A Song At Twilight

by Lilian Harry

  William laid down his work at last and faced Ben gravely.

  ‘You’m wanting to marry our May?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ben said, relieved to have it out in the open.

  ‘And she wants to marry you, is that what you’m saying?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Hadn’t he made that clear?

  ‘Well, I don’t know as there be much I can do about it, then. She’s of age, got the key of the door and all. Free woman.’

  ‘I know, but it seemed only polite – a matter of courtesy,’ Ben babbled, feeling his anxiety return and wondering if he had offended May’s father in some way. ‘It didn’t seem right to just go and buy her a ring and then tell you.’

  William regarded him thoughtfully. Then his face broke into a smile and he held out his hand. Ben took it in his, finding it surprisingly strong, and smiled back. It looked as if it was all right after all.

  ‘Bless my heart, boy, don’t look so worried. ’Tis just my way, to tease you along a bit – but if you wants our May and she wants you, there’s nothing me nor Mrs Prettyjohn’ll do to stand in your way. Though I won’t say as we haven’t had our doubts,’ he added, looking serious again. ‘There’s a lot of differences between you, and you’ll have to work at it, both of you. And you got to remember you’m still only a young chap, for all you’m doing man’s work. Us’d both like to see you wait a bit before you ties the knot proper.’ He saw Ben’s face fall and went on more gently, ‘But there, ’tis strange times and things has to be done different, I know. And like I say, May’s a free woman, can make up her own mind and I dare say her will – always known her own mind, our May has, for all her looks so gentle and biddable. You’ll find that out as time goes by.’ He nodded. ‘Whatever you decides between you, Mother and me will do our best to help. There.’ He shook Ben’s hand firmly. ‘And now, if old Norman’s finished unloading they logs, I’ll get Mother to bring in a drop of Grandpa’s elderberry wine so us can toast your future happiness.’

  Ben started to get up out of his chair, but before he was properly on his feet the kitchen door opened and the two women came in. May was flushed and smiling and Mabel Prettyjohn was carrying the same tin tray, this time bearing four small glasses and a bottle of purple wine. Ben looked at them quizzically and she laughed.

  ‘Us had an idea there might be something in the wind. So you’m going to be our son-in-law, be you?’ She set down the tray and came over to kiss his cheek. ‘And very welcome you’ll be, though mind you, we had a lot of talking to do before us could make up our minds to it, what with May being older than you and you a vicar’s son and everything.’

  She poured the wine and handed it round, and William lifted his glass in the air. ‘To May and Ben. Their future happiness.’

  ‘May and Ben,’ Mabel echoed, and they drank solemnly and then gazed at Ben with expectation. In some horror, he realised that he was meant to reply.

  ‘You’re not expecting a speech, are you?’ he asked in dismay, and they all laughed. ‘Well, I’ve never made a speech in my life, but I’m happy to propose a toast. To you all. To my lovely future wife,’ he smiled at May, who dimpled, blushed and smiled back, ‘and to my future parents-in-law. A finer couple never walked the earth.’ He realised his blunder and flushed scarlet with embarrassment. ‘I mean – oh Lord, I’m sorry. I just mean – well, I’ll be very glad to be your son-in-law,’ he ended, and buried his nose in his glass, wishing the earth would open up and swallow him.

  William and Mabel roared with laughter and May came over and sat down beside him. He put his arm around her and she kissed his cheek. He realised with a sudden lightening of his heart that this was something new – that he could sit with his arm around May, in the presence of her parents, and it would be all right. The anxieties of the past few minutes evaporated and his face split into a smile that seemed to stretch from one ear to the other as he looked around the room.

  ‘We’re engaged!’ he said in wonder. ‘May, we’re engaged!’

  ‘I know,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’

  The back door opened and they heard feet stamping on the floor and then the noise of someone pulling off a pair of boots. A muttering sound ensued, and then old Mr Prettyjohn appeared in the doorway and surveyed them with astonishment.

