Enduring Passions (6 page)

As soon as it came out he realized it sounded patronizing.

‘Sorry, I mean….’

She cut him off. ‘It’s all right and it’s true. I have been slow to do something with my life. I play the piano – there might be a future as an accompanist, I’ve got to look into it.’

He was genuinely impressed. ‘That’s wonderful.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’

They chatted about music and his playing in dance bands, arriving to find the bus they wanted just about to pull out.

‘Come on.’

He grabbed her hand and ran. The driver in his cabin beside the engine saw them and slowed right down.

Tom gently pushed her on and followed, waving his thanks.

She sat by a window and he lowered himself into the seat beside her.

With a roar of the diesel engine and a crash of gears, they were off. Eventually, the conductor came bumping down the aisle with his ticket board.

‘Going to the air show?’

‘Yes.’

When he’d finished giving them their tickets he said, ‘You wouldn’t get me in one of those things. If God had meant us to fly he would have given us wings.’

With that he crashed his way to the next passengers, leaving Tom thinking he was right. But Fay chuckled and, mimicking his voice, said, ‘And if he’d meant us to float on water he’d have given us boats as feet.’

Still chuckling she looked out of the window, at the passing Regency houses.

‘Cheltenham is very beautiful isn’t it?’

He pretended to be looking as well, and said, ‘Yes.’

In reality he was gazing at her reflection in the glass. Several moments passed before he suddenly realized that she was looking back at him, had been for some time. She turned and their eyes met – the closest they’d ever been.

She smiled.

Sheepishly, he smiled back.

The bus cleared the outskirts and entered rolling countryside. In the distance were the hills of the Cotswold escarpment.

The conductor rang the bell for the driver to stop at the next fare stage. Over half the bus passengers had already stood up.

‘Staverton – for the air show.’

Tom got up, stood aside to let her go first down the aisle. When he reached the conductor, the man pulled a mournful face, ‘Good luck.’

There were a lot of people walking up the lane and in the distance they could hear the sound of aero engines.

Fay fairly skipped ahead.

‘Come along, I don’t want to miss a thing.’

She held out her hand. Tom took it, marvelling at what was happening, when a massive roar sounded overhead and a dark shape right above made them duck instinctively. It was gone in a flash, leaving a fleeting
impression
of a leather helmeted and goggled figure, sitting in the cockpit of an upside down biplane, silk scarf flying in the slipstream.

It flashed away, revolving upright as it did so and pulling up into a steep climb.

‘It’s a Gypsy Moth,’ shouted Fay, ‘just like Amy Johnson’s,’ and pulled on his arm to hurry.

Tom was amazed that she should know what it was. At the entrance to the field was a gaily striped tent where tickets were being sold. Pennants were flying at its corners. Fay went first, already reaching into her
handbag
. ‘Here, let me do this.’

Tom was not having it.

‘
No
.’

His voice came out louder than intended and the sudden dark look on her previously dazzling face made him frightened that it was the first thing that had gone wrong all day.

He pleaded, ‘Please, it’s my place to.’

Fay relented.

‘All right, but promise me I can treat you just once today, it’s only fair. It’s what I’m used to.’ It was a lie – a white lie. Jeremy and the likes would have laughed at the idea of a woman paying for anything. But that, in its way, was irritatingly condescending.

Eager to make up, Tom nodded. ‘If you want.’

‘I do.’

With the tickets finally purchased, they entered the field. She was so happy that Tom felt over the moon. What a wonderful bit of luck that it was on that day.

They came to a row of parked aeroplanes in bright colours, crowds around each one.

She actually jumped up and down with excitement.

‘Look at them. They’re Hornet Moths and the other two are Tiger Moths.’

Puzzled he asked, ‘How come you know so much about aeroplanes?’

‘My Uncle Sidney has one. He came for lunch with Aunty Pat last summer and landed in the park. Gave the sheep a rare old scare I can tell
you.’ Her face fell. ‘Daddy wouldn’t let me go up for a ride – said it was too dangerous.’

