surveyed herself in the dressing table mirror. The new dress was an excellent fit. She'd lost weight the last few months, and it suited her. The tight-fitting bodice of the sleeveless dress, the skirt falling in soft pleats, showed off her figure, and the longer hairstyle flattered her face more than the cropped look had. She looked glamorous. The year in Paris had not been a complete waste, for now she took an interest in clothes, and knew what suited her. With her mother's help she ought to be able to make some better headway with Robert.

  Another young couple, a distant cousin Bernard Carstairs and his new fianceé, Rosemary, had been invited too. Daphne approved her mother's tactics. It made the invitation to Robert look less pointed, but at the same time might turn his thoughts towards his own matrimonial plans.

  It seemed to be working, she thought gleefully when they were drinking coffee in the drawing room. Robert had been attentive, and he'd smiled at the conversation, which all seemed to be concerned with Norman's wedding and the cousin's plans.

  'When are you getting hitched?' Bernard asked Robert as he offered him a cigarette.

  'Not yet, too busy,' Robert said, but he glanced across at Daphne as he said it. 'We're increasing production here and in Paris. The situation in Europe looks more and more ominous.'

  'Hitler still seems to have ambitions to expand, and Franco is winning in Spain. Where will it end?' Bernard asked.

  'Oh, don't talk about wars,' Rosemary said with a shudder. 'I don't want to lose you to the army before we're even married.'

  'I promise we'll be married before I join up, if I do,' he replied.

  'I expect many couples would take the same view,' Mrs Carstairs said. 'But let's hope it doesn't come to that, and you can all enjoy peaceful weddings and the fun of setting up home together.'

  The conversation became more general then. Bernard and Rosemary left soon afterwards, and when Robert also rose to go Mrs Carstairs slipped off her shoes with a sigh of relief and waved to Daphne.

  'We won't stand on cer
emony, Robert. Daphne will show you out. I have to confess my feet are killing me, I did far too much walking this morning.'

  Daphne narrowed her eyes, but admired her mother's inventiveness. She had not been anywhere that morning except in the car, to the hair salon where she had her hair done.

  'Goodnight, then, and thank you for a very pleasant evening.'

  Daphne went out into the hall and picked up Robert's hat and gloves. 'It's been like Paris again, talking like that,' she said. 'I miss our long walks in the Bois or along the embankments.'

  'Well, I have a week, so if you're not too busy at university shall we go dancing tomorrow night?'

  'That would be fun.' Daphne tried to keep her voice cool, but she was fizzing with delight inside. It had worked. Robert was interested in her again. This time she just knew he would propose.

  *

  Kate's second lesson went even better than the first, and Tom, after he had landed the aeroplane, taxied round the field and pointed it up the runway.

  'Take her up,' he ordered. 'Do exactly as I say, pull the stick back gently, when I say.'

  'Me?' Kate squeaked. 'You want me to take her up?'

  'If you don't soon we'll pile up in the hedge,' Tom said, and Kate had no more time to think, as she listened to his instructions and tried to remember all he'd told her. The hedges at the side rushed past with terrifying speed, and she was sure she'd make a terrible hash of it, but she eased the joystick back when she heard Tom's orders over the speaking tube, and suddenly, to her relief and amazement, they were airborne.

  'Well done, Kate. OK, relax now, I'll put her down.'

  She was shaking more than the previous time when she finally stood on the ground.

  'You're a natural,' Tom said. 'I think you deserve a drink to celebrate.'

  'Just fruit juice, please,' Kate said. She still felt shaky, unable to believe she had just managed to get the Moth airborne by herself.

  Peter was waiting for her and hugged her in delight when Tom told him of Kate's progress, but as soon as she'd drunk the orange juice he said they must go, he had to leave Walsall to drive to Manchester within the hour.

  Kate looked wistfully round the Club house. She'd be back, she vowed, but didn't know when. She was saving every penny she could towards lessons, but it would take weeks before she had enough to pay for another.

  *

  Robert had spent another fruitless day in Coventry, but there were more tests to be made on his prototypes, and he'd had to abandon the search for the moment in order to spend a day doing these on his own Tiger. He'd been discussing the results with the Club engineer, but as he emerged from the office and glanced round he caught a glimpse of a couple leaving the room, and for a moment thought his heart had stopped. He was sure it was Kate, but what on earth was she doing here, at Walsall Aerodrome? He set off after her, and came to a halt in the doorway when he saw Kate, if it were she, being helped into a car by a man he didn't know. He couldn't barge in. He didn't know the circumstances. She might be married to him, or be his mistress. Someone in the Club would be able to tell him.

  Walking back inside he saw Tom Seward sitting at a table on his own. He knew everyone. Robert strolled across to join him.

  'Hello, Manning. Back from Paris, are you?'

  'For a week. We're increasing production. Just in case Hitler looks in our direction.'

  'It looks gloomy. I've been in two minds to volunteer for the RAF. They'll need as many pilots as they can get. I can't decide whether I'd be more use training civilians who might join later, or knocking the recruits into shape.'

  'Cheaper for the country if they train at their own expense.'

  'True, old fellow. Though a lot of my flyers these days are women. Not much use in the war, but as good as any man. Take young Kate, now.'

  'Kate?' Robert asked, feeling his throat constrict. 'Kate who?'

