Beauty Chorus, The (44 page)

‘What you are doing,’ she said calmly, ‘is borrowing my silver evening bag, fixing your hair, and going out with the gang. Forget about everything else. Have fun, be
young.’ She pulled her car keys out of her pocket, and tossed them to Stella. ‘Why don’t you take my car, then at least you haven’t got to rely on some drunk boy to get you
home.’

At 1 a.m. Stella walked back from the Riviera towards the cars arm in arm with a young ATA pilot she knew from the base, laughing with Joy and the other girls.

‘Let me drive you home, Stella, it’s still early,’ he murmured in her ear.

‘Darling, you are sweet, but I have a car, and I’m shattered,’ she lied.

He slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her closer to him. ‘Come on, Stella, you know we’d have fun together.’

‘No, really.’ She was beginning to tire of him.

‘I promise I’m not like the other chaps blathering away. You should have heard what Teddy was saying earlier, after a few pints. He’s really got it in for you girls.’

Stella had seen Teddy and his cronies at the bar and had studiously ignored them. ‘What was he saying?’

‘That girls are only useful as bicycles not pilots.’ The man swayed slightly. ‘That he could think of a thing or two you could do with his joystick.’

‘Did he say me, or just any of the girls?’

‘Oh it’s you, Stella, half the men in the base want to make love to you. He really lost his wool when you gave him the brush off. Do you know what they call you? The Ice
Queen.’

‘I know, but I’m not—’

‘I promise you, Stella,’ he slurred, ‘you’re pukka you are. I wouldn’t do a thing to hurt you. Not like those twerps Doyle and Stent. Remember that Tomahawk?’
He leant against a lamp post.

‘What do you mean? What did they do?’ she demanded, but he only tapped the side of his nose.

Stella felt sick. She began to run, pulled the keys from her pocket. As she drove through the dark roads towards White Waltham, she thought quickly. What if it were true? What if Teddy really
did have it in for them?

The rectory was in darkness as she pulled up outside. Michael’s flat was on the ground floor so at least she didn’t have to risk shinning up the drainpipe. She ran
around the side of the house to his bedroom window. She tapped softly and waited, shivering in the snow. The sash window slid up, and Michael poked his head out. ‘Stella?’ he said
sleepily. She could see past him to a rumpled bed, white sheets golden in the lamplight.

‘Michael, I need your help,’ she said.

‘Stella I can’t …’

‘I haven’t come here to make love to you, Michael. It’s important, but there’s no time to explain.’

He started to pull his clothes from the chair.

‘I’ve got clothes in the car for you, just bring your boots,’ she said.

Michael shrugged on Stella’s flying jacket in the alleyway by the Riviera. ‘This is madness,’ he said as he bent down to the car window.

‘Teddy won’t recognise you. He never goes to church. You’ll be perfectly safe.’

‘I’m not worried about myself,’ he said gently. ‘I’m worried about you. You seem awfully tired, Stella. You need a break. Why don’t I just take you back to
the cottage?’

‘Please, it’s not for me,’ she begged. She leant over the steering wheel towards him, her face in shadows. ‘It’s for Megan. I think they did something dreadful.
Just find out what you can. If they ask, tell them you’re down visiting family or something.’

‘Where am I supposed to be based?’

‘Debden, Norfolk. Tell them you’re flying Spits.’

Michael slammed the door and strode towards the club. Luckily he was only slightly taller than Stella, so her Sidcot suit was a perfect fit. He pushed open the door of the club – it was
quieter now, just a few couples left on the dance floor, but in a haze of smoke he saw Teddy and the other pilots still at the bar, laughing and talking. He took a stool nearby. Doyle looked up and
he nodded at him.

‘What’ll it be?’ the barman asked.

‘Pint of beer.’ Michael caught Teddy’s eye. ‘And whatever these boys are having.’

‘Jolly decent of you,’ Teddy said. ‘Haven’t seen you here before?’

Michael swivelled around on his stool to face them. ‘Visiting my mother,’ he said, imitating his clipped Service tone.

‘Where are you based?’

‘Debden, flying Spits.’ Michael took a sip of his pint. ‘What’s this place like? Not many girls in tonight.’

‘You missed most of them,’ Stent said miserably. ‘Bloody prick teasers every last one of them.’

‘Blue balls, old boy?’ Michael leant casually on the bar. His heart was racing.

‘Occupational hazard now they’ve got the little bitches on every base,’ Teddy said, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

‘Don’t agree with it at all, taking jobs from our boys, and as for the money they’re paid …’ Michael goaded him.