He swallowed. It was another world and a nasty reminder of the fact that he was not part of it and never would be.

‘Come on, I want to see everything.’

She burrowed into the crowd and was soon talking to a man in a leather coat and breeches by the machine’s wings. From there they moved successively along from one to the next until they’d reached the last one.

‘Look!’ Fay, cheeks rosy with the cold and excitement, pointed as a plane came in to land, it’s wings wobbling in the breeze, engine
pop-popping
. It touched down on the ground – bounced – came to earth again and stayed down.

It was a monoplane, the pilot inside the small cabin wearing a trilby hat.

‘That’s the future I suppose, but I love the open cockpit, don’t you?’

Tom sniffed, beginning to feel the cold of the winter afternoon as the time approached two o’clock.

‘Looks more comfortable.’

She gave him a despairing look.

‘That’s not the attitude that built the Empire. Come on, it’s my treat now.’

It wasn’t the big converted bomber in the advert, but a De Havilland Dragon biplane with twin engines that could carry several passengers in two rows in a cabin in the fuselage. His heart sank. Did he have to go? Then he saw her shining eyes and knew there was no way out.

There was a table with a sign saying ‘Joy Rides 5/-’

Fay was there before him.

The man sitting at the table looked up. ‘Sorry, miss, the last flight’s already fully booked.’

‘Oh, no.’

Crestfallen, Fay groaned.

‘Please, there must be a way? I’ve been looking forward so much to this.’

‘Sorry, miss.’

Tom stepped forward.

‘If it’s a matter of only one seat, I can wait for another time?’

She was about to protest that she wanted them both to go, when a man who had been standing beside the table talking to two others turned, and
flicked a finger along his small moustache. He was dressed in a flying suit. ‘I’ll take you up. Just going myself, before it gets too dark.’

Jealousy was something that Tom had not experienced before, at least not like the tidal wave of it that hit him now.

‘That’s very good of you, but we can wait.’

Fay looked at him and despite her longing to go, realized with bemused pleasure what was the matter. She took his hand to show that they were together.

‘Mr—?’

The man smiled, ‘Captain Black, miss, ex-Royal Flying Corps, not this new fangled RAF.’

He managed to make RAF sound less than desirable.

Fay nodded. ‘Of course, Captain Black. Anyway we both—’

Another younger man stepped forward.

‘I’m going up, too, I’ll take you. Captain Black here can bore the pants off this gentleman with the formation of the RAF – twenty odd years ago. Newfangled, indeed!’

Tom was caught by the pleading eyes of Fay. He swallowed.

‘Well, in that case—’

‘Fine.’ Captain Black took him by the elbow and joked, ‘He always gets the girl.’

Tom struggled with his jealousy. She was going with the young one – even worse. His fears were suddenly assuaged, however, by a very pretty girl who came over and spoke to Fay.

‘Are you going flying with my husband?’

Fay nodded excitedly. ‘Is that all right?’

‘Of course.’ The woman held out her hand. ‘I’m Joan Hayes. We’re about the same size. Would you like to borrow some overalls and a helmet? It’s cold up there.’

Fay took her outstretched hand.

‘That’s awfully decent of you. I’m Fay Rossiter.’

She looked at Tom.

‘See you back here.’ She turned to Joan. ‘How long will we be?’

‘Half an hour no more.’

She squeezed her husband’s arm. ‘He’s taking me out to dinner tonight aren’t you, John?’

John grinned at them both. ‘If we don’t crash.’

Tom was given a large overcoat and a spare helmet by the garrulous
Captain Black. They walked across the grass to a biplane with two open cockpits.

‘You ever flown before?’ Black enquired.

With his mouth suddenly as dry as a board, Tom Roxham had to clear his throat before saying, ‘No.’ ‘Always wanted to I bet?’

‘Well—’

But Black pointed to the back cockpit.

