The Fleethaven Trilogy (81 page)

‘No, but I – I tend to talk too much even when I’ve only had a little.’

He came and sat on the corner of the desk, just above her. Gently he picked up her hand and put the glass into it, making sure she was gripping it before he let go.

‘Well, I’m listening,’ he said softly. ‘It’s no bad thing to talk.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I had someone to talk to sometimes. I’m finding command is a very lonely occupation.’

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Deep in his eyes there was anxiety. Suddenly, she understood the loneliness of his position and all its responsibilities. No wonder he often looked tired and seemed withdrawn.

She had lost a friend in Edith, for whom she would grieve, but Philip had lost several personnel in his charge and at least three aircraft, and his airfield had been shot to pieces. It was his responsibility to get his station operational as soon as possible. And there would undoubtedly be questions asked about whether correct procedures had been observed before and during the raid and, worst of all to face, whether anything could have been done that hadn’t been to minimize the damage.

She gulped the liquid in the glass. ‘I’m sorry, you must have lots to do, I’ll . . .’

He smiled, but it was a sad, forlorn smile. ‘That’s the better side of being in command. One can delegate, you know. I’ve done everything I can for the moment.’ His eyes clouded. ‘I need a few moments myself. Soon I shall have to write some very difficult letters.’

Of course, now there was no question of anyone on the station having any leave, except perhaps on compassionate grounds. And in all truthfulness, Kate could not say that going home to meet Danny fell into that category. But how she longed to lean her head against his shoulder and feel the comfort of his arms around her and tell him just how she felt, knowing he would understand completely.

Philip Trent, in his capacity as Station Commander, decided to attend the funerals of those who had been killed. Clearance was given for Edith’s body to be transported home to Nottingham, and the day before her funeral, Philip called Kate into his office.

‘I know it’s maybe not usual, but you’ve probably guessed I don’t always go by the rule-book.’ He grinned at her, and, at ease, she smiled back. ‘I want you to drive me to ACW Brownlow’s funeral tomorrow, so I was wondering if you’d like to attend the service too?’

‘Yes, I would. Thank you.’

He nodded. ‘This is where the – er – rule-book gets thrown out of the window. If your two friends would like to come along too, you have my permission to ask them. I can arrange for them to alter their shifts if necessary.’

‘Oh, thank you. I’m sure they would like to. The four of us had got quite close.’ She was almost surprised to hear herself voicing the fact that she looked upon Isobel Cartwright as a friend. But it was true – now.

Philip nodded again, his face serious. ‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘You make a lot of good friends in this kind of life, all thrown together. But – when something like this happens, well, being close makes it extra painful.’

He really is an understanding man, Kate thought, marvelling as she ran towards the WAAF site and her hut.

‘Did he really say that?’ Mavis asked incredulously when Kate repeated Philip’s offer to her two friends.

Isobel sat on her bed and blew smoke rings into the air, savouring her new packet of cigarettes; it had been pay day the previous day. ‘He’s different – I’ll say that for him,’ she observed.

‘All the chaps like him too,’ Mavis put in. ‘Dave says . . .’

Kate and Isobel gave a mocking groan, but Mavis only grinned and went on, ‘Dave says they really admire him ’cos he can keep authority and yet be human at the same time.’

Isobel glanced at Kate, sharing the past for a moment. ‘Not an easy thing to do,’ Isobel murmured.

‘So I take it you’ll come.’

They both nodded. ‘Poor old Edith – it’s the least we can do.’

Sadly, Kate sighed. ‘It’s
all
we can do.’

The car journey to Nottingham was a little strained. Philip, sitting beside Kate in the front, said little, and, taking their cue from him, the two WAAFs in the back seat were silent.

They stood in the rain awaiting the funeral cortège which was already late. Then, as it appeared around the corner, they saw a strange procession walking behind the slow-moving vehicle. A man led the way, lurching from side to side, with a tiny, bird-like woman walking behind him carrying a child of eighteen months or so. Behind her straggled five more children of various ages and sizes. A tall, lanky youth, incongruously still in short trousers; a girl in a coat which was far too big for her, the hem flapping round her ankles; and three smaller children, one with jam smeared across his mouth, another with his nose running and grey socks wrinkled around his ankles. Kate glanced at Isobel, but she was staring fixedly ahead, deliberately ignoring the family.

