A Song At Twilight

by Lilian Harry

  ‘I suppose so.’ Andrew stared moodily out of the window. Across the road, the watchtower was already busy and beyond that he could see the bays where the planes were drawn up ready – Spitfires and Typhoons which had been flying the day before and taken over by the mechanics for maintenance during the night. Past the buildings and the hangars he could see the distant shapes of the Dartmoor hills – the rugged, escarpment of Sheepstor only a mile or two away, with the RAF transmitter on Sharpitor, and the smoother uplands of Cox Tor and Pork Hill further off. He thought of Alison’s plans to go cycling and walking in the hills, plans which they’d not been able to fulfil. Maybe this summer. Or maybe next. The four of them, he thought. He with Hughie on the back of his bicycle, Alison with the new baby on hers. It would be old enough by then to use one of those little seats …

  ‘Phone for you, Andy.’ Robin’s voice broke in upon his thoughts and he jerked round and hurried to the telephone in the corner.

  ‘I never even heard it ring!’ He grabbed the receiver and held it to his ear. ‘Yes? Knight here – what is it? Is that the maternity home?’

  ‘It’s Matron here, Squadron Leader,’ the calm voice said. ‘I just thought you’d like to know that your wife has started her labour. She’s been having slight contractions all night—’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that just now! Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘They were too slight to be concerned about. It could have been just a false alarm. However, she’s been examined now, and she’s begun to dilate so—’

  Andrew had no idea what this meant. He interrupted impatiently. ‘How long will it be?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. Nothing seems to be happening very quickly as yet, but you can never tell. You’d better ring again at six, as usual.’

  ‘At six? That’s over four hours!’

  ‘It’s unlikely that anything will have happened before then. Please don’t worry, Squadron Leader. Your wife is in very good hands and everything is progressing smoothly. We’ll take great care of her.’

  ‘I know. Thank you. I’ll ring again at six, then.’ He replaced the receiver and turned to face the others, who were all watching him expectantly. ‘She’s started, but they still seem to think it’s going to take quite a while. God, I wish I could be with her!’

  ‘You don’t really,’ Robin said. ‘I know someone who saw his baby being born – it all happened very quickly and he had to deliver it himself. He said it was horrific.’ He caught sight of Andrew’s face and stopped abruptly. ‘Anyway, I expect he was just laying it on a bit thick,’ he mumbled. ‘I don’t suppose it’s anything like as bad.’

  Andrew gave him a withering look and returned to his position at the window. He stared out, trying to imagine what was happening to Alison at this moment. Oh God, he prayed, don’t let it be too bad for her. Let it be over soon. Please, please let everything be all right …

  ‘Scramble!’

  The voice on the tannoy had barely completed the word before every pilot was on his feet and racing for the door. Most were wearing much of their flying gear already and the rest was being pulled on as they ran across the grass and tarmac towards the waiting planes. The mechanics were ready to help them get strapped into their seats, turn the propellers and whisk away the chocks, and within less than a minute the whole squadron was airborne and setting off for the coast.

  In the tumult, Andrew almost forgot his wife, even now giving birth to their baby. He had no time to think; his brain had switched immediately into action, shutting out all other matters. But as he rose into the sky and steadied his aircraft, she slipped into his mind again and he cursed. He hadn’t even had time to telephone.

  Stefan too was thinking of Alison. He had been aware for some time that he was falling in love with her. He’d kept his feelings firmly locked away in his heart, knowing that she could never be any more than a friend, but as they’d exchanged tokens on that last day, he had seen in her eyes a deeper feeling than friendship, and had felt the sudden tension between them; and he’d known then that, whether she realised it or not, Alison was at least a little in love with him as well.

  The knowledge had both shocked and delighted him. He was delighted because it was so long since he had felt that anyone loved him, and although he had had plenty of brief romances since he’d been in England, he’d never felt seriously in love with any girl. And he was shocked because he’d never had any intention of coming between Alison and her husband. He’d believed he could keep his love to himself. Now, he knew she was aware of it too – or, if she wasn’t, she very soon might be.

