Later, he could hardly recall the circuit. He just remembered turning on the final leg, then lining up for the approach, adjusting for the crosswind, selecting flaps, and then bleeding off the speed.
The boundary hedge went by underneath him then he panicked as the ground came rushing up at him. He heard himself yelling, ‘Check her, check her,’ as he pulled the stick back. There was an almighty thump, the plane leapt back into the air, then came down again with a smaller thud, followed by another tiny one that ran into the continuous shuddering of landlocked motion. He was down safely and nothing had been broken.
As he taxied back to the waiting figure by the hangar it really began to dawn on him that he had actually soloed. He’d flown on his own.
As he switched off the engine and deafening silence descended, Trubshaw held out his hand. ‘Well done.’
Tom shook it.
As he cycled home he kept saying to himself, ‘I’m a pilot,’ even once calling it out as he passed a bunch of bewildered schoolboys on their way to Sunday school.
He was so thrilled that he thought of telephoning Fay, even going so far as dismounting and counting his change. He had enough. But then he realized it might cause her a lot of embarrassment and, reluctantly he got back on his bike.
Fay was embarrassed enough already. They’d been to church, sitting in the pews reserved at the front and had listened to a sermon on the evils of the flesh and the way the very fibre of society was being weakened by divorce.
Now, out in the cold but sunny day, she was standing around as her father and mother talked to the vicar, congratulating him on his sermon. She was embarrassed by the fact that the rest of the congregation was backed up inside, waiting dutifully until they moved on. Her father was like that though, very old school. When they finally came towards her she was reading a tombstone.
They drove home to find Jeremy’s car in the drive. Cheerfully, her father said, ‘Ah good. Nice to have that young man with us again. It’s a solid family and he’s an interesting chap.’
Fay did not respond. The dogs rushed out to greet them.
‘I’ll take them down to the stables.’
Her mother frowned. ‘Don’t be long – luncheon in half an hour.’
Jeremy was in the conservatory reading the papers.
‘Good morning,’ boomed her father, ‘or I suppose its afternoon now, though I don’t feel that that’s right until I’ve eaten.’
Jeremy, dressed in sports jacket and cavalry twills, grinned. ‘I agree, sir. Good afternoon, Lady Rossiter – Fay.’
She smiled, but couldn’t help saying, ‘You’ll be living here soon, Jeremy.’
It was a mistake Fay realized, as soon as she had said it. Her father gave a hearty chuckle, and glanced at his wife as he said, ‘Well now, that’s understandable, isn’t it, my dear? You’re always welcome, Jeremy, always welcome.’
Fay winced. How long would this blatant matchmaking go on?
‘I won’t be long, Mother.’
As she made for the rear entrance, her father said, ‘Jeremy, why don’t you go with her?’
The dogs raced around on the short grass as they walked towards the stables.
Jeremy said nothing for a while, just threw the ball for the Springers who competed in a flurry of leaping bodies, hanging tongues and the occasional snap.
At last, he said, ‘Fay, I wanted to ask you something – away from your parents.’
‘Yes, Jeremy.’
She expected it was going to be a plea to accompany him to some sort of shindig – probably a weekend house party, with all that that implied.
He threw the ball again and the dogs raced away.
‘I wondered if we could get things sort of on a more permanent basis – an understanding if you like?’
Hurriedly he went on, ‘Not straight away, of course, but I would like you to consider becoming my wife.’
Fay was stunned, found herself floundering hopelessly.
‘Jeremy, I’m really flattered – but honestly, I’m not ready for that sort of commitment just yet. I’m so excited about this trip and the job and everything I’ve just not thought about anything like that.’
Her mind was racing. There was no way that she could say she was already engaged.
He frowned. ‘I’m not expecting you to immediately drop everything, Fay, not at the moment anyway. Please do whatever you need to do, but when you come back we could, perhaps, make a formal announcement – even maybe a spring wedding?’
Such detail suddenly alarmed her. She had to do something decisive, stop it before it got out of hand.
