Enduring Passions

by David Wiltshire

  Exasperated, Fay snapped, ‘Oh Mother, don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Well – when?’

  ‘We haven’t thought about that yet.’

  Her mother sighed. ‘I really can’t take this seriously, Fay. If it ever comes about, have you thought about the arrangements – how your side of the church would be packed with family, friends – some including people from the Government – and then his people?’ She was incredulous. ‘It would be a nightmare. And we would be expected to pay for this … this spectacle.’

  Fay, instead of feeling crushed, chuckled.

  ‘Could be fun. His mother is a lovely person and it could be very lively between his father and Daddy.’

  Lady Rossiter was clearly not amused. ‘Oh really, Fay, be serious. His family are not even middle-class. They would have no idea how to behave – how to dress. And can you imagine the reception and the speeches….’ She shuddered.

  Fay stood up. ‘All right, Mother, I can see that there might be problems. Maybe we should just get hitched in a register office.’

  Her mother was horrified. ‘You can’t be serious?’

  Fay took a last pull on her cigarette and tossed it into the fire. After she had breathed out the smoke she said, ‘Perfectly. Since you and Daddy are so set against the whole thing, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to pay for it.’

  Her mother was still speechless when the men returned and entered the drawing-room. Lord Rossiter, with his hand on Tom’s shoulder, guided him into the room.

  ‘Well, that’s all settled then.’

  He signalled Wilson. ‘Let’s have a bottle of the ’35 Pol, please, we need to toast the happy couple.’

  It was almost too much for Fay’s mother. ‘But….’

  Her husband waved his hand to stop her. ‘Tom and Fay’s engagement is a fait accompli, my dear, and I agree, it did catch us off balance. But now that I know Tom has Fay’s best interests at heart, and won’t do anything to jeopardize her career, then I think it only right that we give them our blessing.’

  When it looked as if Lady Rossiter was going to explode, he silenced her with a hard look behind their backs.

  The cork was expertly released by Wilson, and the glass bowls filled with the bubbling wine from the Champagne region. Lord Rossiter raised his glass.

  ‘To the happy couple – Tom and Fay.’

  They all touched their glasses, Fay moving next to Tom and holding his hand. Her mother looked bleak and bewildered, her smile thin and forced.

  Lord and Lady Rossiter stood on the steps of Codrington Hall and waved as Fay and Tom were driven away.

  Out of earshot and still waving, she said. ‘What on earth are you doing, giving them our blessing – are you out of your mind?’

  Lord Rossiter took her by the elbow and guided her back indoors.

  ‘My dear, you know Fay, and she is besotted by this fellow. If we forbid her, she’ll do something silly. As it is, this Tom has promised me he won’t get in the way of her career – and that means almost six months abroad.’

  His wife began to see the light. ‘You think the novelty will have worn off by then?’

  ‘That’s the general idea.’

  She looked doubtful. ‘Absence could make the heart grow fonder? It did with me when you were away at the front.’

  He smiled down at his wife. ‘But we had known each other for some time before – not like this flash in the pan.’

  Lady Rossiter didn’t answer. Although he was right that they had known each other for some time, she had fallen in love with him the moment they had met. It worried her that her daughter might prove to be a chip off the old block.

  Her husband gave a grunt. ‘And meanwhile I’ll have a word with old Abercrombie – he’s on the Great Western Railway Board, used to be my fag at school; see if we can’t put a few obstacles in the way of young Roxham’s plans.’

  Lady Rossiter looked relieved. ‘That’s a good idea, but be careful, any suspicion that we have had anything to do with it and it could misfire badly.’

  But Lord Rossiter was rubbing his jaw, not listening, mind suddenly far away. He looked very tired and unhappy. She prompted.

  ‘What is it?’

  He came out of his reverie. ‘I was just thinking where we might all be in six months in these troubled times.’ He shrugged, looked at his wife sorrowfully. ‘Every dark cloud they say has a silver lining. In our case that might also upset their wedding plans.’