  ‘What be going on here then?’ he demanded. ‘Drinking and carousing in the middle of the morning? And be that my best elderberry wine, what I was saving for summat special, that you’ve opened up? Celebrating summat, are you?’

  ‘That’s right, Grandpa,’ May said, getting up to kiss his wrinkled cheek. ‘We’re celebrating. We’re celebrating something very, very special.’

  Andrew came home late that afternoon, looking preoccupied. He had tea with Alison and Hughie and then said he had to go back.

  ‘Can’t you even stay to put Hughie to bed?’ she asked in disappointment. ‘We’ve hardly seen you lately.’

  ‘Sorry, darling. You know how things are.’ Everyone was aware now of the closeness of the Invasion. Yelverton was just outside the exclusion zone, but travel into Plymouth or anywhere along the coast was banned and the numbers of Allied soldiers, sailors and airmen were increasing every day. Camps were being set up wherever there was space, and khaki-coloured trucks, lorries and tanks were seen regularly rumbling along the roads and even the narrow lanes. The airfield itself had received several Canadian squadrons, and local pubs like the Leg o’ Mutton and the Rock were filled with men every night. What with them and the Americans who were still at Bickham House, the whole area resounded with transatlantic accents. It was, Alison had thought once or twice, as if they had all been transported to Texas.

  ‘I know,’ she said with a sigh Normally, she tried not to let her feelings show, but her loneliness had increased just lately. She told herself that it was partly because of her pregnancy, but the nights when Andrew was flying seemed colder and more forlorn than ever before. She welcomed the visits of the other pilots – Robin, Ozzie, Ben and the rest – and spent as much time as possible with May, but still it was Andrew’s company that she yearned for most. The only other times when she felt at peace were when Stefan was there, talking to her, telling Hughie stories or sitting at the piano, lost in his own world as his fingers roamed over the keys.

  ‘It’ll be over soon,’ Andrew said. ‘We’re going to win this war, sweetheart, and it can’t be much longer now. Once we’re in France again …’

  ‘There’ll still be a lot of fighting. The Germans won’t give in that easily, Andrew, you know they won’t. Not after all this time. And France is a big country – and then there’s the rest of Europe as well. It won’t be over in five minutes.’

  ‘We’ve got Russia on our side, though,’ he pointed out.

  ‘They’re driving the Germans from behind. If we can just get them in a pincer …’

  ‘It will still take months. Maybe even years.’ Alison shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t talk like this, but I need you too. And with the baby so close as well …’ Her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Oh, darling!’ Andrew dropped on his knees beside her chair. ‘Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. You know I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to. I hate not being here, I hate not being with you at night. I realise how hard it is for you, I do really, but there just isn’t anything I can do about it. Darling, please don’t cry.’ He took her face in his hands and began to kiss the tears away. ‘You’re all salty!’

  Alison laughed a little. ‘Sorry.’ She felt for a hanky and wiped her cheeks and eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to do this, but – sometimes it just gets too much for me. I ought to know by now what it’s like, being an Air Force wife, and, I know it’s not as bad as being married to a soldier or a sailor, but all the same …’

  ‘You’re tired,’ he said tenderly. ‘You’re tired and upset and you’re having a baby. I ought to be with you. It’s just not fair, is it?’

  ‘Nothing’s fair,’ she said dispiritedly.
‘And I feel so selfish, too. I mean, look at Ben with his mother having a breakdown over her other son, and look at Stefan. He doesn’t even know if his family are still alive.’

  ‘I know. He’s told me how helpful you’ve been to him, letting him come here and talk and play the piano. But you mustn’t let it get too much for you.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t. I like seeing him – and all the others, of course. I like the company. But it’s you I want most.’

  ‘You still see plenty of May, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘It’s all very well, all these rough pilots making themselves at home here, but it’s a woman’s company you need most.’

  ‘May comes in nearly every day. She stays longer a couple of mornings and does the housework, but she usually drops in on the other days as well. She’s a really good friend.’

