‘That’s very good of you, but we can wait.’
Fay looked at him and despite her longing to go, realized with bemused pleasure what was the matter. She took his hand to show that they were together.
‘Mr—?’
The man smiled, ‘Captain Black, miss, ex-Royal Flying Corps, not this new fangled RAF.’
He managed to make RAF sound less than desirable.
Fay nodded. ‘Of course, Captain Black. Anyway we both—’
Another younger man stepped forward.
‘I’m going up, too, I’ll take you. Captain Black here can bore the pants off this gentleman with the formation of the RAF – twenty odd years ago. Newfangled, indeed!’
Tom was caught by the pleading eyes of Fay. He swallowed.
‘Well, in that case—’
‘Fine.’ Captain Black took him by the elbow and joked, ‘He always gets the girl.’
Tom struggled with his jealousy. She was going with the young one – even worse. His fears were suddenly assuaged, however, by a very pretty girl who came over and spoke to Fay.
‘Are you going flying with my husband?’
Fay nodded excitedly. ‘Is that all right?’
‘Of course.’ The woman held out her hand. ‘I’m Joan Hayes. We’re about the same size. Would you like to borrow some overalls and a helmet? It’s cold up there.’
Fay took her outstretched hand.
‘That’s awfully decent of you. I’m Fay Rossiter.’
She looked at Tom.
‘See you back here.’ She turned to Joan. ‘How long will we be?’
‘Half an hour no more.’
She squeezed her husband’s arm. ‘He’s taking me out to dinner tonight aren’t you, John?’
John grinned at them both. ‘If we don’t crash.’
Tom was given a large overcoat and a spare helmet by the garrulous Captain Black. They walked across the grass to a biplane with two open cockpits.
‘You ever flown before?’ Black enquired.
With his mouth suddenly as dry as a board, Tom Roxham had to clear his throat before saying, ‘No.’ ‘Always wanted to I bet?’
‘Well—’
But Black pointed to the back cockpit.
‘Get yourself in there while I go through my checks. I’ll strap you in. Only stand where it’s marked on the wing, otherwise you’ll put your foot through the fabric.’
Tom was left standing, feeling like an overdressed idiot – a rather apprehensive idiot at that. He’d set out that morning tingling with excitement and anticipation – never imagining he was going to do this. Something he would never have done in a million years left to his own devices.
As in a trance he stepped up on to the wing, then lowered himself into the small cockpit. His senses seemed to be heightened. He could smell oil, dope and even a vague odour of sick. Tom sat there, blankly looking at the dials, when nearby an engine burst into life.
He watched as a similar biplane began to wallow forward, the grass flattening with the wind from the propeller.
The figure in the back cockpit started waving like mad in his direction. Tom waved back, suddenly realizing it was Fay. His heart was in his mouth as he watched the machine turn into the wind, and pause, engine roaring.
Captain Black reared up beside him, blocking the view.
‘Now, let’s get you strapped in. Sorry I don’t carry parachutes, but you wouldn’t know how to use it would you?’
He began pulling the tough canvas straps over Tom’s shoulders, drawing them painfully tight, so that he couldn’t move an inch.
‘Can’t have you falling out during the demonstration.’
‘Demonstration?’
Tom felt his heart come up into his mouth.
Captain Black grinned.
‘Yes – your lady friend is in the “enemy” plane, we are the good old home team.’ He disappeared, just in time for a stunned Tom to see Fay’s aircraft lifting off and climbing away beyond the wind sock, wings wobbling like a see-saw.
Black hauled himself up and then slumped down into the front cockpit. When he’d finished with his straps he gave a thumbs up. A man on the ground two-handedly pulled down on the propeller. It flicked around once. Nothing happened. The process was repeated, this time there was a cough and a cloud of black smoke. On the next pull the propeller suddenly flipped round and kept going as the engine coughed and coughed, then roared into life, the propeller disappearing into a blur.
Wind blasted his face.
‘Chocks away.’
They began to move forward, bumping and creaking over the grass. Tom could see nothing ahead of them, as the nose was pointing upwards, but Black kept swinging the tail from side to side, so that he could see where he was going.
They braked to a halt. A voice crackled into his ears, ‘Revving up, checking our Ts and Ps and the magneto, then we’ll be off.’
The noise of the engine increased to a deafening roar.
The plane shuddered and strained against the brakes.
The voice called again.
‘Here we go.’
Tom Roxham didn’t know what to expect, knowing only that Fay was already up there in the air somewhere ahead of him and that he wanted to be near her.
They started rolling, bumping and creaking and thudding, gathering speed. Suddenly his seat rose, the nose dipped and he could see ahead, at the grass racing towards and under them. Then all of a sudden the vibration and shaking ceased and they were higher and he realized they’d left the ground.
Tom gazed over the side at the dwindling earth and the tiny people; like hundreds of ants milling around the tents and aircraft. Beyond them lay the green fields of England.
Later, swooping between great mountains of cloud, down into valleys and soaring over peaks as occasionally, Fay’s aircraft flashed into view and then was gone, plunging into the face of some cloud chasm, something grew in him and became stronger as Black climbed and dived and flew upside down above the heads of the admiring humanity. It grew until he knew that he wanted to do this – had to do this. He was destined to fly.