‘Get yourself in there while I go through my checks. I’ll strap you in. Only stand where it’s marked on the wing, otherwise you’ll put your foot through the fabric.’

Tom was left standing, feeling like an overdressed idiot – a rather apprehensive idiot at that. He’d set out that morning tingling with
excitement
and anticipation – never imagining he was going to do this. Something he would never have done in a million years left to his own devices.

As in a trance he stepped up on to the wing, then lowered himself into the small cockpit. His senses seemed to be heightened. He could smell oil, dope and even a vague odour of sick. Tom sat there, blankly looking at the dials, when nearby an engine burst into life.

He watched as a similar biplane began to wallow forward, the grass flattening with the wind from the propeller.

The figure in the back cockpit started waving like mad in his direction. Tom waved back, suddenly realizing it was Fay. His heart was in his mouth as he watched the machine turn into the wind, and pause, engine roaring.

Captain Black reared up beside him, blocking the view.

‘Now, let’s get you strapped in. Sorry I don’t carry parachutes, but you wouldn’t know how to use it would you?’

He began pulling the tough canvas straps over Tom’s shoulders,
drawing
them painfully tight, so that he couldn’t move an inch.

‘Can’t have you falling out during the demonstration.’

‘Demonstration?’

Tom felt his heart come up into his mouth.

Captain Black grinned.

‘Yes – your lady friend is in the “enemy” plane, we are the good old home team.’ He disappeared, just in time for a stunned Tom to see Fay’s aircraft lifting off and climbing away beyond the wind sock, wings wobbling like a see-saw.

Black hauled himself up and then slumped down into the front
cockpit
. When he’d finished with his straps he gave a thumbs up. A man on the ground two-handedly pulled down on the propeller. It flicked around once. Nothing happened. The process was repeated, this time there was a cough and a cloud of black smoke. On the next pull the propeller suddenly flipped round and kept going as the engine coughed and coughed, then roared into life, the propeller disappearing into a blur.

Wind blasted his face.

‘Chocks away.’

They began to move forward, bumping and creaking over the grass. Tom could see nothing ahead of them, as the nose was pointing upwards, but Black kept swinging the tail from side to side, so that he could see where he was going.

They braked to a halt. A voice crackled into his ears, ‘Revving up, checking our Ts and Ps and the magneto, then we’ll be off.’

The noise of the engine increased to a deafening roar.

The plane shuddered and strained against the brakes.

The voice called again.

‘Here we go.’

Tom Roxham didn’t know what to expect, knowing only that Fay was already up there in the air somewhere ahead of him and that he wanted to be near her.

They started rolling, bumping and creaking and thudding, gathering speed. Suddenly his seat rose, the nose dipped and he could see ahead, at the grass racing towards and under them. Then all of a sudden the
vibration
and shaking ceased and they were higher and he realized they’d left the ground.

Tom gazed over the side at the dwindling earth and the tiny people; like hundreds of ants milling around the tents and aircraft. Beyond them lay the green fields of England.

Later, swooping between great mountains of cloud, down into valleys and soaring over peaks as occasionally, Fay’s aircraft flashed into view and then was gone, plunging into the face of some cloud chasm,
something
grew in him and became stronger as Black climbed and dived and flew upside down above the heads of the admiring humanity. It grew until he knew that he wanted to do this –
had
to do this. He was destined to fly.

It seemed only a few minutes before Black’s voice was telling them that
they were coming into land.

The smoothness of the movement through the air gave way to a
crashing
thump, then smoothness, followed again by another thump and
shaking
as earth reasserted its rattling, vibrating hold. They finally rolled to a halt.

Tom Roxham climbed down. As his foot touched the ground he knew he was changed – for ever.

They met halfway between the aeroplanes. Her face was alive with excitement.

‘Wasn’t that just beautiful? A fleeting glimpse of heaven.’

Tom took both her hands in his.

‘Without you I wouldn’t have done that.’

She started to protest, but he shook his head and cut her off.

‘No. Listen, I’m being serious. There are no words to describe that experience. I want to learn to fly now more than anything in the world.’

