A Kestrel Rising (29 page)

“I’m told it’s nice.” He took her hand. “Not that you’ll get much chance to wear it, but did you bring your yellow dress?”

“Yes, I had Mama send it to me.”

He smiled at her. “You did?”

“You did ask, so I asked her to send it.”

“Well, since you took the trouble to send for it, I suppose we had better venture out of the room, for at least a little while. I had every intention of having every meal in our room but I guess we may need some fresh air.”

She laughed. “You have it all planned out, don’t you?”

“I
am
a military man. What do you expect?”

They checked into the hotel as Captain and Mrs. Robson and followed the valet to their room. Ilona was pleased to see that the window overlooked Parker’s Piece and the elms that surrounded it. They cast sun-dappled shade across the expanse of grass, where couples strolled and children ran, squealing. Ilona turned her attention back to the room as Francis asked about room service before sending the valet away with a tip.

“There.” He tossed his cap onto the dressing table. “We’re all sorted. We can have room service any time of the day or night.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is,” he said, suddenly serious. “But there are nicer things.” He slowly undid the buttons of her jacket. “Much nicer things, all hidden away by this damned uniform of yours.”

She addressed his jacket with the same deliberation. She trembled when he kissed her.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He slid her shirt from her shoulders and it dropped with a whisper onto the floor.

His shirt followed, and it felt good to return to the familiar, longed-for haunts, the hollow of his throat and the clean, smooth line of his shoulders. The late morning sunlight fell through the window when Ilona kissed his neck and made him sigh.

“I guess you’ve missed me too.”

“Yes.” She stepped out of her skirt. “A lot.”

He was beautiful in the daylight, lean and a little pale.

The bed was soft and the linen cool. It smelled of sunlight and cotton and the sounds of summer and distant traffic drifted in through the open window. The world had become the bed and Francis. All else faded beneath his touch. Ilona welcomed him and held him as he came to her. He whispered her name repeatedly while he led her into the dance. She followed willingly, moving with him and giving him everything. She loved his grace when he gave back. If he never spoke the words, she knew that he loved her and, for the moment, that was enough. Afterwards, they held each other in silence for a long time, listening to the breeze rustle through the curtains and murmur through the elm trees outside. Ilona realized that the yellow dress probably wasn’t going to get much of an airing. She didn’t want to move.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” She replied without hesitation. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

He brushed her forehead with his lips. “Nor me. You make everything worthwhile—the oil splattered canopies, the long hours, everything. I know that our boss thinks that women and fighter pilots don’t mix, but he hasn’t met you. He doesn’t know why I fight the way that I do. It’s because of
you
. The sooner I can down a few planes, the sooner this war will be over.” He drew her closer. “The more time I spend with you, the less I want to say goodbye. I hate watching you walk away, Ilke.”

“I hate it too.” She curled up against him.

“I wish there was somewhere, sometime, where we could go, where we could just forget about the rest of the world. Do you think this war will ever end, Ilke? It’s been five years, nearly, and sometimes if feels like it’s lasted forever.”

“I know what you mean about it seeming like forever. When you think about it, we’ve spent all of our adult lives living through this war. I don’t know about you, but I know I’ve changed.”

“Yes, I think we both have.” He kissed her and his hands began to wander once more. “Now, we have two days’ grace, so let’s leave the world out there for a while. Give me sanctuary, please, darling.”

* * * *

“I’m glad we did this.” Francis said as he spread the borrowed blanket out under the shade of the Cedar of Lebanon in the Botanical Gardens. “As nice as it would be to stay in bed with you all day, it seems a shame to waste such nice weather.”

Ilona rummaged through the box that the hotel had packed for them. She was impressed that they had managed to put together a reasonable lunch at such short notice, including a bottle of wine, a corkscrew and two glasses. There were cheese sandwiches, spam sandwiches and pieces of cake. She unpacked everything and left Francis to deal with the wine, which was still cold and tasted like apples.