It seemed only a few minutes before Black’s voice was telling them that they were coming into land.
The smoothness of the movement through the air gave way to a crashing thump, then smoothness, followed again by another thump and shaking as earth reasserted its rattling, vibrating hold. They finally rolled to a halt.
Tom Roxham climbed down. As his foot touched the ground he knew he was changed – for ever.
CHAPTER SIX
They met halfway between the aeroplanes. Her face was alive with excitement.
‘Wasn’t that just beautiful? A fleeting glimpse of heaven.’
Tom took both her hands in his.
‘Without you I wouldn’t have done that.’
She started to protest, but he shook his head and cut her off.
‘No. Listen, I’m being serious. There are no words to describe that experience. I want to learn to fly now more than anything in the world.’
She laughed, released his hands and wrapped her arms around his waist in a big hug.
‘Me too.’
Tom raised his hands to her back and drew her close to him. Her hair, just beneath his nose, smelt wonderfully fresh.
It happened so naturally. Without thinking, he kissed the top of her head.
She pulled away and looked up at him.
‘Tom—’
He brought his lips down to touch hers gently. They stayed like that, motionless, until he slowly pulled back, realizing the enormity of what he had just done. What would she think of him?
‘I – I’m sorry, I—’
Her fingers gently touched his lips, stopping him.
‘I’ve wanted you to do that since I first set eyes on you.’
He was stunned, speechless.
She grinned shyly. ‘I feel so light-headed, like I’ve been drinking champagne.’
Tom had never tasted the stuff in his life, but h
e knew what she meant – he was still tingling from the experience.
She put her arm through his. ‘Come on, I’m famished and I’ve got to give this coat back to Joan Hayes.’ He waited while she chatted to the woman, watching the last joy ride by the De Havilland Rapide take off. He noticed she pointed to him while she was talking. He wondered what she was saying, but forgot to ask.
Back on the bus they sat close, hands clasped.
She asked, ‘Where shall we eat?’
He’d worried about that.
‘Well, there is a restaurant in the town that serves very good food, but its not plush.’
She squeezed his hand.
‘That’s fine. What do we care – nothing matters down here – does it?’
The place was a rather ageing café, that had seen better days. It was patronized by young couples and families before they queued at the cinema around the corner, to see the latest picture.
They had limited means, as did Tom, and he’d agonized over where to take her and decided this was the best he could afford.
Walking from the bus with Fay on his arm felt terrific. When they entered the restaurant with its table lit by little red lamps, it seemed rather busy.
A man came towards them dressed in a dinner jacket, his black hair parted down the middle and brushed straight back.
‘Can I help you?’
Tom asked for a table for two.
‘And the name, sir?’
Puzzled, he said ‘Roxham – Tom Roxham.’
The man ran his eye down a list he was carrying.
‘I’m sorry, sir, there isn’t a reservation under that name. You did book, didn’t you?’
Crestfallen, he said, ‘Well, no, I didn’t know you had to.’
The man gave a supercilious smile and boomed out for all to hear, ‘We’re always full on a Saturday. You obviously haven’t dined with us before.’
His tone was dismissive. Tom wished the ground would open up and swallow him.
Fay, aware of Tom smarting from the arrogant dismissal, and angered at the man’s attitude, said in a loud exaggerated voice, ‘Darling, come along, we’ll get Lord Rossiter’s usual table at the Queen’s. Daddy won’t be using it – he’s up at the Savoy.’
Tom was amazed by her cut glass accent: much more pronounced now than the voice he had become used to during the day. But the effect on the man was instantaneous.
Blustering, he ran a finger down his list.
‘I didn’t say we couldn’t do something, madam. As a matter of fact we do have a table free due to a cancellation.’
Fay turned to Tom.
‘What do you think, darling? Shall we stay?’
He looked at her, realizing that she had stepped in and taken control, but was now handing it back to him.
‘Yes, let’s give it a go.’
When they were seated and the head waiter had fussed around, giving them the typed menu cards, taking their order for wine before bustling away, she leaned forward, ‘Sorry about butting in, but that sort of person gets my goat.’
He smiled lamely.
‘I’m not very used to this – must be pretty obvious.’
Fay placed a reassuring hand on his.
‘Tom, it’s easy for me, I’ve had a privileged upbringing.’
He sat back and sighed.
‘And I haven’t.’
Anxiously, she asked, ‘Is it a problem?’
He swallowed, ‘It worries me. I mean—’
He found it difficult to say, but she said it for him.
‘That you’re not good enough for me, is that it?’
Sadly, he just nodded.
Fay Rossiter’s eyes flashed.
‘Now, you just listen to me, Tom Roxham. Stop putting yourself down. I’ve never had so much fun – ever.’
‘But—’
She made a chopping motion with her hand.
‘No buts. All the men in my “posh” circle don’t attract me one bit – so there.’
He blinked and said nothing as the waiter arrived with their wine.
‘Will you taste it, sir?’
Almost imperceptibly she nodded, so he said crisply, ‘Of course.’
