He was tense and worried. Had she received his letter? And if she had was she coming? There could be many reasons for her not showing up; from a simple one that she just couldn’t make it, through to the one that hurt him the most to think about – she was showing it to her friends and laughing at him. Perhaps she had only ever been teasing him.
He knew he was early, but that was only proper. It was her right to expect him to be there first.
He reached the Cadena. As he approached he looked out for her among all the bobbing heads and faces of the walkers, but she was not there. As he entered the café his nostrils were assailed by the smell of the freshly ground and roasted coffee from the machine in the window.
It was busy, but there were still a few tables free. He made it obvious that he would not be alone, by ostentatiously checking his watch and looking around.
A waitress came over to him. Tom had intended to leave and wait outside, but it dawned on him that that was a pretty silly thing to do. She would simply enter to find him.
‘A table, sir?’
‘Yes, please – for two.’
He followed her and sat down as she placed a menu card on the table.
‘Coffee?’
‘I’m expecting a lady. Can you come back in a few minutes?’
She smiled knowingly. ‘Of course.’
As she bustled away he took a long look around the room. It was noisy, filled with chattering women in hats and fox furs and men smoking cigars; their Homburg hats hanging from the stands dotted among the palm trees. Cups rattled on saucers and the small string trio were playing a medley of popular songs at that moment from The Merry Widow.
Suddenly there was a crash as a tray was dropped, cups and saucers breaking and bouncing on the parquet floor.
For a brief moment there was a hush while only the orchestra continued, then, with a rush of renewed talking and laughter, the moment passed.
The poor red-faced girl, his waitress, was helped by the head waiter and another girl with a dustpan and brush. Tom felt for her and was pleased to see that the head man was treating her decently.
The orchestra finished its piece.
‘Hello.’
Astounded, he looked up at her. She seemed to have just materialized out of thin air. He took in the slim figure in a herringbone coat, tightly belted at the waist. Her hair falling straight down to curl inwards near the corner of her red lips. She wore a small black beret set at a jaunty angle, a red bobble matching her lipstick. Her eyes were even warmer and more intelligent than he remembered.
Hardly daring to trust his voice, he got slowly to his feet, and held out his hand.
She offered her gloved hand, which he took. ‘Thank you for your letter.’
For a moment they remained like that – the first time he had touched her. He didn’t want to let go.
She had been disappointed – worried even when he wasn’t waiting outside. Tense, Fay had taken a deep breath, and pushed open the door. It didn’t help her nerves when, as she had stepped into the large room there was a terrific crash of breaking crockery.
Everybody had looked in that direction. She saw him instantly over by the wall. He was as handsome and exciting as she remembered – better even. Her blood raced as she had made her way unnoticed towards him.
Finally he let go of her hand, stepped to her chair and held the back. She ran her hands under her coat as she sat and he eased the chair into the table, feeling that everybody in the room must be looking at her.
Fay started to take off her gloves, as he sat down opposite. Hesitatingly, he said, ‘I didn’t know if you would come.’
She finished with her gloves and raised one eyebrow.
‘Why not?’
He pulled a face, ‘Well….’
Fay Rossiter said matter-of-factly, completely hiding her inner turmoil, ‘Here I am.’
He nodded his head in agreement.
‘It’s wonderful.’
There was a pause, broken as the waitress came over.
‘Can I take your order, please?’
Tom Roxham licked his dry lips.
‘Coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
The waitress scribbled in her order book, said without looking up.
‘Anything else, sir?’
He glanced enquiringly at Fay. Her thick hair swished as she shook her head.
‘No, thank you, I’ve just had breakfast.’
He also shook his head at the woman who tore the top copy of the order and left it on the table as she bustled away.
There was another awkward pause. She dropped her eyes to her lap.
‘I hope you didn’t think it terribly forward, what I did?’
He blurted it out without thinking. ‘I was going mad. I wanted to meet you – but under the circumstances….’
She looked up worriedly.
‘What do you mean?’
Embarrassed, he just had to say it, it had weighed so heavily on his mind.
‘Well, to put it bluntly you wouldn’t normally meet somebody from my background, would you?’ A fire suddenly stirred in his eyes. ‘But I’m proud of my family – they are the best.’
Fay glanced away, across at the orchestra who had just started up again. She bit her lip.
‘I’m sure they are, and you’re right. This is unusual. It’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘What do you mean?’
She smiled shyly.
‘I’ve never met anybody for coffee – or anything. I only go out with a crowd normally. You see – this is very special for me – it’s my first – what do they call it in the American films?’
Somebody seemed to be standing on his chest – ‘Date?’
The tip of a pink tongue moistened the red lips.
‘Yes’ – but an anxious frown passed over her face.
‘That’s what it is, isn’t it?’
Unfortunately the girl was back with the coffee, setting the pot down, placing the cups and jug of cream, as they sat like wooden dummies looking at each other.
When the waitress got back to her station she said to her colleague, ‘Those two are so love-struck over there – they can’t talk.’
But Tom Roxham just had.