“How did you manage to persuade them to give us such a big meal?”

He grinned. “I told them I was a growing boy, that my wife had a voracious appetite and I needed to keep my strength up.”

“Liar!” She laughed. “What a brazen liar.”

“I don’t think they have much business at the moment, so they’ve probably filled the sandwiches with moldy cheese and ancient spam.”

“Does spam ever get old?” She peeled a corner of bread back from a cheese sandwich, relieved that there was no mold.

“I don’t think so, I think they dry the old stuff out and use it as armor on tanks.”

“It’s not
that
bad.”

“Good, then you can have the spam and I’ll have the cheese.”

They ate in silence, watching people pass by. It was a weekday and workers from nearby offices sat on benches with their lunches. Blackbirds squabbled in the vast, dark canopy of the cedar and sparrows chased each other across the lawn beyond the deep blue stillness of its shade.

“I love that dress,” he said after a while. “You look gorgeous in it.”

“Thank you. It’s seen better days.” Ilona picked at a stray thread. “But it’s cool and comfortable and I like it.”

“It brings back some happy memories.”

“That was a nice day.”

“Apart from that bridge.”

“That was one of the best bits.”

“You would say that. I never did get to throw you in. If only we had time, we could go and have another go on the river.”

“So you can throw me in? No thanks.”

He yawned and stretched out on the blanket, resting his head on her lap. “I think I need a nap, now I’m nice and comfortable here. I think you’ve worn me out.”

“Nonsense.” She soothed his hair back from his forehead. “You’re just unfit. You see, you should be listening to your colonel and taking part in athletics. Then you wouldn’t get so tired.”

“That’s just cheeky. I was looking forward to lying like this. I wanted to on that afternoon by the river, but I thought I would’ve been taking one liberty too many.” He took her hand and held on to it, his fingers curled lightly around hers.

He closed his eyes and Ilona absently wound her fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. She let him sleep. She wished that the moment would last forever. She could feel the slow, steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin beneath her hand. She was almost sorry when he woke, smiling as his eyes found hers.

He kissed her hand and sat up. “Was I asleep for long?”

“No, not really.”

“That’s good, I should hate to waste precious time by sleeping when there are other ways to pass the hours.” He smiled. “Shall we go back?”

“I think that would be a very good idea.”

“We’ve done our sightseeing bit so, if anyone asks, you can tell them you spent a long time in the Botanical Gardens. They’ll be impressed. Make sure you memorize some of the Latin names of the plants before we leave. You can say that you saw a thingy-thingy-ma-thing which, as we all know, can only be found on the south facing slopes of the Himalayas.”

“I could try, but I’m dreadful at remembering things like that. I’ll make sure to tell my mother that we spent a very educational afternoon in the garden. I should think that Papa would catch me out, in any case, with the Latin. He’s turned into a rabid gardener. He’d be bound to tell me that the thingy-thingy-ma-thing actually grows in the loamy soils of some remote bit of jungle in South America.” She gathered the remnants of the picnic together and put them back in the box. “So I’ll just tell them that we had a picnic and admired the flowers, but neglected to remember any of their names.”

“I suppose that’s sensible. I forgot about your father’s passion for gardening.” He picked up the wine and put the cork back in the bottle before placing it in the box. “Look at all this wine we have left. There’s plenty here for later.”

Ilona leaned against him as he wrapped his other arm around her waist and kissed her hair. “Thank you, darling,” he said, as they walked back across the neatly trimmed grass. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon.”

“It was nice. I’ll never take peace and quiet for granted again.”

“I know. I’ve learned that, too. But what do you think would be worse, a barrack full of snoring WAAFs or a pair of twins running riot through a house?”

“Oh, the babies, easily. Poor Ash is worn to a frazzle most days. I know Mama does her best to help, but James and Nancy are a handful. Papa just hides in the garden or the greenhouse all day. He says he served his time when Ash and I were little and he’s too old to be chasing babies around the house.”

