Enduring Passions (17 page)

After the shock, in which Lord Rossiter carried on strolling as if
nothing
had happened, Tom felt his anger rising. But he recalled Fay’s plea to remember that whatever the provocation, she loved him and to keep calm.

But he couldn’t help saying sarcastically, ‘Nor you from entering into the Roxhams – sir.’

Lord Rossiter was not amused. Bleakly he answered, ‘You may joke, young man, but I am deadly serious. You will gain nothing financially from this venture.’

Despite everything, Tom began to lose his composure.

‘I thought we were coming to an understanding, sir. I love your
daughter
– she loves me. What you have just inferred is not only insulting to me, but, far worse, you can’t think much of Fay to say something like that.’

The older man grunted. ‘I wouldn’t be carrying out the obligation of being her father if I didn’t protect her, at least until she becomes the concern of another man – her husband.’

Tom bit back the desire to say it sounded as though he was talking about Fay as if she was property or something. Instead, he managed, ‘Fine, sir, but I’m not concerned at all with your family’s wealth, you can be assured of that, nor is Fay.’

‘Really? Have you asked her?’

‘No.’

‘Then perhaps you should.’

Tom was getting exasperated by the whole trend of the conversation. ‘I have no need. Is that “it” sir? Is that your main concern?

‘Of course not, Tom.’

Lord Rossiter grinned in such a friendly way that what followed was unnerving. ‘You are completely unsuitable; with neither the education, background, prospects – need I go on? Tom, for all our sakes, think again about this madness. It can’t be right, can it?’

Tom shook his head. ‘I’m sorry you think that.’ This time he
deliberately 
stopped himself from adding ‘sir’. ‘Fay and I so wanted your
blessing
. It will make her very sad.’

‘Perhaps it will make her see sense.’

Tom had had enough. He was sure that Lord Rossiter had been a good father to Fay – and was, in his way, doing what he thought best for her, but he was being very direct and somewhat rude.

He felt his patience running out and struggled to control himself. ‘I think we have nothing further to say to each other, have we? We’re engaged. I’m sorry you cannot accept that.’

Lord Rossiter raised an eyebrow, waited until he’d drawn thoughtfully on his cigar before replying.

‘Tell you what, Tom, you help us persuade Fay to go on her tour, demonstrate this is no five minute wonder, and I will do nothing in the meantime to come between you – how about that?’

‘And afterwards?’

Fay’s father’s lips compressed into a thin line. ‘We will cross that bridge when it comes.’

After seconds of silence, Tom said, ‘I wouldn’t dream of standing in Fay’s way – if she wants to go, there will be no opposition from me.’

Lord Rossiter nodded. ‘Good.’

Fay had followed her Mother into the drawing-room and straightaway challenged her. ‘Well, now that you’ve met him, what do you think?’

Her mother frowned. ‘Oh really dear – if you mean do I think he’s good-looking, in a rough sort of way, yes, but he’s – well, working-class. You really can’t be serious?’

Fay took a cigarette from the box on the table.

‘Never so sure about anything before in my life, mother.’

She lit up as Lady Rossiter protested, ‘But he is totally beneath you socially – you’ll be a laughing stock.’

Fay took the cigarette from her lips.

‘You’re ashamed, aren’t you, mother? That’s what’s really hurting you!’

Lady Rossiter sat down in a wing chair. ‘Fay – please,
please
, let this madness pass. It’s as though you are ill or something. You’ve only just met, how can you carry on as if you really
know
him?’

Throw the thin curl of smoke going up from her cigarette, Fay said, ‘I knew straightaway.’

Her mother made a clicking noise of disapproval.

She continued, ‘So, you would throw away everything – and I mean everything, your career, your position in society, your family, for a life of poverty with a man you know nothing about.’

Fay took her time answering, as though she was seriously considering the question, then said brightly, ‘Yes.’

Lady Rossiter just shook her head in despair. ‘He will not get a penny from this family – you do realize that, don’t you, Fay?’