Fay stopped and faced him. ‘Jeremy, it’s very nice of you, and I do value your friendship very highly, but I’ve never considered you as anything but a very good friend, one of the crowd.’ She took a deep breath, ‘And I’ve told you a lie – there is somebody else.’
His jaw dropped. It occurred to Fay that he had never seriously considered such a possibility.
When he finally spoke he said hoarsely, ‘Who is it?’
She was evasive. ‘Nobody you know.’
Roughly, he grabbed her arm. ‘That can’t be possible.’
There was a harder edge to his voice.
Her chin came up. ‘Well, it is true – it’s no one from around here.’
His eyes bore into her. ‘Your parents certainly don’t know about this.’
Getting angrier, Fay pulled her arm free. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I asked permission from your father to pop the question today – that’s why.’
She swallowed, irritated by the noise it made. ‘Father never listens to me – always thinks he knows better.’
She whistled for the dogs. ‘I’m sorry, Jeremy, but that’s the way it is.’
He stood rock still, fists clenched as the Springers came bounding up.
‘So you are saying there is no possibility….’
She shook her head. ‘No – none. I’d be misleading you, Jeremy. I’m in love with somebody else.’
He just stood there for a second or two, then without another word spun on his heel and walked rapidly towards the house.
She wondered whether to follow him, but as the dogs fussed around she picked up the discarded ball and flung it away from the house.
She needed time to think and to cool down. What sort of reaction was she going to get? Her mother and father would be shocked, although she had hinted of somebody she had met at the fictitious party in Cheltenham. Hadn’t her father taken it on-board when Jeremy was asking for her hand? She shook her head resignedly. Daft thing to ask – she knew her father when he got the bit between his teeth. He’d wanted Jeremy all along.
Eventually she arrived back at the door to be confronted by a very dark looking father. ‘Fay, are you mad, turning down Jeremy?’
She looked around, seeing only her mother. ‘Where is he?’
‘Gone.’
‘Gone?’
Exasperated her father said, ‘Yes. He couldn’t face being where he wasn’t wanted.’
She tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Oh, that’s silly. He’s a very good friend, I wouldn’t dream of hurting him, but really, asking me to marry him – it’s ridiculous.’
Lord Rossiter was suddenly icy calm. ‘And just why is asking for your hand in marriage so ridiculous?’
She looked to her mother for help. ‘Well, I’ve never led him to believe that there was anything special between us, he was just one of the crowd.’
‘Rubbish. Last night we could see with our own eyes how close you were. He was full of the way you two did everything together. It was a sort of an understanding you both had.’
Fay started to get angry. ‘That’s not true, Daddy.’ She appealed to her mother. ‘You know I’ve been interested in another boy.’
Her mother frowned. ‘This would-be pilot – what’s his name?’
Blushing, she nodded. ‘Yes and it’s Tom, Mother. Tom Roxham.’
Her Father sneer
ed. ‘It’s just a schoolgirl crush, Fay – get over it.’
‘No – of course it’s not.’
Lord Rossiter shook his head. ‘I must say that I’m deeply disappointed in you.’
She protested, ‘But Daddy, all I’ve done is turn down Jeremy. I’m not in love with him – it’s as simple as that.’
‘And you are with this other fellow?’
‘Yes.’
There, she had said it.
‘Well, in that case perhaps he would be good enough to present himself to us. Or is it unrequited love?’
She felt on the verge of tears. ‘No – we’re engaged.’
There was a deathly silence.
‘Engaged?’ Her mother was incredulous.
‘Yes, Mummy. I’m sorry I haven’t told you – it only happened last weekend.’
Lord Rossiter shook his head in disbelief. ‘You saw him when you were in London?’
‘Yes.’
His face was like a thundercloud. ‘I presume nothing untoward happened between you?’
She cried out, ‘Father – of course not.’
But she knew her face had gone brick red – hoped they would interpret it as embarrassment. If they ever found out….
