The Fleethaven Trilogy (93 page)

As always in front of others, she opened the car door for Philip to get into the back seat, but even when they were once more driving through the countryside, he made no suggestion that she should pull over so that he could sit beside her in the front.

They drove all the way back to camp in silence.

L
ater that evening, Kate went to Philip’s office. His strange behaviour towards her had distressed her. What
had
she done to make him ill-tempered? It was so unlike him. He was serious and preoccupied sometimes, but with all his responsibilities she could understand that. This afternoon had been different.

There was a strip of light showing under the door. Tentatively she knocked, and when bidden, she entered and closed the door behind her. Coming smartly to attention, she saluted.

‘Well?’ he barked.

Her courage almost failed her. ‘Sir – could we – be
off
duty for a moment?’

He glared at her and then suddenly groaned and dropped his face into his hands. ‘Oh, Kate, I’m sorry.’

She was round the desk and kneeling beside him. ‘Whatever was the matter? I couldn’t understand . . .’

‘Couldn’t you?’ He raised his head to look at her, a half-smile on his mouth. ‘Just good old-fashioned jealousy, my darling.’

‘Why?’

‘When you were holding the baby – his baby – you were looking down at it with such love in your eyes, as if – as if you were longing that it was yours . . .’ His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. ‘Yours – and Danny’s.’

Kate felt a flood of tenderness for him as she cupped his face in her hands and gently lifted his head to make him look at her. ‘Once, that would have been true. But not now, not since – you. Yes, I love that little baby – as my nephew. I still love Danny – and I always will – but in the way I should have done all along, as my brother!’

‘Really?’

‘Really. And that’s because of you. If I hadn’t known you, I would still be clinging to Danny, hating Rosie and probably bitter against a poor, innocent baby. Oh, there’s a tinge of regret and sadness, I admit. You can’t kill the past, obliterate it as if it had never happened. It did happen; Danny and I fell in love before we knew of our relationship and we were devastated. But time and other people – you and Rosie – have helped to heal the wounds. The scars are still there, probably always will be. But now we can, both Danny
and
me, go forward. In the last few months, I’ve done a lot of growing up.’ She sighed and added musingly, ‘It might sound daft, but – but it was as if I was locked into being a seventeen-year-old, clinging desperately to what might have been. They all tried to tell me – me mam, Dad and even
Danny’s
mother, but it wasn’t until I – I found I could love someone else that I began to realize and understand that they were right.’

She sat back on her heels and said softly, ‘There’s only one thing I’m so sad about.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I may never get the chance to tell Danny all this.’

Now it was his turn to reassure her. ‘You will. I know you will.’

‘Philip, I do love you. I don’t think you’ll ever really understand how much you’ve helped me, and come to mean to me.’

‘Oh my dear – do you realize that’s the first time you’ve actually said it?’

‘Is it?’ she said in surprise. ‘I hadn’t realized.’ Then she giggled deliciously. ‘But then I always did believe that actions speak louder than words.’

‘You’re wicked. Do you know that? Deliciously, gloriously
wicked
!’

She was glad to see he was smiling again and that their easy friendship was restored.

‘The Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming,’ Mavis trilled, dancing up and down the hut. ‘Now we’ll show ’em just who’s going to win this war. With our Lancs and their bombers, we’ll really sock it to ’em!’

Since the attack on Pearl Harbor a few months earlier, Britain had no longer been alone; now she had a powerful ally and everyone was far more optimistic about the eventual outcome. Even so, they all knew the end of the war was still a long way off.

The weeks turned into months and still there was no news of Danny. As far as his squadron were concerned he became another statistic. Not forgotten, but gone, and there was no time, not yet, for indulging in mourning. There were too many to mourn.

For the WAAFs the ghosts of the young men lost still haunted the station. ‘Do you remember Jim or Bill or Nick . . .?’ was often whispered in the darkness of the hut. It kept the memories of the brave young men alive and the girls liked to think that their lost friends would be pleased that someone thought of them still.

‘CO wants you and the car at his office now.’ The corporal popped her head round the door of the hut.

‘Now?’ Kate echoed in surprise.

