Maude was also determined that Perys should enjoy a memorable Christmas among relatives who cared for him.
Christmas morning was a busy time for the whole family. The two girls were on duty, and Maude and Perys went along to the hospitals where they worked, distributing cigarettes and chocolate to wounded soldiers, the comforts purchased by Maude at her own expense.
The family celebrations took place that evening and proved far more successful than Maude could have anticipated.
One reason was that Rupert shared the evening with them. He had telephoned the night before to ask if he might pay a fleeting visit to the family. He would be in London, prior to returning to his squadron in France on Boxing Day. He was delighted to accept Maude’s invitation to dinner.
It was a meal the family would share with the young trainee doctor with whom Arabella was currently infatuated. And Grace Ballard, Morwenna’s friend who had been Perys’s partner for their enjoyable evening out with Rupert, would also be with them.
Ian Cameron, the young doctor, was a rather shy man who was spending Christmas a long way from his Scottish home. He proved to be a talented pianist and provided much of the evening’s entertainment, occasionally accompanying Grace who possessed a fine voice.
It was during one of Grace’s songs that Morwenna and Rupert slipped quietly out of the room. Everyone pretended not to notice, but after they had been absent for some fifteen minutes or so, Maude excused herself from the company and she too left the room.
The others were aware she had gone in search of the young couple and Perys said, ‘Do you think we should try to find them and warn them?’
Amused by his concern, Grace smiled, ‘Would you know where to look?’
When Perys was forced to admit he would not, Grace added to his mild embarrassment by asking, ‘What do you think they are likely to be doing?’
‘I . . . I really don’t know,’ he confessed.
‘Well, I probably know Morwenna better than anyone else,’ Grace declared, ‘and whatever she and Rupert are doing, it will be nothing her mother need worry about. Quite the reverse, I would say.’
In spite of Grace’s confident assertion, as the minutes passed Perys became increasingly concerned. Then, some twenty minutes after Maude had left the room, she returned. With her were Rupert and Morwenna.
Calling for the attention of those already in the room, Maude said, ‘I must apologise for deserting you for so long, but when I tell you the reason, I am certain you will forgive me.’ She smiled at Morwenna and Rupert before continuing. ‘As I am quite sure you realised, I went off in search of Morwenna and Rupert. I found them in the conservatory. When I spoke to them I was very happy indeed that I had not disturbed them before. Rupert had just proposed to Morwenna.
She was interrupted by the congratulations bestowed on the couple by Arabella and the guests. When they had run their course, Maude continued, ‘Morwenna accepted his proposal, of course, but my approval was required before it could become an official engagement. Needless to say I am absolutely delighted to give them my whole-hearted blessing. Indeed, I am quite overcome. This is a truly memorable day. Perys, will you accompany me to the cellar. Such an occasion can only be celebrated with the help of the very best champagne.’
After offering Rupert and Morwenna his warmest congratulations, Perys followed Maude down some stairs to the cellar. Along the way she asked him, ‘Were you aware that Rupert was going to ask Morwenna to marry him, Perys?’
‘No,’ he replied truthfully, ‘but it comes as no great surprise. I have known for a long time how he felt about her.’
‘I have always hoped they might one day marry, but until recent months I was beginning to believe it was no more than a fond parent’s dream.’
Maude continued her happy chatter about the ‘realisation of a mother’s dream’ until they reached the cellar. She selected six bottles of vintage champagne, and with Perys carrying four bottles and Maude two, they returned upstairs.
As she put down her bottles and locked the cellar door behind her, Maude asked, ‘How are you getting on with Grace?’
‘She’s a very lovely girl,’ he replied honestly. ‘Great fun to be with and she’s dedicated to the work she does. In fact, just the sort of girl I would expect Morwenna to have for a best friend.’
‘Do you see her only as Morwenna’s best friend, Perys? Nothing more?’
The loss of Annie still hurt and Perys said, ‘I have to make my way in life before I can think seriously about becoming involved with anyone, Aunt Maude.’
