Inherit the Skies (60 page)

He swore again. Serve him right for looking forward to spending the day with Sarah. Serve him damned well right!

He turned to go back upstairs, returning to the fastening of his shirt buttons as he went. He'd pack now and have breakfast, then it would mean leaving immediately if he was to be back at base by lunchtime as he had promised. Well, he might as well break the news to Alicia right away – not that she would be much upset by it. She had scarcely noticed he was here and probably had not the slightest notion of when he was due to leave.

Voices were coming from the old nursery which Alicia had converted into a day room for her convalescent officers and he looked in. Two young men were there, reading the morning's papers and commenting on the news, one with a fully plastered leg resting on a footstool, the other squinting from a gap in the heavy bandages which covered his face. He had been badly burned and was undergoing a course of operations to rebuild his shattered features. It was a tribute to Alicia that the eminent surgeon in charge of the case had allowed him to come to Chewton Leigh between the various stages.

‘Have you seen my wife?' Adam enquired.

The burn case's face was too heavily bandaged to reveal any expression but a dark flush rose in the other man's neck, spreading swiftly up to suffuse his cheeks. He seemed totally lost for words.

Adam felt a twist of irritation. How the heck did Alicia put up with these shell-shock cases? Tragic they might be but for the life of him he could not have spent day after day caring for a man who turned into a nervous wreck every time he was spoken to.

‘You don't know where she is?' he asked shortly.

‘N-no …' Plastered leg shook his head jerkily.

‘I think she went downstairs,' the other young man offered. His voice at least sounded quite normal but it was slightly unnerving to hear it emanating from that swathe of bandages.

‘Thanks,' Adam said hastily, backing out of the room.

As he did so he heard Alicia's unmistakeable throaty laugh coming not from downstairs but from one of the ‘ convalescent' rooms. He strode along the landing, knocked briefly on the door and without waiting for an answer threw it open. Then he drew up short with shock. Semi-clothed, her hair loose about her face, Alicia was romping on the bed with a young man.

Not that romping was quite the right word, Adam realised, though it was the first one which occurred to him. To say that Alicia was ministering to him might have been a more accurate description since the young man, another of her recuperating officers, was clearly in no state to actually romp. That he was enjoying Alicia's attentions however was obvious even at first glance.

As the door opened Alicia raised her head. Her lips were moist, her tongue flicked over them lasciviously as it had flicked over the body of the young man. At first she looked startled then a slow smile curved those wet lips and her eyes narrowed like a cat's. Though he spared him barely a glance Adam was aware of the shock and mortification on the boy's handsome face; he lay motionless, only his stomach heaving in shallow ripples beneath Alicia's scarlet tipped fingers. Disgust rose like bile in Adam's throat and without a word he strode out slamming the door behind him.

The slut! he thought furiously. He had never been under any illusions about Alicia's morality but somehow it had not dawned on him that she would sink to this.

He was in his room packing his bag when the door opened and she came in. He glanced at her and away again, as repelled by her now immaculate appearance as he had been by her disarray.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘What are you doing?'

‘What does it look as though I'm doing? I'm packing.'

‘Not because of me, I hope.'

‘Don't flatter yourself, Alicia.' He slammed the case shut. ‘I have to go back to my squadron. That is what I was coming to tell you when I found you with that … boy of yours.'

‘Ah.' She crossed to the foot of the bed, reaching for one of the elaborate brass balls that decorated it and running her fingers around it. ‘I am sorry about that, Adam.'

‘Sorry?' He laughed shortly. ‘Since when have you been sorry about anything?'

‘Adam!' she reproached him. ‘What a horrid thing to say. You make me sound like a monster.' He did not reply and after a moment she went on: ‘What I mean is that I am sorry you had to find us. It wasn't very nice for you – or if it comes to that for poor Douglas. But you are quite right, I am not in the least bit sorry for what I did. Why should I be? If I can make a poor boy feel better where is the harm in that? It's not as if you and I …'

‘Very true. Though you might at least have the decency to be discreet about it. It was perfectly obvious your other guests knew what was going on. It was as embarrassing for them as it was for us.'