  ‘I wish your mother could come over again,’ he said, ‘but with all these travel restrictions … And she’s so busy with all the war work she does.’

  Alison drew herself up a little and gave him a slightly wavering smile of reassurance. ‘Don’t worry, Andrew. I’m all right, really. I just let it get on top of me a bit. I get lots of company really, don’t I. I was just feeling sorry for myself. Don’t take any notice.’

  He smiled and kissed her. ‘That’s my girl. And you’ve got your bed booked in the maternity home, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, weeks ago.’ Alison had decided against a home birth. Since it was so unlikely that either Andrew or her mother would be there, it had seemed best to go to the local maternity home in Horrabridge, two or three miles away. ‘May’s going to sleep in when it gets near the time and she’ll ring the local taxi to take me in, and then take Hughie home with her to stay while I’m there. That’s the worst part – I’ll have to be in for a fortnight. I hope he’ll be all right.’

  ‘Of course he will. He loves being with the Prettyjohns, and I’ll be around too. You’re not to worry about that.’ He kissed her again and then got to his feet. ‘I really do have to be going now. I hate leaving you like this.’

  ‘I’m all right.’ She put up her hands and he took them in his to help her up. They stood for a moment with their arms around each other. ‘Don’t worry, darling. I was just being silly,’ she whispered. ‘Come in as soon as you can, won’t you, to let me know you’re home safely.’

  ‘I will,’ he promised. He held her for a moment longer, then let her go. She followed him to the door and watched him settle his cap on his head before stepping outside. He turned at the gate and gave her a wave, then strode away.

  Alison stood there until he was out of sight. The evening was bright with the cool, clear light of late April. She thought of the mission he was on tonight – a flight over France again, probably, escorting the bombers which would rain death and destruction on the factories and railways below. She had a sudden chill of premonition.

  Andrew always said he had ‘had his crash’. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again. Neither he nor his squadron could go on living charmed lives for ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  All that night, the area around Yelverton resounded to the roar of aircraft. It was as if every squadron on the place was taking off. Probably they were, Alison thought as she lay in bed listening, still with the cold fingers of dread closing like a fist around her heart.

  She tried to shift her bulk into an easier position. The baby seemed like a leaden weight inside her, with sudden bursts of furious activity when she most longed to rest. How many more weeks was it? Five? Six? If only I could know the exact date, she thought, it would help. But nobody seemed able to tell her that.

  After a while, she fell into an uneasy sleep and dreamed she was walking in a jungle, an endless struggle through twining tendrils of thick green stems that twisted themselves about her and caught at her legs and feet. Somewhere nearby, she could hear lions growl and she tried to run, but the plants clung more tightly about her, bringing her sprawling at full length on the forest floor. Immediately she clutched at her stomach, afraid for her baby, and the lions snarled closer, their noise filling her ears until she woke in panic, finding herself bathed in sweat and the roar of aircraft sounding overhead.

  It was just beginning to get light. Alison’s mouth was dry and she struggled out of bed and felt for her slippers and Andrew’s old camel-hair dressing-gown. She stumbled downstairs, still only half awake, and put the kettle on to make a cup of tea. The noise of the aircraft was diminishing and she wondered if they were all safely back home. She remembered her premonition of the evening before, and her dread returned as she stared anxiously out of the window. It’s as if I know something bad’s happened, she thought. I shan’t be happy until I know he’s back.

  She took the tea back to bed with her, looking in on Hughie on the way. He was huddled down beneath his blankets, his thumb in his mouth, and she gently removed it. He grunted an objection and a tiny frown creased his brow as he pushed it back in. Alison smiled and left it there. Her mother disapproved of his thumb-sucking and had recommended a dummy, which she could remove when she decided he was too old for it. However, Alison had never liked seeing children with dummies in their mouths. Thumbs were natural, she said.