‘Nonsense! You are still very young, of course, but so too is Morwenna. And you are a young man with considerable prospects. Your grandfather is a very wealthy man and you are his sole heir.’
Astonished by her words, Perys shook his head. ‘My mother was virtually disinherited when I was born, as I am sure you know. Grandfather has always made it quite clear that I am an embarrassment to him - someone to be kept out of sight and out of mind. Besides, there are a number of nieces and nephews on my grandmother’s side of the family who are much closer to them than I. No doubt they will be the beneficiaries of anything my grandparents have to leave.’
Maude gave Perys a sympathetic look. ‘Your grandfather is a stubborn and intractable man, Perys. The family were well aware of the attitude he had adopted towards you, but we were reluctant to interfere lest he cut you off completely. We were wrong. However, your grandfather - yes, and your grandmother too - are beginning to be aware that they face a lonely old age. I believe they regret not taking a greater interest in you in the past.’
With the door safely locked and the key tucked in a pocket, Maude smiled at him. ‘There, that is another happy thought for this very special Christmas.’
* * *
On the morning Perys was due to set off to report to the Royal Flying Corps training depot in Wiltshire, he had an early morning visitor. Grace arrived at the Tremaynes’ Knightsbridge home still wearing her nurse’s uniform. She had come direct from night duty at St Thomas’s Hospital.
When Perys expressed his surprise at seeing her, she explained, ‘I wanted to see you off and wish you good luck. I also wanted to give you this.’ Handing him a small, velvet-covered box, she said, ‘It’s a Saint Christopher medallion. He’s the patron saint of travellers. I hope he will keep you safe, always. I had it specially made for you.’
Opening the box, Perys saw a gold medallion on which was a scene showing the saint fording a river, carrying a child on his shoulders. Turning the medallion over, he saw his name engraved on the reverse.
‘This is beautiful, Grace, but you really shouldn’t have spent your money on me . . . it must have cost you the earth.’
‘The cost isn’t important, the sentiment is. Stay safe, Perys.’ Her smile was forced as she added, ‘Wherever you are you will always know there is someone thinking of you. I will pray for you each night.’
Deeply touched by her words and her gift, Perys said, ‘I will remember that, Grace, thank you.’ He kissed her self-consciously, aware of the beaming approval of Maude and her two daughters.
Their farewells were equally warm and sincere and, when he started on his way, he turned to wave to the quartet who were standing outside the house.
Then, putting Knightsbridge behind him, he set off to begin a new life. As a pilot in the Royal Flying Corps.
Chapter 36
During the weeks he spent in the training depot at Upavon, Perys began to think the War Office had posted him to an infantry training unit by mistake.
There were lectures on various aspects of aeronautics, but they covered such basic subjects that Perys realised he had learned more during the first couple of days with Nick Malloch than he would during the whole of this particular course.
Those who, like Perys, were civilian volunteers for the Royal Flying Corps, would not be allowed to wear uniform until they moved on to flying training. Others, who were already army officers, were required to remove all insignia of rank
and were treated as ‘cadets’.
The days were spent mainly in learning drill, under the instruction of army sergeants to whom drill was the one thing that raised the British soldier above all his contemporaries. There was also a certain amount of physical exercise - and kit inspections. Perys felt the latter to be a total waste of valuable learning time. He doubted whether ensuring that the soles of his spare boots were highly polished was calculated to strike fear into the hearts of German airmen.
Something of his thinking showed in the attitude he adopted towards the army-style regime. As a result, one drill sergeant in particular singled him out for special attention. It was, perhaps, inevitable that such conflicting attitudes to the training methods would lead to a clash between the two men.
It came on a day when an aeroplane from the nearby airfield flew low over the parade ground, making Sergeant Middleton’s bellowed orders even more unintelligible to Perys. He turned the opposite way to the others in the squad and was immediately taken to task by the irate instructor.