She laughed, released his hands and wrapped her arms around his waist in a big hug.

‘Me too.’

Tom raised his hands to her back and drew her close to him. Her hair, just beneath his nose, smelt wonderfully fresh.

It happened so naturally. Without thinking, he kissed the top of her head.

She pulled away and looked up at him.

‘Tom—’

He brought his lips down to touch hers gently. They stayed like that, motionless, until he slowly pulled back, realizing the enormity of what he had just done. What would she think of him?

‘I – I’m sorry, I—’

Her fingers gently touched his lips, stopping him.

‘I’ve wanted you to do that since I first set eyes on you.’

He was stunned, speechless.

She grinned shyly. ‘I feel so light-headed, like I’ve been drinking champagne.’

Tom had never tasted the stuff in his life, but he knew what she meant – he was still tingling from the experience.

She put her arm through his. ‘Come on, I’m famished and I’ve got to give this coat back to Joan Hayes.’ He waited while she chatted to the woman, watching the last joy ride by the De Havilland Rapide take off. He noticed she pointed to him while she was talking. He wondered what she was saying, but forgot to ask.

Back on the bus they sat close, hands clasped.

She asked, ‘Where shall we eat?’

He’d worried about that.

‘Well, there is a restaurant in the town that serves very good food, but its not plush.’

She squeezed his hand.

‘That’s fine. What do we care – nothing matters down here – does it?’

The place was a rather ageing café, that had seen better days. It was patronized by young couples and families before they queued at the cinema around the corner, to see the latest picture.

They had limited means, as did Tom, and he’d agonized over where to take her and decided this was the best he could afford.

Walking from the bus with Fay on his arm felt terrific. When they entered the restaurant with its table lit by little red lamps, it seemed rather busy.

A man came towards them dressed in a dinner jacket, his black hair parted down the middle and brushed straight back.

‘Can I help you?’

Tom asked for a table for two.

‘And the name, sir?’

Puzzled, he said ‘Roxham – Tom Roxham.’

The man ran his eye down a list he was carrying.

‘I’m sorry, sir, there isn’t a reservation under that name. You did book, didn’t you?’

Crestfallen, he said, ‘Well, no, I didn’t know you had to.’

The man gave a supercilious smile and boomed out for all to hear, ‘We’re always full on a Saturday. You obviously haven’t dined with us before.’

His tone was dismissive. Tom wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

Fay, aware of Tom smarting from the arrogant dismissal, and angered at the man’s attitude, said in a loud exaggerated voice, ‘Darling, come along, we’ll get Lord Rossiter’s usual table at the Queen’s. Daddy won’t be using it – he’s up at the Savoy.’

Tom was amazed by her cut glass accent: much more pronounced now than the voice he had become used to during the day. But the effect on the man was instantaneous.

Blustering, he ran a finger down his list.

‘I didn’t say we couldn’t do something, madam. As a matter of fact we do have a table free due to a cancellation.’

Fay turned to Tom.

‘What do you think, darling? Shall we stay?’

He looked at her, realizing that she had stepped in and taken control, but was now handing it back to him.

‘Yes, let’s give it a go.’

When they were seated and the head waiter had fussed around, giving them the typed menu cards, taking their order for wine before bustling away, she leaned forward, ‘Sorry about butting in, but that sort of person gets my goat.’

He smiled lamely.

‘I’m not very used to this – must be pretty obvious.’

Fay placed a reassuring hand on his.

‘Tom, it’s easy for me, I’ve had a privileged upbringing.’

He sat back and sighed.

‘And I haven’t.’

Anxiously, she asked, ‘Is it a problem?’

He swallowed, ‘It worries me. I mean—’

He found it difficult to say, but she said it for him.

‘That you’re not good enough for me, is that it?’

Sadly, he just nodded.

Fay Rossiter’s eyes flashed.

‘Now, you just listen to me, Tom Roxham. Stop putting yourself down. I’ve never had so much fun –
ever
.’