  Back in bed, she piled the pillows behind her and leaned against them. Daylight was creeping in through the opened curtains and she could hear the birds singing. It was funny, she mused, how they always sang most at twilight – either at dawn or at sunset, when the darkness and the daylight blended into a soft blue-grey. At this time of year, the dawn chorus was just beginning, and in a few weeks it would be at its peak. In a few weeks, when her baby would be born.

  Just then, she heard footsteps outside, in the quiet street. There was the click of the gate, then they came up the path.

  Alison was out of bed at once. Forgetting her awkwardness, she thrust her feet back into the slippers and dragged the old dressing-gown around her once more. She was still struggling to tie the belt when she half tumbled down the stairs and saw the front door beginning to open.

  ‘Andrew!’

  Almost fainting with relief, she sagged against the wall and he leaped forwards and caught her just as she began to fall.

  ‘Alison! What’s the matter? Are you all right? It’s not the baby, is it?’

  ‘No,’ she cried, clutching at his arms. ‘No, it’s nothing. It’s not me at all – it’s you. What are you doing here so early? When I heard someone walking down the road, I thought they were coming to tell me that something terrible had happened to you!’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, holding her. ‘It’s all right, darling, nothing’s happened to me. Come back upstairs and I’ll make you some tea.’

  ‘I’ve already made some. There’s some in the pot, if you want a cup. But what are you doing here so soon? I heard the planes go over.’

  She made to go towards the kitchen but he guided her firmly to the stairs and put his hand in the small of her back to urge her upwards. Bemused, she let him persuade her and then, when she was back in bed with the pillows piled behind her again, she looked at him more steadily and said, ‘Something has happened, hasn’t it? Something bad. That’s why you’ve come straight home.’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ he replied, and sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hands. ‘It’s something I knew you’d want to know straight away. And it’s something I think we’re going to need your help with.’ He took a deep breath while Alison waited, her eyes fixed on his face, and then he said quietly, ‘It’s Ben. He didn’t come back. We lost him on our way home.’ He paused again and then said bleakly, ‘We think he went down into the Channel.’

  They went together to tell May. The air was loud with birdsong as they opened the cottage gate, but it seemed to Alison that there was a sadness in that song, a poignant quality like fragile glass just about to shatter. The colours of the garden seemed extra bright and the tin-mining chimneys away across the valley as sharp as pins.

  May opened the door. She was dressed in her blue frock
with the white polka-dots and puffed sleeves, and her face was eager and excited. Behind her, Alison could hear the chatter and laughter of the rest of the family. She glanced at Andrew, wondering how he would break the news, but before either of them could speak May had caught their hands and dragged them inside.

  ‘Listen to this!’ she exclaimed, her face alight with merriment. ‘Dick White just called in and told us about it. You know the searchlight, over in the fields? Well, they’ve always got a sentry there, haven’t ’em, and last night it seems he heard footsteps coming along the road as if someone was going to climb over the stile. So he said, “Halt! Who goes there?” just like he’s supposed to do. But nobody answered.’

  ‘May,’ Alison began, but William had taken up the comic tale.

  ‘Orders are that they have to challenge three times and if they still don’t get no answer, they shoot,’ he said. He looked so much better since he’d been living downstairs, Alison thought helplessly, but how was he going to look in a few minutes’ time? She tried again to interrupt, but there was no stopping any of them. Grandpa was in his chair, wheezing with laughter, and Mabel herself was red in the face. William went on, ‘So he did that, see, he asked three times, and whoever it was said never a word but just kept on coming. So he fired!’

  He stopped, evidently expecting someone to ask what happened next. As Alison and Andrew stared mutely at him, he supplied the answer himself.

  ‘And who do you think it were? Why, ’tweren’t no one at all! And ’tweren’t no ghost, neither.’ He stopped again, fresh hilarity overtaking him, and when he finally managed to get the words out, the whole family erupted once more. Alison almost expected them to blow the roof off the cottage with their mirth. ‘It was Dick Hamley’s old mare! Escaped from up Place Barton, her had, and gone wandering along the road, looking for some grass to eat.’