The man came and stood in front of them. ‘You ‘ere for our Edie’s funeral?’ The smell of alcohol wafted into their faces.

‘That’s right, sir. My name’s Trent – your daughter’s Commanding Officer.’

The man wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and then proffered it to be shaken. Without a flicker, Philip took it and shook it firmly.

“Ow do?’ the man said gruffly, then he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘The wife and kids,’ he added, rather unnecessarily, Kate thought.

Philip inclined his head towards Mrs Brownlow and her brood. Standing a pace or so behind their CO, the three WAAFs were able to avoid shaking hands with Mr Brownlow, as the party, now complete it seemed, moved towards the church porch. As they fell in behind the coffin, Isobel muttered, ‘Now we know why she had nits!’

‘Shut up, Iso!’ Kate hissed between her teeth as they passed through the porch and into the musty interior of the church.

The service was conducted in a swift, unfeeling monotone. It was obvious that the vicar knew neither Edith nor any member of her family and Kate felt a surge of pity for the girl as her coffin was lowered into the grave. As the party moved away, Edith’s father said loudly, ‘I told ’er she’d come to no good, joining up. She had a good job – a safe job – in a factory. What did she ’ave to go and join up for? Officers’ groundsheets, that’s all them WAAFs are. I told ’er.’ He glared accusingly at the three girls in uniform as if he held them personally responsible for his daughter’s death.

‘She wanted to make something of herself, Bert.’ The woman looked up at Philip, appealing for support. ‘She was a good girl, sir. Not like ’ee’s makin’ out.’

Philip nodded at the woman, his voice gently sympathetic. ‘She was a clever girl, Mrs Brownlow, and well thought of, I promise you. We shall all miss her.’

The woman’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded, a swift, pecking movement, hitched up the child in her arms and turned away. The children followed her while Edith’s father, with a last baleful glare at the officer and three girls in uniform, sniffed, wiped his hand across his mouth once more, turned away without a glance at his departing family and shuffled off down the road in the opposite direction towards the swinging sign of a pub.

‘Good grief! What a family!’ Isobel could contain herself no longer as they got back into the car. ‘Ooh, sorry, sir.’

‘That’s all right.’ Philip took off his peaked cap and ran his hand through his springy hair. ‘Thank goodness that’s over. Let’s get going, Kate.’

As Kate started the car she heard the gasp of surprise from the back seat at Philip’s use of her Christian name. Once out of the city, Philip relaxed and leaned back in the corner of the front seat, half-turned towards the two girls in the back, his arm along the back of the bench seat.

‘In the confines of this car, we’re unofficial,’ he grinned. ‘My name’s Philip and you’re . . .?’

‘C-Cartwright and Nuttall,’ Mavis stuttered.

In the rear-view mirror, Kate could see Mavis’s eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets.

‘No, no, Christian names, please.’

‘Isobel – and I’m Mavis.’

‘Well, Mavis and Isobel, just so long as we’re very official when we get back to the station, eh?’

‘Oh yes, sir.’ Mavis gasped. ‘Of course.’

‘Now, Kate, if you can find us a quiet, out-of-the-way pub on the way back I’ll treat you girls to a spot of lunch.’

The atmosphere relaxed at once and soon Mavis had them in fits of laughter with stories about the antics her young brother had got up to in his efforts to join up at fifteen. ‘My mother wanted Dad to leather him, but Dad just smiled and said he wished he could join up again himself. He was in the last lot and got gassed . . .’

Kate was silent, but vague memories of her own father flickered through her mind; hazy pictures of an emaciated figure shaking uncontrollably. In her memories Danny was there and they were walking down the lane at home, one on either side holding the hands of the man they now knew had been the father of the them both.

Over lunch, Kate was amused to notice that Isobel positioned herself next to Philip, engaging him in conversation, tilting her head to one side coyly as she listened, intensely interested in whatever he was saying.

‘Well, ladies,’ he said at last, ‘I’m sorry to break this up, but we must be getting back . . .’

‘Oh, isn’t he
nice
?’ Mavis said later, when they had returned to camp.

‘Is he married?’ Isobel asked, and when Kate glanced at her, she saw a cool, calculating look in Isobel’s eyes.

