Wild Lily (18 page)

On the morning of the jump Antony was awoken at dawn by his alarm clock and saw that there was to be no reprieve: the dawn was perfect, the faintest mist proclaiming heat later softening the grey fame of the gasometer beyond the factory walls. He got dressed and left the house without bothering to eat or drink, and pedalled off for Brooklands trying to work out in his confused mind whether he was excited or scared, happy or depressed.

Perhaps today would sort things out a bit, lead to some decision-making on his part: he could not carry on without any promise of his life improving. But he still had no idea of what he could do. Forget it, he decided, and try to concentrate on the jump.

Now the moment was approaching he realized he was terrified. He remembered how he had bullied Lily into doing it, and she had never complained. What a girl! Thinking of Lily he was then bedevilled by guilt at how he had treated her. How she had thrown herself at him … that she still loved
him …! His thoughts were disintegrating so fast that he forced himself to think only of the jump. Bowling along through the summertime woods full of birdsong there were only good things to think of, surely? Soon he would be swinging through the sky, the whole world at his feet, fulfilling his most ardent wish ever since he had discovered flying.

There were very few people about on the airfield, it was so early. He had even beaten the two Americans to it, and had to wait, biting his nails nervously, until their impressive Bentley hove into view. It pulled up beside him and Mart jumped out.

‘Clarence is going off to collect your girlfriend. Rob’s coming over to see us off. He knows quite a bit about parachutes, wants to see you’re fitted up properly. He doesn’t trust us, you know – thinks we’re a load of tyros. Which we are, of course. Wishes he was doing the flying himself.’

Clarence waved cheerfully and drove off. Knowing Clarence’s skills, or lack of, Antony rather wished Rob’s wishes could be fulfilled, but put the thought out of his head. The less he saw of Rob the better. It wouldn’t take Clarence long to pick up Lily, as she had promised to be waiting on the road.

Antony and Mart wandered over to Clarence’s plane, Mart exclaiming about the pleasures of life, the amazing breakfast they had been served at the crack of dawn at this swell hotel Clarence was living in.

‘Funny thing, last night an old bag checked in, same name as yours, a Miss Sylvester. You know her? Terrible old boot.’

Antony remembered his father shooting the detective inspector and felt exactly as the detective inspector must
have felt the moment the bullet hit him between the eyes.

‘Oh Christ! Not her!’ He almost staggered in his stride, made a choking gargle of horror.

Mart looked at him in surprise. ‘Hey, are you OK? Something I said?’

‘Miss Sylvester – my aunt.’

‘Oh, bad luck. I see. Jeez, poor you.’

‘Did you say … you know me? That I’m here?’

‘No, old bean. She tried to engage us in conversation but I’m afraid we were rather rude. We certainly didn’t tell her you were our best friend and we saw you every day.’

‘Thank God for that! She mustn’t find me.’

‘Well, you’ll be up and flying soon, away with the fairies. And we’re landing in Wiltshire somewhere, aren’t we? So she’s not going to find you today, at least.’

‘No, nor ever. I can’t come back while she’s around.’

‘We’ll fend her off – she’s not going to interfere with our fun today.’

But the day’s fun for Antony was no longer in his mind. He could not believe in his bad luck at being discovered by Aunt Maud. Never, never was he going back to her. He found it impossible to respond to Mart’s chatter and then presumed that Mart thought the nerves were getting to him, but the nerves concerning the jump had been entirely banished by the hell of Aunt Maud’s reappearance. Fortunately they did not have long to wait before Clarence came back with Lily at his side.

She jumped out and flung herself on Antony just as she
had the last time. ‘Oh, Antony, isn’t it marvellous! We can do it together – you can do it at last, just as you always dreamed!’

She was positively dancing with joy, glowing with excitement. Antony recalled unexpectedly the look on his sister’s face before she drowned, the same unearthly beauty sparked by unimaginable inner emotions, and felt he saw it in Lily as she pranced before him. He had never seen her so lovely, his dear little flower exploded into full bloom. He thought he was going mad.

But he could see that the two Americans, laughing, were captivated by this eager spirit.

While they were all standing round exclaiming and laughing they were interrupted by the familiar roar of Rob’s cranky motorbike. The professional had arrived to add the necessary air of seriousness to the expedition. He obviously found them wanting in all departments.

‘This isn’t just a laugh, you know. Lives depend on getting it right. First, you know where you’re going, Clarence? You’ve got to be spot on target for the jump, so they land in a safe place, not on top of a town hall or in a sewage works.’

