Ashton Park (14 page)

Moments later a pair of Nieuports dropped into position on either side of him. He recognized Kent Wales and Bobby Scott, the squadron leader. They gave him the thumbs-up. Scott waved his hand forward for the airbase. Kipp gave the thumbs-up in return.

His mechanic was there when he landed. Kipp parked near the other aircraft of his squadron, including those of Wales and Scott, who had come in only minutes ahead of him and already were nowhere to be seen.

“Canadian troops confirmed the kill, sir,” his mechanic said. “Not to mention Captain Scott and Leftenant Wales. That’s five, Kipper. You’re an ace!”

Kipp climbed down from his plane and shook his mechanic’s hand. “Thank you, Tommy. I’m surprised the Canucks spotted the German’s crackup. The triplane flew apart with a bang. Right in my face. Just bits and pieces floating in the air.”

“They said it was a bright flash in the sky, sir. No one could miss it.”

“Well, I could use a hot bath and a hot meal, Tommy. That’s how I intend to celebrate becoming an ace.”

Tommy grinned. “None of that, Leftenant Danforth. At least not right away. The lads are in the mess hall and want to propose a toast in your honor. I’m to make sure you get there.”

Kipp groaned and smiled at the same time. “Oh, the saints help us, is Bobby Scott doing the toast? Because if he is I’ll never get a bath or bite to eat.”

“You know he is, sir. He tells me it shouldn’t go on for more than an hour or two. But he says he’ll make it up.”

Tommy and Kipp began to walk across the grass to the large French chateau that dominated the field, Kipp in his dark-brown leather jacket and holding his leather helmet and goggles in one hand.

Kipp snorted. “He’ll make it up to me, will he? How will Bobby do that I wonder? A meal in Paris?”

Tommy winked. “How’d you know, sir? It
is
a night out on the town. Not Paris, mind, but Amiens has some pretty neighborhoods, you’ve said so yourself. And you love the cathedral.”

“I do indeed. Which restaurant, did he say?”

“Sans Souci
.
Right in the shadow of the cathedral but closer to the Somme River. Nice spot. He’s in love with a woman there.”

“Good! I’ll be able to eat in peace as he whiles away his time romancing Claudette.”

“I believe she’s Christelle, sir.”

“Christelle. Claudette. Josephine. It’s much the same. I’ll save my love affairs for England.”

“Very good, sir. Perhaps your patriotism will rub off on some of the lads tonight.”

Kipp did manage a hot bath and a tea after a ninety-minute toast. He had hardly set down his cup on its saucer in his room before the pounding on the door told him it was time for the drive into Amiens. It was a warm spring evening and the six men Kipp was with were in high spirits. They refused to let him spend a single
franc
, choosing his meal for him, trying to impress a waitress named Claire by ordering everything in rough and ready French, even deciding what he should drink.

Kipp leaned back in his seat and watched his friends enjoy themselves. Why shouldn’t they? A month before he’d been here with three other pilots and all of them had been shot down. The past few weeks had been a disaster, the Germans flying planes far better than their own. Who knew what daybreak would bring? If his squadron wanted to use his making ace as an excuse for a party, let them. The Lord knew they’d all been to enough military funerals to last a lifetime.

Kipp finished off the food on his plate, wiped his mouth with a red napkin, and looked about for Bobby Scott. Sans Souci was crammed with French, British, and Canadian airmen, so it was difficult to spot the short fireplug of a man. When he did, he noticed Scott was leaning on the bar and staring in his direction. Their eyes met and Scott raised the glass in his hand. Kipp prayed he wouldn’t offer another toast to his making ace. But Scott simply drank and kept smiling at him. Kipp wondered where the love of Bobby Scott’s life was if he was so head over heels for her.

“
Excusez-moi, Monsieur Leftenant?
”

Kipp turned around in his seat. A young French waitress with hair like fine silver and eyes as blue as the sky he’d flown through that afternoon was standing next to him, smiling shyly.

He did not know how to respond. “Uh…yes…
oui…
how may I help you?”

She spoke slowly in English, still smiling. Kipp noticed her small teeth were as white as cream. “I am told…you…today…have an ace become, yes? Putting down a German plane?”

“Yes.
Oui.
But how did you know?”

“Oh,
mon ami,
Bobby, he tells me.”

Kipp glanced at the bar. Scott raised his glass again.

The young woman leaned over Kipp and took his face in her hands. Her perfume was sweet and spicy, the sensation of her fingers on his skin warm and overpowering. “Do you mind, Leftenant?
Je suis honorée de vous offrir un baiser.
”

She kissed him on the lips. It was not a long kiss, but to Kipp it seemed to go on for a blissful eternity. She started slowly and gently, gradually kissing with more strength, finally finishing with a flourish that seemed to pull his heart and breath out of him. As he sat back dazed in his seat, the other men at his table watching with their mouths open, she patted him on the cheek.

“Is that all right, Leftenant? I wished…to thank you…for fighting for my country. Yes?
Merci.
” She began to walk back through the crowded restaurant toward the bar, where Scott was grinning and clapping his hands together.

“So what do you think of Christelle?” asked Kent Wales.

“Is that her name? Bobby’s girl?”

“Well. That’s what he likes to think. But she’s made it pretty clear she’s no man’s woman and won’t be until France is free of the Germans.”

Kipp was warm. He gulped a glass of water by his elbow and poured another from the pitcher.

“Does she kiss all the new aces like that?” he asked.