‘Only because you happened to come looking for me. They wouldn't have turned a hair otherwise.'

‘Really? Your affaire is so blatant that it is not only common knowledge but also taken for granted?'

Alicia's mouth opened in surprise, then to his amazement she threw back her head and laughed.

‘Darling – how quaint! An affaire!'

‘How else would you describe it?'

She considered and her poise was infuriating to him.

‘Well?' he demanded.

‘Adam, I think we have a little misunderstanding here.' Her tone was soothing.

‘Really? You are about to tell me I was mistaken in what I saw?'

‘Oh … no. No, not in what you saw – the interpretation you are placing on it. Let me explain … my officers have been through hell. Some of them are still there. The whole object of them coming here is to assist in their recuperation. I … like to do what I can to help them.'

He stared at her, scarcely able to believe what she was saying.

‘Help them? You mean …?'

She laughed again. ‘Oh Adam, don't look so shocked! I thought you of all people would understand. You must know young men very like the ones who come here to Chewton Leigh. Some of them are disfigured, some have lost limbs. They are terribly afraid, most of them, that they are no longer attractive to women – or even capable of … well, love. I reassure them if they want me to, that's all.'

‘Now let's get this straight, Alicia. Are you telling me that that young man is not the first …?'

‘Well, of course not, darling.'

‘And …' he gesticulated in the direction of the day room, ‘the others?'

‘Oh yes!' She said it blandly. ‘Now don't be cross, Adam. I don't want to quarrel if you are going away. I'm still very fond of you, you know.'

He shook his head. ‘I don't believe this. My wife …'

‘Don't be a dog in the manger. You don't want me.'

‘That doesn't mean I don't object to you behaving like a common whore.'

‘Oh Adam, don't let's name call. You didn't object to me nursing them. What's the difference? I have spent hours listening to them pouring out their hearts – that helps heal their mind and spirit. The doctors have already done their best to heal their bodies. I just … try to make them whole again.'

‘Very commendable,' he said drily and almost believed it until he saw the way her fingers were caressing the brass ball on the bedpost, slow, sensuous strokes until her nails touched and scratched the polished surface.

Alicia the philanthropist. For a brief moment it had almost been possible to believe in her. But of course she did not exist – or would not exist if it had not suited her own needs and desires. Her appetite, he knew, was insatiable – in the boys passing through her hands she had found a new and gratifying menu.

‘I have to go,' he said.

‘Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?'

The look he gave her was of utter disdain. He picked up his suitcase.

‘Don't expect me to join the queue.'

‘Adam! Don't be this way! You know you are the one person in the whole world for whom such a thing would be completely unnecessary. You are all I have ever wanted. The trouble is …'

‘Goodbye, Alicia,' he said coldly.

‘Goodbye, Adam.' Her tone was regretful. ‘Come home safely. Who knows, things may seem different when the war is over. Circumstances may have changed. And perhaps we shall be able to try again …'

He did not reply.

Halfway down the stairs he remembered that Sarah was expecting him. Damn Alicia for both distracting and delaying him! He dared not make a detour to see her on his way back to his base for he did not trust himself to make the visit a quick one. Just thinking of her made the blood pound in his veins and his body ache to consummate what they had begun last night; if she were there in the flesh he knew he would be unable to resist.

He went back to his room and penned a note of explanation. As he descended the stairs for the second time he saw Evans in the hall and called to him.

‘Have my motor brought round immediately, please. And would you see that this note is delivered to Mrs Gardiner at her home at once?'

Then after the briefest of farewells to those of the family who were still lingering in the breakfast room he ran down the steps, threw his suitcase into the motor, and with a fierce revving of the engine drove away from the house.

