Trying to hide his astonishment that Grace could talk of such a relationship so casually, he said, ‘Are you saying she gave up a comfortable life here to become a nurse?’
‘That’s right - and she is a very good nurse. Her lover lost his only son in the battle that was fought to keep the Germans from taking Paris and he is very proud of Yvonne. He delights in sending unexpected luxuries for her and all the nurses at the field hospital. They arrive in such quantities that we often share them out among our patients.’
‘It would seem he is a very generous, man,’ Perys commented.
‘Yes . . . now, would you like a cognac with your coffee? I believe that too is the best money can buy, although I am no expert.’
The cognac was as excellent as Grace had promised. It led to a second . . . and then to a third.
Perys was not used to drinking the quantity he had consumed that evening and he was feeling quite heady. When he eventually rose to his feet, he said, ‘It’s very late, Grace. I had better leave you to get some sleep now.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Grace too seemed somewhat unsteady on her feet. ‘It has been an absolutely wonderful evening, Perys. All I could have wished for.’
‘I’m glad, that’s just the way I feel about it.’ He kissed her. Then he kissed her again . . . and again.
He was holding her very close to him when she spoke his name in little more than a whisper.
‘Perys?’
‘Yes?’
‘You don’t have to go . . . not if you would like to stay.’
‘There can only be one answer to that, Grace, but . . . are you certain it’s what you want? We’ve both had a great deal to drink - you might wake in the morning and hate me.’
Her head was against his shoulder and she shook it vigorously. ‘No, Perys, I won’t do that. I could never feel like that about you. Never, working in the field hospital I see men come in every day who have had their lives cut short before they have known a moment of real love or fulfilment. Others never will, even though they survive - well, a survival of sorts. It has changed the way I was brought up to think, Perys. Some things are no longer important. Others much more so. I believe everyone deserves to experience true happiness at least once in their lifetime. I have come to realise it is something to be seized upon if the opportunity arises. A memory, at least, is something that can never be taken away. Do you understand what I am trying to say, Perys?’
‘Yes, Grace. Yes, I do.’
He knew exactly how she felt. He had often entertained similar thoughts when a pilot or observer, fresh from training school and not long out of college, failed to return from an operational mission. It was something he needed to hide in the everyday life of the squadron, the feeling that he had witnessed a sadly wasted life before it had even begun to know the meaning of life, love and fulfilment.
‘The only thing I wish now is that we could go out and find someone to marry us –‘
His words were cut short when her finger pressed against his lips for the second time that evening. ‘That doesn’t really matter, Perys. I love you - and I think you love me too. That's what matters. That’s all that matters.’
* * *
When Grace woke the next morning, with Perys beside her, he was leaning on one elbow, looking down at her. She had the feeling he had been doing so for a long time.
‘What is it? Is there something - ?’
He kissed her, cutting off the unfinished question. When he drew away, he said, ‘I love you, Grace.’
‘In view of what we’ve been doing I am both happy . . . and relieved!’ Smiling up at him, she stretched contentedly. ‘Is this how everyone feels after doing that?’
‘I wouldn’t know about everyone, but I know how I feel.’
‘How do you feel, Perys?’
‘I feel . . . so hungry I could eat a horse.’
‘Perys Tremayne! You are hopelessly unromantic!’
‘Am I? Is that what you really think?’
He felt obliged to prove to Grace that she was mistaken . . .
* * *
The days - and the nights - passed all too quickly, as happy times are wont to do, but they were idyllic hours for both Grace and Perys.
For possibly the first time in his life, Perys knew what it was to be fulfilled and unreservedly happy. He and Grace enjoyed walking in Paris together, savouring everything that the great city had to offer. But the times that were most precious and which gave them the happiest memories were the hours they spent together in the flat.
Regrettably, all too soon it was time for each of them to take their memories in different directions.
During the dark hours of their last night together, passionate love-making gave way to tears and the abject misery that heralded imminent parting.
Not until the grey light of a Paris dawn drove away the darkness did the lovers put their nakedness behind them and don uniforms that carried with them the responsibilities of their respective callings.
Perys accompanied Grace to the crowded railway station. There they were obliged to keep their longing for each other confined to an occasional meaningful glance and a seemingly casual touching of hands.
Their moment of parting too needed to be restricted to a brief kiss and a quick, painful hug. Once the train pulled away from the platform, they were no longer lovers. They were Lieutenant Perys Tremayne, pilot in the Royal Flying Corps, and Sister Grace Ballard of the Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service.
Chapter 51
The difficulties experienced by the armies on the Western Front during the final months of 1915 continued well into the following year. The wet and cold and mud, at times knee-deep, were ever-present discomforts experienced by the soldiers of both sides.
The more practical Germans coped better with front-line conditions than their British counterparts, but both sides found themselves fighting a natural enemy that was both persistent and unrelenting.
The pilots of the Royal Flying Corps maintained their presence in the air but, in the absence of a sustained offensive by either side, their operations lacked the urgency of earlier months. As a result, Perys and Grace were able to snatch one more weekend together in the Paris flat.
Then Grace was sent on a temporal attachment to a hospital for British soldiers in the small French coastal town of Wimereux.
