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Authors: S A Laybourn

Tags: #Romance Fiction

A Kestrel Rising (7 page)

BOOK: A Kestrel Rising
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The evening sun slanted through the window and fell across the floor in a sweep of coppery light.

“Where’s the bloody BBC?”

“I have no idea.” She sipped her wine. “Keep going. You’re bound to find it sooner or later. Perhaps if you weren’t in such a hurry, you’d have more luck.”

“You’re no help, are you?” He winked at her. “Not when it comes to radios, anyway.” He bent to his task once more while she watched him weave through the static then, suddenly, there was a voice followed by music. “Here we are,” he announced, grinning. “Music, perfect.” He sat on the settee beside her as the familiar sounds of the
Beer Barrel Polka
escaped from the wireless. “Not the most romantic of tunes.” He wrapped his arm around her. “But it’ll do.”

Ilona rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s lovely just to be able to sit and listen to the radio in peace. It feels so…so…normal.” It did. It was right and timeless, feeling the warmth of him beneath her cheek.

“Aye, I know what you mean. It makes a nice change just to sit in a room with just the two of us and this wine.” He took a sip. “What is it, anyway?”

“The landlord said it was blackberry. That’s what it tastes like.”

“It’s not bad.” He surveyed his glass. “Not bad at all.”

The wine reminded her of autumn and the taste of blackberries lingered on her tongue. It conjured up images of hedgerows heavy with berries, glistening in heavy dew with strands of cobwebs strung between them like fragile, silver garlands. She heard the wind in the trees along the lane and could smell the tang of wood smoke. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had been home in the autumn. For a moment she felt a twinge of longing until Ian took the glass from her hand and kissed her, a gentle reminder that he was all that she needed.

“Shall we dance, Ilona Lowe?” he asked when the polka gave way to
Moonlight Serenade
.

She smiled at him. “I love this song,”

He pulled her to her feet and they danced, cheek to cheek, in a tiny, sleepy circle, defined by the clutter of furniture in the room. They matched each other step for step while dusk stole through the open window and softened the corners with shadows. Ilona felt Ian’s hand drift down to the small of her back while his lips moved against her ear. She closed her eyes and everything else but him faded away. She pushed thoughts of the days to come aside. She needed these memories untouched because she had a feeling that, when they returned to Catterick, they would be stepping into a whirlwind and somewhere on the other side of the storm, they would get married and there would be a lifetime of evenings of dancing to the radio in the gathering dusk.

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

Ilona was grateful to fall into her cot. Most of the girls were beginning to stir as she pulled the covers over her head to hide from the noise and the light of day. It had been a long night. The squadron had returned only just before the sunrise and word had been sent to her that there would be no debriefing to give the crews some much-needed sleep. Instead, she had driven the bus directly to their barracks. The men had filed off the bus, bidding her weary goodnights, leaving Ian sitting behind her. He’d gathered up his gear and kissed her with more warmth and energy than she’d expected. He trailed his hand across her cheek as he backed off the bus. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She watched him walk away, the morning sun brilliant on his hair, and ached with love for him.

When she drifted off to sleep amidst the usual morning hubbub, she kept the image in her mind hoping that, in sleep, she would find him once more.

 

* * * *

 

Ilona awoke to the afternoon sun streaming through the western windows of the hut. It found dust drifting through the air as it slanted across the bleached wooden floor and rows of tidy cots. She wondered what time it was and turned to grope for her clock. As she did, she found Faith, sitting bolt upright on her cot, watching her.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Faith? What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”

Faith looked at her hands where they rested on her lap. “I’m so sorry, Ilke,” she replied, her voice faint.

Ilona swung her legs out of the bed and took her hand. “Is it Sandy? Has something happened?” She felt a knot in her stomach, cold, heavy and unmoving. “What’s happened?”

Her friend lifted her head, her face wet with tears. When she spoke, it was scarcely a whisper. “No, Ilke, it’s
not
Sandy.”

“Oh, no, Faith, no…please, no.” Blood pounded in her ears, the knot unfurled inside her and she began to shake.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so very sorry,” Faith sobbed. “Oh, Ilke, it’s Ian.”

