Inherit the Skies (68 page)

‘I know,' he said. ‘I am not Adam.'

Tears pricked her eyes. There was no way she could deny it.

‘Well,' he said, ‘I dare say it is time we were going.'

She nodded, reached for him and put her arms around him. He held her briefly, then put her away and she realised the bitter truth. Her touch was hurtful to him now. As long as they were at arm's length he could say these things to her – touch him and his defences were in danger of breaking down.

A wave of dizziness swept over her.

‘Ready?'

She nodded. She wanted to say: ‘Eric, please take care. In spite of everything, come back safely.' But she could not speak.

He turned and left the office, she followed on legs suddenly gone weak. Along the corridor, deserted because everyone was out on the airfield, towards the head of the stairs. They spiralled down, those stairs, and suddenly she was dizzy again. She caught at the bannister as her knees buckled – too late. It was not her head that was going round now but the whole world.

In all her life Sarah had never before fainted. She fainted now, her knees giving way, her whole body folding up, then bumping in an untidy bundle down the length of the stairs.

As she came slowly back through the layers of consciousness the voices came at her in waves.

‘Sarah! Wake up, Sarah!'

‘Is she all right?'

‘She fainted. She went from top to bottom of the stairs …'

Someone was pressing a handkerchief, cold and wet, to her forehead; there was pressure of a different sort on her lips and her protesting stomach caught the smell of the brandy fumes the instant before she tasted it, burning her tongue, running a trickle of liquid fire down her throat.

She opened her eyes. Eric and Gilbert were there. As consciousness returned she was aware of a feeling of acute embarrassment and struggled to sit up.

‘Lie still, Sarah.' Eric's voice, not bitter now, just loving and concerned. ‘You took a bad tumble.'

‘I'm all right…' She tried to move and knew she was not. The whole of her body felt as if it had been run over by a steam roller and the dizziness made her head swim again. The voices became a buzz; when they cleared again she heard Gilbert asking: ‘ Has the doctor been sent for?'

‘Yes. He is on his way.'

‘I don't need a doctor!' she said weakly.

‘Don't argue, Sarah,' Gilbert said sternly.

The door opened and Leo came in.

‘What the devil is going on? What's the delay? The press are getting restless …' He caught sight of Sarah and broke off. ‘Good grief, Sarah, they are all waiting for you!'

‘They will have to wait then!' Eric said irritably. ‘ Can't you see Sarah is ill?' He turned to Gilbert. ‘What are we going to do?'

Gilbert took out his watch and checked it. ‘Leo is right. We can't keep them waiting much longer. But there is no way Sarah can make the flight.'

‘But they are expecting her!' Leo protested.

‘Good grief, man, surely you can see she is in no fit state.'

‘I'll be all right,' Sarah began but he brushed her protest aside.

‘Don't talk foolishness. You most certainly will not be all right. No, there is only one thing for it. I shall go in your place.'

Leo drew a sharp breath. From where she lay he was directly in Sarah's line of vision and she saw him whiten.

‘But that won't do at all! The whole point, surely, is for
Sarah
to be the passenger …'

‘It can't be helped.' Gilbert's tone was firm, brooking no argument. ‘The press will have to be told Sarah is ill. I am Chairman and Managing Director of Morse Bailey. That should be worth a paragraph even if it does not have quite the same impact as a beautiful young woman in the cockpit. And at least I shall be demonstrating my faith in my aeroplane.'

Leo caught at Gilbert's arm. ‘ I really don't think you should.'

Gilbert shook him off a trifle impatiently. ‘I am afraid that is the way it is going to have to be.' He turned to his secretary who was hovering anxiously. ‘Will you stay with Mrs Gardiner, Hazel? See she is all right until the doctor gets here? Now, Eric, if you are ready we had better get out there and make our excuses. The longer we keep them waiting the less gracefully they will accept the new arrangements.'

He strode to the window, pausing for a moment to look out at the milling crowd of reporters. In the bright sunlight his hair shone silver – in the last years the wings had spread so that there was no trace now of the brown. But neither was there any trace this morning of ageing. He looked older, yes, but still handsome and dignified, still very much in control.