“Do you miss them?”

She shook her head. “They’re adorable and I love them. I enjoyed spending Christmas with them, but, no, I don’t miss them. The only person I miss is you.”

He tightened his hold around her waist and kissed her hair. “Me too and right now, I want to get you back to that hotel room, put the ‘do not disturb’ sign out and lock the door and not let you out of my sight until you get on your train tomorrow. I hate to be selfish, Ilke, but needs must.”

“I don’t mind at all. You can be as selfish as you like.”

“Good, because I intend to be. I don’t know when we’ll get a chance to be together again, because I think we’ll be landing in Europe soon and driving the krauts back to where they came from.”

“As long as you finish the job and come back in one piece, I’ll wait. You’ll be worth the wait, Francis.”

* * * *

Late evening and Ilona drew the blackout curtains, sorry to see the last of the light as it faded to a velvety gray across the vast sweep of Parker’s Piece. The city descended into darkness and she closed the window to muffle the sound of the squadrons of bombers that were flying overhead on their way to the continent. The wine had gone and Francis sighed. “We can’t get away from the bloody war, can we?”

“No, we can’t.” She climbed back onto the bed.

He gathered her up into his arms. “I don’t mind telling you. I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“These strafing runs, Ilke. They’re the most dangerous thing that we do. It’s fun when it works but if it goes wrong, well—”

She put her finger over his lips. “It
won’t
go wrong. I have every faith in you, darling.”

“Now I know why I need you so much.” Francis took her face between his hands. “This faith of yours… That you care as much as you do…” He kissed her gently. “You’re the only one who knows me well. You’re the only one who knows I get scared and that I worry about getting back to you in one piece. You’ve never given up on me.”

Stupid, foolish tears burned her eyes. “I wish I knew what to say, but I don’t.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. It’s just the way I am.”

He laughed softly. “I know and I wouldn’t have you any other way. This reminds me. I don’t know why I keep forgetting to tell you this. When the planes had their noses painted, back in March, I had your name painted on mine. Nothing fancy, just your name. I hope you don’t mind but I think you bring me luck.”

“You did?” She wanted to cry even more.

“I did, and Don did a great job. Now I have no excuse to prang my kite. I have to look after it all the more.” He wiped the tears from her face. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

She sniffled. “It’s all right.”

He kissed her eyelids and his lips meandered along the line of her jaw and down to her throat. “Shall I chase the tears away?”

She closed her eyes.

“Yes please.”

* * * *

They stood in silence on the platform the following morning, holding hands and watching for the Mildenhall train. The sunshine of the previous two days had been replaced by a sullen, heavy gray sky and Ilona could feel the thunder in the air. She sighed and leaned against Francis and he put his arm around her waist.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. “All things considered, yes I’m all right. It’s been lovely.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” He held her closer. “And I can hear that damn train.”

The station announcer confirmed its imminent arrival and Ilona resolved to be brave. She did not want to spoil the moment with even more tears.

“Bloody thing.”

He drew her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. “Look after yourself, for me,” he whispered.

“I will. I promise, as long as you do the same.” Ilona clung to him, breathing in the scent of him one last time.

“I promise.” He held her.

She gave him her bravest smile when she touched his face. “It’ll be all right.
We’ll
be all right. We’ll make it through, you and I. I know it.”

The train eased into the station and doors opened and closed all around them. Francis kissed her one more time and held the door for her. When it was closed, she pushed down the window and leaned out, looking at him, her throat was tight and, when she spoke, she could barely hear her voice. “Goodbye, Francis. I’ll be waiting.”

“I know.” He smiled and the train began to move. “I’ll write as soon as I can.”

“I’ll look forward to that.”

He caught her hand and kissed it and walked alongside the train until it picked up speed, then, his hand fell away and he stood, waving. Ilona leaned out of the window and watched him, until the track curved and left her with nothing to see except the tangle of tracks and the leaden sky.

Chapter Twenty-Four