“What’s happened?” Deep inside, ice spread through her veins. “Please, Faith, tell me what happened.”

Faith started to weep. “The Germans sent over fifty planes. They were headed for the docks at Sunderland and for Driffield. They scrambled the Spitfires first, you know, to go out and head them off, but there was so much going on they asked for the Blenheims too. There was a lot happening. Sandy isn’t quite sure what happened. There were fighters everywhere trying to knock the bombers out of the sky, bullets everywhere, and a lot of enemy planes went down.” She stopped and scrubbed her hand across her face. “Sandy said that one minute Ian was off his starboard wing and then, in the next, he wasn’t. He called for him on the radio but there was nothing and then someone else said they saw the plane go down. One of their bombers was shot down and it nosedived into Ian’s plane,” she cried. “There was a huge explosion and that was it.”

“Are they sure?” Ilona wasn’t sure if the words had actually left her lips.

Faith nodded. “They’re sure.”

Ilona sat up and let Faith’s cold hand fall away. The daylight began to recede until she saw nothing but darkness, a great gaping maw of nothingness. Somewhere, from far away, she heard a thin, high-pitched keening. It was a horrible sound, heavy with all the sorrows of the world and it surrounded her. She realized that the sound came from deep inside her and that someone was reaching through the darkness trying to comfort her, but the words were meaningless. They brought nothing and fell away into the abyss that had closed itself around her.

She curled up on her side, seeking the solace of sleep to escape from the nightmare. In a moment, she would wake up for real, to sunlight and empty barracks and, somewhere, Ian would be waking too, thinking of her and getting ready for another night. Faith was still there, and she was crying and saying that she was sorry. It was the last thing Ilona heard as she sought refuge in the darkness, hoping that somewhere beyond the grief, she would find Ian’s light once more. He couldn’t be gone. Hadn’t he always promised to find his way back to her?

 

* * * *

 

Faith was still there when she came out of the empty, starless night. This time she wasn’t alone. When Ilona opened her eyes, she counted half a dozen other girls, all huddled together on Faith’s bunk, watching her with sorrow in their eyes. It looked like all of them had been crying. One or two of them still were and a couple began to weep again when she sat up and stared at them. She felt nothing. Her throat was raw and she found it hard to focus. It took her a little while to realize that it was evening and the sunlight spilled in coppery pools across the floor. Soon, someone would have to draw the blackout curtains and shut away the glorious night and the cooling breeze.

It hadn’t been a dream. There was no Ian waiting for her in the darkness—no tiny, steady light, no gentle touch or whisper. He had gone and Ilona couldn’t find him. There was nothing inside her. The ice had frozen everything. There were no words left, no way to say what she could not even begin to describe. The abyss was there and she clung by her nails to the edge of it, wondered whether she was just waiting to let go and let it claim her.

“Ilke?” Faith’s voice was small. “Are you all right?”

Ilona stared back at her. She was
not
all right. Something huge and black had seized her soul and ripped it out. She would never see Ian again, never feel the warmth of his skin or hear his voice when he whispered her name. She would never know the luxury of waking beside him and watching the morning light touch his hair with gold—not in this life. That dreadful knowledge made her want to howl again, but instead, nausea rose within her and she was sick. Someone held her hair away from her face and someone else wiped her mouth, gently. She heard a voice say that perhaps she needed to go to the infirmary and, down the echoing tunnel, there were hurried footsteps and the slamming of a door.

“Why can’t I feel anything, Faith? Why is there nothing?” She felt her friend’s arms steal around her and gather her up.

She rocked her back and forth. “I don’t know, Ilke. I don’t know. Perhaps it’s shock.”

“Yes. Shock, that’s what it will be.”

“You need to see a doctor,” Faith told her. “Perhaps he can give you something.”

“There’s nothing anyone can give me. Absolutely nothing.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

Ilona felt her friend’s tears warm on her neck and wished that she could weep with her.

