Isabella’s Airman (13 page)

The
sentinel’s
eyebrows rose. Beside me, Juliet made a shocked noise, but I wasn’t stopping now. “In the news today, I read about the raid on London. The worst since the war began. And it’s more than I can cope with, to be immersed like this.” I swung around to face my friend. Her face was white, her eyes red-rimmed like mine. “I wish I’d never listened to you. I wish I’d never come here.”

If I’d stayed at home, I would have never met Davy, but I would still be intact, not the broken shell I was now. How did my heart continue to beat, to pump blood through my arteries?

Why did Davy have to die?

“Student Gillman. Please control yourself.”

I ignored the
sentinel
. “You wanted to come here.” My voice softened at Juliet’s horrified expression. “Are you glad we came? Have you learned something valuable?”

“Student Gillman.” The
sentinel
sounded annoyed, and I turned slowly to face him. “Make your report.”

What good would my report do? What difference would it make? All my life I’d planned to be an historian, but not anymore. “These aren’t just names and numbers on a page. Not now. They’re flesh and blood. They have dreams and hopes. They fall in love.” I stumbled over the words. “I can’t go back to pretending it’s just history. It’s
real
now."

“Well done, Student Gillman. That is an accurate, if emotive, assessment. I am pleased to see you are extending your studies.”

I stared in disbelief. It was as though I’d said nothing. I drew in a shaky breath and pushed to my feet. “I can’t do this. Not today, not ever. I want to leave.”

The
sentinel
cocked his head as though he hadn’t heard me.

“I want to leave,” I repeated, louder. “I know you can authorize an emergency portal. I can’t stay here.”

Something like amusement flitted across his face before his mask slammed back into place. “Emergency portals are for emergencies. Critical injuries. I don’t see you bleeding out, Student Gillman.”

I was injured on the inside. I’d never be whole again.

I stepped toward the
sentinel
and took a deep breath. “Please. Let me go. I can’t be useful here. I
can’t
function. Please send me home early.”

He glanced at his notebook and made another note with his pencil. The scratching echoed inside my head. “You do realize, Student Gillman, that non-completion of your assignment may result in you failing your studies? Do you really want to risk your future career?”

Right now, I didn’t care about anything except getting home. Did this mean he might consider my request? My heart sped up. “That is a risk I’m willing to accept.”

He made another note and then looked up to meet my eyes. “Request denied. Complete your assignment as planned.”
What?
He turned to Juliet. “Student Delafield. Update me on your progress.”

“
No
.” I clenched my fists. “You weren’t listening. I
can’t
complete this assignment.”

“Student Gillman, you are trying my patience. Emergency portals do not exist to satisfy the whims of hysterical children. You are here to immerse yourself in the period, and up to this point, you’ve succeeded. Any further outburst from you, and you
will
fail your studies.”

It was like a slap in the face. All the fight went out of me, and I wilted under the furious blast from his voice. “How do I carry on?” I rubbed my hands over my face and wiped away the tears before they fell. “Can you tell me? Because I really need your help.”

“I will recommend counseling for you when you return.” He pursed his lips and then sighed. Closing his notebook, he placed it on the floor, the pencil on top. “These assignments are not intended to be easy. They’re not just a matter of learning what food was eaten and how spare time was utilized, or even what tactical skills can be used. They are designed to challenge you. To stretch your abilities. To make you struggle. Learning does not always come with a data sheet, Student Gillman.”

Everywhere I went, I saw reminders of Davy. The uniforms. The replacement airmen that arrived within a few days and tried to fill the gap left by my lover and his crew. A glimpse of a snow-white handkerchief. The faint strains of “Moonlight Serenade” playing on the wireless in the NAAFI.

I wanted to block everything out.

I didn’t want to be the one left behind.

God knew how, but we struggled through the rest of the week, the days passing in a blur of exhaustion. Sleep eluded me. I would doze, recapture my all too brief memories of Davy, and then wake again, calling for him. Juliet coped a little better, but by the time we packed up our things and prepared to make the time jump, we were wrecks. And still I hadn’t cried. Juliet had wept for England, Olympic-sized pools of tears. Had she loved Teddy?

Davy said he would love me forever.

•●•

Stepping back into my own time was unsettling. There were no reminders of Davy anymore, no sudden jolts of pain or moments of hope that he might return after all. Would it make things easier?