Her daughter’s eyes widened with disbelief. ‘My God. I can’t believe you said that.’

‘Why not?’

Fay threw her arms wide.

‘You’ve
met
him, mother. Need I say more? He is so obviously not a cad.’

‘Hmmm. And what about your career? Have you thought about that?’

For the first time Fay’s eyes clouded. Seeing her success, Lady Rossiter added quickly, ‘All those years studying, you finally start to get
somewhere
, and then a complete stranger comes along and spoils it all.’

‘Not necessarily, Mother.’

Lady Rossiter sniffed. ‘Are you telling me he’s not going to try to stop you?’

‘No – of course not.’

But in reality they had not discussed it and, more to the point, she suddenly realized that she had been pushing it to the back of her mind.

Lady Rossiter continued, ‘You don’t know much about men, do you, Fay? Once they are in charge they become very selfish. He’ll want you around
him
– taking care of
him
, you wait and see.’

Fay restrained herself from saying that whilst her mother might feel that way about her father, she had no such feeling like that for Tom – they were equals.

She remained silent, taking another pull on her cigarette, then resting her hand on her cheek, elbow on the arm of the chair as the smoke curled away above her head. But her mother wasn’t going to take a rest from it.

‘When would you expect to marry this man?’

Fay was getting tired of her mother’s disinclination to use his name. ‘Do you mean Tom?’

Grimacing, Lady Rossiter snorted, ‘Of course – unless you are engaged to more than one man.’

Exasperated, Fay snapped, ‘Oh Mother, don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Well – when?’

‘We haven’t thought about that yet.’

Her mother sighed. ‘I really can’t take this seriously, Fay. If it ever comes about, have you thought about the arrangements – how your side of the church would be packed with family, friends – some including people from the Government – and then his people?’ She was
incredulous
. ‘It would be a nightmare. And we would be expected to pay for this … this spectacle.’

Fay, instead of feeling crushed, chuckled.

‘Could be fun. His mother is a lovely person and it could be very lively between his father and Daddy.’

Lady Rossiter was clearly not amused. ‘Oh really, Fay, be serious. His family are not even middle-class. They would have no idea how to behave – how to dress. And can you imagine the reception and the speeches….’ She shuddered.

Fay stood up. ‘All right, Mother, I can see that there might be
problems
. Maybe we should just get hitched in a register office.’

Her mother was horrified. ‘You can’t be serious?’

Fay took a last pull on her cigarette and tossed it into the fire. After she had breathed out the smoke she said, ‘Perfectly. Since you and Daddy are so set against the whole thing, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to pay for it.’

Her mother was still speechless when the men returned and entered the drawing-room. Lord Rossiter, with his hand on Tom’s shoulder, guided him into the room.

‘Well, that’s all settled then.’

He signalled Wilson. ‘Let’s have a bottle of the ’35 Pol, please, we need to toast the happy couple.’

It was almost too much for Fay’s mother. ‘But….’

Her husband waved his hand to stop her. ‘Tom and Fay’s engagement is a
fait accompli
, my dear, and I agree, it did catch us off balance. But now that I know Tom has Fay’s best interests at heart, and won’t do anything to jeopardize her career, then I think it only right that we give them our blessing.’

When it looked as if Lady Rossiter was going to explode, he silenced her with a hard look behind their backs.

The cork was expertly released by Wilson, and the glass bowls filled with the bubbling wine from the Champagne region. Lord Rossiter raised his glass.

‘To the happy couple – Tom and Fay.’

They all touched their glasses, Fay moving next to Tom and holding his hand. Her mother looked bleak and bewildered, her smile thin and forced.

Lord and Lady Rossiter stood on the steps of Codrington Hall and waved as Fay and Tom were driven away.

Out of earshot and still waving, she said. ‘What on earth are you doing, giving them our blessing – are you out of your mind?’

Lord Rossiter took her by the elbow and guided her back indoors.

