by Molly Green
The minutes crept by and at last, a couple of minutes after nine, Raine heard the shrill of the telephone.
‘Give my love to him,’ Stephanie teased as Raine jumped from her seat.
She shut the door behind her as she hurried out to the hall, hoping Mrs Grayson would be far enough away not to overhear. Raine let it ring one more time, enjoying the feeling of anticipation shooting through her body before she finally picked up the receiver.
‘Miss Linfoot?’ the operator said.
‘Yes,’ Raine answered with a wide smile.
‘I have a call for you. One moment, please. I’m putting you through.’
‘Hello, Alec,’ Raine said a little breathlessly. ‘It’s me.’
There was a long pause.
Was he still there? Had they been cut off?
‘Raine?’ the voice said, sounding puzzled. ‘It’s Doug.’
It was as though someone had squeezed every ounce of blood from her. Her hand shook as she tried to hold on to the receiver, but it slipped from her fingers and dangled on its wire. Her head whirled. She was going to faint.
Don’t be silly. Of course it’s not him – you’re imagining things.
‘Hello. Hello, Raine. Are you there?’
She licked her lips. She opened her mouth to speak. And then she slumped against the wall. She put out her arms to stop herself from falling. Her head buzzed and she groaned as she crumpled to the floor.
Someone was bending down. She flickered open her eyelids.
‘Lorraine. Are you all right? Speak to me.’
Raine tried to raise herself to stand but her legs wouldn’t obey her. Stephanie peered down at her, alarm on her face. Hadn’t Stephanie told her Alec had phoned? Then surely it was Alec who’d rung. She couldn’t think straight. Because it couldn’t have been Doug. He was dead. They’d told her he’d never have survived that crash. His body would have burned to cinders in the fire.
She tried to shake the nightmare image away and pull herself up, but her legs wouldn’t obey her.
‘Here, let me help you,’ Stephanie said, putting an arm round her.
Was someone playing a cruel prank? But if it was him … Raine’s eye went to the receiver which was still twirling slowly on its wire. She remembered now that she’d let it slip from her fingers.
‘Stephanie, could you see if he’s still on the phone?’
‘Of course.’ Her friend picked up the receiver. ‘Hello, anyone there?’ She waited a few seconds. ‘Hello, hello.’ She hung it back up. ‘Sorry, Lorraine, it’s just the dialling tone. Don’t worry – I’m sure Mr Green Eyes will call back.’
Raine shook her head.
‘Did you finish your conversation?’ Stephanie asked.
‘No,’ Raine mumbled. ‘We didn’t even start it.’
‘Come and sit in the room, darling,’ Stephanie said, her arm surprisingly strong as she steadied Raine. ‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’
That’s exactly what it had felt like – a ghost. Dumbly, she allowed Stephanie to lead her into the sitting room. Thankfully, she could hear Mrs Grayson clattering in the kitchen. She couldn’t face her – or anyone. Even though Stephanie was being so kind.
‘What did he say to make you so upset?’ Stephanie said when she’d joined her on the sofa.
Raine shook her head. She was dumbfounded. It couldn’t be true. Doug couldn’t be alive. But if it really was him, and not someone playing a hideous joke, then it was the most wonderful news. And now he must think she’d simply put the phone down on him, not wanting to talk to him. If it was really him, he must have had a terrible time … and miraculously come through it.
‘Did he say he didn’t want to see you again, the cad?’ Stephanie’s eyes were wide with sympathy.
‘No, nothing like that,’ Raine said, her voice hardly recognisable to herself. It was more like a croak.
‘Take your time.’ Stephanie took one of Raine’s cold hands in her own and rubbed it.
‘You see, it wasn’t Alec,’ Raine whispered.
‘What? Another admirer? Well, that shouldn’t have put you in such a state.’
‘It was Doug.’
There was a silence. Then Stephanie said, ‘Do you mean your friend who was shot down in his Spit?’
Raine nodded. Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow and couldn’t. She licked her lips. She was in a dream. She’d prayed that Doug would be alive so many times, but in the end she’d forced herself to accept he couldn’t possibly have survived. That’s what they’d said. That’s what she’d had to believe.