‘Ready, Eric?' He crossed to the door and stood waiting.

‘Yes.' Eric looked down at Sarah and his expression tore at her heart. Love, sorrow, regret … she could see them all there. Then he bent to kiss her lightly on the cheek. ‘Take care, my love.'

‘And you.' Her throat was aching. The goodbye had come before she had expected it and she felt empty inside, torn apart by a mass of conflicting emotions. Then he was gone, pausing in the doorway for just one backward look, then striding away after Gilbert and the emptiness spread until it was a physical pain.

Oh Eric, I have hurt you so and I didn't mean to. But what could I do, when I belong body and soul to another man
?

‘Don't upset yourself, Mrs Gardiner.' Hazel joined her, looking as if she was enjoying her new-found role of nurse. ‘It won't be any time at all before he is back again. And just think how proud you are going to be of him!'

Sarah could not reply and her only consolation was that the secretary had not the slighest inkling of her true feelings.

‘They are getting ready for take-off!' Hazel said. She was standing at the window watching what was going on outside and relaying the information to Sarah. ‘Yes, the propellers are turning. They will be going at any minute.'

‘I want to see them go.' Sarah swung her legs off the chaise and Hazel, realising protest was useless, hurried across to help her. Leaning slightly on the secretary for support she made it across the room to the window and saw that the aeroplane was indeed already moving along the runway. At this distance she could not see Eric and Gilbert clearly, just the brown shapes of their flying helmets as they sat strapped in the cockpit.

The aeroplane moved forward, gathering speed, then the wheels left the ground and she saw it rise slowly until it was above the heads of the spectators. Eric took it around the field in a gigantic sweep, dipping his wings, in salute and then turning away towards the rolling skyline.

As the aeroplane shrank to a speck on the horizon the reporters began to leave the field, eager to rush their stories to their newspapers around the world, and Sarah turned away from the window. She felt weak and sick again and there was a curious emptiness around her heart. She crossed to Gilbert's drinks cabinet – perhaps another brandy would help settle her stomach.

‘They are coming back! Why are they coming back?' Hazel had remained at the window; now her puzzled voice arrested Sarah.

‘What?' She turned, the brandy bottle in her hand.

‘They're coming back!' Hazel sounded really agitated now. ‘They're very low. You don't think something is wrong, do you?'

Still clutching the bottle Sarah ran to the window and felt her blood run cold. The Condor was approaching erratically – even at this distance it was obvious Eric was struggling to control it. On the airfield people were running here and there in panic, shouting and waving their arms to clear the runway. Sarah stood mesmerised.

‘Oh my goodness!' Hazel cried. She was close to tears. ‘ They are going to crash!'

The Condor came in low, like a great wounded bird. It tilted crazily as Eric fought to lift it above the line of trees which separated the airfield from the fields beyond, but he could not get even that little extra height. The Condor hit the first of the trees, broken branches and shattered wings and bits of fuselage flew through the air. There was a blinding flash followed by a huge ball of orange flame and a pall of thick black smoke. The screams of the watchers mingled with the fierce crackle of burning wood and Hazel sobbed aloud, almost hysterical with shock. But Sarah stood silent, her hands pressed against her mouth, stunned into a trance of horror.

Dear God, they were dead, both of them. They must be. They had just died before her very eyes, two of the men she loved most in the world. And she was responsible for their deaths.

The family wanted her to return to Chewton Leigh House with them after the accident but she refused, desperate for the sanctuary of her own home. But there was none. She threw open all the windows but still the rooms were hot and airless behind the drawn curtains and the loud ticking of the clock sounded to her like the knell of doom.

During the evening Adam came. She looked at him with a peculiar blankness in her eyes and he went to her, taking her in his arms. For a moment she clung to him but there was no comfort in his touch, no relief in the feel of his chest beneath her cheek, nothing but overwhelming guilt. She had sent both Eric and Gilbert to their deaths. The knowledge was too much to bear; his closeness merely an abomination.

