The Rainbow Years

by Bradshaw, Rita

  He knew from the way her voice had changed that this must be the woman Bruce had spoken of. ‘I’m sorry about your friend,’ he said softly. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘I don’t think I can.’ Her voice wobbled a little and she kept her head down.

  He had an overpowering urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. Not make love to her, not even kiss her, just comfort her. But she’d made it plain on a number of occasions she considered him the camp Don Juan, and he couldn’t deny he’d sown his fair share of wild oats here. She would likely tell him it was the oldest line in the book if he said she was different, but it would be the truth. He thrust his hands deeper into his pockets. ‘The shrinks would say it’s best to talk but personally I can’t say I agree with them. Not for some people anyway. I lost two brothers in the Battle of Britain and I had to deal with that by myself.’

  ‘Were you close?’

  He did not immediately reply; his eyes narrowed and he flexed his shoulders before he said, ‘They were younger than me by four and six years, but yes, we were close. Being the older brother I suppose you could say they hero-worshipped me to some extent, and because I was in the RAF when the war started they wanted to be fighter pilots too. Spitfires, of course.’ He gave a kind of twisted smile that wasn’t a smile at all. ‘I used to play the big man when I went home, you see, strut about in my uniform and all that.’

  His voice was bitter and Amy blinked. She didn’t know what to say. This was a side of him which was new to her.

  ‘John was killed in the first week of the Battle of Britain. He was twenty-four years old. David bought it when his air station, Biggin Hill, was razed to the ground. The courier despatched from Kenley to re-establish communication described the place as a slaughterhouse. Some big brother, eh?’

  Amy stopped dead so he was forced to turn and face her. ‘You don’t blame yourself, do you?’

  His face was grim as, staring back at her, he said, ‘They wouldn’t have gone in the RAF but for me.’

  ‘But you can’t say that, Nick.’ And then she flapped her hand. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m being presumptuous, but if you wanted to be an airman and you’re their brother it’s probably in your blood, all three of you. And they sound like young men who would have wanted to do their bit regardless of you. Would they have sat at home twiddling their thumbs while Hitler marched?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘So if it hadn’t been the RAF it would have been one of the other services.’

  ‘Amy -’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Look, I appreciate you’re trying to be kind but it’s something I’ve got to live with. OK?’

  He felt guilty because he was alive and his brothers were dead. She knew it was a common feeling among men and women who had been involved in violent combat, the ‘why was I spared?’ self-condemnation, but she couldn’t say that now. It would sound too patronising. Instead she nodded, trying to inject a note of lightness into what had become an emotionally loaded moment when she said, ‘This probably just bears out your idea that the shrinks have got it wrong, doesn’t it? About talking it out, I mean.’

  ‘Probably.’ And then he breathed deeply before he said, ‘I’ve messed this up, haven’t I.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  ‘This?’

  ‘Us going for a walk together.’

  She could hardly believe it but the blasé Nick Johnson was red with embarrassment. It was probably an inappropriate moment to acknowledge that she was fiercely attracted to this man and had been fighting the feeling almost from the first time they had met. ‘Why do you think that?’ she asked carefully. ‘I feel privileged that you’ve talked about your brothers to me.’

  The green eyes were rueful.‘Now you’re being kind again.’

  ‘No, truthful.’ And then she smiled. ‘But kind as well. I’ll have you know I’m a kind person on the whole.’ Was she flirting with him? she asked herself. But then everyone flirted all the time. It didn’t mean anything, it was just part and parcel of service life. Besides, Nick was a confirmed ladies’ man and the last person to take any banter seriously.

  ‘Does your kindness extend to doing this again?’

  ‘Walking with you? I don’t see why not.’ She hoped he had taken the hint that that was all he could expect.

  ‘Thank you.’ He spoke so seriously she wondered if he was making fun of her for a moment, but when she looked into his eyes she saw he was not. Her eyes moved to focus on his mouth. It was a nice shaped mouth, everything about Nick’s face was nice.The word mocked her in its inadequacy.

  The shadows were long in the grass now, dying streaks of sunshine making their surroundings almost beautiful. They continued to walk and talk for some time and Nick didn’t even try to hold her hand. He told her about his boyhood in Kent and some of the high jinks he and his brothers had got up to, making her laugh, and Amy spoke a little of Bruce and the way it had been with her aunt and Eva. She did not mention Perce at all.

  ‘So that was the reason you left the north and went to stay with your friend in London?’ Nick asked. ‘To get away from your aunt?’

  ‘Partly.’ She did not elaborate and he did not press her.

  By the time he slowly walked her back to the airwomen’s accommodation, Amy realised the Nick she had seen tonight was worlds away from the charming rogue she’d first met. She had almost been expecting to sense some secret side to him that wasn’t very nice, she admitted to herself, but although his personality was more complex than she had first thought, Nick seemed to have no dark hidden side. Suddenly the night air smelled sweeter.

  They stopped a short distance from the women’s quarters to one side of the guardroom. Amy found herself wondering if he would try to kiss her. Instead he said, ‘I’ve enjoyed tonight more than you will ever know.’