The waiter poured a small amount into his glass. Having no idea what to do Tom picked it up and drank it straight down in one gulp.
‘Tastes fine.’
The waiter gave him a funny look, but poured Fay’s glass then refilled his again before leaving them alone.
Fay had a hand to her face to hide her grin, but he could see that she was amused. It no longer worried him.
‘What did I do wrong?’
She shook her head, ‘Nothing really, except you’re supposed to sniff and sip the wine to see if it is corked.’
‘Corked?’
‘Bad wine tastes of the cork.’
‘I see.’
He played his fingers on the glass. ‘Do I?’
She put her head quizzically to one side. ‘Do you what?’
‘Attract you?’
Her eyes were as wide as he had ever seen them as he waited in trepidation for the answer.
Finally she whispered, ‘You know you do. Is the reverse true?’
He smiled shyly. ‘Of course.’
Fay took her sip of the red wine for support.
‘I knew it almost straight away. I didn’t believe things like that happened in real life.’
He felt the same, but felt compelled to say, ‘We’ve only been together a day – you hardly know me.’
She nodded. ‘True, but it doesn’t matter – does it?’
He slowly shook his head. ‘No.’
Radiating happiness she pulled off her beret, hair swishing freely. ‘Good, that’s settled.’
Later, as they left the restaurant he asked, ‘What time have you got to be in tonight?’
Fay put her arm through his, ‘No time really. I’ve got a key, though Aunty won’t go to sleep until I come in. I’m supposed to be at a friend’s all-day birthday party, but I conveniently forgot to give her a telephone number – so what are we going to do?’
‘How about the pictures?’
‘Do you know what’s on?’
He’d checked the Echo in advance in case they might want to go.
‘Well the newly opened Regal has Errol Flynn in The Adventures of Robin Hood, the Gaumont’s showing Boys Town with Spencer Tracy and Mickey Rooney and the Daffodil has Carole Lombard in Nothing Sacred for a second time.’
She squeezed his arm.
‘Oh, I’d love to go,’ then she frowned, ‘but you must have seen it already.’
He lied. ‘No, but we’d better get a move on.’
They stepped out briskly, Tom listening to the wonderful sound of her heels tapping on the pavement.
Breathless she asked ‘Will we be in time for the programme?’
‘Not all of it, we’ll miss a bit of the first film.’
The woman on the ticket kiosk reminded them of that fact as she pressed the button and two tickets issued from the counter top.
The usherette led the way in the dark cinema, showing them to their seats with her torch. They pushed passed people who had to stand up to let them go by, apologizing as they went, seats creaking as they lowered them and sat down.
They were halfway through the first film – a comedy series that he liked called Blondie, with a character by the name of Dagwood Bumstead who made him laugh with his characteristic wild exit out of the home. His wife, Blondie and children lined up at the door with his hat, coat and briefcase.
The lights came up. Queues started to form for the ice-cream girls, picked out in spotlights with their trays supported by neck holders.
He got two, one vanilla and one strawberry. Fay chose the strawberry. They sat digging in with the little wooden spoons.
‘Tell me, Tom, are you going to take flying lessons?’
He grimaced. ‘I want to desperately, but the cost, well,’ he shook his head resignedly. ‘It will be a few
years yet, but I’ll do it.’
She scraped the bottom of her tub before she spoke again. ‘I might be able to help there.’
‘No.’
He knew he’d done it again – over-reacted. Apologetically, he laid a hand gently on her arm. ‘Sorry.’
She put her empty tub on the floor under her seat. ‘Tom, I wouldn’t dream of insulting you by trying to pay for you – even if we did it together.’
‘Oh, what did you mean then?’
‘That chap I flew with, Mr Hayes, he keeps a machine at Staverton, although they actually live in Cheltenham. His wife was very nice – said he’d be only too pleased to take you up anytime and give you a lesson if he’s free.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. I made it clear that it was for you. She said he would love to – he’s always keen to help anyone who takes an interest in his passion. Be at the hangar on any Saturday or Sunday morning and introduce yourself.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Absolutely.’
He couldn’t believe it. ‘You did that for me?’
She lowered her eyelashes. ‘Yes.’
‘Will you be coming as well?’
She sighed. ‘Afraid not. I doubt if father will ever let me become a pilot, so I’ll have to wait and do it myself when I can. Even if he did I’d have to go somewhere nearer. There is a small flying club just outside Cirencester.’
Disappointed, his face fell.
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
After a while he asked, ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’
She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. ‘I meant to but you suddenly kissed me – remember? I was not myself.’
He blushed. ‘Fay, thanks for doing that.’
The house lights dimmed making the ‘exit’ lights stand out. Then a spotlight split the darkness, focussing on an area just before the stage. At the same time a large Wurlitzer organ lit up and a man in a dinner jacket, light flashing on his spectacles, began playing as the whole structure rose up.
There followed ten minutes of popular melodies before it began to descend. The audience clapped, the man turned and waved, and carried on playing until the spotlight went out.
There was a pause during which Fay took off her coat, folding it on to her lap together with her beret.
Enduring Passions Page 7