  I won’t be able to see her again, he’d thought, the delight giving way to desolation. Not alone, anyway. I shall have to be very, very careful …

  Suddenly, he realised that his aircraft wasn’t lifting as it should. Almost at the end of the runway, it was still only half off the ground – and he was heading straight for the lump of craggy rock that marked the perimeter. Jerked back from his drifting thoughts, he fought to bring up the nose, let out a sharp breath of relief as it began to come up, then gasped as it dropped again. He screamed a curse as the plane teetered in the air, one wing dipping sideways. Even now, if he could just clear the rock – yes, he was almost there – he could do it. They were up … and then the tip of the propeller just shaved along the roughened edge. The plane tipped sideways, swung violently round, and dug its way into the ground.

  Stefan looked up from his crazy position in the cockpit and saw the rest of the squadron passing overhead. He swore again in his native Polish and then passed out.

  ‘Bear down,’ the midwife said. ‘You’ve got to help yourself here, Mrs Knight. Here – hold on to this towel.’ She twisted a hand towel into a rope and fastened it to the iron bedhead. ‘Now, pull on that and bear down hard.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Alison moaned. ‘I can’t do it any more. Can’t I have a rest?’

  ‘Only if Baby says so, I’m afraid.’ The nurse looked round as the door opened and Matron popped her head in. ‘It’s going very slow, ma’am. The pains are still five minutes apart, but they’re so strong. She’s getting proper worn out.’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do about it.’ Matron came in and looked down at the sweating figure on the bed. She laid one hand on the swollen abdomen. ‘Listen to me, Mrs Knight. Your baby will come in its own time and not before. There’s no use fighting this, you just have to let yourself go with it. Try to relax …’

  ‘I can’t relax!’

  ‘… and just bear down as the pain asks you to do. That’s what it is, you see – it’s the only way your body has of telling you what to do. Bearing down will make you feel more comfortable, and each time you do it your baby will be a little closer to being born.’

  ‘It hurts!’ Alison screamed.

  ‘I know, but it’s Nature’s way. It will all be over soon and you’ll have a lovely baby.’

  ‘I don’t want a baby! I just want this to stop!’

  Matron nodded. She’d heard it all before, and she knew that once the baby was born Alison would forget – or deny – that she’d ever said such things. ‘It will all be over soon,’ she said, patting Alison’s hand, and then turned her head sharply as they heard a commotion outside.

  ‘Whatever’s going on? Stay here, Nurse. I’ll be back as soon as possible.’ The older woman hurried out, closing the door behind her, and Alison began to groan again as a fresh wave of pain crept up her body and tightened its hold, like an iron band, about her stomach.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she panted as the wave receded. ‘I can hear a man’s voice – is it Andrew?’

  ‘Are you expecting him to come?’

  ‘I want him to come. Is he here? Let him come, please. I want him!’

  ‘No!’ the midwife exclaimed, shocked. ‘Of course he can’t come in here. In any case, I don’t think he’s here. Now, you stop worrying about your husband, Mrs Knight, and think about yourself and your baby. It’ll be here soon.’ The sound of voices
outside grew louder and she glanced over her shoulder a little anxiously. It certainly didn’t sound like the usual subdued murmur of visiting time, yet why else would a man – several men, by the sound of it – be here? Apart from husbands and workmen like plumbers or handymen, the only male visitors were the local doctors. These voices didn’t sound like any of those.

  Matron came in again. Her lips were folded with disapproval. She looked down at Alison, who was tensing her body as the contraction began again.

  ‘Do you happen to know a Polish pilot?’ she enquired rather frostily. ‘I believe his name is Dabrowski.’

  ‘Why, that’s Stefan!’ Alison screwed up her face as the pain swelled around her. ‘Stefan!’ she screamed. ‘Stefan!’

  ‘Mrs Knight – please!’ The appalled midwife turned to Matron, who drew herself up with displeasure. ‘Please, you really mustn’t call out like that. Why, he might hear you.’

  ‘I want him to hear me,’ Alison sobbed, her body sagging again. ‘I want him to hear me, I want to see him. I want somebody with me.’