I hid in my student quarters and avoided everyone. Several appointments dropped into my schedule for counseling, but I ignored them. I told my family that I was busy studying, and I asked Juliet to let me have some space. I was days away from being ejected from my studies, and I didn’t care.

I would forget him, eventually. There’d be a day when I couldn’t picture his face or hear his voice in my head, and even though I should have taken comfort from that, I didn’t. I couldn’t.

What would I do next? I had no idea. All I wanted to do was to lie in bed, a pillow over my face.

Juliet suggested I speak to my cousin Marc, but I stared at her like she was crazy. “He’s a
ghardian
. What could he possibly know about falling in love? They might as well have their emotions surgically removed. An iceberg would be warmer.”

“He offered to counsel you.” She stood her ground in my doorway, refusing to let me close the door on her.

“Maybe later.” Maybe never. “I’m tired.”

“You’re not the only one that got hurt, Bella.”

I could do without her brand of sympathy. Ignoring her, I climbed back into bed and rolled onto my side, my back to her. She spoke for a few minutes longer and then left, the door slamming loud enough to shake my bed.

•●•

Davy reared over me, my hands clinging to his shoulders, his head bowed, breath rasping. Each thrust deeper than before, slick and hot. I burned for him, moving with him, opening my legs and raking his spine with my foot.

“God, Belle.” He drew a rapid breath, devouring my mouth in one greedy kiss. “Don’t forget. The target for tonight.”

I wailed his name, waking in that instant, shocked with the return to my own time and furious at being denied him. “Davy,” I whispered to my pillow, trying to fall back asleep, to hold him one last time.

His words penetrated my brain.
The target for tonight.
He hadn’t said that; someone else had. I thought hard and tried to recall the conversation. Mrs. Latham. The film Davy and Teddy had been featured in.
Target for Tonight
. I sat bolt upright, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. Maybe, just maybe, I could see him one more time. One last time.

When I checked the archive, it was there. A forty-five minute film available on request. I lodged an application straight away and received an invitation to view it later that day. Another history student had requested a viewing, and I’d have to share the theater. I’d share with the entire class. I didn’t care. While I waited for my time slot to come around, I reread the archive description, every word now familiar to me.

Target for Tonight
was made by the Crown Film Unit for the RAF and is widely regarded as one of the greatest British aviation films of the Second World War.
Target for Tonight
recreates an early Wellington bomber raid on Nazi Germany, concentrating on one aircraft in particular—F-for-Freddie. No actors were used. Instead, genuine Wellington pilots and crew recreate the mission for the cameras.

I arrived early, grabbing one of the front row seats in the tiny theater. With only four rows of seats in this room, it was small enough to feel private. The other students didn’t disturb me when they arrived; my entire focus was on the screen in front of me.

I watched, frozen, as I recognized the aerodrome, the control tower and runways, the mess hall, the Operations Block. And there, in the pre-mission briefing, was Davy. I sucked in my breath, tears finally welling in my eyes at the sight of him. He grinned, the gorgeous lopsided smile that made my heart pound, his eyes seeming to lock on to me, staring directly into the camera before turning to speak to Teddy and making a joke with him.

Davy was on screen for three and a half minutes. Every second burned into my memory, adding to my other memories of him.

As the film drew to a close, the now famous F-for-Freddie landing safely back at Mildenhall, I buried my face in my hands. At least I could come back here and get another fix of him, see another tantalizing glimpse of him. Another three and a half minutes.

I began to wish I’d stayed there after all and taken my chances evading the
ghardians
. I could have visited his family, told them I’d been his girlfriend, and looked at photographs of him as a child. I didn’t want to be here like this, without him. Forever trying to live without him.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I jerked upright, horrified at the intrusion. Glaring up to see who it was, I blinked in disbelief. Dark curly hair, strong chin, sharp cheekbones. Achingly familiar, yet different. My lungs burned as I realized I’d forgotten to breathe.

“My apologies for disturbing you. I wondered if you were okay?” Even the deep voice was the same, the accent different, though. He tilted his head, dark brows coming together as he observed me.

“Davy?” It came out as a croak. His frown deepened as my eyes raked his appearance. The hair was longer, the features different when I looked properly. He wore the regulation student uniform. The name badge identified him as D.J. Porteous.