Stephanie sprang up. ‘I’m going to ask Mrs G if she would make us a cup of tea.’
‘Oh, don’t mention anything to her—’ Raine started.
‘No, I won’t … I promise.’
Raine leaned her head on the back of the sofa. If it really was him, maybe he wouldn’t phone again, thinking she wanted him out of her life. She didn’t know his number or even where he was stationed now he was back in England. If it really was him. Which it couldn’t have been. She smacked her hand against her head. Was she going mad?
Stephanie was back with a tea tray and some digestives in a matter of minutes.
‘What did he say?’ she said once Raine had taken a few sips.
Raine closed her eyes, recalling his voice. ‘I thought it was Alec.’ She took in a deep breath and turned to Stephanie. ‘So I said, “Hello, Alec, it’s me.” And there was a long pause. I thought we’d been cut off. And then he said, “Raine? It’s Doug.”’
‘My goodness. What a surprise – shock, I suppose. But you should be thrilled. I always thought you had a soft spot for him.’
‘Oh, I do,’ Raine said. ‘And I know he does for me.’
Stephanie’s eyes held hers. ‘But you’re not in love with him, are you?’
Raine shook her head. ‘I love him, but as a dear friend. Almost like the brother I always wanted.’
‘Is he in love with you?’
Raine stared at her as though Stephanie had the answer, not herself. Why was she feeling so shaken up? This was her dream that Doug was still alive. Stephanie must be right – she must still be in shock.
‘He said as much in the last letter he was writing to me and hadn’t finished it before …’ She cleared her throat as tears pricked the back of her eyes. ‘Before they were all called to scramble.’
‘And could you imagine now he’s back – if it really is him – that you might care for him in the same way?’
‘No,’ Raine said emphatically. ‘I cared for him deeply and when I was young – sixteen – I thought it was love. But then …’ She broke off.
‘Then Alec came along and this time you knew the difference.’ Stephanie said it as a statement.
Raine nodded miserably, her eyes downcast. ‘Yes. I knew the difference,’ she said, repeating her friend’s words, ‘although I didn’t realise it at the time. But now I feel so guilty. It was Doug on the phone. I know his voice.’ She caught her friend’s hand and burst into tears. ‘Oh, Stephanie, I don’t know what to do.’
Chapter Thirty
That night Raine’s dreams tormented her. Alec had come to take her out, but when he turned up his face changed in front of her to Doug. And it was an angry and hurt Doug who told her she had to choose between him and her ‘new boyfriend’, the one called Alec. When she properly awoke in the morning she lay there, hot and perspiring, feeling thoroughly ashamed of herself.
Stephanie was right. She should be so happy, so relieved that Doug was alive and safe and back in England. If only Mrs Grayson had asked who was calling. But Doug had probably, with the best intentions, wanted to surprise her and wouldn’t have told Mrs Grayson anyway. He must have wondered what on earth had happened when he’d told her who was ringing and there was no answer. And if he’d tried the number again it would have been engaged.
He was her dearest friend and she’d mourned him deeply, but she’d never told him she loved him. But had she led him o
n without realising? Or had he assumed more than she could give him? No, that would be the meanest of tricks to blame him.
She sighed. She didn’t have a clue how to contact him so there was little she could do except wait for him to ring again. But when two days passed with no telephone call she felt sick at heart. Doug would be hurt by her lack of response. She didn’t know what condition he was in, or if he’d been injured. How had he managed to escape death? So many questions that required answers.
All she could do was concentrate on her job and pray that he would give her a second chance and telephone again.
‘Post, everyone.’ Beryl, one of the clerks, began handing round envelopes the following morning.
‘Anything for me?’ Stephanie asked, her face tilted up in anticipation.
Beryl flicked through the pile. ‘Sorry, Steph, nothing.’
Stephanie turned away, but not before Raine saw the hurt look in her eyes. She was about to give her a comforting word when Beryl came up.