‘Yes.’
They both started to grin wider and wider. Fay took in the boyish features, the warm generous eyes and felt comfortable, safe and, paradoxically, somehow freer.
He saw only eyes that sparkled, that made him feel terrific. Nothing in his existence had made him feel so good about himself. It was as though he was seeing things in the new Technicolor.
They started to giggle, with sheer relief and an excitement of something new in their already changed lives.
‘So,’ she hesitated, ‘Tom – have you any idea what we are going to do?’
He was bowled over hearing his name coming from those lips.
‘We could watch the rugby – Cheltenham are playing at home today, and perhaps the cinema tonight?’
‘That’s fine. I’m quite prepared to do that, but I did find something rather exciting, going on today and tomorrow.’
‘Yes?’
She picked up her handbag and started to root in it, at last finding the page she had torn out of the Gloucestershire Echo.
‘Here we are.’
She handed it over, saying, ‘Is Staverton very far?’
He read the article with growing trepidation at the possible cost.
‘You want to do this?’
Fay’s excitement was overwhelming.
‘Yes, wouldn’t it be fun?’
There was a picture under a heading, which read: Flying Show at Staverton Aerodrome.
The picture showed a large passenger biplane with two engines and a cabin, the pilot’s open cockpit set on a higher level. It looked to Tom Roxham like a converted bomber from the war. It was called ‘Queen Hunter’ and was to give flights to members of the public piloted by Sir
Allan Cobham the famous aviator and entrepreneur. There were to be displays of aerobatics, wing walking, and bombing using confetti.
‘Well?’
He looked up at her expectant face and knew that whatever the cost he wasn’t going to disappoint her. He had two big, white fivers taken from his savings account in his wallet that he hoped to pay back in after the weekend; plus three pound notes, a ten shilling note in the second compartment and seven and six in his back pocket.
‘Yes, let’s go. The bus station is just over there.’
‘Bus?’
For an instant she was bemused, thinking only of taxis, then remembered that she was with him and that’s all he could afford. Besides, she thought, it might be fun. The last time she had travelled that way was when they were hired by the school for outings.
Puzzled he asked, ‘Well, how else are we going to get there?’
She grinned. ‘Of course – silly me. Are you sure? You don’t have to go if you’re not interested?’
‘I think it’s a great idea.’
He looked at his watch. ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’
Fay sat back, holding her cup in both hands.
‘That’s great. I can’t tell you how excited I am. I’ve always wanted to go flying.’
His jaw dropped. He hadn’t thought he was going to be leaving the ground.
‘You’re actually going to go up?’
‘Of course. Don’t you want to?’
He certainly didn’t want to appear unmanly.
‘I’ve never thought about it much – but I’ll give it a go.’
Fay’s face lit up with pleasure.
‘Then it will be a first time for both of us.’
Somehow that pushed all trepidation aside. He was going to do something with her that nobody else had ever done before. From that moment on it became almost a sacred duty.
When they finished he picked up the bill. Fay wondered about offering something, then thought better of it, suspecting that any offer to pay her way would hurt his feelings. But she was determined to help somewhere during the day.
Outside he waved in the direction they had to go.
‘We’re over there.’
She fell into step beside him, noting that she hardly came up to the level of his shoulder.
As they crossed the Promenade and made their way to where he said the bus would be, she said, ‘You work for the Great Western Railway then?’
He took her elbow to help her across another smaller road.
‘Yes. Been with them for two years now.’
Fay, conscious of his grip on her arm, said, ‘What do you do? Other than play in the orchestra?’
At the pavement he stopped, released her.
‘Don’t you know? I thought you did.’
Mystified, she shook her head.
‘No – are you in the accounts or something?’
He wondered if what he was about to say would count against him.
‘I’m in the police, the railway police, acting detective.’ He left out the constable bit.
Fay looked amazed.
‘Really – how exciting. Do you track down thieves and things?’
Tom shrugged. ‘Yes, among other things.’
He decided not to tell her about the Saturday night drunken punch-ups he had to attend on rotation at Paddington & Bristol. Or the pickpockets, card sharps and the scams he had to look out for. Instead he said quickly, ‘And you, do you do anything?’
As soon as it came out he realized it sounded patronizing.
‘Sorry, I mean….’
She cut him off. ‘It’s all right and it’s true. I have been slow to do something with my life. I play the piano – there might be a future as an accompanist, I’ve got to look into it.’
He was genuinely impressed. ‘That’s wonderful.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’
They chatted about music and his playing in dance bands, arriving to find the bus they wanted just about to pull out.
‘Come on.’
He grabbed her hand and ran. The driver in his cabin beside the engine saw them and slowed right down.
Tom gently pushed her on and followed, waving his thanks.
She sat by a window and he lowered himself into the seat beside her.
With a roar of the diesel engine and a crash of gears, they were off. Eventually, the conductor came bumping down the aisle with his ticket board.
‘Going to the air show?’
‘Yes.’