‘I can’t find out anything,’ Mavis said in disgust. ‘Even Dave doesn’t know, and normally what he
doesn’t
know isn’t worth knowing! I know he comes from the York area, but honestly, that seems to be all anyone can find out about him.’

‘Mmm,’ Isobel said and her eyes took on a faraway look.

A week later a letter came from Danny containing anxious inquiries as to Kate’s safety. Although he was avoiding putting anything in writing directly, it was obvious he knew about the terrible raid on Suddaby airfield.

‘
Please write back at once and let me know you’re safe.’
His concern gave her a warm glow, but in contrast the rest of his letter left her with the cold chill of being excluded from a happy event.

‘
It was a shame,’
he wrote, ‘
that you couldn’t get leave the same time as me. We had a great time.’

We, who was ‘we’? The next line made it clear.

‘
I took Rosie dancing in town, or rather – if I’m truthful – Rosie took me! She really is a great kid and fun to be with. All the fellers are around her like bees round a honeypot, but she danced with me all evening and made an old man feel young again!
’

Kate smiled as she read the letter. Fool! she thought, he’s only nine years older than Rosie and yet he talks as if she’s still a child. Then her smile faded and her glance went to the window. Her hands, still holding the letter, lay in her lap. She looked out across the gently rolling landscape. But Rosie was no longer a child. She was a young woman who liked to flirt and have a good time. And she had spent a weekend with Danny.

For the first time in her life, Kate felt a tinge of jealousy towards Rosie Maine.

In her reply posted the same day, Kate promised she would get leave the very next time he did. ‘
Then we can go home together. I do miss you so, and I’ve so much to tell you.’
She paused, her pen wavering above the page, knowing that what she was going to write next was unfair, possessive when she had no right to be, and yet she could not help herself.

‘
And if it doesn’t work out and I can’t get leave, maybe you could come and stay somewhere near here instead of going home.’

Kate ignored her conscience and posted the letter quickly.

A whole month went by and she did not hear from Danny. Now it was her turn to worry that something might have happened to him.

‘I
know what we ought to do,’ Mavis said in her best organizing voice. ‘We ought to go to a dance in Lincoln.’

Kate gasped and Isobel looked disdainful. ‘Do you think that’s appropriate in the circumstances?’ Her glance flickered over the empty bed that had been Edith’s. No one had arrived yet to fill it.

‘Edith wouldn’t have wanted us to mope about it. What matters is that we should remember her.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Kate said, and even Isobel shrugged.

‘If I can fix it up with some of the lads, we’ll go into Lincoln next Saturday night. There’s bound to be a dance going on somewhere. Dave’ll know.’ With that Mavis whirled about and was gone from the hut, banging the door behind her, without giving Kate or Isobel any time to argue further.

Kate shook her head, smiling fondly after her friend. Then she reached into her locker for her writing pad.

‘
Dear Danny,’
she began. ‘
My new friend Mavis – you’d like her, she’s so jolly – has bullied us into going to a dance in Lincoln on Saturday night. How I wish you were nearer and could go too?

Isobel eased her last pair of silk stockings over her shapely legs with tender care. ‘If anyone ladders these tonight at the dance, I’ll get them put on a charge.’ She turned to look at Kate who was still sitting on her bed. ‘Are you getting ready or what?’

‘I – I don’t think I’ll come,’ Kate faltered. Most of the girls not on duty were going to the dance in Lincoln, but Kate wasn’t in the mood. She’d had no reply from Danny to her last two letters and was just beginning to feel a little uneasy about his safety.

Mavis, hands on hips, came and stood over her. ‘Oh yes, you are, my girl, so you’d better look slippy and get ready.’

Adopting that stance, Mavis reminded Kate so sharply of her mother that she burst into laughter. ‘Oh, all right then. I’ll come.’

She levered herself off the bed, gathered her things together to get washed, put on a clean shirt and brush her uniform.

Mavis had not moved away but was still hovering near Kate’s bed. ‘I hope you’re not going to bawl me out,’ she said, chewing the side of her thumb.

‘Now what have you done?’ Kate said in mild exasperation.

‘I’ve fixed the three of us up with Dave and a couple of his mates.’