‘Three for you, Raine,’ she said, handing Raine the envelopes.
Practically grabbing them from Beryl’s hand, Raine glanced at the top one. Maman’s handwriting. She’d read it later. The second address was typed, postmarked Wolverhampton, and ‘Confidential’ typed in the top left-hand corner and underlined twice in blue ink. Then her heart leapt. The third was Doug’s unmistakable large scrawl.
She rushed to the crew room and was disappointed to find three male pilots chatting. They looked up as she entered. She knew them by sight and said, ‘Good morning,’ but luckily they merely nodded and carried on with their conversation. She found an easy chair as far from them as possible and ripped open Doug’s letter with trembling fingers.
19th February 1942
Dearest Raine,
I don’t know quite what was going on when I phoned. At first I thought you’d put the receiver down on me, not wanting to have me back in your life, and then I thought that couldn’t possibly be true and that you must have somehow been interrupted. I realised you couldn’t phone me back because you wouldn’t have known where I was speaking from. I’m actually back at Biggin Hill in their sick quarters. Anyway I decided it was easier to write you a letter. I wanted you to know what happened to me as I imagine they had me down as ‘missing, presumed dead’ and I like to think you were a bit sad by that news!
You probably heard I was shot down and my plane caught fire. That bit was true but I managed to bale out. Thank God I landed in France and not in the Channel! But I couldn’t get up. I’d broken a bone in my leg! I was spotted by a lovely young girl out for a walk with her dog – certainly my lucky day! – and she rushed home to tell her family. Her father and brother arrived and carried me back to their house. Thankfully they all loathe Hitler and his vile regime or I would have been done for!
At the time I was hardly aware of what was happening, as I banged my head on impact. They got a doctor to set my leg, but I couldn’t remember anything except my name. Brigitte, who rescued me, talked to me every day, jolting my memory, and eventually things started coming back. Your face especially.
Raine swallowed hard as she read on.
This all took several weeks. I only have very rusty schoolboy French so it was difficult to communicate, but when I could walk without help, somehow that brave family managed to get me onto the first leg (no pun intended!) of the escape route and after several weeks I eventually got back to Blighty.
I thought it had healed on its own but it played up a stink on the way back from France – partly what took me so long – so they are re-doing it. But it’s my head that is having the hardest time to heal, though not in the physical sense. For those few moments when I was all alone in the Spit, somersaulting down, my last thoughts were for you, my darling. I do hope you don’t mind my calling you that, but it feels right and natural to me. The old saying that ‘life’s too short’ certainly rings true after what I’ve been through, so I don’t want to stifle my feelings for you any longer. You must know what I’m trying to say but I’ll wait until I see you before I say the words.
I do hope you can come and visit me – maybe when you next see your family – though I shouldn’t be in here too much longer. Don’t worry if it’s too difficult as I know you’re very busy with deliveries, but a letter would be wonderful.
Am longing to hear from you.
All my love,
Doug xx
It was hard to take it all in. Raine read through the letter again, more slowly this time, her tears trickling onto the paper. What a brave family they’d been to help him get home. The French were well aware that if they were caught by the Gestapo helping one of the Allies they would face certain death – and not only themselves, she’d heard, but their entire family.
Her stomach curdling at the thought, she wiped her eyes and rose to her feet. She’d go to the cloakroom and splash her face with cold water. Peering in the mirror above the sink she saw her eyes and nose were red as though she had a cold coming. If only it was just a cold. She could put up with being grounded for a few days, as pilots had to do if they caught one, but this was worse. Lack of sleep and being worried out of her mind.
Alec was constantly in her thoughts but now she must push his image away. Doug, her dear, long-standing friend, needed her attention. But how was she going to answer the last part of his letter where he’d made it as plain as if he’d told her to her face that he’d fallen in love with her. He’d called her his darling, but instead of the endearment making her thrill she felt vaguely uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. Why must life be so complicated? But it was the war; it had changed everything.
And as Stephanie had so neatly put it … she’d met Alec.