  'Kate Martins. Just went out or I'd have introduced you. Though that might not have suited Peter Llewellen.'

  Robert felt a wave of relief flow over him. She still called herself Martins. She wasn't married. What had happened to the baby, if what Daphne had said was true? 'She's good, is she?' he asked. It was all he could manage.

  'Taken to it like a duck to water. Or should I say a fledgling to air? Only had two lessons, and just now she took off like a veteran.'

  Robert forgot his difficulty in speaking. 'Took off?' he demanded angrily. 'You let her take off on her second lesson? Wasn't that risky?'

  'Not with her. I tell you, Robert, she's a natural. Some people can learn to fly in a couple of weeks, and she's one of them. But she hasn't booked any more lessons. I suspect money's the problem.'

  'So who's the man? I've not seen him before.'

  'He comes about as rarely as you do, so that's not surprising. Peter Llewellen, his name. Has some sort of business here, I believe, though I think his main business is in Manchester. I heard him say he had to drive there later.'

  'And he and Kate Martins?'

  Tom shrugged. 'How should I know? She lives in Walsall. What's your interest?'

  'I met her once in Birmingham. I thought it was the same girl, but I wasn't sure. It's an unlikely place to run into her. Didn't want to make a fool of myself if it wasn't her.'

  'Of course. Well, must go, I have another lesson booked. Nice to see you, Manning.'

  'Tom, would you have her address?'

  'She isn't a member, comes as Llewellen's guest. And he stays at the George when he's in Walsall. They might know.'

  Robert sat back, oblivious to the sounds around him, ignoring the greetings tossed to him. It was Kate. His Kate. But how about this man who seemed to be her constant escort?

  Suddenly making up his mind he leaped up and strode for the door. Ten minutes later he drew his car to a halt outside the George, and went inside.

  'Mr Llewellen, he's staying here, I think?' he asked the man on the desk.

  'Just left sir, you missed him by minutes.'

  'When will he be back?'

  'Not sure, sir, but he's been every two or three weeks lately. He normally telephones to make a reservation a few days beforehand.'

  'I see. Was he with a lady?'

  'A woman, sir?' the man corrected gently. 'Miss Martins was with him, but she doesn't stay here. She lives in the town.'

  Robert fingered a ten shilling note. 'Have you her address?'

  'No, I'm afraid not, sir, but I know where she works. It's not far from here, a gloving factory.' He gave Robert directions and drew him a map.

  'Thank you. That's very helpful. Have you a room for tonight? No, that won't do. Tomorrow's Sunday.' And, he remembered, frustrated, he was taking Daphne dancing tonight. He'd have to come back on Monday and find Kate at work. 'Thanks for your help,' he went on, handing the man the note.

  By a miracle, when he'd thought all lost, he'd found his Kate. Or almost found her. And she was not married. Whatever her connection to Peter Llewellen she didn't appear to live with him. Robert drove back to Birmingham in a frenzy of impatience. On Monday he'd see Kate again, speak to her, find out all that had happened to her. Make up to her for whatever hardships she'd endured.

  *

  Daphne had a new dress, the most expensive she had ever bought, which had taken most of what remained of her year's allowance. She wouldn't be able to buy anything else until September. It would be worth it, though, if Robert proposed. His attitude when he'd been to dinner had been promising, she felt. He'd looked at her several times with what she thought was greater warmth than normal. When Bernard had asked him when he was getting married he'd glanced across at her. That had to mean something.

  She waited in the drawing room, flitting about from the table where she had laid down her anatomy book, carelessly left open as if interrupted, to the window where she twitched the curtains aside to see if Robert's car was in the drive, to the mantelpiece where she straightened perfectly aligned ornaments. She only desisted poking the fire into brighter flames for fear a spark w
ould ruin her dress.

  'Daphne, dear, do sit down! You're making my head ache,' Mrs Carstairs said.

  'Is that clock fast?' Daphne asked.

  'No, it's always been a good timekeeper. Robert isn't due here for ten minutes, child. Why don't you go and comb your hair again? You've pulled a few strands out of place.'

  Daphne glanced at her mother. She knew what she was doing. If Daphne were upstairs when Robert arrived, Mrs Carstairs might give him a hint of what was expected of him. She didn't want that. It might, for men were unpredictable and stubborn, make him decide to wait longer to propose, and Daphne felt she could bear the uncertainty no more.

  'It's OK, Mother.' Nonetheless she went to inspect her hair in the mirror above the fireplace. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, and considered her face. Thinner than when she was a schoolgirl, it was not pretty in the generally accepted sense. People now looked to the new actresses in the cinema for their standards of beauty, people like Jean Harlow, who had so tragically died only last year. Daphne thought her face was strong, with good regular features. Perhaps her nose was a trifle long and her mouth wider than was considered fashionable, but there was nothing awful about it.

  Unbidden, a memory of Kate, with her softer, more delicate features, her huge eyes and look of vulnerability, came into Daphne's mind, and she frowned. Trying to forget Kate, she picked up her book, but it lay open at the pages on reproductive organs, and she was reminded of Kate's pregnancy. She slammed the book closed, and heard her mother sigh.

  'Calm down, dear. Robert will be here soon. If you behave like this with him he might back off, you know. Men like their women docile, not restless.'

  'I know, Mother. Surely that clock has stopped,' she added anxiously.