‘Good for you, that’s just what I was saying.’ Teddy slammed his palm on the bar. ‘These girls take home more than our fighter pilots – it’s an
outrage.’

‘Still, what can you do?’ Michael’s heart was in his mouth.

‘Oh, this and that …’ Teddy took one of the pints the barman placed in front of him. ‘Cheers,’ he raised his glass to Michael.

‘Things can go missing, or get mixed up,’ Doyle leered.

‘Such as?’ Michael waited.

‘Well, take that Tomahawk a while back,’ Stent lurched unsteadily on the bar.

‘You mean you …?’

‘Us?’ Teddy’s eyes narrowed, warning Stent. Michael realised they were all watching him. ‘You ask a lot of questions, young man.’

‘Just curious. Got to show these bitches who’s boss.’ He held his ground as Teddy leant towards him.

‘Why would I get my hands dirty when there are plenty of men willing to do it for me,’ he hissed. ‘Of course,’ Teddy went on, ‘they can’t prove a ruddy
thing.’ His face clouded for a moment. ‘I didn’t mean it to be that silly little girl … Just wanted to show the Ice Queen a thing or two. She’d have been able to land
the plane … never would have flipped out …’ he rambled.

‘The Ice Queen?’ Michael drained his pint.

‘Stella Grainger.’ Stent belched as he put his empty glass on the bar.

‘I’ll melt her,’ Teddy said under his breath, ‘whether she likes it or not.’

‘Excuse me.’ Michael tapped him on the shoulder. As Teddy looked up he slammed his fist into his nose. ‘That’s my friend you’re talking about.’

‘Oh God, what happened?’ Stella had the car running as Michael jumped in, holding the back of his hand against his mouth. In the shadows the blood looked black.

‘Just drive,’ he said. They pulled away just as Doyle, Stent and the others spilled onto the pavement. ‘You were right,’ he said, craning over his shoulder to see if the
men were following.

‘Michael, I’m so sorry, I had no idea they’d—’

‘It was me.’ Michael began to laugh. ‘I threw the first punch. It felt good.’ He flexed his fist. ‘But the things they were saying … It was dreadful,
Stella.’

They drove back in silence. At the rectory she helped him out of the car. ‘Thank you,’ she said, unable to look at him.

He raised her chin. ‘I had no idea what you have to put up with.’

‘Most of the chaps are lovely, but I’m used to men like Teddy.’ Stella’s eyes fell. ‘It was always the same, even in Singapore. I remember at a dance once I
overheard Richard talking with some friends … Horrible, like he was a different person. It’s just men. The way they talk about women when they are alone.’

‘Not all men are like that,’ he said gently.

Stella raised her eyes to his. ‘That’s why I love you.’

‘Stella—’

‘No.’ She put her fingers against his lips. ‘I don’t want you to say anything. I know you have a lot of things to think about.’ She picked up her flight bag from
the footwell. ‘Can I come in for a moment?’

Michael sat stiffly on the bed, wincing as he lowered himself down.

‘Let me take a look,’ Stella said. He eased off her leather flying jacket. ‘Thank God you were wearing this. It could have been a lot worse otherwise.’ As Michael pulled
off the flying suit, she ran a basin of cold water and soaked a couple of flannels. She turned to him. He sat in the lamplight, his white vest dazzling against his warm skin. ‘Where does it
hurt?’ He peeled up the vest, his lean, hard stomach marked with a vivid bruise. Gently she placed the flannel there. ‘Hold this,’ she said, and with the other flannel began to
clean his face, wiping away the blood from his swollen lip. The clock on the bedside table ticked softly. ‘Why don’t you lie down?’ she said. She eased off his boots, and helped
him into bed. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry about.’ She could hear the anger in his voice. ‘It could have been you, in that plane. He said you would have landed it.’

Stella looked up. ‘So it’s true?’

Michael nodded. ‘In the morning we’re going to go and see your Commander. I’m going to tell him exactly what they said.’

‘Thank you.’ Stella perched on the edge of the bed. ‘I let Megan down. It was my flight.’

‘She was an adult, she knew what she was doing.’

‘But I lost … I lost her.’ She began to shake.

‘People make mistakes, Stella.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘Forgiveness is the greatest of all the virtues. Forgive yourself, Stella. None of this was your fault.’

‘I don’t want us to fight any more, Michael. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or make any decisions,’ she said. ‘I can wait. I’m going to Ireland next
weekend, to see David.’ She looked at him. ‘Richard’s parents know what he did. They know I want to divorce him. If you were to come with me …’ When Michael
didn’t answer, Stella started to button her coat. ‘I should go,’ she said.