She didn’t even have time to look at her other two letters. It was already nine o’clock and she needed to collect her chits for the day’s deliveries.
Going by the chits, she had a full day ahead of her. The first plane was a Mosquito. As it was built for speed, Raine couldn’t help flying a little faster than she was supposed to and enjoying every moment. Next was a Miles Magister and then finally, a Hurricane. Thank goodness the ATA kept her busy.
She’d had to eat her emergency chocolate bar as there’d been no time to stop even for a sandwich. She was pathetically grateful she’d been able to grab a lift in an Anson from the furthest delivery and was back home, having her supper at Mrs Grayson’s table, exactly eight hours later.
This evening Mrs Grayson chose to join her for supper. She said Stephanie was out for the evening and was being most mysterious about where she was going. Raine smiled. Stephanie ought to be an actress – she certainly loved a bit of drama.
She suddenly remembered Maman’s letter and the typed one. The minute she put her knife and fork together she excused herself, saying she was tired out and was going to read in her room and have an early night.
Her mother’s letter was full of the usual descriptions of the frumpy WVS ladies who she couldn’t deny worked hard every day.
If I could just get my hands on a few of them, Maman wrote, I could turn them into feminine women instead of carthorses. Some of them are not bad-looking but they have no idea how to make the best of themselves …
Raine couldn’t help a wry smile. Maman would never change, war or no war. Her mother briefly mentioned Suzanne, that she’d started playing the piano again, and that Véronique hadn’t given up the idea of being a Land Girl when she was old enough. But it is the last thing I want for my baby, Maman wrote. Rough red hands and dirty broken nails. She ended the letter, Your loving Maman.
If only …
Raine sighed as she opened the typed envelope. She glanced at the signature: Pauline. Curious as to why Pauline should be writing to her in confidence, she began to read.
Dear Lorraine,
I wanted to drop you a quick note as I’m not sure how long I’ll be here at Cosford. I have received a full report from Flt. Capt. Jones on the Hurricane accident and can only say h
ow pleased and relieved I was with the outcome. I wish I had been at WW at the time and on the panel, especially when I found out the person who had been brought in to testify on the performance of the aircraft was none other than Flt. Lt. Fox, whom I understand did everything in his power to put you in a bad light.
Raine’s heart beat a little faster at seeing Foxy’s name. Was that nasty little man going to haunt her all her life? Taking a deep breath, she continued to read.
Thank goodness Flt. Capt. Jones is a fair-minded and sensible person.
Now for the good news – well, it is as far as you’re concerned. Fox has been caught red-handed! Yes, another typist at Biggin Hill. I won’t go into the gory details but it was serious enough for him to have been demoted. I don’t think he will dare bother you again.
I wanted you to know, Lorraine, so you can rest assured that he got his comeuppance.
I hope to be back shortly at WW.
Yours most sincerely,
Pauline Gower (Director of Women Personnel)
P.S. I know I don’t have to remind you that this letter is confidential and the contents must not be discussed.
Raine placed the letter back in its envelope, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. What a perfectly stupid man Foxy was. He had so much to give with his experience in instructing young pilots, and instead had made an absolute fool of himself. But she was glad he was no longer able to continue such abominable behaviour – at least, not in the RAF.
Funny that Linda had asked in her last letter if she’d heard any more about him. It was a pity she wasn’t allowed to tell her that he’d been caught red-handed and demoted. Linda would have loved that. But she could certainly tell her about Foxy on the panel after the Hurricane accident – and for all his efforts he hadn’t managed to persuade the flight captain that it had been her fault. And she could tell Linda how the flight captain told him to keep his opinions to himself in more or less those words. She gave a rueful smile. That would have to suffice.
White Waltham was particularly busy right now and Raine found herself doing another double shift, all the time hoping to squeeze in some time to see Doug. She’d written to him that same evening explaining it was the shock of hearing his voice when he’d phoned and she’d dropped the receiver. A fellow pilot had assumed she was just hanging up after her conversation and had set it back on its cradle. It sounded feeble even as she penned the words, but it was more or less the truth.