‘My dear, you know Fay, and she is besotted by this fellow. If we forbid her, she’ll do something silly. As it is, this
Tom
has promised me he won’t get in the way of her career – and that means almost six months abroad.’

His wife began to see the light. ‘You think the novelty will have worn off by then?’

‘That’s the general idea.’

She looked doubtful. ‘Absence could make the heart grow fonder? It did with me when you were away at the front.’

He smiled down at his wife. ‘But we had known each other for some time before – not like this flash in the pan.’

Lady Rossiter didn’t answer. Although he was right that they had known each other for some time, she had fallen in love with him the moment they had met. It worried her that her daughter might prove to be a chip off the old block.

Her husband gave a grunt. ‘And meanwhile I’ll have a word with old Abercrombie – he’s on the Great Western Railway Board, used to be my fag at school; see if we can’t put a few obstacles in the way of young Roxham’s plans.’

Lady Rossiter looked relieved. ‘That’s a good idea, but be careful, any suspicion that we have had anything to do with it and it could misfire badly.’

But Lord Rossiter was rubbing his jaw, not listening, mind suddenly far away. He looked very tired and unhappy. She prompted.

‘What is it?’

He came out of his reverie. ‘I was just thinking where we might all be in six months in these troubled times.’ He shrugged, looked at his wife sorrowfully. ‘Every dark cloud they say has a silver lining. In our case that might also upset their wedding plans.’

Inside the car Fay cuddled up to Tom and asked, ‘What happened with
you and Daddy?’

He had his arm around her. ‘Nothing – but he made it pretty plain that I wouldn’t have been his first choice for a son-in-law.’

Fay wasn’t satisfied. ‘But he came in agreeing to our engagement.’

Tom gave her a squeeze. ‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’

‘Nothing – but you must have said something.’

‘All he asked was that I wouldn’t get in the way of your career. I said I had no such intention. I’m very proud of you – overawed in fact.’

She sat bolt upright. ‘So
that’s
it!’

‘What?’

‘They think that when I go on this tour I’ll forget all about you, that we’ll just drift apart. They must be counting on it.’

He pulled her back to him, whispering in her ear. ‘That’s not going to happen is it? It will be agony though.’

She turned his face and kissed him fiercely. ‘No, it will not – especially if I don’t go.’

Tom kissed her just as fiercely back. ‘You
will
go. I’m looking forward to being married to the world famous pianist – Fay
Roxham
.’

She playfully punched him and said, ‘I’ll keep my maiden name
professionally
, thank you very much.’

Then in a rush of euphoria that it was all over, she flung her arms about him and just hugged and hugged him. It was as if a great weight had just lifted from her shoulders. There were no more secrets, no more lies.

But as they drove through the Cotswolds, with an AA man on his motor bike and sidecar saluting them as they passed, Fay experienced a growing sense of unease. As they started the descent into Cheltenham, with Simpson double de-clutching to engage a lower gear to slow them down, she finally understood why. Her parents wouldn’t give up
that
easily. If things didn’t seem to be working out as they expected, they would also bring pressure to bear in some other manner as well – probably were planning that
already
. They would
never
give up.

From her position nestled against his chest she looked up at him, at his face. For the few seconds before he sensed that he was being studied and looked down at her and smiled, she saw for the first time – at least consciously – the firmness of his jaw and mouth and the sharpness of his look as he gazed out of the window at something in the distance – like a hunter. It was only a fleeting glimpse of this man she now felt was part
of her, but it was exciting. There was more to know, more to look forward to. But one thing remained the same: nothing would separate them now, even when they were physically apart.

And to that end she began there and then to plan ahead, to think in terms of the actual wedding.

In the following weeks the weather steadily improved.

One sunny day Tom, flying solo, found himself utterly relaxed,
looking
down through his goggles at the rolling brown and green fields of the Cotswolds, and the tiny moving white dots that were its flocks of sheep.