‘And you didn’t tell us?’
‘No. I mean I was getting round to telling you.’
‘When?’
She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Soon – I promise.’
‘What have you got to hide, Fay, what is it about this man?’
She didn’t have time to answer her father before—
‘If you’re engaged, where is your ring?’ It was her mother, who was nodding accusingly at her hand.
Instinctively Fay covered her left one with her right, hiding the naked finger.
‘We haven’t had time to choose one yet.’
Her father snapped, ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
She was beginning to get over the shock of what had happened, almost relieved. It was something she had dreaded.
‘Why are you being so reticent about telling us about him? Or for that matter, why hasn’t he presented himself like a gentleman – come to see us as a matter of courtesy? Has he something to hide?’
Fay shook her head. ‘No of course not. It’s all happened so quickly – that’s all.’
‘I see.’
Her father paced the floor. ‘I don’t like this, Fay. Do his parents know?’
She faltered. ‘Frankly, I’ve no idea.’
‘Who are they? What does his father do?’
‘He doesn’t do anything – he was gassed in the war.’
For once Lord Rossiter looked sympathetic. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. So where do they live? Is it really Marlborough?’
‘No. In Cheltenham.’
‘And this boy – has he got prospects?’
It was coming to what she knew – feared – would be the most dreadful, shaming part for them to accept.
Fay defiantly brought her chin up. ‘He’s hard-working, bright, intelligent—’
But her father cut her off with a wave of his hand and barked, ‘That’s not what I asked. Just what does he do – exactly?’
She swallowed. ‘He’s an acting Detective Constable with the Great Western Railway Police.’
They were both visibly shocked. It tore her apart to see her parents hurt so much.
It was her mother who spoke first, her voice trembling and hushed. ‘You intend to marry beneath you?’
Fay winced. ‘Oh Mother, don’t be so silly.’
In contrast to his harsh voice before, her father whispered icily, ‘Enough of that Fay. Don’t insult your mother when what you propose to do will humiliate us both.’
Suddenly Fay felt the tears coming. ‘I’m sorry, Mother – I didn’t mean to hurt – you are both so very dear to me. It’s just well, we’re made for each other – just like you and father.’
But Lady Rossiter remained indignant. ‘You can’t share the same interests, the same friends, you come from wildly different backgrounds. It will never last, and you must know that.’
Her father joined in. ‘He’s probably after your money – nothing but a fortune hunter.’
She shook her head in despair. ‘Daddy, how can you say something like that when you’ve never met him?’
‘And whose fault is that, young lady?’
She hung her head. ‘Mine really. I knew this would happen, I just wanted to put it off as long as possible, do it properly.’
‘So why now?’
She looked up. ‘Have you forgotten? Because of all this nonsense about Jeremy. And if there was ever a fortune hunter….’
‘Fay!’ Her father bellowed at her. She knew she’d gone too far, even though she felt it to be true.
‘Sorry. I’m upset, not thinking.’
‘You’re right there for once, you’ve lost your head, my girl. You must be ill or something.’
There was a brief respite, when only the sound of the dogs barking somewhere in the house broke the silence.
Suddenly, Lord Rossiter commanded, ‘I want to see this boy – first thing tomorrow.’
Anxiously her mother asked, ‘Is that wise?’
He continued staring at Fay. ‘Yes. If he comes here after you tell him how we feel about him, then I shall at least be able to admire his courage – or gall.’
Worried, she prevaricated. ‘I don’t know if he is free – he has to work you know.’
But her mother’s eyes flashed. ‘You told me you were meeting Jennifer on Monday. It’s not true is it – you’re meeting him?’
Fay knew her face gave her away. Reluctantly, she nodded, her mother’s lip curling. ‘Then bring him here. Let’s see this man who seems to have swept you off your feet.’
The contempt in her tone was only thinly disguised.
Fay turned back to her father.
‘I forgot. You have met him already, at the station. When I came back from Cheltenham you tried to tip him, but he gave the money back – don’t you remember?’