Kent shook his head, chewing on a toothpick. “I shouldn’t think so. She never kissed me like that when I got my fifth. Nor Hannam when he got his tenth. Or just last week when Teddy Irving bagged his sixteenth.”

“So Bobby put her up to it.”

“No. Not her. He may have suggested it. But she’s the one who decided to do it. And she wouldn’t kiss you unless she really wanted to.”

Kent followed Kipp’s eyes over to the bar, where Christelle was laughing with Bobby Scott and two Canadian pilots from a squadron based near theirs. She glanced back at Kipp, held his eyes briefly, and smiled her shy smile again. After a moment, she went into the kitchen and emerged carrying three plates of
escargot
for a table on the other side of the room.

“What are you going to do now, Ace?” asked Kent.

“I honestly don’t know. My head’s a bit topsy-turvy at the moment.”

Kent speared a black olive from Kipp’s plate with his toothpick and popped it in his mouth. “Well, something’s attracted her to you, mate. Once we find out what it is we’ll bottle it.”

Kipp sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, reliving the kiss. “Goodbye, Piccadilly.”

Kent jabbed at another olive. “Farewell, Leicester Square.”

Sir William tapped his soft-boiled egg with a butter knife before neatly slicing off its top.

“You see,” he said, “things have been going along quite nicely for us since Easter. The Americans have come in, thanks to German U-boats sinking their ships. The Canadians took that dreadful Vimy Ridge, which has stymied us for years, and the Arras offensive has being going well. The air war has its ups and downs, but I must say we are giving as good as we get, though we need some changes in our aircraft. Did you receive my letter that Kipp is officially an ace?”

Lady Elizabeth buttered a piece of toast. “I’m simply grateful he’s in one piece.”

Sir William dug into his egg with a spoon. “Eh? They’re all doing well, aren’t they? Robbie back in Dublin. Edward back with the fleet in Rosyth, a new ship under his feet. Libby safe and sound at her hospital in France.”

“I haven’t seen Libby’s face in two years. Why won’t they give her leave?”

“We’ve been through that. Libby could have leave to visit us twice a year or more, but she refuses. She feels she’s more needed there than here.”

“But leave is only a week or two, what difference can that make?”

“It’s the sort of girl she is, Mother. Pray for her. Keep her photograph by your bed. God will bring her home soon enough.”

“Edward was positively bubbly when he left,” Victoria spoke up. “Wasn’t he, Mother?”

Lady Elizabeth found a small smile and nodded. “I thank the Lord for that. It seems he was out on the grounds all the time, William. Walking about with Harrison, of all people. The fresh air did him a world of good. Writes Harrison now quite regularly, did you know?”

“Does he?” Sir William replied.

“Heaven knows what they find to talk about. Harrison is not exactly a wizard with a pen. But they seem to get along.”

“Grand. And Robbie chafing in Ireland?”

“Not chafing, William. I left his letter on the bedside table in your room. The executions that took place last year are still affecting the public mood. He and his fellow officers always go about in groups now. Things are tense.”

“It is unfortunate. Leniency would have cooled matters down considerably. The firing squads have simply ensured there will be another uprising. I’ve said it before.”

“I hope Robbie is well clear of Dublin before that happens. Charlotte dear, might I have another tea?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Charlotte Squire held the china pot firmly and poured a stream of hot tea into Lady Elizabeth’s cup.

“Thank you, Charlotte. Catherine is well enough, William. Says Albert is very busy, works late most nights. I expect she finds the loneliness dreary.”

“Can’t be helped, Mother. There’s a war on.”

“Papa?” asked Victoria. “Did you manage to look into Ben Whitecross’s whereabouts at all?”

“Hmm? I do have a person looking into it. It’s a needle in a haystack, you understand. He hasn’t written anyone, so we have no idea what area of the front his unit is stationed in. Why, we don’t even know which regiment he’s with.”

“Aren’t there any recruiting records?”

“Of course. But oddly nothing about a Benjamin Whitecross. Someone slipped up, I expect.”

Victoria leaned toward him. “But you’ll keep looking, won’t you, Father? The servants ask about him. Harrison especially. And Old Todd.”

“Of course I will. He’s a brave lad. It meant a great deal to your mother and me to see him stand up and enlist when he saw what our sons were going through for country and king.” He smiled at his daughter. “We’ll find him. It’s only a matter of time, my dear.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

Lady Elizabeth cleared her throat. “There’s some news we haven’t shared yet, William. Two pieces of news.”

“Hmm?”

She looked across the table to her daughter. “Victoria, my dear, why don’t you go ahead?”

“All right.” Victoria set down her knife and fork. “I’m not marching anymore, Father.”

Sir William looked up from his second egg. “What’s that?”

“I still believe in the right of women to vote. Indeed, I am just as strongly committed to universal suffrage for all men and women over twenty-one. And I’m just as strongly opposed to the war in Europe. But I found the demonstrations were becoming too coarse. Too violent. That is not the manner in which I should like to voice my protest. I do not see the point in making war in order to end a war.”

Her father sat back in his seat, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I am astonished.”

“So I prefer to avoid Liverpool for the time being. Letters to the editors of the various papers is my favorite mode of demonstration at the present.”

Sir William laughed. “I am delighted. Your mother and I have fretted about your being arrested or hurt or worse. I’m very happy you’ve come in off the street, my darling.”

“I’ll still write the letters, Papa.”

“Of course you will. What politician would mind that spirit in a daughter or son so long as the argument is elegant and sound and delivered with the proper amount of heat?” He attacked his third egg with knife and spoon. “My, my. This is most agreeable. What other news do you two have for me that can top that?”