‘Yeah, Ant knows the way. He told me. Follow the Portsmouth Road, and veer off after the Hog’s Back and make for Basingstoke. Then – he can tell me as we go along.’

‘You know it, Antony?’

‘Yes. I can tell him.’

They then started to discuss height, tactics, procedure. Antony had to forget Aunt Maud, concentrate on getting the parachute right, the safe way to jump, many things he had
never thought to explore the day he had so blithely taken Lily up and told her to go. Rob was a severe teacher and Antony knew that he wished he were taking Clarence’s place as their pilot – he gave him the impression that he hadn’t a great deal of faith in Clarence’s skills, but without saying anything clearly to dent their confidence.

Antony began to wish again that Rob was indeed going to be the pilot, then realized with another ghastly blow to his hopes that it was obvious that Rob was going to get the job he himself so dearly desired. Good friend as he was to Clarence, he could never compete with this man’s sheer competence. By the time he was safely embraced by his parachute, bundled on board, snuggled in the cramped space almost into the giggling Lily’s lap, he knew that his future was in complete ruins, and when he landed in Wiltshire he would have nowhere to go, no hope of a job, no money, not even a roof over his head.

So much for his day of delight: the longed-for day of his first parachute jump.

Rob shouted his last instructions, the engine roared into life and Clarence started taxiing down the airfield. The noise of the engine now made talking very difficult, but as they took off and made height Antony had to look out of the doorway and concentrate on the roads below, to direct Clarence. Looking out of the doorway made him feel ill, and the thought of shortly launching himself out of it made him feel iller still. What should have been a glorious red-letter day in his life had turned to dust and ashes before it had even started. Thank God the little aeroplane was putting the miles between him 
and Aunt Maud: he would certainly not be making the return journey. With luck, his parachute wouldn’t open, and he would have no more to worry about.

Beside him he could feel Lily almost vibrating with excitement. ‘It is so lovely, Antony! You will be so thrilled!’ she shouted in his ear. ‘I can’t believe I am doing this with you!’

The day below was still not awake, the roads empty, the fields gauzy in the early morning mist. The lush green of spring leaves and new grass spread like a great carpet beneath them, and in the sky above them a half moon still faintly hung, fading before thin wisps of harmless cloud. To be up there, like God, seemed an amazing privilege: he could not help thinking that, in spite of everything. Their little plane was an aberration with its stink of fuel, rattling through the silent dawn, and yet gave them this magical gift of seeing the world through completely new eyes. He could not be unaware of it, however confused his mind.

‘Is that Basingstoke?’ Clarence yelled over his shoulder.

‘Yes! The course is something like two hundred and twenty from Basingstoke. You can see the Newbury road, then keep south of Newbury. Due west and you’ll see the place.’

‘Once we’ve picked it up we have to make height.’

‘Lots!’ shouted Lily. ‘So it lasts longer, floating down. High, high as you can!’

Antony could feel himself beginning to sweat, in spite of the cold wind that came blasting in through the door. He was terrified now the moment was approaching. Clarence yelled that he could see what he thought was the airstrip. Antony
verified it, and felt the plane start to make its first circle to gain height, Clarence not wanting to lose the place as it grew smaller below. Rob had decided on the best height for them and Clarence was watching his altimeter, sweating as badly as Antony with his anxiety to get it right. The morning was windless and they needed to jump directly above the small strip of grey asphalt. Mart stood poised to make the decision for the exact moment. Lily was to go first, and Antony the moment after, when Mart said he would give him a shove.

Not to hit Lily, to see her get clear and pull the ripcord, then he was to go. They had discussed it in detail and now there would be no excuse for making a mistake. Antony had heard unpleasant descriptions of what might go wrong. They still lingered uneasily in his brain. Why was he doing this thing? And when it was over, what then? Did he really want to come back to the hopeless mess that was his life? His brain churned wildly, as panic took over. He looked back, white-faced, at Mart.

Mart’s eyes were narrowed, concentrating on the ground. ‘Lily, ready to go?’

‘Yes! Yes!’ she screamed, and leaped in one movement into the doorway and away.

Antony could not believe this was happening.

He clung with both hands to either side of the doorway, the wind blasting him.

‘Go! Go!’ screamed Mart and gave him a great thump on the back.

He went.

Hurtling down, his brain went into manic overdrive. He did not want to land: to meet Aunt Maud, to become a beggar, a down-and-out like so many that haunted Brooklands, sleeping rough in the broken-down sheds, to face being the failure that he truly was. He was falling, frozen, sweating, hallucinating, perhaps screaming, he never knew.