By April 1916 the weather was improving and talk of a new offensive was in the air. Major Kemp sent for Perys and told him he had a special assignment for him.
‘It seems the French have come up with a single-seater aeroplane - a new Spad that has excited someone at headquarters. It’s a scout - a fighter - which uses the same synchronise method of firing through the propeller as the Fokker. If it proves to be as good as headquarters believe then it could be exactly what we are looking for and is likely to be produced in England. We could certainly do with something to turn the tide in our favour.’
‘It sounds almost too good to be true,’ Perys agreed, ‘but where do I come into the picture?’
Major Kemp grinned. ‘Not only do you have friends in high places, but you seem to have impressed some of our own people too. It has been suggested that you are the right man to put the Spad through its paces here, then take it to England and show senior officers and government officials its capabilities as a fighting plane.’
‘You mean I am to be taken off active service duties?’ After waiting out the frustrating winter months, Perys was not happy at the thought of being sent away from the front-line squadron at the very time it would be in most need of an experienced pilot.
‘It will not be a permanent arrangement, Perys. If I thought it was likely to be I would object very strongly. But if this Spad fits the bill, we could soon have squadrons of aircraft in the front-line that will put an end to the Fokker scourge we are suffering right now. They might even allow you to bring the Spad back with you - if you feel it’s worthwhile.’
Perys’s reluctance to leave the front-line squadron
was tempered by the thought of putting a new and exciting aeroplane through its paces.
‘When would I need to go - and where?’
‘The factory producing the Spad is just outside Paris. Travel there over the weekend and you can begin familiarising yourself with the aeroplane on Monday. Once you feel comfortable handling the machine you’ll fly it to the Central Flying School at Upavon. The timing is entirely in your hands - but you’re to go nowhere near the front-line and the aeroplane is to be kept under guard at all times. Looking serious, Thomas Kemp added, ‘This is an important assignment, Perys. Certainly not one I would entrust with just anyone. The Spad is still on the secret list. If we can keep it that way it could play an important part in defeating the Germans in the air.’
Perys was aware of Thomas Kemp’s strong views on the importance of fighter planes - ‘scouts’ - and the role they should play in the war. At the moment it was War Office policy to allocate one or two of the ‘scouts’ to each squadron. Kemp felt this to be an ineffective way of dealing with the ‘Fokker scourge’ and Perys agreed with him. It was the squadron commander’s firm belief that the RFC needed an aircraft capable of matching the German fighter planes. When they had one, he believed special squadrons should be formed with the sole purpose of fighting and defeating German aeroplanes.
He stated these views forcibly whenever an opportunity arose, and he felt that senior officers in the Royal Flying Corps were beginning to recognise he was right. All they lacked was an aircraft capable of proving his theories.
Perys liked and respected Thomas Kemp and realised the squadron commander had put a great deal of trust in him by sending him on this assignment.
When he reached Paris, Perys tried to contact Grace, to tell her he would be in the vicinity for a few days. He put through a telephone call to the Wimereux hospital, only to be told she had left a few days before. What was more, no one was prepared to disclose her present whereabouts.
Perys found this particularly disconcerting. He knew from past experience that the withholding of such information usually meant she had been sent to a field hospital in an area where there would soon be a battle in which many casualties could be expected.
Once again Perys felt he was leaving the squadron at a time when his experience was most needed, but he had a task to perform, and fascination with the new French aircraft soon pushed all other considerations to the back of his mind.
He spent a somewhat frustrating day learning details of the aeroplane. Poring over a great deal of technical data written in French required laborious translation. It was irritating because he could see that the Spad was indeed a fine aircraft and he was impatient to test its capabilities for himself.
When it seemed a second day might be spent in a similar manner, Perys suddenly pushed all the paperwork away from him and announced that he was ready to fly the new aircraft.
It caused a great deal of consternation. As all the French officers present were considerably senior to himself, Perys expected to encounter strong opposition. Instead, one after another, the officers shrugged or made gestures that indicated that if this was what the English pilot wanted then, so be it!
Settled in the Spad’s cockpit, Perys felt excitement from the moment the aeroplane’s powerful engine roared into life. It seemed to take to the air much more quickly than the BE2cs he was used to, and when he had climbed to sufficient height, he began performing aerobatics, each more demanding on the Spad.
The French constructors had set out a target for him on the ground, and swooping lower Perys pulled the trigger of the gun with some trepidation. Firing through a fast-moving propeller was a new and somewhat fearful experience for him. He was only too aware that the slightest error in the synchronisation would result in the propeller being shot to pieces. Such an accident would inevitably result in the end of the aeroplane - and its pilot!
The juddering of the plane when the gun was fired was at first disconcerting. It was also exhilarating. Perys’s shooting was not particularly accurate, but this was partly due to the fact that he could not point the aeroplane directly at a target on the ground and maintain his course for long. In the air, in pursuit of an enemy aeroplane, it would be a very different story.
Back on the ground, Perys’s praise for the aeroplane was matched by the congratulations of the French officers and the aircraft’s manufacturers for his display of aerobatics. He decided he would write to Major Kemp that evening telling him of the Spad’s capabilities and his belief that with this aircraft he would be willing to take on either Immelmann or von Richthofen, two of the top German fliers.