  Inside the car Fay cuddled up to Tom and asked, ‘What happened with you and Daddy?’

  He had his arm around her. ‘Nothing – but he made it pretty plain that I wouldn’t have been his first choice for a son-in-law.’

  Fay wasn’t satisfied. ‘But he came in agreeing to our engagement.’

  Tom gave her a squeeze. ‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing – but you must have said something.’

  ‘All he asked was that I wouldn’t get in the way of your career. I said I had no such intention. I’m very proud of you – overawed in fact.’

  She sat bolt upright. ‘So that’s it!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They think that when I go on this tour I’ll forget all about you, that we’ll just drift apart. They must be counting on it.’

  He pulled her back to him, whispering in her ear. ‘That’s not going to happen is it? It will be agony though.’

  She turned his face and kissed him fiercely. ‘No, it will not – especially if I don’t go.’

  Tom kissed her just as fiercely back. ‘You will go. I’m looking forward to being married to the world famous pianist – Fay Roxham.’

  She playfully punched him and said, ‘I’ll keep my maiden name professionally, thank you very much.’

  Then in a rush of euphoria that it was all over, she flung her arms about him and just hugged and hugged him. It was as if a great weight had just lifted from her shoulders. There were no more secrets, no more lies.

  But as they drove through the Cotswolds, with an AA man on his motor bike and sidecar saluting them as they passed, Fay experienced a growing sense of unease. As they started the descent into Cheltenham, with Simpson double de-clutching to engage a lower gear to slow them down, she finally understood why. Her parents wouldn’t give up that easily. If things didn’t seem to be working out as they expected, they would also bring pressure to bear in some other manner as well – probably were planning that already. They would never give up.

  From her position nestled against his chest she looked up at him, at his face. For the few seconds before he sensed that he was being studied and looked down at her and smiled, she saw for the first time – at least consciously – the firmness of his jaw and mouth and the sharpness of his look as he gazed out of the window at something in the distance – like a hunter. It was only a fleeting glimpse of this man she now felt was part of her, but it was exciting. There was more to know, more to look forward to. But one thing remained the same: nothing would separate them now, even when they were physically apart.

  And to that end she began there and then to plan ahead, to think in terms of the actual wedding.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  In the following weeks the weather steadily improved.

  One sunny day Tom, flying solo, found himself utterly relaxed, looking down through his goggles at the rolling brown and green fields of the Cotswolds, and the tiny moving white dots that were its flocks of sheep.

  The slipstream battering his head, the whistling rigging wires and the steady roar of the engine had now become second nature to him. He banked away to the right, looked down again, saw a couple of little cars moving along a road, like beetles scurrying along well trodden paths. Over Gloucester way there was a blue-grey haze from the factories. Tom felt so incredibly free. He looked up – at the darkening blue that marked the end of the earth’s atmosphere. Beyond was space.

  Not for the first time he felt something.

  He didn’t go into it with anybody – excep
t Fay. He’d told her once that he felt he wasn’t alone up there. She hadn’t laughed at him, in fact she’d said nothing, just squeezed his hand.

  Trubshaw began to teach him air navigation, more aerobatics and sideslipping, a little instrument flying, emergency procedures – dual and solo – all the time stretching his ability.

  Life was busy for both of them. They managed to meet on average once a week, usually in Cheltenham, squeezed between his work rota, flying lessons and her increasing involvement with Sir Trevor Keynes.

  On several occasions Tom accompanied her to concerts in London and Cheltenham Town Hall, and under her guidance, began to take an interest in classical music. The first time he was really moved was at a performance of Elgar’s Cello Concerto, when something in the music seemed to be talking to his English soul.

  For her part, Fay sometimes accompanied him to the airfield, if it was a nice day, sitting on a chair beside the hangar, reading when he wasn’t in sight and sometimes being taken for a joy ride by one of the other aircraft owners. Afterwards they would go into Cheltenham, sometimes to the cinema, or a tea dance, or just strolling around happy to be together.