  If she had replied truthfully she would have said she felt exactly the same. ‘Bad day?’ she prevaricated.

  ‘Not particularly.’ He grinned. ‘But the usual round of snooker in a crowded NAAFI or going into town to get drunk only to avoid vomiting airmen in the squadron bus afterwards didn’t appeal.’

  ‘I’ve heard tales that that’s not all you pilots do in town.’ Immediately Amy said it she wished she hadn’t. It implied she minded for a start, and secondly she didn’t want to put him in the position of having to deny it.

  If either of these things occurred to Nick he gave no sign of it. ‘Believe me, Amy,’ he said very solemnly, ‘you haven’t lived till you’ve heard me sing “The Muffin Man” with a tankard full of ale balanced on my head.’

  ‘Surprisingly, that’s not high on my agenda for a good night out.’

  ‘Pity. I can bob up and down while singing, if that makes any difference.’

  ‘None,’ said Amy, giggling.

  ‘Then how about an olde worlde tea shop I know, run by two old dears who have grandsons in the RAF and therefore look after anyone in Air Force blue extremely well?’

  ‘It’s an improvement.’

  ‘But is it a date?’ Suddenly he was deadly serious.

  There were probably a dozen reasons why she should say no. ‘Yes, please,’ she said, and then blushed scarlet when his whoop of triumph brought the corporal on duty in the guardroom hurrying out to see what all the fuss was about.

  Later on, tucked up in her bed, Amy found herself dissecting the time with Nick bit by bit, sleep a million miles away. She liked him and he liked her, so what was wrong in indulging in a little light romance for a while? she asked herself. Nick knew she wasn’t the type of girl to fall into bed with a man at the drop of a hat, she’d made that perfectly plain in the last weeks. She’d had loads of offers of dates from hopeful airmen, all of which she had refused, and Bruce had told her she’d acquired the nickname of the Untouchable among the men. In the nicest possible way, he’d been quick to reassure her when she’d said she didn’t know if she liked that or not.

  So Nick knew the score if he wanted to take her out now and again. He knew she wasn�
��t likely to finish the evening with more than a cuddle and a goodnight kiss. If he got fed up with that - and she didn’t expect he wouldn’t - then everything would just fizzle out. No harm done.

  She turned over in bed, causing it to creak in protest. Everyone knew Nick wasn’t into romance for the long term and that suited her just fine, but she would love to feel like a woman again, being spoiled, looked after, if only for a little while. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? No. There wasn’t.

  She turned over onto her stomach again, pulling her pillow over her head to dull the snores wafting about the room and went to sleep.

  PART SEVEN

  1942 Decisions

  Chapter 20

  ‘I don’t mind, you know.’ Kitty’s smile was soft as she reached out and took Ronald’s hand across the dirty breakfast dishes. ‘I consider myself your wife and I am in everything that matters. What difference would a scrap of paper make to the way we feel?’

  ‘It’s not about that.’

  ‘I know, I know, but as far as the folk round these parts are concerned I’m Mrs Shawe.’

  ‘Aye, that’s all very well but I want it legal and proper. There’s the bairn to consider now, don’t forget. I don’t want him being born without a right to me name.’

  ‘Ron, after this war there’s going to be umpteen bairns who don’t even know who their da is, let alone have a right to his name. And who says it’s going to be a boy anyway? It might be a little lassie.’

  ‘A lassie’s all right with me, pet. As long as you and it are all right, I don’t give a monkey’s what it is.’

  ‘Now don’t start whittling again. I’ve told you I’ve never felt better and it’s the truth.’

  That was as maybe but he could have slapped that stupid midwife round the lugholes when she’d said Kitty was a bit old at forty-four to be having her first bairn.Thought herself the cat’s whiskers, that one had, with her Government forms and the rest of it. ‘Mrs Shawe is able to claim concentrated orange juice and cod liver oil from the Welfare Clinic, along with priority milk. Please make sure she drinks this all herself.’ What had she expected? That he was going to snatch it out of Kitty’s hands and guzzle it himself? He was worried sick about his lass and he wouldn’t eat or drink until the bairn was born if it would help Kitty.

  ‘Please, Ron.’ Kitty squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t let that silly woman spoil us looking forward to having the bairn. The women in my family drop bairns like a hen laying eggs. I’m not worried.’

  ‘No, you’re right, love.’ But he couldn’t help worrying. And now here was May refusing yet again to consider a divorce and using language about Kitty he would never have thought she knew. And yet according to Bruce, May was as happy as Larry living back at her da’s. He threw his wife’s letter on the table. ‘She’s a bitter pill, is May. No wonder Eva and Harriet skedaddled into the Land Army when they got the chance.’

  Kitty did not comment on this. If she was to give her true opinion, she thought Ronald’s eldest girl in particular took after her mother in every way. Instead she said, pointing to the other letter Ronald had opened, ‘Is that Perce’s handwriting? What does he want?’

  ‘Asking if he can stay for a day or two at the end of the month.’