He caught her hand. ‘No. Stay with me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Nothing’s changed,’ he said. ‘I still can’t …’

‘I know.’ Stella slipped off her coat and curled up next to him fully clothed. ‘I’m tired, Mike,’ she said wearily. ‘It’s impossible. I’m just so
tired of it all.’

As Stella drifted off to sleep, her head resting on his shoulder, he kissed her hairline, inhaled the warm, intoxicating scent of her. ‘Nothing is impossible,’ he whispered.

49

Commander Francis paced behind his desk.

‘You are absolutely sure?’ he said to Michael.

‘Certain,’ Michael said firmly. He was sitting next to Stella with his back to the door. ‘Parker, Doyle, Stent – they were all in on it. The plane that Megan flew, that
Stella was meant to fly, was deliberately set up.’

‘Parker will deny it,’ Francis said, ‘and of course there’s no evidence. The whole plane went up.’ Stella flinched. There was a knock on the door. ‘Well,
let’s see what he has to say for himself. Come in,’ he barked.

‘You wanted to see me, sir?’ Teddy stood behind them. ‘Mrs Grainger …’ He stared at Michael, who did not turn.

‘Parker,’ Commander Francis leant against the desk. ‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Are you sure? It would be a lot easier if—’

Teddy suddenly placed Michael. ‘Whatever this girl and this young pilot have been saying …’ He floundered.

‘You told me,’ Michael said clearly, ‘that you ordered the plane of a female pilot to be deliberately tampered with.’

‘I said no such thing!’ Teddy flushed purple. ‘Commander, are you really going to take the word of some drunken, wet-behind- the-ears pilot over—’

Michael stood slowly and turned to him. For the first time Teddy saw his dog collar. ‘What the …?’

‘Michael is the curate at St Mary’s,’ Francis said slowly. ‘When Mrs Grainger came to him with her concerns he agreed to find out what he could.’ The Commander
strode around the desk and came face to face with Teddy. ‘You fool, Parker. Shooting your mouth off in a public bar. Whatever you boys think in private,’ he said evenly, ‘you are
at best an irresponsible, misogynistic fool, and at worst you are responsible for me losing a pilot.’ He stepped back and cleared his throat. ‘At the very least you should never have
let Jones take Second Officer Grainger’s flight. Consider yourself suspended until further notice.’

‘Sir, I …’

‘That will be all.’

Teddy’s fists clenched, white knuckled, and he marched out of the office.

Commander Francis shook Stella’s hand. ‘Let me assure you there will be a full investigation.’

‘Do you think he’s capable of sabotage, sir?’

‘Capable, yes. Did he do it? Perhaps we’ll never know, but an investigation will clip his wings. There have been isolated incidents of sabotage against our girls, I know.’
Francis paused. ‘But to actually cause another pilot’s plane to fail like that? It would need to be sugar in the fuel, or water in the oil tank. Of course the evidence just disappears
in an explosion. Impossible to prove one way or another.’ He ushered Stella from the office. ‘Enjoy your leave, Mrs Grainger. I do hope you will come back to us, in spite of all
this.’

50

As Evie trudged through the drifts along White Waltham High Street with her shopping bag, she hummed softly to herself. Snow fell softly, deadening the sound of her footsteps.
It was bitterly cold, and she pulled her knitted hat down over her ears. ‘Afternoon, Miss Gold,’ she said as she passed the secretary from the pool.

A car drew up alongside her and she glanced over.

‘Need a ride?’ a male voice said as the door swung open.

‘Beau?’ She lifted her bag into the car and jumped in beside him. Ace sniffed her hair from the back seat, licked her face.

‘You look like a little pixie in that hat and with your red nose.’

‘Charming.’ She threw her arms around him. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, her words muffled in his scarf. ‘Where have you been? I haven’t had a word from
you for weeks.’

‘I’m sorry. I got caught up in something.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘I’ve been longing to see you.’

‘I’m just glad you’re safe.’

Beau pulled out onto the road. ‘I was on my way over to your place.’

‘Well you’re in luck. I’ve just done the shopping.’

‘Damn,’ he said, laughing. ‘I was rather looking forward to some of your pickled cucumbers …’

*

‘I wish we could stay like this forever,’ Beau sighed contentedly. His shirt hung open, and Evie was wearing a grey silk nightgown. Night had fallen, and the remains of their meal
lay on trays beside the fire.