  For Fay things at home had been good – too good really. They very occasionally asked after Tom, but in many ways it was as if the whole engagement had never happened. She’d even been clothes shopping for her trip with her mother in London, with luncheon thrown in by daddy at The House.

  This treatment more than anything strengthened her conviction that there was only one answer to their predicament. It would by-pass her scheming mother and father and ease the problem for Tom’s parents.

  And the moment to tell him what had been in her mind since that drive after the first meeting came as they were sitting outside, in Montpellier Gardens, on an unexpectedly warm afternoon watching people playing on the public tennis courts.

  ‘Tom.’ She reached out and took his hand.

  Bemused by her tone, he looked around at her. ‘Yes.’

  ‘It won’t be that long till I go off on this tour.’

  Crestfallen he nodded. ‘I know.’

  When she didn’t immediately say anything else he prompted, ‘Fay, what is it?’

  She looked down into her lap, took a deep breath. ‘Tom, I don’t want to hurt your parents – in fact, they could attend, but I don’t want my parents to know anything about it.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I think we ought to marry in a register office as soon as possible, but keep it a secret.’

  Stunned, he just kept looking at her, even when a young man in white flannels and holding a wooden tennis racquet called out, ‘Could you toss the ball back, please?’

  Tom came out of his daze, stood up and got the ball, throwing it back with a flick of the wrist, oblivious to the ‘Thanks.’

  She watched him with bated breath as he came back and sat down beside her, still saying nothing.

  ‘Well?’

  Tom finally looked directly at her. ‘How soon can we do it?’

  She smiled. ‘I’ve got the forms; all you’ve got to do is sign up and set the date.’

  He shook his head in wonderment. ‘What am I getting myself into?’

  Fay giggled. ‘Matrimony, my love.’

  But secretly he was churning with excitement. He had assumed some distant time, a year or more. There was so much to work out, where to live, what he could afford, and so on. And the meeting of the families – if hers came at all – and guests … the problems had been on his mind for weeks.

  ‘So what do we do for my best man, and your bridesmaid?’

  She shrugged. ‘We’ll rope witnesses in on the day – can’t use friends, word would get back.’

  Tom knew she was spirited, but he was continually being amazed by her.

  He tried to act as the Devil’s Advocate even though the idea was rapidly gaining credence in his mind.

  ‘When we’ve done it – what then? Should we have a honeymoon? They’ll get suspicious if we disappear – and I would have to get time off from work.’

  For a second Fay thought about it, blushing, before saying, ‘We should have a few days together, don’t you think, Tom? But if it’s impossible, then so be it. The important thing is we will be man and wife – married, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.’

  He tried another tack. ‘But will that be enough for you? Don’t you want it to be in a church, married by a vicar?’

  Wistfully, Fay nodded. ‘Ideally, but there is nothing to stop us having a church wedding later, is there?’

  So it was decided. He used his fountain pen to sign the forms she had pulled from her handbag. When he finished she put them back, did up the button that closed it, then stood up.

  ‘I need a cup of tea.’

  Grinning, he got up, looked around, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

  Just as he did so a tennis ball hit him on the back of the head. He pretended his legs had buckled under him.

  Laughing, she playfully slapped his arm. ‘You fool.’

  They were both so happy as they walked into town to the cinema.

  The bombshell dropped next day.

  As usual, he presented himself to Sergeant Whelan exactly on time. The latter inspected his acting detective constable and seemed fo find everything in order by the softness of the grunt he made. He then said, ‘I hope your replacement over the next few months won’t be another would-be pilot.’

  Tom was shocked. ‘Replacement? I don’t understand, Sergeant.’

  The moustache was given a perfunctory sweep by the back of the right finger, then the same hand picked up a sheet of paper.

  ‘You’re being sent on secondment to the London North Eastern Police, we’re taking one from them.’