One of the girls returned with a medic. In hushed tones, Faith explained what had happened. The medic took one look at Ilona and said she needed to be in the infirmary. Ilona didn’t care. Wherever she was, it would all be just as bleak and bad. At least in the infirmary, she wouldn’t have to see everyone else’s grief and, she hoped, she would be left in a corner of a ward to find her own way out of the emptiness.

The medic helped her out of bed and kept his arm around her waist. She was dimly aware that he was offering sympathy and comfort. Ilona couldn’t reply. Faith took her other arm and they walked out into the evening. A sweet, rosy light picked out shadows among the buildings. Ilona remembered that the last time she had been outside, that same sun from that same day had been brilliant on Ian’s hair when he’d walked away from her. She felt sick again and weakly pushed the medic away while she vomited and dropped to the ground. She clawed at the concrete and she welcomed the pain that her fingertips found.

“Come on, love.” The medic helped her to her feet once more. “We’re nearly there now. The doctor will see to you.”

Ilona wanted the pain back but she let the medic and Faith lead her to the infirmary. Perhaps the doctor would be able to sort something out, something that would take her out of the half-life she found herself wandering through.

“She’s in shock.” The doctor had taken one look at her. “What happened?”

“She had some bad news,” Faith said. “Her fiancé was killed today.”

“That would do it.” The doctor took Ilona’s limp wrist in his hand. “Yes, it’s shock.” He let it drop back onto the white bed sheet and rose. “I’ll give her something. She needs to sleep and she needs to be left alone. There’s nothing anyone can say or do that will make her feel any better. At least, if she can sleep, she can have some respite.”

“ACW Lowe, I’m going to give you something that should help you,” he said, gently. “Just take them and swallow them and, hopefully, you may find some comfort.”

Ilona complied. If she could not have raw, physical pain, then some comfort would help. She rested against the pillow. The linen was stiff and cool against her burning skin.

The pills quickly found their way into her own darkness and sleep took her somewhere else.

 

* * * *

 

When Ilona woke, the ward was empty and a nurse sat at a desk in a pool of lamplight. She glanced up and smiled before rising. For a moment Ilona wondered why she was there, why her limbs felt heavy and why she didn’t want to move.

“How are you?” The nurse perched on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel. I don’t think I feel anything. Can that be right?”

“We all have different ways of grieving,” the nurse said. “There are no right or wrong ways and when you’ve had such a dreadful shock, things can be delayed a bit.” She patted Ilona’s hand. “If it’s any comfort, there have been a few people here today asking after you.”

“There have?”

“Yes. Some of your fellow WAAFs, your night sergeant and, probably, most of your squadron.”

“Really?”

“You have a lot of friends, ACW Lowe.”

It was a surprise and some comfort to know that people wanted to know how she was. Ilona wondered if the sedatives were still working because she felt far removed from any emotion, apart from weariness. She plucked at the bed sheet. “I think I want to go home.”

“I know. I think they’re sorting that out. You’ll get compassionate leave.”

“Will I come back here? I don’t think I could cope with that.”

“I doubt that.” The nurse rose. “I’m sure your sergeant will be here soon and he’ll talk to you, if you’re up to seeing him.”

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” Ilona replied. “I don’t think I can just sit here all day and stare at the walls. It would give me too much time to think. I don’t want to think at the moment.”

 

* * * *

 

Corporal Harris and Sergeant Flack sat awkwardly in the metal chairs beside her bed.

“You’ve done a splendid job, ACW Lowe. You’re easily the best bus driver I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.” Corporal Harris tugged at his collar.

Ilona nodded and managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Corporal Harris, sir.”

“You’ll be sent home on compassionate leave, but then I think you’ll already know that.” He looked down at his hands for a moment. “I understand that you wouldn’t want to resume working here, so we’ll arrange another posting for you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’d appreciate that.” Speaking felt too difficult. Every word had to be considered, weighed, measured.

Seeing Sergeant Flack was hard, because he brought back all sorts of memories of those long days and nights, of seeing Ian and of waiting for his return. She remembered the delicious sense of anticipation and relief when his plane touched down, of the bus that had never let her down and of the men who rode in it, who loved Ian and his dreadful singing.

BOOK: A Kestrel Rising
2.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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