The corporal nodded and shrugged. ‘Must be something important for him to be going somewhere this late. You’d better hop to it.’

Minutes later, Kate pulled up in the staff car outside Philip’s office and opened the back door for him to climb in. She saluted smartly, but he waved her aside and went round and sat in the front passenger’s seat.

Kate got back into the car. ‘Sir . . .?’

He was sitting staring straight in front. ‘It doesn’t matter any more, Kate,’ he said quietly. ‘Just drive into the countryside, darling. I have to talk to you.’

Fear leaped in her breast as she bent and pressed the starter. As they paused at the gate to register their departure, she couldn’t fail to notice the guard’s glance into the car and the slight raising of his eyebrows. But Philip just sat passively beside her.

What had he meant – it didn’t matter now? Had their affair been found out? Was there trouble brewing for him – and her too? Was this what he wanted to tell her?

She drove the few miles to their favourite spot. Her hands were clammy with nervousness on the steering-wheel.

She switched off the engine and half-turned to face him. Slowly he turned to look at her. He seemed to be taking in every tiny detail of her face as if to commit it to memory; as if it was important that he should know every line of it.

‘You do know how very much I love you, don’t you, Kate?’ he said at last, his voice deep with emotion.

Her heart was thumping, beads of sweat standing out on her forehead. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, hoarsely. ‘Whatever is it, Philip? Tell me – please!’

‘I – I have to go home . . .’

‘Is that all?’ She almost laughed with relief but then it died immediately as she saw him shaking his head.

‘I mean – I have to go home – for good.’

She was silent now, just staring at him in shock.

He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly in a sigh. ‘Lizzie – my daughter – is critically ill. She – she won’t live longer than a few months.’

‘Oh, Philip.’ At once she was all compassion. ‘How dreadful! I’m so sorry.’ The words seemed inadequate, but what else could she say?

‘I’m – being posted to a station near home. My-in-laws have pulled strings and got it arranged. I wish they had consulted me first, but I suppose they felt they were helping. For once, Grace really seems to need me . . .’

She looked into his troubled eyes. With deep intuition she said, ‘And you need to be with her – with Grace – too, don’t you? And with Lizzie?’

He nodded. ‘But what about you, Kate? I don’t want you to think – I mean I don’t want you to be hurt . . .’ he said, anguished.

‘It’s all right,’ Kate said. She heard the words come out of her mouth as if it were someone else speaking; so calm, so understanding. Yet inside, there was a fluttering of panic just below her ribs and her heart was crying out; ‘Not again, oh, not again!’ She wanted to throw herself against him, beg him not to leave her, not to go. But one look at the torment in Philip’s face made her draw on all her reserves of strength for his sake. The poor man was being torn in two. And she did understand what he must be feeling for his daughter. Only a few weeks ago she would not have done so, but to her own amazement, holding Danny’s son in her arms had wrought changes in Kate. There had still been the poignant longing that this child should have been hers – and Danny’s – and yet there had been so much more. So this, she had thought, was what having children was all about. Holding a tiny, helpless, scrap of humanity in her arms, knowing it was totally dependent on its parents, well, somehow it was sobering and in one moment banished all selfishness.

And that was what Philip must feel for his child, perhaps even more so for a ‘less than perfect’ mite. She had only ever thought of Grace Trent as a shadowy figure, who, by her devotion to her daughter, had shut Philip out of her life. But now, Kate felt pity for Grace – and pangs of guilt thrust their way through her emotions. She couldn’t let Philip shoulder all the blame or start feeling guilty about her too.

‘I knew what I was doing – what I was getting into when we began our affair . . .’ She tried to reassure him.

She saw him wince. ‘It’s not an “affair”,’ he said harshly. He was angry now and she was surprised how much her words had hurt him. ‘It’s not a sordid affair, Kate.’

‘All right, all right.’ She tried to placate him swiftly. ‘I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Right now, your place is with your wife and little girl. But I’ll wait, Philip. However, long it takes. Just remember I’m here – waiting.’ She touched the back of his hand and he turned it over quickly and grasped her fingers in such a tight grip that it was painful.

‘Kate . . .’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘I do love you so very much. Bless you for understanding.’