He passed Lily, swinging blissfully beneath her great white canopy, so slowly he could not believe it. He could not believe what he was doing, or rather not doing: pulling the ripcord. He had it in his hand, but something in his scrambled mind held him back, seeking peace, seeking oblivion. The fading moon went round and round above him; the ground was quite clear now: he could see two little ants running, looking up, their faces like white daisies in the grass.

They were getting terrifyingly bigger.

He pulled the ripcord, but knew it was already too late.

So blessed peace it would be.

Lily landed what seemed to her a century after Antony, far away from the terrible scene she had witnessed. Scared witless, she made a bad landing and could not get to her feet, entangled in the billowing folds of the canopy. Her left ankle would not bear her weight and, once up, she fell. She could not free herself from her harness, her fingers not obeying her petrified brain. She could hear herself sobbing, swearing at the beastly, clutching parachute.

‘Leave me! Leave me!’ she screamed, and at last kicked herself free.

Pain seared up her leg, but she ran regardless. Long before she reached Antony the plane had come down and made a terrible, panicky landing, passing her on its way down the strip. She got a glimpse of Mart still standing in the doorway. He screamed something at her, but what it was she had no idea. Antony was still a mile away, it seemed, and she saw two other people running towards the spot. Clarence taxied the plane back to where the now-opened parachute lay sprawled 
uselessly on the grass and Lily was still running. Mart jumped out.

The pain in her ankle was so bad and the stitch in her side so crippling, that she had to come to a halt. She stood there sobbing, and after a few minutes saw Mart coming towards her. He held out his arms to her and she fell thankfully into his embrace, burying her face into his cold leather jacket, into the darkness. She never wanted to come out.

‘There, there, Lily, hold up. Hold up, sweetheart, it’s all right.’

‘It isn’t! It isn’t!’

‘He’s still breathing.’ He nearly added ‘for now’, but held it back. Then, ‘What was he thinking of?’ He picked Lily up bodily and, holding her like a baby, started to walk slowly back. Lily saw that he was walking towards the clubhouse, not towards Antony, and struggled violently to get down.

‘I have to see him! I have to be with him. He needs me!’

‘Lily, you don’t want—’

‘I do! I do! You must—’

He let her down, but held her as she staggered.

‘There’s nothing you can do. They’ve gone for a doctor, an ambulance.’

‘I have to be with him!’

‘All right. All right.’

He put his arm round her and held her up as she limped desperately towards the inert figure sprawled on the ground. Clarence was crouched beside it, and two or three gawpers, perhaps from the aero club or from the fields, working in the dawn.

‘Cor blimey, ’e’s a goner for sure,’ Lily heard one of them say.

‘Antony!’ She dropped down beside him. She had braced herself for something terrible, but in fact, whatever his injuries might be, they were not obvious.

Blood was trickling from his mouth, his eyes were closed and his skin was blueish-white. He lay at a strange angle from the hips, but was so muffled up in flying clothes that it was hard to make out any details. It was plain that he was deeply unconscious, so anything she might say for comfort was not going to penetrate, but she said it all the same, muttering and sobbing, aware all the time that she was making a fool of herself.

The two Americans were now murmuring together: ‘Whatever possessed him? Did he do it on purpose?’

‘Perhaps he froze with fear.’

‘Well, he was frightened, that was for sure. But surely—’ Mart shrugged. ‘I just don’t get it.’

‘It can’t have been accidental. He must have meant it.’

‘Then changed his mind at the last moment.’

‘That’s what it looks like. The chute was working OK. It was checked and double-checked.’

They stood looking helpless, and Lily started to pull herself together. She was the one who knew Antony best, after all, but could see the awful possibilities. Perhaps it might be best if he died.

‘He’s got no family,’ she said to them. ‘No one, save a terrible aunt.’

‘Jesus, we met her! She booked in at our hotel last night. Miss Sylvester.’

‘Did he know?’

‘Yeah, we told him this morning.’

Lily was silent, stricken by the thought that she had told Mrs Goldbeater that Antony was at Brooklands. So of course Mrs Goldbeater had told Maud Sylvester. So it was her fault that Aunt Maud had discovered Antony. Is that why he didn’t pull the ripcord? She found it hard to credit. Life was so beautiful.

But then she thought: he has no home. He has nobody. He has no job. He has no money. He has me. He will always have me. But what good am I? She lay beside him and cried. She watched for his breath, so faint. They all left her alone.