  ‘We’re with you.’

  ‘I want someone I love,’ she cried. ‘I want someone who loves me!’

  Matron took a breath and spoke in a stern voice. ‘Mrs Knight, be quiet at once. You don’t know what you’re saying. Now, forget about what’s going on outside, or who’s there, and concentrate on why you’re here. You’re having a baby. That’s all that matters. Stop behaving like a silly girl and calm down. The pains are there for you to work with. Stop fighting them. The sooner you do that, the sooner your baby will be born, but if you carry on like this you may even harm it. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Matron,’ Alison whispered.

  ‘I should think so, too. Now, I’ll go and sort out whatever’s happening outside while you and Mrs Phelps here get on with your work. And when I come back, I shall expect to find that this baby is very close to being born, and there’ll have been no more of this silly behaviour. The idea!’ she said to herself as she left the room. ‘The very idea!’

  Stefan had been taken to another room. He was lying back on a narrow hospital bed when Matron came in and gave him an icy look. He summoned up his most charming smile.

  ‘Madam, I have to give you my thanks for taking me in. My plane crashed …’

  ‘So I understand,’ she said. ‘What I don’t understand is why you were brought here. Surely there’s a hospital on the airfield?’

  ‘There is. I do not know why I was brought here.’ He tried the smile again. ‘They didn’t ask me, you see. I was not conscious.’

  She stepped forward and laid a professional hand on his brow. ‘Well, you seem to be now. But I suppose we’d better keep you for a while, to make sure there’s no concussion, at least until one of your own doctors can come and attend to you. It’s most irregular, however. This is a maternity home, not a casualty clearing station.’

  ‘I know. I’m very sorry.’ The smile was even more winning. ‘However, I promise not to have a baby to cause you more nuisance.’

  ‘Really!’ she exclaimed, but he saw her lips quiver very slightly, as if the ice had begun to thaw a little. ‘You will not be permitted to be a nuisance,’ she went on firmly. ‘A nurse will come along to examine you and attend to your injuries, which seem to be very slight, and you’ll then stay in this room until a doctor can come. Please don’t detain my nurses longer than you have to.’ Her look told him that she knew all about Polish pilots and their ways with nurses. ‘As I’ve already explained, this is a maternity home and we have a patient in labour at this very moment.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘And I believe she is a friend of mine. Mrs Knight, not so?’

  Matron’s disapproving frown returned. ‘It is Mrs Knight, as it happens,’ she said coldly, ‘but that’s none of your business. Your job is to recover from whatever injuries you sustained when you crashed your plane,’ the tone of her voice left him in no doubt as to her opinion of his flying capabilities, ‘and return to the airfield. Obviously we’ll do our best to see that that’s as soon as possible. Now,’ as they heard a cry from the room nearby, ‘I must get back to my real patients. Excuse me, Mr Dabrowski.’

  She turned and swept out of the room with a rustle of starched uniform, and Stefan lay back on the bed. In truth, he felt much more shaken than he had allowed her to see. The crash had hurt his pride more than his body; although his head throbbed and he felt bruised and sore all over, he knew there were no serious injuries and his most urgent desire was to get back to the airfield and take up another plane. He was furious with himself for the accident and knew that it would mean a carpeting from the Station Commander, but he knew also that he was too good a pilot to be grounded, and with the Invasion imminent they would need every man they could get.

  There was no use in letting his impatience get the better of him, however. No Service doctor would leave the station until all the aircraft were back – not for a pilot who had nothing much wrong with him – and however desperate the need, there would be no flying for him until he had had that carpeting and another plane was made available. Meanwhile, here he was, ludicrously put to bed in a maternity home, and with Alison herself giving birth to her baby only a few yards away. What Andrew would have given to be in my place, he thought wryly.

  The door opened and a young nurse came in. She looked no more than eighteen or nineteen, with a small, freckled face and ginger curls escaping from her cap. She was already blushing as she came through the door, and when Stefan smiled at her the blush turned a fiery red.

  ‘Have you come to examine me?’ he enquired.