‘Evans – did I hear Mr Adam asking you to deliver a letter to Mrs Gardiner?' Alicia asked.

‘Yes, Madam. I was going to ask Peter to get on his bicycle and ride over with it right away.'

Peter was the gardener's boy, a willing enough lad, but the servant shortage extended to the estate staff and he slaved from morning till night attempting to do the work that had once kept four men busy.

‘Don't trouble Peter,' Alicia said. ‘He has enough on his plate just now. I shall be seeing Mrs Gardiner myself later. I'll see she gets it.'

‘But Madam …'

‘Not another word, Evans. It's no bother. May I have the letter please?' Alicia smiled sweetly but there was no mistaking her authority. Evans gave a small resigned nod. He did not like having his orders countermanded but then neither did he approve of Miss Alicia's husband sending notes to another woman, even if that woman was Miss Sarah. Miss Alicia was, after all, the daughter of his employer and it was to her that he owed his allegiance. If there was something ‘funny' going on then he was glad Miss Alicia would be able to put a stop to it. If not … well, it was none of his business anyway.

His expression inscrutable as ever, Evans fetched the note and handed it to Alicia.

The news came at the beginning of August, just a week before Adam was due to come home for fourteen days' leave.

As soon as she reached the works Gilbert called Sarah into his office and the moment she saw his grave face she knew this was no call to discuss business. Something bad had happened. She stopped in the doorway, unable to move for the whole of her body, together with her legs, seemed to have turned to jelly and the dread was like a great dark bird hovering over her and casting a shadow so black it paralysed her.

Adam. She knew without a word being spoken that it had to do with Adam, just as she had known in her bones that last April morning that he was not coming to see her long before the hands of the clock had confirmed it. Then she had felt sick with disappointment and puzzled, now there was nothing but the suffocating terror of what Gilbert was going to tell her.

‘Come in, my dear.' His voice was level, his attempt at normality almost succeeding. ‘Sit down, Sarah.'

Sit down, Sarah.
That is because he wants to tell me something dreadful. I don't want to sit down! If I don't sit down he won't tell me. It will be all right … But she sat down anyway, leaning forward onto the desk.

‘What is it? What has happened?'
No need to tell me. It's Adam, I know. Is he dead? Please God, don't let him be dead …

There was a letter lying on the blotter in front of him. He glanced down at it, straightening it slightly, then looked up at her.

‘Adam is missing. We received this letter this morning from Major Marchment. It seems he failed to return from an offensive patrol over enemy territory.'

Her heart seemed to have stopped beating. But he had said ‘Adam is missing', not ‘Adam is dead'.

‘You mean he is in enemy hands?' she asked.

‘We don't know. No-one saw what happened to him. It could be that he had some mechanical trouble and was unable to get back to the British lines. If that is the case then almost certainly he is a prisoner of the Germans. But we must also prepare ourselves for the worst. It seems the formation was involved in a fierce dogfight and Adam may have been shot down.'

‘But surely one of the others would have seen if that had happened?' Sarah argued, clutching at straws.

‘Not necessarily. The formation was split up and I dare say they were all busy guarding their own tails. But Major Marchment says Adam's kit and trophies are being sent home by way of Cox's Shipping Agency and I have to say I don't care for the sound of that. Though if he is a prisoner and going to remain so for the duration of the war they wouldn't want his things cluttering up the mess for that reason either.'

Sarah nodded but like Gilbert she was unable to escape the feeling that there was something horribly final about the returning of his kit.

‘How long will it be before we know anything definite?' she asked.

‘Anything from four to eight weeks. I shall set various enquiries in motion at once, of course. And I have to say that if the worst has happened we are likely to know the sooner. The Germans sometimes drop lists of names of those who have been killed over our lines and I should think there might be some mention in the German newspapers where a pilot as well known as Adam is concerned.'

She could not reply. She felt sure that if she opened her mouth her teeth would begin chattering.