Tomorrow he would take the Spad to the Central Flying School in England and try to persuade the War Office that this was an aeroplane the Royal Flying Corps must have.
Chapter 52
When Perys reached the Central Flying School, he was told that it would be at least a week before senior officers and government officials could be gathered together to assess the capabilities of the Spad. It was suggested that, in the meantime, he should take some leave.
When he put in a telephone call to Aunt Maude, her delight at hearing from him was perfectly genuine.
‘You must come and stay in Knightsbridge, Perys,’ she said. ‘It will be a pleasure to have you here. I will make certain the handyman has your motor-cycle ready for you when you need to use it.’
Perys had left the machine in a shed in Maude’s garden. Her handyman was a motor-cycle enthusiast. Although he could not afford to own one himself, he was quite happy to spend a great deal of his own time ensuring Perys’s machine was maintained in perfect working order.
Perys travelled to London by train, arriving at Maude’s home that evening. The door was opened to him by Maude herself and, much to his surprise, Morwenna. After being greeted warmly by both women, Perys said to Morwenna, ‘This is a very pleasant surprise. I thought you were in France.’
‘And so I was,’ she replied, ‘but I arrived in London today on a hospital train.’ In a deliberately casual manner, she added, ‘Grace was on the train, too.’
Perys’s reaction was all that Grace herself would have wished. ‘Grace was with you? I feared she had been sent to a front-line hospital, where is she now? In London?’
Morwenna shook her head. ‘She was, but her father has taken her home to Oxfordshire.’
Perys’s deep disappointment was so apparent that Morwenna felt obliged to put him out of his misery immediately.
‘When I arrived home and learned you were coming to stay, I telephoned Grace and told her. She insisted that you call her the moment you arrived.’
Perys looked pleadingly at Maude and she smiled. ‘Speak to her right away, Perys. The number is on a pad beside the telephone. Make the call now, while I am having something cooked for you. By the way, Arabella sends her apologies for not being here to greet you. The parents of her young doctor friend are in London. They have taken Arabella and Ian out to dinner.’
Perys mumbled acknowledgement of the news, then hurried away to make the telephone call to Grace.
In Asthall, Grace had been on tenterhooks waiting for his call, seldom straying more than a few paces away from the telephone. When it finally rang, she snatched up the earpiece and gabbled out the telephone number.
‘Grace! Is that you?’
‘Yes, Perys. How are you? What are you doing in England?’
‘I’m fine, Grace. I’ve brought a new aeroplane over here from France and don’t have to be back at the Central Flying School until Monday. How about you?’
‘I need to report back on Sunday . . . but my father would like you to come to Asthall to stay with us until then. Can you come . . . please?’
‘I’m sure Aunt Maude would welcome the opportunity to have Morwenna to herself for a few days. Yes, I’d love to spend some time with you. I know it won’t be the same as Paris . . . but when would you like me to come?’
‘Can you come tomorrow, Perys? I miss you terribly. For both of us to be in England ye
t not to be together seems such a dreadful waste of time.’
‘I couldn’t agree more - but what about your parents? They see so very little of you these days they will want to have you with them as much as is possible.’
‘They will have me to themselves ' for twenty-four hours, by which time they will be thoroughly bored because I spend so much time telling them about you. By coming here you will be doing them a favour. Please say you will.’
‘I don’t really need to be persuaded to be with you, Grace. I will be there tomorrow, probably late afternoon, or very early evening.’
Grace’s joy must have been evident to her parents because Perys heard her father’s voice in the background. ‘I gather Perys is coming to Asthall . . . !’
They spoke for only a few minutes more before Perys ended the telephone call in order to tell Aunt Maude of his plans.
* * *
The Ballard home was an impressive house of soft, yellow-grey stone on the fringe of the Cotswold hills. It was also only a short distance from Burford, where Perys had spent the last years of his schooling.
Proximity was the only thing the two places had in common. The early years at Burford had been very unhappy ones for him. When he arrived in Asthall, on the other hand, Grace made it abundantly clear that Perys was the most important person in her life.
Her parents too gave him the warmest of welcomes and Perys was made to feel immediately at home.
Later that evening, at dusk, Grace and Perys decided they would take a walk to the river. Her parents told the young couple they would not wait up for their return.
In their bedroom, as they undressed, Sir Giles asked his wife what she thought of Perys. Puzzled when she did not reply immediately, he repeated the question.
‘I am not quite certain how to reply to that, Giles.’ she said, eventually. ‘He is a very likeable young man - very likeable indeed. Were we living in normal times I would be delighted to welcome him into the family.’
Sir Giles paused in the act of unfastening a cuff-link. ‘In normal times? What has that to do with his suitability as a son-in-law? Perys is already a brevet-captain and decorated for bravery at an age when most young officers would feel they had taken an important step on the promotion ladder were they detailed to walk their commanding officer’s dog! Perys is a hero. He will probably finish this war with a rank he could never even dream of in peacetime.’
The Lost Years Page 26