Eventually an ambulance came bouncing across the field and two men got out with a stretcher. With help from Clarence and Mart they bundled the broken body onto the stretcher and loaded it in the ambulance. Mart said he would go with him. They would not let Lily go. The ambulance men forbid her, saying there was no room. Only for one, which was Mart.

She was left with Clarence, to gather the chutes and fly home. They did not speak. Clarence, his thoughts in complete disarray, was trying to concentrate on his flying, trying to recall the way back to Brooklands, terrified of not finding it and having to make a forced landing somewhere. (Thank God, he thought, he had now enrolled Rob to do all his future flying for him: he was not a natural.) His concentration on the present luckily kept his mind off the truly terrible thing that
had happened. It would overwhelm him later, hovering now in his consciousness, but seeing poor Lily safe, not to mention himself, was crucial. All the light had gone out of Lily, her vital shining life. She was like a crushed shell.

He found Brooklands, more by good luck than good navigation, but could not bear to land where he would face Rob and the other enthusiasts, not yet. He needed space. He taxied to a far corner of the airstrip, closer to where the car enthusiasts hung out, turned off the engine and handed Lily carefully out onto the ground. He put his arm round her, steered her to the motorists’ clubhouse where there was no one around that he knew and ordered a taxi. While they were waiting he bought two brandies and more or less poured one down her unwilling throat.

‘It will blank it out, make it better,’ he said. ‘Just a bit.’

‘I want to be with him.’

‘I will take you, whenever it suits. But not now. Now you have to go home.’

The taxi came and they drove back to Lily’s home. The still, soft morning had blossomed into a perfect early summer’s day, cloudless, without a breath of wind and when Lily came down the track to the lake she saw it spread before her in the sunshine just as in the days when she had larked there with the boys and Antony had mocked her declarations of love, when they none of them had a care for the future or a thought for anything but the laughing present.

A century ago. Even the brandy could not take the edge off this overwhelming feeling of loss, and she started to cry again.
She heard Clarence groan. He was not practised in consolation and was obviously wishing he had taken Mart’s probably less exacting role.

‘I’ll be all right,’ she sniffed. ‘You can leave me now.’

‘I’ll just see you into your house. Will there be anyone there?’

‘No. I don’t want anyone.’

‘We’ll keep in touch, let you know—’

When he dies,
Lily added to herself. They went into the empty cottage.

‘Shall I make you a cup of tea? I will – it’s what you take for shock. Sit here, rest that ankle. You really need to go to bed.’

At that Lily laughed. ‘In the middle of the day?’

Laughing and crying: she supposed that was what life was all about. It hadn’t been all roses, after all. But nothing as bad as this. Clarence sat on the table, waiting for the kettle to boil. It was going to take a long time; the fire was low. Lily put some wood on to hurry it up while Clarence’s eyes rested on the amazing pictures scattered over the walls. A glorious thought came suddenly into his head.

‘Will you sell me the Van Gogh?’

‘It’s Antony’s.’

‘You said he wants to sell them.’

‘Yes, he does.’

‘If I give you the money you can give it to him later.’

‘If he dies—?’

‘Then you can keep it.’

Lily thought her mind was too frazzled to make a sensible
decision. What did the picture matter to her any more? She had never particularly liked it. If he wanted it, it would go to a good home. It was true that Antony had shown little interest in the pictures, stashing them in their cottage just to suit himself.

‘You can have it if you like.’

‘I can give you all the money I have on me, for now. Then if – when – Antony gets better and wants a bit more we can talk about it. Would that suit you?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

She wanted him to go, kind as he was. But he made her the tea, very strong, with about a week’s worth of sugar in it, and she forced it down to please him, while he unhooked the picture from the wall. The taxi was waiting for him on the road.

‘We’ll let you know the news of Antony, don’t worry. I’ll find out what hospital they’ve taken him to, then if we go to visit we’ll take you with us. We won’t let you down. It was all our fault, going into this, after all. Here, take this for the picture. If you change your mind you’ve only to say. Otherwise I shall take it back to the States with me.’ He groped in an inside pocket and brought out a roll of notes secured by a rubber band. ‘I’ll just keep one for the taxi. Here you are. Take it.’ He pulled one note out for himself, and thrust the rest into Lily’s hand. ‘Go and rest now. He’ll be all right. I’ll come back to see you shortly.’

He picked up the painting again, tucked it under his arm and left the cottage.

Lily looked down at the roll of notes in her hand. There
were too many to count. They seemed to be in notes she had never seen before, with the figure fifty written on them. Later, when her father counted them, he said there was a thousand pounds there.

Enough to live on for ever!