When he’d finished giving them their tickets he said, ‘You wouldn’t get me in one of those things. If God had meant us to fly he would have given us wings.’
With that he crashed his way to the next passengers, leaving Tom thinking he was right. But Fay chuckled and, mimicking his voice, said, ‘And if he’d meant us to float on water he’d have given us boats as feet.’
Still chuckling she looked out of the window, at the passing Regency houses.
‘Cheltenham is very beautiful isn’t it?’
He pretended to be looking as well, and said, ‘Yes.’
In reality he was gazing at her reflection in the glass. Several moments passed before he suddenly realized that she was looking back at him, had been for some time. She turned and their eyes met – the closest they’d ever been.
She smiled.
Sheepishly, he smiled back.
The bus cleared the outskirts and entered rolling countryside. In the distance were the hills of the Cotswold escarpment.
The conductor rang the bell for the driver to stop at the next fare stage. Over half the bus passengers had already stood up.
‘Staverton – for the air show.’
Tom got up, stood aside to let her go first down the aisle. When he reached the conductor, the man pulled a mournful face, ‘Good luck.’
There were a lot of people walking up the lane and in the distance they could hear the sound of aero engines.
Fay fairly skipped ahead.
‘Come along, I don’t want to miss a thing.’
She held out her hand. Tom took it, marvelling at what was happening, when a massive roar sounded overhead and a dark shape right above made them duck instinctively. It was gone in a flash, leaving a fleeting impression of a leather helmeted and goggled figure, sitting in the cockpit of an upside down biplane, silk scarf flying in the slipstream.
It flashed away, revolving upright as it did so and pulling up into a steep climb.
‘It’s a Gypsy Moth,’ shouted Fay, ‘just like Amy Johnson’s,’ and pulled on his arm to hurry.
Tom was amazed that she should know what it was. At the entrance to the field was a gaily striped tent where tickets were being sold. Pennants were flying at its corners. Fay went first, already reaching into her handbag. ‘Here, let me do this.’
Tom was not having it.
‘No.’
His voice came out louder than intended and the sudden dark look on her previously dazzling face made him frightened that it was the first thing that had gone wrong all day.
He pleaded, ‘Please, it’s my place to.’
Fay relented.
‘All right, but promise me I can treat you just once today, it’s only fair. It’s what I’m used to.’ It was a lie – a white lie. Jeremy and the likes would have laughed at the idea of a woman paying for anything. But that, in its way, was irritatingly condescending.
Eager to make up, Tom nodded. ‘If you want.’
‘I do.’
With the tickets finally purchased, they entered the field. She was so happy that Tom felt over the moon. What a wonderful bit of luck that it was on that day.
They came to a row of parked aeroplanes in bright colours, crowds around each one.
She actually jumped up and down with excitement.
‘Look at them. They’re Hornet Moths and the other two are Tiger Moths.’
Puzzled he asked, ‘How come you know so much about aeroplanes?’
‘My Uncle Sid
ney has one. He came for lunch with Aunty Pat last summer and landed in the park. Gave the sheep a rare old scare I can tell you.’ Her face fell. ‘Daddy wouldn’t let me go up for a ride – said it was too dangerous.’
He swallowed. It was another world and a nasty reminder of the fact that he was not part of it and never would be.
‘Come on, I want to see everything.’
She burrowed into the crowd and was soon talking to a man in a leather coat and breeches by the machine’s wings. From there they moved successively along from one to the next until they’d reached the last one.
‘Look!’ Fay, cheeks rosy with the cold and excitement, pointed as a plane came in to land, it’s wings wobbling in the breeze, engine pop-popping. It touched down on the ground – bounced – came to earth again and stayed down.
It was a monoplane, the pilot inside the small cabin wearing a trilby hat.
‘That’s the future I suppose, but I love the open cockpit, don’t you?’
Tom sniffed, beginning to feel the cold of the winter afternoon as the time approached two o’clock.
‘Looks more comfortable.’
She gave him a despairing look.
‘That’s not the attitude that built the Empire. Come on, it’s my treat now.’
It wasn’t the big converted bomber in the advert, but a De Havilland Dragon biplane with twin engines that could carry several passengers in two rows in a cabin in the fuselage. His heart sank. Did he have to go? Then he saw her shining eyes and knew there was no way out.
There was a table with a sign saying ‘Joy Rides 5/-’
Fay was there before him.
The man sitting at the table looked up. ‘Sorry, miss, the last flight’s already fully booked.’
‘Oh, no.’
Crestfallen, Fay groaned.
‘Please, there must be a way? I’ve been looking forward so much to this.’
‘Sorry, miss.’
Tom stepped forward.
‘If it’s a matter of only one seat, I can wait for another time?’
She was about to protest that she wanted them both to go, when a man who had been standing beside the table talking to two others turned, and flicked a finger along his small moustache. He was dressed in a flying suit. ‘I’ll take you up. Just going myself, before it gets too dark.’
Jealousy was something that Tom had not experienced before, at least not like the tidal wave of it that hit him now.
Enduring Passions Page 6