  ‘Oh, Ron, not again. I wouldn’t mind if he really wanted to see you but he doesn’t, not a bit of it. I’m sure he snoops about when we’re in bed and you know what he’s looking for. He’s cottoned on we know where Amy is and now her and Charles aren’t together he thinks he’s in with a chance. What he’d do if he knew she was on the same base as Bruce I don’t know. I . . . I don’t like to say it because he’s your son but he’s not right in the head where Amy’s concerned.’

  Ronald heaved a sigh. He knew she was right. Twice he’d caught Perce looking through the bits of paper and letters and whatnot Kitty kept behind the wooden candlestick on the mantelpiece, and both times Perce had sworn blind he was after a box of matches. He hadn’t been able to believe it at first when Bruce had put him in the picture about Perce being after Amy. Perce had never let on, at least not to him. Not that there was anything wrong in it as far as the law was concerned, they were only cousins after all, and perhaps if Perce had been up front about liking the lass he might not have felt it was . . . well, seedy. Aye, that was the word, seedy. Not that Perce would find anything in their house. Kitty made sure she got rid of Amy’s letters once they’d read them and Bruce was always careful not to mention his cousin when he wrote.

  ‘He tells me he’ll have a side of bacon with him and some other bits and pieces.’ He looked at Kitty hopefully.‘We could do with it, lass.’

  ‘All got on the black market as you well know, and before you say I’ve accepted things from her upstairs knowing her son’s on the fiddle, that’s different. Mrs Ramshaw doesn’t use what she gets us as a wedge in the door.’

  ‘No, all right, lass, all right. I’ll say that with the babbie being only a couple of months from coming I don’t want you put about. There’s barely room to swing a cat as it is.’ Not that Perce would buy that. He knew Kitty didn’t like him. Mind, with them only having the two rooms and scullery, it was true enough.

  ‘Thanks, Ron.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, lass.’ He stood up swiftly and pulled her up from the table with him, holding her as tightly as her protruding stomach would allow. ‘It’s me that should be thanking you every day of my life for taking me on. I know I’m no cop, love. A married man well over fifty and bringing you to two rooms in the worst part of Manchester.’

  Kitty put a finger on his lips, her eyes full of love as she said, ‘I’ve loved you all my life, Ron Shawe. I’d have gone to the ends of the earth to be with you. Don’t you know that yet? But I never thought you’d look the side I was on.’

  ‘So much time wasted.’

  ‘But we have plenty in front of us, lad. This isn’t going to be an only child, you know.’ She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling.

  Ronald bent his head and kissed her, taking his time about it. And when she snuggled deeper into him, her arms about his waist, he said, ‘Remember how Father Fraser used to go on about heaven and hell when we were bairns, Kitty? Frightening us to death about the latter and maintaining we weren’t likely to get in the former without his say-so? If he was here right now I’d tell him he could stick his bigoted idea of heaven. Just give me this for eternity and I’ll be the most thankful man the Almighty lets through them pearly gates.’

  She wriggled and pushed him with one shoulder.‘It’s Saint Peter who mans the gates,’ she said, ‘and you shouldn’t talk like that about a priest.’

  ‘Not even that old goat?’

  ‘Ron!’

  ‘All right, all right.’

  He was laughing so much she had to laugh with him, even as she said with as much reproach as she could muster for this man she loved with all her heart, ‘It’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead and him a priest too. And it was awful the way he died, all alone and no one finding him until his housekeeper came back from that week at her sister’s. They reckon he must have lingered for days after that stroke, unable to move and lying in his own filth and all.’

  ‘Aye, well, your mam and da took him with a pinch of salt, don’t forget, but he all but ruled the roost when I was growing up. And he could have made things easier for our Bess if he’d wanted. Me da wouldn’t have dared treat her like he did after Amy was born if he hadn’t known he’d got Father Fraser’s backing.’

  ‘Well, he’s gone now and that’s that.’

  It was a favourite saying of Kitty’s when she wanted to end a conversation and again Ronald laughed, echoing, ‘Aye, that’s that,’ just as the menacing wail of the siren began.

  ‘Oh no, not now, not on a Sunday morning. We’ve had raids every night this week and now they’re coming on a Sunday.’

  ‘Sunday or not, we’d better get to the shelter.’

  ‘Do we have to? It probably won’t be anything much and I’ve got a lovely bi
t of brisket the butcher let me have which will need doing all morning. I was just going to put it on.’

  ‘It’ll wait.’ He was already fetching her winter coat and hat. ‘Come on, lass, look lively. It’s bitter out so wrap up. I don’t want you ill in bed with flu.’

  After he had helped her on with her coat which strained at the seams when she had buttoned it up, he urged her towards the door. Kitty paused at the threshold, turning to face him and standing on tiptoe to kiss him hard on the lips. ‘The last few years have been the happiest of my life,’ she said softly, ‘and now to have a bairn an’ all. It’s the icing on the cake.’

  ‘Just shows there’s life in the old dog yet.’

  ‘That was never in dispute.’