  ‘Matron told me to make sure you had no serious injuries and to attend to those you had.’ Timidly, she came closer to the bed, stopped just beyond arm’s reach, and looked at his face. ‘Can you tell me where it hurts?’

  ‘All over,’ he said seriously. ‘I think both my legs may be broken. Do you wish to see?’ He began to push down the bedclothes.

  ‘I’ll look at your head first. Matron said there may be some concussion. She didn’t say anything about broken legs.’ Warily, she came close enough to touch him and he obediently bent his head so that she could part his hair with her fingers. ‘You’ve got some lumps but there doesn’t seem to be any bleeding. Is it tender?’

  ‘Only a little, but then you have such a gentle touch.’ He turned his face up towards hers. They were very close now and he saw the panic in her eyes. ‘Don’t be afraid, little nurse, I’m not going to hurt you. Have you not dealt with men before?’

  ‘I’m training to be a midwife,’ she said primly, stepping back.

  ‘Still, some of the babies you deliver must be boys.’

  ‘Of course they are.’

  ‘Well, they will be men one day. We were all babies once, you know.’ He saw the bemused look on her face. ‘It’s all right, little nurse. Perhaps I am concussed, after all. Are you going to look at my other injuries?’

  ‘You haven’t really broken your legs, have you?’ she asked doubtfully, and he laughed and shook his head.

  ‘No, I’m not badly injured at all. Just bruised and scratched. I was very lucky. A few cuts here and there – perhaps you should wash and dress those – but nothing more. I promise to behave.’ His eyes danced and she began to relax and smile tentatively back at him. ‘And then I may have a little favour to ask of you.’

  ‘A favour?’ She was cautious again. ‘What is it?’

  ‘That I will tell you when you have finished. By then, I hope we will be friends. Don’t look so concerned, little nurse. Now, shall I be quiet while you dress these terrible wounds of mine?’

  ‘I think you’d better.’ She clearly didn’t know quite what to make of him and although he enjoyed teasing her he was reminded sharply of his sister Krystyna, who had been just as shy and timorous before her marriage. He sighed, wondering how she was now and whether her Jewish husband were still alive. Whether even Krystyna herself were still alive …

  ‘You’re looking sad,’
the nurse said quietly as she bathed the cuts on his arms and shoulders. Most of the damage seemed to have come from the cockpit as it shattered around him, and from jagged edges catching his skin as he was dragged out of the wrecked plane. As Matron had said, though, it was largely superficial and he would soon be taken back to the airfield.

  ‘I was thinking of my family in Poland,’ he said. ‘You remind me of my sister.’

  ‘Oh.’ She stopped her work and looked at him. ‘I’m sorry. Do – do you ever hear from them?’

  ‘Not since the war began and I left my country. I often wonder …’ He left the words unsaid. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad as well.’

  ‘Everyone has something to be sad about these days,’ she murmured.

  ‘Even you?’

  ‘I’ve lost an uncle and a sister,’ she said. ‘My uncle was a soldier. He was killed at Dunkirk. My sister was a Wren and a bomb hit the barracks where she was stationed. There were nearly twenty of them killed that night.’

  ‘A sister!’ he said. ‘That is dreadful for you. She was older than you?’

  ‘Three years.’ She looked more closely at a gash on his shoulder. ‘This is going to need stitches. I’ll tell Matron.’

  ‘One moment.’ He lifted his hand to stop her and she paused. ‘May I ask my favour now?’

  The girl hesitated. She had relaxed during their conversation, but now her wariness returned. ‘What is it?’

  ‘The woman in labour now – Mrs Knight. She’s a friend. Her husband is my Squadron Leader. He hasn’t been able to see her since she came in – all leave’s been stopped and we’re on duty day and night.’ He leaned up on one elbow, anxious to persuade her. ‘If I could just see her for a few minutes, so that I can tell him when I go back to the airfield.’

  ‘But she hasn’t been delivered yet! Matron would never allow it.’

  ‘For just a moment,’ he pleaded. ‘And perhaps by the time I leave, her baby will have been born. What objection could there be then?’