The slipstream battering his head, the whistling rigging wires and the steady roar of the engine had now become second nature to him. He banked away to the right, looked down again, saw a couple of little cars moving along a road, like beetles scurrying along well trodden paths. Over Gloucester way there was a blue-grey haze from the factories. Tom felt so incredibly free. He looked up – at the darkening blue that marked the end of the earth’s atmosphere. Beyond was space.

Not for the first time he felt
something
.

He didn’t go into it with anybody – except Fay. He’d told her once that he felt he wasn’t alone up there. She hadn’t laughed at him, in fact she’d said nothing, just squeezed his hand.

Trubshaw began to teach him air navigation, more aerobatics and sideslipping, a little instrument flying, emergency procedures – dual and solo – all the time stretching his ability.

Life was busy for both of them. They managed to meet on average once a week, usually in Cheltenham, squeezed between his work rota, flying lessons and her increasing involvement with Sir Trevor Keynes.

On several occasions Tom accompanied her to concerts in London and Cheltenham Town Hall, and under her guidance, began to take an
interest
in classical music. The first time he was really moved was at a
performance
of Elgar’s Cello Concerto, when something in the music seemed to be talking to his English soul.

For her part, Fay sometimes accompanied him to the airfield, if it was a nice day, sitting on a chair beside the hangar, reading when he wasn’t
in sight and sometimes being taken for a joy ride by one of the other aircraft owners. Afterwards they would go into Cheltenham, sometimes to the cinema, or a tea dance, or just strolling around happy to be together.

For Fay things at home had been good – too good really. They very occasionally asked after Tom, but in many ways it was as if the whole engagement had never happened. She’d even been clothes shopping for her trip with her mother in London, with luncheon thrown in by daddy at The House.

This treatment more than anything strengthened her conviction that there was only one answer to their predicament. It would by-pass her scheming mother and father and ease the problem for Tom’s parents.

And the moment to tell him what had been in her mind since that drive after the first meeting came as they were sitting outside, in Montpellier Gardens, on an unexpectedly warm afternoon watching people playing on the public tennis courts.

‘Tom.’ She reached out and took his hand.

Bemused by her tone, he looked around at her. ‘Yes.’

‘It won’t be that long till I go off on this tour.’

Crestfallen he nodded. ‘I know.’

When she didn’t immediately say anything else he prompted, ‘Fay, what is it?’

She looked down into her lap, took a deep breath. ‘Tom, I don’t want to hurt your parents – in fact, they could attend, but I don’t want my parents to know anything about it.’

‘About what?’

‘I think we ought to marry in a register office as soon as possible, but keep it a secret.’

Stunned, he just kept looking at her, even when a young man in white flannels and holding a wooden tennis racquet called out, ‘Could you toss the ball back, please?’

Tom came out of his daze, stood up and got the ball, throwing it back with a flick of the wrist, oblivious to the ‘Thanks.’

She watched him with bated breath as he came back and sat down beside her, still saying nothing.

‘Well?’

Tom finally looked directly at her. ‘How soon can we do it?’

She smiled. ‘I’ve got the forms; all you’ve got to do is sign up and set the date.’

He shook his head in wonderment. ‘What am I getting myself into?’

Fay giggled. ‘Matrimony, my love.’

But secretly he was churning with excitement. He had assumed some distant time, a year or more. There was so much to work out, where to live, what he could afford, and so on. And the meeting of the families – if hers came at all – and guests … the problems had been on his mind for weeks.

‘So what do we do for my best man, and your bridesmaid?’

She shrugged. ‘We’ll rope witnesses in on the day – can’t use friends, word would get back.’

Tom knew she was spirited, but he was continually being amazed by her.

He tried to act as the Devil’s Advocate even though the idea was rapidly gaining credence in his mind.

‘When we’ve done it – what then? Should we have a honeymoon? They’ll get suspicious if we disappear – and I would have to get time off from work.’

For a second Fay thought about it, blushing, before saying, ‘We should have a few days together, don’t you think, Tom? But if it’s impossible, then so be it. The important thing is we will be man and wife –
married
, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.’

