Beauty Chorus, The (13 page)

‘Who are you calling geriatric?’

‘Daddy, I think it’s lovely that you’ve kept all your old champions but, be honest, they’re practically toothless now. Monty needs a bit of fun.’
So do I
,
she thought.

‘Evie, I’m not happy about this.’ His brow furrowed. ‘I’m not happy at all—’ Leo was interrupted by Virginia’s arrival. She swept into the room
wearing a lilac chiffon negligee and dressing gown, the marabou feathers around her collar picking up the deep purple and blue shadows under her eyes. She kissed the top of Leo’s head, and
poured herself a cup of coffee.

‘Late night, Virginia?’ Evie smiled tightly.

Her stepmother seemed on the point of saying something, but just waved her away, and sat gingerly at Leo’s side, fingers pressed to her temple.

‘You could be more polite to your stepmother.’ Leo slowly put his cutlery down as Evie reached for a piece of toast.

‘Why should I? She doesn’t care about me, she never has.’

‘That’s not true.’ Leo reached for his wife’s hand.

‘Thank you, darling,’ Virginia said, adopting an expression of sweet resignation. ‘I’ve done my best. I never wanted children …’

‘No, you never wanted me,’ Evie said firmly, and strode out through the kitchen door.

‘That girl.’ Leo clenched his fist. ‘I’m sorry, Virginia.’

‘No, don’t.’ She kissed her fingertips, placed them on his lips. ‘It’s Evie who should apologise, not you. I hate to see you upset.’

‘I can’t believe she’s going ahead with this ferrying lark. It’s no job for a woman. Far too dangerous. She gets an idea in her head and there’s no talking her out
of it, she’s just like …’ His voice trailed off.

‘Just like Ingrid? That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?’ Virginia smiled sweetly at him. ‘Don’t you worry.’ Her voice took on a wheedling,
little girl lilt as she stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘You’re so busy at the Ministry, Daddy,’ she kissed his cheek and he patted her hand. ‘Baby will sort
this out for you.’

‘Evie won’t listen.’

‘I can be vewy, vewy persuasive,’ Virginia whispered in his ear, before sashaying down the kitchen corridor.

She found Evie in the boot room, sorting through the coats. ‘It won’t last, you know,’ Virginia said as she leant against the doorframe. She slid a gold case
from her dressing-gown pocket and lit a cigarette. Evie ignored her. ‘I said, it won’t last, this ATA job.’

‘You can’t spoil this for me, Virginia,’ Evie said as she pulled her heavy winter riding coat from the rack and slipped it on. ‘Whether Daddy likes it or not, I’m
an excellent pilot. Born to fly.’

‘Born to fly?’ Virginia tossed her head back as she laughed. ‘Born with a silver spoon in your mouth more like. You’ll get bored of roughing it eventually.’

Good grief
, Evie thought,
not her as well. Is this really what people think of me? How can they assume just because I—

‘And another thing. You can forget about having your allowance restored. You may think just because you’ve always been able to wrap Leo around your little finger—’

Evie stepped closer to her. ‘At least I’m earning my money, which is more than you’ve ever done.’ She picked a crop from the stand by the door and flicked it against her
leg impatiently. ‘Bar the odd shilling on the nightstand of course …’

Virginia’s eyes widened in fury and she raised her hand.

‘Go on!’ Evie challenged, raising her chin. ‘I know you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m too old to be scared by you now.’

Virginia thrust her hand into the pocket of her dressing gown. ‘Then you’re old enough to stand on your own two feet.’ She glanced at Evie as she turned away. ‘You were
never good for much, so if you can earn a few pennies flying …’

Evie’s heart twisted in her chest, an old familiar pain, but she pulled up the collar of her riding coat and smiled confidently. ‘It’s you who’s no good for anything,
Virginia. What do you do exactly? I don’t think Daddy even sleeps with you any more does he?’ Evie sensed she had hit home as Virginia’s face twitched. She flung open the back
door and a cold wind blew through the house as she turned to her stepmother. ‘I feel sorry for you. You must be very unhappy to have made my life such a misery all these years.’ She
looked out across the frosty lawns to the stables, winter sun glistening on the pale, bare branches of the trees. In the distance she could see rain clouds. ‘It doesn’t matter any more.
I have a job, and a life. I’m not coming back.’

‘What about your father?’

‘Daddy?’ Evie turned to her. ‘I shall always be there for him. But this,’ she waved her hand, ‘the house, the money, your lonely little gilded cage? You’re
welcome to it, Virginia. I hope it brings you everything you deserve.’