‘But—’

She made a chopping motion with her hand.

‘No buts. All the men in my “posh” circle don’t attract me one bit – so there.’

He blinked and said nothing as the waiter arrived with their wine.

‘Will you taste it, sir?’

Almost imperceptibly she nodded, so he said crisply, ‘Of course.’

The waiter poured a small amount into his glass. Having no idea what to do Tom picked it up and drank it straight down in one gulp.

‘Tastes fine.’

The waiter gave him a funny look, but poured Fay’s glass then refilled his again before leaving them alone.

Fay had a hand to her face to hide her grin, but he could see that she was amused. It no longer worried him.

‘What did I do wrong?’

She shook her head, ‘Nothing really, except you’re supposed to sniff and sip the wine to see if it is corked.’

‘Corked?’

‘Bad wine tastes of the cork.’

‘I see.’

He played his fingers on the glass. ‘Do I?’

She put her head quizzically to one side. ‘Do you what?’

‘Attract you?’

Her eyes were as wide as he had ever seen them as he waited in
trepidation
for the answer.

Finally she whispered, ‘You know you do. Is the reverse true?’

He smiled shyly. ‘Of course.’

Fay took her sip of the red wine for support.

‘I knew it almost straight away. I didn’t believe things like that happened in real life.’

He felt the same, but felt compelled to say, ‘We’ve only been together a day – you hardly know me.’

She nodded. ‘True, but it doesn’t matter – does it?’

He slowly shook his head. ‘No.’

Radiating happiness she pulled off her beret, hair swishing freely. ‘Good, that’s settled.’

Later, as they left the restaurant he asked, ‘What time have you got to be in tonight?’

Fay put her arm through his, ‘No time really. I’ve got a key, though Aunty won’t go to sleep until I come in. I’m supposed to be at a friend’s all-day birthday party, but I conveniently forgot to give her a telephone number – so what are we going to do?’

‘How about the pictures?’

‘Do you know what’s on?’

He’d checked the
Echo
in advance in case they might want to go.

‘Well the newly opened Regal has Errol Flynn in
The Adventures of Robin Hood
, the Gaumont’s showing
Boys Town
with Spencer Tracy and Mickey Rooney and the Daffodil has Carole Lombard in
Nothing Sacred
for a second time.’

She squeezed his arm.

‘Oh, I’d love to go,’ then she frowned, ‘but you must have seen it already.’

He lied. ‘No, but we’d better get a move on.’

They stepped out briskly, Tom listening to the wonderful sound of her heels tapping on the pavement.

Breathless she asked ‘Will we be in time for the programme?’

‘Not all of it, we’ll miss a bit of the first film.’

The woman on the ticket kiosk reminded them of that fact as she pressed the button and two tickets issued from the counter top.

The usherette led the way in the dark cinema, showing them to their seats with her torch. They pushed passed people who had to stand up to let them go by, apologizing as they went, seats creaking as they lowered them and sat down.

They were halfway through the first film – a comedy series that he liked called
Blondie
, with a character by the name of Dagwood Bumstead who made him laugh with his characteristic wild exit out of the home. His wife, Blondie and children lined up at the door with his hat, coat and briefcase.

The lights came up. Queues started to form for the ice-cream girls, picked out in spotlights with their trays supported by neck holders.

He got two, one vanilla and one strawberry. Fay chose the strawberry. They sat digging in with the little wooden spoons.

‘Tell me, Tom, are you going to take flying lessons?’

He grimaced. ‘I want to desperately, but the cost, well,’ he shook his head resignedly. ‘It will be a few years yet, but I’ll do it.’

She scraped the bottom of her tub before she spoke again. ‘I might be able to help there.’

‘No.’

He knew he’d done it again – over-reacted. Apologetically, he laid a hand gently on her arm. ‘Sorry.’

She put her empty tub on the floor under her seat. ‘Tom, I wouldn’t dream of insulting you by trying to pay for you – even if we did it together.’