He tried another tack. ‘But will that be enough for you? Don’t you want it to be in a church, married by a vicar?’

Wistfully, Fay nodded. ‘Ideally, but there is nothing to stop us having a church wedding later, is there?’

So it was decided. He used his fountain pen to sign the forms she had pulled from her handbag. When he finished she put them back, did up the button that closed it, then stood up.

‘I need a cup of tea.’

Grinning, he got up, looked around, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

Just as he did so a tennis ball hit him on the back of the head. He pretended his legs had buckled under him.

Laughing, she playfully slapped his arm. ‘You fool.’

They were both so happy as they walked into town to the cinema.

The bombshell dropped next day.

As usual, he presented himself to Sergeant Whelan exactly on time. The latter inspected his acting detective constable and seemed fo find everything in order by the softness of the grunt he made. He then said, ‘I
hope your replacement over the next few months won’t be another would-be pilot.’

Tom was shocked. ‘Replacement? I don’t understand, Sergeant.’

The moustache was given a perfunctory sweep by the back of the right finger, then the same hand picked up a sheet of paper.

‘You’re being sent on secondment to the London North Eastern Police, we’re taking one from them.’

Feeling slightly sick at the thought of what it would do to them he protested.

‘But why? I’ve never heard of that happening before, Sergeant.’

‘For what it’s worth, Roxham, neither have I.’

He passed the letter over to Tom who saw it was from their Headquarters in Paddington.

‘Seems they want an undercover officer whose face won’t be known in the area. Can’t be too careful; apparently it’s something serious.’

‘I can’t go.’

Suddenly Whelan’s face became rigid, his voice that dangerous
softness
Tom knew presaged a serious reprimand.

‘“Can’t” Roxham? I’m afraid it’s an order, and we don’t disobey orders do we,
Constable
?’

Tom took a deep breath. ‘Then I’ll resign.’

Whelan exploded. ‘Don’t be a silly fool; it’s only for a few months and if you do well it will increase your chances of promotion – it’s a golden opportunity.’

‘I don’t care.’

Sergeant Whelan’s black eyebrows nearly joined in the middle of his forehead. He had trouble restraining himself.

‘So, you’d rather be out of a job with no references than be away from home for a few months? Very clever. And what about those flying lessons you’ve been going on about – won’t be able to pay for them with your dole money, will you? If you get it.’

‘Is it this girl I’ve heard about? If she’s worth it she’ll be waiting for you when you come back.’

Tom was still stunned, and the realization that the flying, which was coming on in leaps and bounds would be affected, added to the turmoil in his head.

‘Where am I to be stationed, Sergeant – King’s Cross?’

At least, in London he could continue to see Fay.

‘Read the orders, laddie. No, it’s Peterborough. Bed and breakfast
accommodation has been arranged for you next to the station.’

Staggered, Tom asked, ‘When – when am I supposed to go?’

Sergeant Whelan’s face lightened. ‘You report first thing on the day after tomorrow – your ticket from here to Peterborough is in the booking hall.’

Looking shattered Tom turned to go.

Whelan called after him. ‘And laddie, my Bridget waited for a damn sight longer than a few months.’

Tom nodded. ‘Yes, Sergeant.’

He rang from his usual box near Leckhampton Station. When she came to the telephone Fay sounded concerned. It wasn’t their usual time.

‘Darling, what is it?’

When he explained the line was silent for a few seconds. Anxiously he prompted. ‘Fay?’

Her voice was strained. ‘This isn’t normal, you say?’

‘No – I don’t think so.’

‘It’s my father’s doing.’

He frowned out of the window at a passing Wolsley car. ‘That’s
impossible
.’

He couldn’t see her vigorously shaking her head. ‘Oh no it’s not; you have no idea of the strings he can pull. Look, Tom, this can play into our hands.’

Puzzled and feeling rotten he questioned, ‘How?’