The crisp mid-February morning carried a hint of spring in the air. Evie strode across the kitchen gardens to the stables with a lightness in her step, her coat billowing
around her.
Finally
, she thought.
After all this time I had the last word with Virginia!
Evie had always loved the stables – the warmth, the reassuring solidity of the horses.
Montgomery had been her eighteenth birthday present from her father; a 17 hands stallion. Now as she strolled into the yard, he saw her and whinnied in greeting, tossing his head.

‘Hello, old boy.’ She held out a piece of carrot to him, and as his firm velvet lips nuzzled her palm she kissed his bowed head. She tugged his forelock. ‘You’re moving
house today. Won’t be quite as ritzy as this place, but we’re all slumming it these days.’ The groom led him out to the yard and saddled him up, giving Evie a boost up. Montgomery
danced, shoes clattering on the cobbles. ‘So you’ll bring over some feed and hay in the trailer later to get us started?’ she asked the groom.

‘Yes, Miss Evelyn.’ He checked the girth. ‘I think Monty’s been missing you. Been right off his food.’

She stroked the horse’s powerful arched neck, the muscles smooth and firm beneath his gleaming chestnut hide. ‘Don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood to kick up my
heels and be off,’ she murmured in his ear.

‘I’d watch him, Miss. He hasn’t had a good gallop for a couple of days and you know how skittish he gets.’

‘Right,’ she said. Monty’s ears pricked, his breath hung in a cloud as he exhaled quickly. As she dug her heels in, he flew out of the yard, and the sharp sound of metal on
stone gave way to the steady drum of his hooves on crisp, frozen earth. As Evie flew along the bridle paths to Cox Green, the wind whipped her hair and her coat fluttered behind her like a loose
sail. She never wore a hat, in spite of her father’s admonishments. On Montgomery, she felt free, like a bird – like she felt when she was flying. She whooped for joy, the cold air a
pleasurable pain against her skin, in her lungs. She gave him his head, steam billowing from his nostrils. As he settled into a gallop up the final hill leading to the cottage, it felt as if they
were one creature, his thundering hooves the echo of her beating heart. At the end of the bridleway, where two paths joined, Montgomery suddenly shied, reared up, legs flailing in the air.

‘Good God!’ someone yelled.

Evie cried out in surprise, used all her strength to stop herself from falling, but it was too late. She tumbled out of the saddle, landing flat on her back in the hedgerow. Montgomery wheeled,
and thundered off across the open field, reins trailing and stirrups flapping wildly.

‘Are you hurt?’ a male voice asked.

Evie was winded. She lay still, checking herself for any pain. ‘Only my pride,’ she said and slowly raised her head to see Beau, doubled over, catching his breath. The air hung in a
pale cloud around him. From his loose aertex shirt and plimsolls she guessed he had been running. ‘You!’ She squinted up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. She noticed the
dressing had gone from his cheek. All that was left was a fine scar beneath his cheekbone.

‘I am sorry, Miss Chase, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He offered her his hand, and pulled her up. She flinched. ‘Is your wrist alright?’ He checked it over, and
for the first time she saw the injury to his arm clearly, the flash of burn fading against the smooth, muscular skin. She realised he was still holding her, and self-consciously they broke
apart.

‘That’s perfectly alright.’ She was panting still, her chest rising and falling. ‘Monty didn’t see you coming along the path. Perhaps we were both going too
fast.’

Gently he pulled a stalk of grass from her hair. ‘Why aren’t you wearing a hat?’

‘Don’t you start too.’ Evie brushed herself down.

Beau tracked Monty’s path across the fields with his gaze. ‘Stay here while I go and catch him.’

‘Be careful – he doesn’t like strangers.’

‘Neither do I,’ Beau called back to her as he jogged off across the field. He slowed as he reached the spot where the horse had stopped, beneath an old oak tree. She was amazed when
she saw Monty allow him to take the reins and leap into the saddle. Beau trotted him around in a circle, before digging in his heels and galloping the horse across the field, clearing the hedge in
an easy graceful leap. As he reined him in beside Evie, Monty tossed his head, nuzzled her hair.

‘You bad boy,’ she chided him.

‘I said I was sorry.’ A smile twitched on Beau’s lips.

Evie’s lips parted. ‘Not you, him.’

‘I see you didn’t forsake horses for boys after all, Miss Chase.’ He reached out his hand, stroked Monty’s heaving flank, the hair dark with sweat.