‘What is the matter with you, Tremayne? If you can’t get your feet to do what they’re supposed to when you’re down here on the ground, they’re hardly likely to be any use to you when you’re up in the air. You’ll never make a pilot if you drill for a hundred bleedin’ years!’ Perys had become increasingly frustrated with both the drill and the sometimes vicious stupidity of the men who appeared to enjoy the harsh discipline inflicted upon the cadets in their charge. Throwing caution to the wind, he said, ‘I am afraid I must correct you . . . sir. I am already a qualified pilot.’
It was one of the anomalies of initial training that prospective officers were obliged to address their non-commissioned instructors as ‘sir’.
The sergeant had automatically written Perys off as being one of the many recruits who had joined the Royal Flying Corps direct from school, with little knowledge of anything beyond the classroom. Now he said, ‘What do you mean, you are a pilot?’
‘I mean that I have my pilot’s licence and have clocked up more than fifty hours of solo flying time, in three different types of aeroplane . . . sir.’
One of the squad tittered and Sergeant Middleton looked at Perys suspiciously, believing him to be enjoying a joke at his expense.
‘And where did you do all this flying of yours may I ask?’
‘Brooklands, sir.’
Aware that the sergeant was uncertain whether or not he was telling the truth, and beginning to enjoy himself, Perys added, ‘Mind you, when I was acting as observer to my cousin and we were shot at by a German warship - that was the occasion when he won a DSO -M we were actually flying over the English Channel.’
Now a number of the squad members were having difficulty stifling their laughter and the sergeant had no doubt that Perys was trying to make him appear foolish.
‘Do you think it’s clever to try to make a fool of me, Tremayne? Well, some of your friends may find you amusing, but let’s see if the adjutant shares their sense of humour. Fall out and report to the adjutant’s office. I’ll be along there to lay charges against you when I’ve finished with this lot.’
Aware he had gone too far and suddenly fearful that his commission as a Royal Flying Corps pilot might be in jeopardy, Perys asked, ‘What charges . . . sir?’
‘Insubordination - now move . . . at the double!’
As Perys ran across the parade ground, heading for the adjutant’s office, he heard the sergeant barking orders at the squad of would-be RFC officers, determined to reassert his authority over them.
When he reached the building which housed the offices of the commanding officer, adjutant and initial training administration, a sergeant informed Perys that the adjutant was not in his office. Perys was instructed to wait outside, standing ‘to attention’ until his return.
He had been waiting outside for some ten minutes when the officer in charge of the initial training annexe left the building and saw him standing there, rigid.
Major Thomas Kemp, DSO, was an ex-Royal Engineers officer who had gained his pilot’s licence prior to the war, as had most senior RFC officers. Sent to France with one of the first squadrons to accompany the British Expeditionary Force on the outbreak of war, he had also been one of the first pilots to be wounded. Forbidden to fly an aeroplane until he had fully recovered, he had been sent to Upavon to take charge of the training annexe.
Seeing a crestfallen Perys standing stiffly to attention, he frowned, ‘What are you doing here, young man?’
‘I understand I am to be taken before the adjutant, sir, charged with insubordination.’
Raising an eyebrow. Major Kemp said, ‘It all sounds terribly serious . . . Were you insubordinate?’
‘I don’t think so, sir. Sergeant Middleton told me that if I couldn’t get my feet to do what I wanted them to on the ground, I’d not manage them in the air and would never make a pilot. I told him I already held a pilot’s licence.’ After a moment’s hesitation, he added, ‘I also mentioned a particular exploit I had in the air. I think he thought I was lying and trying to make him look foolish.’
‘Sergeant Middleton . . . Isn’t he the Coldstream Guardsman?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Hm!’ Thomas Kemp had always doubted the necessity of teaching Guards-style drill to prospective airmen. ‘What’s your name, lad?’
‘Tremayne, sir. Perys Tremayne.’
Major Kemp frowned. ‘Tremayne? Are you from Cornwall?’
‘Part of the family have a home there, sir. I was staying there recently.’
‘I thought I had seen the name somewhere. Come into my office.’
The major turned and went back inside the building. Mystified, Perys followed him.
Passing through the outer office, the commanding officer said to the surprised administration sergeant, ‘Find the file for cadet Tremayne and bring it to me straightway, Sergeant.’