‘You know that matter we were discussing yesterday?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, think about it. We do the deed either where you’ll be, or London, or wherever it is – no one will be any the wiser. You can even have a few days off. Sir Trevor lives in Norfolk. I can use that as an excuse to be over that way.’

Tom slowly began to see what she was driving at. Her voice came again. ‘When do you go?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Oh, that is quick. Which route are you taking?’

He shrugged to himself. ‘Up to London, then mainline to Peterborough.’

She seemed to make up her mind. ‘I’ll go up for the day – we can share a train and have some time together.’

That bucked him up, that and her general cheeriness. He told her which train he would be on, stopping at Kemble.

She promised to be there.

His voice dropped. ‘See you tomorrow then, sweetheart.’

She managed a rather breathy ‘Goodbye darling’ and put the phone down looking thoughtful.

Tom stepped out of the box and unexpectedly found himself with a day off. As he turned his bike for home, he wondered if Mr Trubshaw could fit him in today. Then it hit him like a brick. He’d been so concerned about himself and Fay that he’d never thought about the flying. What would happen now? Had it all been in vain?

Without further thought he turned the bike for Staverton.

Mr Trubshaw was in his office listening to the wireless when he knocked and put his head around the door.

‘Have you got a minute?’

The instructor turned off the wireless and sat up. ‘Tom, what brings you here on a week day morning?’

He told him. ‘So you see, I won’t be able to come for sometime by the look of it.’

Trubshaw steepled his hands. ‘Hmm, that’s not good Tom – you need to keep up the training.’

Miserably he agreed. ‘I know, but what can I do?’

Trubshaw stopped steepling his hands and opened a drawer of his battered desk. ‘There is one possibility. Where did you say you were being posted to?’

‘Peterborough.’

Trubshaw produced a booklet and began flicking through it. ‘Here we are – East Midlands.’

He studied it for a minute as Tom sank despondently into a chair. ‘Right.’

With his finger on an entry he picked up his telephone and dialled the operator.

Tom listened as he said, ‘I want to make a trunk call please, to’ – he looked more closely at the page – ‘Peterborough 253. Thank you.’

He put his hand over the mouthpiece.

‘I’m ringing the nearest club to where you’re going, to see whether we can get you transferred. The trouble is, they might be full up.’ He looked at him warningly.

‘Everybody is busy with these government contracts, it’s good
business
.’

Tom waited in a state of apprehension.

His mother had been working overtime; cleaning and pressing shirts, socks, underwear – everything he needed. She was a bit emotional, it was his first time away from home. The family suitcase had a leather belt tied around the middle in case the catches popped open under the strain.

‘You will write now, Tom, won’t you?’

‘Of course, Mother and I’ll be home soon enough.’

She had a clothes brush and did the shoulders of his jacket before he tossed his raincoat over one of them and put his trilby on his head.

‘Right, I’ve got to go, Mum, or I’ll miss the train.’

As she gave him a kiss, she fussed and worried around him.

‘Don’t do anything silly now, Tom – promise?’

He picked up the case and winked at his father who shook his free hand.

‘I won’t, Mum, I promise.’

The suitcase weighed a ton and felt as if it was pulling his arm out of its socket by the time he got to the bus stop. What on earth had she put in there? He hoisted it on to the platform and put it under the staircase as the bus pulled away. Stumbling, he fell on to a bench seat and looked out of the back window, at the receding streets of his childhood. He had a sense of leaving something behind – forever.

Fay was waiting as the train appeared in the distance in a blue haze of heat, finally rumbling past her, coupling wheels clanking, metal shrieking on metal as the brakes were applied.

She saw his head sticking out of a window long before the train ground to a halt. Waving furiously she ran up the platform towards him.

He opened the door and stepped down on to the platform – straight into her arms. They held on to each other tightly before they got on the train and sat side by side.

They lapsed into silence for several minutes. The carriage was full, he’d had to save her seat several times from people walking up and down the corridor and sliding back the door.