‘I told you, horses are far more reliable.’ She rubbed her wrist; it was beginning to throb. ‘That was very impressive.’

‘I’ve been riding since I was a small boy. He’s quite a horse for a girl. What is he, 17 hands?’

Evie nodded, biting her tongue at the ‘for a girl’ comment.

‘Which way are you heading?’ she asked.

‘Back home.’

‘Do you live near here?’

Beau pointed along the lane. ‘I’m in a small cottage along that way. Ironically they gave me married quarters. I should have been by now …’ He looked down
uncomfortably.

‘How’s tricks with Olivia? Have you patched everything up?’

Beau shook his head. ‘She’s insisting everything is back to normal. I don’t think it ever can be.’

In the silence, all Evie could hear was Monty’s heavy, rhythmic breath. She felt awkward suddenly. ‘Listen, would you mind awfully riding him home for me? My wrist is rather
painful.’ Beau shifted back in the saddle and offered her his hand. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean …’

‘He’s a big boy, I think he can handle both of us.’ Beau’s blue eyes sparkled. ‘We can’t have you walking home after a fall like that.’ He slipped one
foot out of the stirrups to allow her to spring up into the saddle in front of him.

‘Well, this is cosy,’ Evie said as she settled back in Beau’s arms. They made their way slowly along the bridleway, sunlight dappling the catkin-laden trees above them as a
song thrush called. They ducked their heads beneath a low branch. Evie reached up and brushed the soft flowers with her fingertips as they trembled in the breeze.

‘It’s funny isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You get so caught up in this war, but the seasons just keep coming all the same.’

‘I’ll be glad when this winter is over. The cottage is bally freezing.’

‘Ours too.’ Evie felt the warmth of Beau’s body against her back, and with his arms around her, she felt safe. It was as if the warmth were spreading through her, she felt the
hair rising at the nape of her neck. The silence felt awkward again. As Evie searched for something to say, she hoped he couldn’t see she was blushing. ‘I’ve never seen anyone
able to jump straight onto Monty,’ she said finally. ‘You must be very good with horses.’

‘My family has a stud in France. I grew up around them. My mother says I could ride before I could walk.’ Monty shied as a bird flew from the hedgerow, and Beau tightened the reins,
steadying them. ‘After the war I’m going to go home, take over the place.’

‘You’re French?’ She turned her head towards him. ‘Really? I wondered about your name. Beaufort von Loewe.’

‘How did you …?’

‘Joy told me, I hope you don’t mind?’

‘I’m half French. My father is German,’ he said finally. ‘That’s why I use Beaufort. I’ve dropped the von Loewe. Most people seem to think I’m a
spy.’

Evie turned her cheek to look at him, felt the bone and bristle of his jaw against her skin. ‘And are you?’ She felt him smile. ‘How did you end up in England?’

‘When my parents separated, my mother thought I was better off here.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why? I was perfectly happy at boarding school. Then I went straight into the RAF.’

‘Is your mother still alive?’

‘Yes, she’s in France. I worry about her, caught up in all of this,’ he said.

Evie had seen the newsreels in the cinema a couple of nights earlier, the latest reports of the brutality and devastation on the Continent. The haunted faces stayed with her, kept her awake half
the night.

‘I haven’t spoken to my father for years,’ he said. ‘He didn’t have any time for me when I was younger, and now we’re fighting on opposite sides. He’s
in the Luftwaffe. Not many men can say they were shot down by their father.’

‘How do you know?’

Beau shifted in the saddle, guiding the horse on with his thighs as they crossed a frozen pool of water. Monty’s shoes rang out, crunching through the ice. ‘I don’t know for
certain, but I’m damn sure I recognised the paintwork on his plane. He’s something of a hero among the Jerries, more hits than anyone. I’ve never seen so many crosses on a plane
before.’ She felt him tense as he talked.

‘Surely he wouldn’t have opened fire if he knew it was you?’

‘Hans would shoot me down in a heartbeat. He’s always hated me.’

‘Hated you? Why?’

Beau fell silent. ‘He adored my mother. Still does. I think he never wanted to share her with anyone, if that makes sense. Or, at least, not another man.’ Beau frowned as he thought
of his childhood, the dreaded sound of his father’s boots on the nursery stairs when he had done something wrong; Hans’ face contorted with sudden rage one moment, icy calm the next.
His father’s moods always changed like the flick of a switch.