‘Oh, what did you mean then?’

‘That chap I flew with, Mr Hayes, he keeps a machine at Staverton, although they actually live in Cheltenham. His wife was very nice – said he’d be only too pleased to take you up anytime and give you a lesson if he’s free.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. I made it clear that it was for you. She said he would love to – he’s always keen to help anyone who takes an interest in his passion. Be at the hangar on any Saturday or Sunday morning and introduce
yourself
.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Absolutely.’

He couldn’t believe it. ‘You did that for me?’

She lowered her eyelashes. ‘Yes.’

‘Will you be coming as well?’

She sighed. ‘Afraid not. I doubt if father will ever let me become a pilot, so I’ll have to wait and do it myself when I can. Even if he did I’d have to go somewhere nearer. There is a small flying club just outside Cirencester.’

Disappointed, his face fell.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

After a while he asked, ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. ‘I meant to but you suddenly kissed me – remember? I was not myself.’

He blushed. ‘Fay, thanks for doing that.’

The house lights dimmed making the ‘exit’ lights stand out. Then a spotlight split the darkness, focussing on an area just before the stage. At the same time a large Wurlitzer organ lit up and a man in a dinner jacket, light flashing on his spectacles, began playing as the whole structure rose up.

There followed ten minutes of popular melodies before it began to descend. The audience clapped, the man turned and waved, and carried on playing until the spotlight went out.

There was a pause during which Fay took off her coat, folding it on to her lap together with her beret.

With an audible click, the curtains started to open, the Pathé News’s crowing cockerel projected on the last of the rippling material.

The first piece showed the
Queen Mary
docking at Southampton and a famous American film star coming down the gangway lost in a huge, silver fox fur. She was to stay at the Ritz before attending a society wedding.

The next item was the launch of a new warship at Clyde Bank by His Majesty King George VI. A bottle of champagne broke on the bow as the ship started to glide towards the water. Tom was fascinated by the huge
chains dragging behind the hull, breaking its speed of entry into the water.

The scenes of cheering crowds, of men in cloth caps waving union jacks, were accompanied by a stirring commentary that the Empire relied on the safe conduct of its mercantile marine.

The bulletin concluded with the latest football news, players running around on foggy pitches; the black and white film making it difficult to know which team was which, and then the cockerel was marking the end of the news. The flickering light from the projector caught the rising clouds of smoke from cigarettes as people lit up before the main feature film came on.

Hesitantly Tom put his arm across the back of her seat letting it lightly touch Fay, enough for her to know it was there. As the beautiful Carole Lombard came into view she snuggled up nearer him and he dropped his arm around her. It was all so unbelievable. He had never felt so good.

She was just a natural, beautiful girl, and with a spirit that made her fun to be with. And for the first time in his life he felt complete, as though up until then he hadn’t been truly alive.

With Tom she felt at ease, his arm around her shoulders was both
protective
and cosy, not in any way oppressive or threatening. And he was, it seemed strange to say it, a friend. Someone she could talk to – like another self.

But there was something else, a physical attraction that had stirred her blood the moment she had set eyes on him.

She tilted her head until it touched his. In the darkened cinema, with the glamorous world portrayed by Hollywood before them, all their troubles just faded away. But they knew, like all those around them, that real life would return the moment they stepped back out on to the dim street. Fay breathed out quietly, and for a second or two ignored Carole. Although their bodies had known instantly when they’d first seen each other, it had taken these few hours for them to realize they were truly meant for each other – kindred spirits. Her hand found his and squeezed.

After the film they walked slowly to her Aunt’s, arms wrapped around each other. At the top of the street she stopped. ‘I’ll tell her I shared a taxi and got off here.’

She turned into him, arms around his waist, face to one side on his chest.

‘I don’t want to leave you.’

He just held her tight, saying nothing. After a while they kissed. The taste and feel of her was the most wonderful thing to him, her powder, her lipstick, her scent, her smoothness, her hair –
everything
.