  Feeling slightly sick at the thought of what it would do to them he protested.

  ‘But why? I’ve never heard of that happening before, Sergeant.’

  ‘For what it’s worth, Roxham, neither have I.’

  He passed the letter over to Tom who saw it was from their Headquarters in Paddington.

  ‘Seems they want an undercover officer whose face won’t be known in the area. Can’t be too careful; apparently it’s something serious.’

  ‘I can’t go.’

  Suddenly Whelan’s face became rigid, his voice that dangerous softness Tom knew presaged a serious reprimand.

  ‘“Can’t” Roxham? I’m afraid it’s an order, and we don’t disobey orders do we, Constable?’

  Tom took a deep breath. ‘Then I’ll resign.’

  Whelan exploded. ‘Don’t be a silly fool; it’s only for a few months and if you do well it will increase your chances of promotion – it’s a golden opportunity.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  Sergeant Whelan’s black eyebrows nearly joined in the middle of his forehead. He had trouble restraining himself.

  ‘So, you’d rather be out of a job with no references than be away from home for a few months? Very clever. And what about those flying lessons you’ve been going on about – won’t be able to pay for them with your dole money, will you? If you get it.’

  ‘Is it this girl I’ve heard about? If she’s worth it she’ll be waiting for you when you come back.’

  Tom was still stunned, and the realization that the flying, which was coming on in leaps and bounds would be affected, added to the turmoil in his head.

  ‘Where am I to be stationed, Sergeant – King’s Cross?’

  At least, in London he could continue to see Fay.

  ‘Read the orders, laddie. No, it’s Peterborough. Bed and breakfast accommodation has been arranged for you next to the station.’

  Staggered, Tom asked, ‘When – when am I supposed to go?’

  Sergeant Whelan’s face lightened. ‘You report first thing on the day after tomorrow – your ticket from here to Peterborough is in the booking hall.’

  Looking shattered Tom turned to go.

  Whelan called after him. ‘And laddie, my Bridget wa
ited for a damn sight longer than a few months.’

  Tom nodded. ‘Yes, Sergeant.’

  He rang from his usual box near Leckhampton Station. When she came to the telephone Fay sounded concerned. It wasn’t their usual time.

  ‘Darling, what is it?’

  When he explained the line was silent for a few seconds. Anxiously he prompted. ‘Fay?’

  Her voice was strained. ‘This isn’t normal, you say?’

  ‘No – I don’t think so.’

  ‘It’s my father’s doing.’

  He frowned out of the window at a passing Wolsley car. ‘That’s impossible.’

  He couldn’t see her vigorously shaking her head. ‘Oh no it’s not; you have no idea of the strings he can pull. Look, Tom, this can play into our hands.’

  Puzzled and feeling rotten he questioned, ‘How?’

  ‘You know that matter we were discussing yesterday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, think about it. We do the deed either where you’ll be, or London, or wherever it is – no one will be any the wiser. You can even have a few days off. Sir Trevor lives in Norfolk. I can use that as an excuse to be over that way.’

  Tom slowly began to see what she was driving at. Her voice came again. ‘When do you go?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, that is quick. Which route are you taking?’

  He shrugged to himself. ‘Up to London, then mainline to Peterborough.’

  She seemed to make up her mind. ‘I’ll go up for the day – we can share a train and have some time together.’

  That bucked him up, that and her general cheeriness. He told her which train he would be on, stopping at Kemble.

  She promised to be there.

  His voice dropped. ‘See you tomorrow then, sweetheart.’

  She managed a rather breathy ‘Goodbye darling’ and put the phone down looking thoughtful.

  Tom stepped out of the box and unexpectedly found himself with a day off. As he turned his bike for home, he wondered if Mr Trubshaw could fit him in today. Then it hit him like a brick. He’d been so concerned about himself and Fay that he’d never thought about the flying. What would happen now? Had it all been in vain?