‘I can only guess at what your wife must be going through. You must – be with her.’ Though she was weeping inside, Kate kept her voice strong for Philip’s sake. She wondered if he knew how much it cost her to encourage him to leave.

‘Poor Grace,’ he said heavily. ‘It’s not her fault. She’s borne the brunt of looking after Lizzie. Poor little Lizzie. I was so proud and happy the night she was born. I always wanted a daughter . . .’

‘It’s no one’s
fault
, Philip. Please don’t feel so badly.’

He closed his eyes and groaned deeply. ‘But I do. You’ve been so hurt before and here I am hurting you again.’

That, Kate thought, she could not deny. ‘You’re hurting too, aren’t you?’ she murmured.

‘Oh yes. My dearest girl – you’ll never know just how much.’

Gently he drew her against him and they sat together, just holding each other closely, staring out of the car window at the blackness of the night, the only light being from the stars millions of miles away, and the new moon, a curved slit of light.

‘My mother would say we’re unlucky – seeing the new moon through glass,’ Kate said.

‘At this precise moment,’ Philip said sadly, ‘I’d have to agree with her.’

His departure, once arranged, was swift. They only managed to snatch one brief meeting when their lovemaking was tinged with sadness and a terrible fear that this was the last time they would ever see each other.

‘I’ll write to you, Kate.’

‘How – how can I write to you?’

‘I’ll send you my address at the new station. Somehow we must keep in touch. We must! After a time, I’ll see if I can get you posted to where I am,’ he vowed urgently. ‘Oh, Kate, I’ll miss you so . . .’

The whole station was sorry to see him go; he had been a kind and caring CO, maintaining authority through the strength of his personality, because people really liked him.

‘May we take a photograph, sir?’ Mavis rushed up with Kate’s camera in her hands as Philip came out of his office for the last time. Kate, holding the car door open, bit her lip, but Philip smiled easily and nodded. As his batman put his kit-bag and briefcase into the boot of the car, Philip came and stood beside Kate. ‘I’d better have one with my best driver,’ he murmured so that only she could hear. ‘Expert at changing wheels and driving into ditches – and positively whizzo in a cornfield.’

Instead of reducing her to helpless giggles, his words made the tears spring to her eyes.

‘Thanks, sir,’ Mavis chirped. ‘We’ll send you one when they’re developed.’

‘Thank you, Mavis.’ With a last wave to those standing around who had come to see him off, he got into the back seat of the car. Kate bit down firmly on her lip and managed to stop the tears running down her face, at least until they were past the guard-room.

They all missed him, and none more so than Kate.

Three days after his departure, when she got up in the morning, she was sick for the first time.

‘S
o,’ Isobel said, sitting down on the bed beside her, ‘how long do you think you can keep this little secret?’

‘I – don’t know what you mean!’

Mavis came and stood in front of her. ‘Oh, come off it, Kate. We’re not daft.’ There were only the three of them in the hut so they had no need to lower their voices. ‘Throwing up every morning for the past fortnight. You’re in the family way, aren’t you?’

Kate’s shoulders sagged and she nodded.

Isobel clicked her tongue against her teeth in exasperation. ‘I can hardly believe you could be so daft, Kate Hilton. Born and bred on a farm and you
still
get caught! Didn’t you get him to – well, you know – take precautions?’

‘He did – at least . . .’ She hesitated, remembering a few weeks previously when, after being separated for a few days, there had been a desperate urgency to their lovemaking, which had been wonderful. Kate felt her cheeks grow warm at the mere memory; she could not, even now, regret a moment.

‘I see,’ Isobel’s voice was heavy with sarcasm now, ‘most of the time he did, except when he got carried away in the heat of the moment, eh?’

‘Something like that,’ Kate murmured. Isobel was far too astute at times.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ she was saying.

‘Do? What do you mean – do?’

‘Well, are you going to get rid of it?’

‘No! No – I’m not. I might have made a mistake – but I aren’t going to do anything like that.’ In her distress, her dialect was strong again.

‘Why not?’ Isobel insisted, while Mavis bit her lip. ‘You’ll be thrown out of the WAAFs. Look, Kate, there’s places you can go. We don’t mean a back street job, not now . . .’