Once inside his own office, Major Kemp dropped into a chair and faced Perys across the width of his desk. Perys was standing rigidly to attention once more and the commanding officer said, ‘Stand-at-ease, Tremayne. Relax and tell me something about your flying. Who taught you and how many hours have you put in?’
When Perys had replied to his questions, Major Kemp leaned back in his chair and said, ‘You had one of the best instructors in the country, Tremayne. He must be. He taught me to fly when I was more than twice your age and had stopped learning new tricks many years before. If you clocked up fifty-three hours with Hick then you are a more experienced pilot than a great many front-line fliers.’
The administration sergeant entered the office and placed a document file on his desk, together with a bulky manila envelope.
‘Ah yes!’ Major Kemp pushed the envelope to one side with the words, ‘I thought you were the young man I had in mind.’ Not bothering to explain more fully, he opened the file and began to read some of the documents from it, occasionally looking up at Perys in a speculative manner.
When he had shuffled through all the papers, he said, ‘You have certainly made your mark on the aviation world, Tremayne - even before you are commissioned into the Royal Flying Corps. I don’t think I have ever seen a more complimentary report from a flying instructor, and Nick Malloch isn’t a man to bestow praise lightly. I see there is also a recommendation from Colonel Lord MacAllen. As for your adventure with Captain Pilkington . . . it was worthy of a medal. Talking of which, I believe that last year you took part in the rescue of the master of a Russian ship off the Cornish coast?’
Startled, Perys said, ‘That’s right, sir, but how do you know?’
Major Kemp smiled. ‘It seems your sailor was related to an official at the Russian Court. As a result, Tsar Nicholas has awarded you the Medal of St George, for bravery. Not to be outdone, the Royal Humane Society have given you their Bronze Medal for the same incident.’
The significance of the two medals was lost on Perys. He had won various awards at school, and looked upon the two he had just been
told about as being in the same category.
Major Kemp was quick to enlighten him. ‘Have you been measured for a uniform yet, Tremayne?’
‘Yes, sir, but I have been told not to order it until I have completed initial training and have received a commission.’
‘Then we will have to see what can be done to accelerate that day, Tremayne.’
Perys looked puzzled and Major Kemp explained, ‘The War Office forwarded your medals with a memo, Tremayne. They say every opportunity must be taken to boost morale among trainee officers. I am to present the medals to you at a full parade of all trainee pilots at the Central Flying School. As they are intended to be worn on your uniform, together with any decorations you may be awarded in the future, I think we had better see that you are put into uniform as quickly as possible. What aircraft have you flown?’
‘The ‘Longhorn’, a BE2c and an Avro, sir,’ Perys said, not certain why he had been asked the question.
‘Fine! I have a BE2c at my disposal, across in the Central Flying School. I’m not allowed to fly it myself just yet, but you can take me up for a flight and show me what you can do. Come along, I’ll have an orderly take us across there in the motor-car.
At the Central Flying School airfield, a BE2c was quickly wheeled from a hangar. Perys was fitted out with a flying suit and soon afterwards was taxying out to the airfield. He had felt apprehensive about acting as pilot to such an experienced RFC airman, but once in the air the sheer exhilaration of flying again took over and he put the BE2c through its paces.
Eventually, Major Kemp, who was in the forward cockpit, signalled for him to land back at Upavon. Reluctantly, Perys complied and twenty minutes later they were climbing from the aeroplane to the ground.
Patting Perys on the shoulder, the Major said, ‘I am pleased to see that Nick Malloch’s judgement is as sound as ever, Tremayne. You are a natural pilot. Putting you on the normal trainees’ flying course would be a waste of time and money. Come along to my office. We’ll see if I can find the exam papers for the theory you’ve learned so far. Nick will have taught you about such matters in far more detail. You can sit in my office to take the exam. Before that, give the details of your tailor to the admin sergeant. He can make a telephone call and arrange for your uniform to be ready for the weekend. I will present your medals at the church parade on Sunday, and you can join the advanced flying course on Monday.’
The Lost Years Page 18