‘Don't, Adam, please.'

Not understanding he reached for her again and again she pushed him away.

‘Don't, I said! It wouldn't be right. Not with Eric lying dead.'

He went to the big oak chiffonier, taking out a bottle of brandy, pouring a good measure and passing it to her. ‘Drink this.'

She made a quick impatient movement as if to thrust it away, then took it and emptied the glass in one gulp.

‘It should have been me. You know that, don't you?'

‘Thank God it wasn't.'

‘Really? You know what they say – ‘‘they die young whom the Gods love''. They must hate me very much.'

‘Sarah, stop this foolishness. It was an accident. Accidents happen.'

‘Was it an accident? That's what I keep wondering.'

‘What are you talking about?'

She spun round to face him. ‘He knew, you know. Eric knew – about us. He told me so – just before he left. And he kept saying he wouldn't be coming back.'

‘That he was leaving you, you mean?'

‘No – no! That something was going to happen to him. It would solve everything, he said. And that he wished he had died along with the crew of that Zepp he shot down. I think he wanted it to happen, Adam. And now both he and Gilbert are dead and it's all my fault.'

‘Sarah – stop this at once! You will make yourself ill.'

‘Well? It's no more than I deserve. I don't know how I can face them again – any of them.'

He paced to the window and back again, wondering whether this was the moment to say what was on his mind. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets, leaning against the chiffonier and looking at her steadily.

‘There is really no need for you to face them, Sarah – or not for very long, anyway; I had arranged with Gilbert to start up the South African Division and I leave at the end of the month. You can come with me.' Her forehead wrinkled as if she had not understood him and he went on: ‘We can start a new life there. Of course, what has happened is bound to set plans for the new division back somewhat. But we must keep the expansion going. Gilbert would want that. And it affords us an opportunity for a fresh start.'

‘No!' She shook her head. ‘ No – I can't!'

‘Can't come to South Africa with me? Why not? There is nothing to stop you now.'

Her eyes blazed. ‘That is a terrible thing to say.'

He raised his hands helplessly. ‘ Then I apologise. But it's the truth. I love you, Sarah. I have waited for you so long and now …'

‘Do you know what Eric said to me?' Her eyes were bright with tears. ‘That if anything happened to him he gave us his blessing. But he asked one thing of me – that I should wait a decent interval so as to leave him if I ran off to South Africa with you, Adam? He'd be laughing stock – poor old Eric, poor old cuckolded Eric. I can't do that to him and I'm shocked that you should have asked me to. He deserves a better memorial than that.'

Adam nodded. His eyes were bleak. Eric was as much an obstacle to them being together now as he had ever been. Perhaps time would change that. But was he prepared to go on waiting and waiting? Sometimes he wondered if Sarah merely produced one excuse after the other because in reality she did not want to be with him. But she was right, of course. It would be disrespectful to Eric's memory for them to be together too soon.

‘I'll leave you then, Sarah.' Adam said. He was aware of the gulf between them and realized this was not the moment to try and bridge it.

She nodded. Most of all just now she wanted to be alone. Perhaps tomorrow when the shock had subsided a little she would feel differently.

But she did not. The next day it was as bad, if not worse, and the next. She could not eat or sleep, the horror was still too vivid. The grief came at her in waves like the swell of the ocean and always in the undercurrent was the guilt. Could she ever go with Adam now, with this shadow hanging over them? Eric, it seemed, was reaching out for her from beyond the grave, holding her more tightly in death than ever he had done in life.

In spite of the number of people gathered there a hush hung over the library at Chewton Leigh House for the sense of shock at what had happened had crushed them all. For the record attempt to have ended in tragedy before it had properly begun was bad enough. That they had all been there to witness it made it infinitely worse.

Why had it happened? No-one could say with any certainty for the Condor had been totally destroyed in the explosion and fire which had followed. Only a few scattered bits of debris were left and they offered no clue. All that anyone could say was that Eric must have encountered some problem and turned back, but whatever the fault had been it had been so serious that he had been unable to regain the runway.