When it dawned on him whom she meant, he breathed, ‘My God – that impertinent fellow.’
‘He wasn’t being impertinent, Daddy, he was being honest.’
Her father shook his head in disgust. ‘The least you can do is present him to us tomorrow. Tell Simpson to drive you to Cheltenham in the morning and bring him back.’
‘But Daddy, haven’t you got to go to the House?’
‘Nothing that can’t wait. This is more important.’
‘Very well, may I use the telephone? I shall need to send a telegram.’
He nodded.
When she was gone he turned to his wife, shaking his head. ‘This is a nightmare. I would never had believed Fay could behave like this.’
Her mother agreed.
Fay didn’t know what to say, but finally managed to dictate to the telegraph operator:
Meet you at your home same time tomorrow – but with car. Stop. Parents wish to meet you. Stop.
Love Fay. Stop.
It was read back to her.
‘Thank you.’
It was with some trepidation that she lowered the telephone. Tom and his parents would get a terrible shock receiving a telegram but she didn’t want Tom to be unprepared. Forewarned was forearmed. She felt ghastly. It had all happened so unexpectedly.
But one thing was a relief, their being together was now out in the open.
They’d had their usual Sunday main meal – a bit of roast mutton together with home-grown potatoes – mashed and carrots. Following this, they had tinned peaches topped with condensed milk.
Now Tom was cleaning all their shoes in the scullery, newspaper spread under the last on which he was steadying the shoes as he vigorously buffed the toe-caps.
His father was asleep on the couch and his mother and gran were chatting in front of the grate with cups of tea, when there was a loud knock on the door.
The women looked puzzled.
‘Who on ea
rth can that be?’
His mother got up and hurried down the linoleum floored passage. When she opened the door the sight of the telegram boy made her hand instinctively fly to her throat.
The boy asked if Tom Roxham was at home. Somewhat relieved she turned and called, ‘Tom, there’s a telegram for you.’
He wiped his hands on a cloth as he joined her at the door.
‘Sign here please, sir.’
Doing as he was asked, Tom gave the pencil back and tore open the envelope. It took a second or two for the message, printed out on the ticker tape stuck to the sheet beneath, to sink in.
‘Any reply, sir?’
He shook his head, fumbling in his pocket until he found a penny. ‘There you are.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
He stayed at the door, watching the boy give a running push to his bike and jumping on all in one go.
When he shut the door and turned back into the house he was confronted by his worried-looking mother and gran, and a father who was now sitting up.
‘What was it, Son?’ His mother’s voice was full of anxiety.
Tom knew he couldn’t delay the matter any more – especially with Fay coming tomorrow.
‘It’s all right, Mum, it’s just from Fay – trying to get hold of me urgently.’
Nonplussed they waited. He took a deep breath.
‘She’s coming here tomorrow in a car. Her parents want to meet me.’
His father grunted. ‘A car – fine. You said they were rich, so is there something else you haven’t told us?’
Tom nodded. ‘Yes, her father is Lord Rossiter, he’s in the government.’ Lamely he added, ‘I suppose technically that makes Fay, the Hon. Does it?’
‘God Almighty’ exploded his Father, ‘you’re going out with bloody gentry.’
His mother looked flustered. ‘Oh dear Tom, oh dear.’ She couldn’t say anything else.
Gran shook her head. ‘No good will come of it, boy. They’ll look down their noses at you and she won’t fit in around here, I can tell you. You’re daft’
His poor mother tried to come to his defence. ‘We’ve never met the girl, Mum.’
‘Got nothing to do with it,’ growled his father, who sagged back on the couch. ‘She can be as nice as pie, she just won’t fit in. And I daresay this summons by the high and mighty is because they bloody well don’t approve of you, my lad. Bet your bottom dollar they’re going to tell you what you can do.’ He gave a humourless chuckle that ended up in a coughing fit. ‘Better take the bus fare, you’ll be bloody walking home.’
Enduring Passions Page 16
