London Dawn (48 page)

Robbie nodded. “I expect it will. But the show’s not over yet. If they have any luck at all with the weather they’ll be back again in full force.”

“Less two hundred airplanes.”

“Right. Less fifty or sixty or two hundred airplanes.”

Lord Preston half laughed. “My word, that is extraordinary. Praise God.”

“Yes, Dad, we ought to do that. But listen, I must tell you something else.”

“What is it? More good news, I hope?”

“It isn’t really.” Robbie took his father’s hand. “Dad, bombs hit Camden and West London again today. A mine exploded on top of Kensington Gate. It’s gone. Nothing left but rubble.”

“Gone completely?”

“Yes. But that’s not the worst of it. Some of the servants chose to hide in the cellar rather than make their way to the shelter at the end of the street.”

“Who?”

“Mrs. Longstaff. Darrington. Norah Cole.”

“Are they here in hospital?” Lord Preston started to get up. “I must look in on them.”

“Dad.” Robbie’s hand was still on his shoulder. “They’re not here. They’re dead. All three were killed in the blast.”

Lord Preston sank back. “All? Where was Tavy?”

“In the shelter with young Cecilia.”

“What about Albrecht and Catherine? What about Angelika?”

“They’re safe. They were out of the house.”

Lord Preston closed his eyes. “I feel you have more to tell me.”

“Libby’s house came down from the bombs. She was in the cellar with Skitt and Monty and the toddler. Eva helped dig them out. They’re more than fine.”

“Don’t spare me.”

“Honestly, they are. I saw them myself. Shaken up but making out all right.”

Lord Preston puffed his cheek and let out a stream of air. “Well.”

Robbie was silent.

Lord Preston stared at him. “What else? What is it?”

“James is missing.”

“James!”

“His Spitfire went into the Channel. No one saw a chute.”

Lord Preston put a hand over his eyes. “There is a possibility he may have made it out of the cockpit. Been picked up by us or the Germans.”

“Of course.”

“Have Emma and Jeremy been informed?”

“Yes, but someone will need to tell Jane,” Robbie said. “If she can be reached. It seems she’s always on duty in that bunker, tracking the enemy.”

“Such a mix of news, Robbie. Such a mix of dark and light. So many blows have rained upon us.”

The windowpane flickered red, and they both heard a muffled roar. Then another. And another.

“I shall tell Jane,” Lord Preston suddenly said. “The duty should fall to me. It must fall to me.”

“Dad, you’re not well.”

“I’m well enough. I don’t need to be in this bed a minute longer. Not with Hitler doing his best to break our will. Not with that monster doing his best to break our family.”

Robbie didn’t reply.

His father reached out a hand. “Perhaps you will pray with me, Robert.”

Robbie gripped his father’s hand. “Of course.”

“And everyone else?” Lord Preston asked, his face the color of ashes. “Patricia? Charlotte and Colm? The other pilots in the family?”

“Everyone else is all right so far as we know.”

Wednesday, September 18, 1940

RAF King’s Cross, West Sussex

Ben put down the phone and walked from his office, hands in his pockets. His pilots were sitting about by the runway in various chairs. Matt had the nicest, a large overstuffed armchair the farmers had brought in the truck when they returned him to the base. Ben positioned himself in front of them, head still down.

“What’s happened?” asked Ramsay.

Matt sat up in his armchair. “What news, sir?”

“That was from your cousin Sean at Pickering Green. James’s body washed ashore last night. Some fishermen found him.”

No one spoke.

“Sean is squadron leader now,” Ben went on. “Evidently Lord Tanner made some sort of mocking broadcast about Wolfgang von Zeltner shooting down the twins of Lord Preston’s family.”

“What?” Ramsay bristled. “You don’t believe that rubbish.”

“Von Zeltner is claiming both as his kills.”

“Wasn’t this Zeltner a stunt flier at the Olympics?” asked Matt.

“Yes, him and Udet,” replied Ben.

“And now he’s some sort of grand German ace?”

“Right.”

“You’re not going to go along with the idea that he shot Peter down in August and that now he’s tagged James too, are you, sir? That’s just Lord Tanner trying to get under the skin of the Danforth family, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t put it past Tanner to lie about the whole thing. But I wouldn’t put it past von Zeltner to have done the shooting either. Especially if he thinks it’ll get Kipp or myself up in the air for solo combat.”

“Solo combat, sir?” Ramsay’s face and body tightened. “Isn’t that a bit old? Something you’d have done in the Great War?”

“I am a bit old, Ram. And a bit odd. So is Kipp. So is von Zeltner. I expect if I don’t do it, Kipp will the moment his arms have mended. He will be livid, absolutely livid.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s rotten luck for Uncle Jeremy and Aunt Emma. But I’d rather you didn’t do the Albert Ball and von Richthofen thing from nineteen seventeen. Albert Ball lost that matchup, didn’t he?”

Ben glanced at his son. “Sometimes, the way things roll out in your life, you’re not left with any choice.”

A phone rang. Everyone in the squadron was looking at Ben when a corporal shouted, “Scramble!”

For the longest moment no one moved.

“Right,” Ben finally said. “Let’s get back at it and throw Jerry out the back door for good.”

Jane Fordyce’s flat, London

“Grandfather!”

Jane threw her arms around Lord Preston after she opened the door to his knock.

“Hullo, my dear.” Lord Preston hugged her. “I feared you might not be in. I tried calling.”

“Oh, I’ve only just come back from the bunker. It seems I’m hardly ever here. I’m sorry. I must look a sight.”

“You look splendid.”

She laughed. “That’s just what James would say. He must get it from you.” She patted him on the back. “I have a twenty-four hour leave. I was actually going to pop over and see you in the morning. It’s too difficult to get around at night during the raids. I’m so glad you’re out of the hospital and doing well.”

“I’m not quite at the top of my form, but a few more days will see me there.”

She released him, smoothed down her WAAF uniform, and smiled. “Well. Fancy you having no trouble crossing London with Jerry overhead. Will you have some tea?”

“My dear…” Lord Preston could not finish his sentence. “My dear…” Again he stopped.

“Grandfather, it won’t be any trouble. Let me just put the kettle on.”

Lord Preston reached out for her arm and held it gently. “My dear…” he tried a third time.

“Whatever is the matter?” Jane placed her hand over his. “Is everything all right at home? Is Grandmother well? Mum told me she was getting along beautifully.”

Lord Preston nodded. “She is—she’s capital, I thank God.” He did not let go of her arm. “My girl, there is something else.”

Jane’s smile left her face. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“James…” It was all he could get out. “James…”

Jane’s eyes went black as night. “He’s wounded. He’s hurt.”

Lord Preston did not respond.

She pulled away. “I’ll get my coat. I’ll go to him. I don’t care where he is. The RAF will get me a lorry.”

Lord Preston finally forced the words out of his mouth and throat. “He’s been killed. Shot down over the Channel. They’ve recovered his body. He’s to be buried with his brother Peter. I’m so sorry, my girl, so very sorry.”

Jane did not move. The blood left her face. “Are they sure?”

Lord Preston took off his hat and held it in his hands. “There is no doubt.”

“But we were to be married, Grandfather. Before Christmas. I was to be his bride.” Tears shot across her cheeks. “We’d talked about it. Made plans. If Peter died, James had sworn to marry me. On oath.”

“I know, my girl.”

“On oath. You can’t break an oath. You
can’t.
”

“And he hasn’t. Even in death he loves you. Even at the side of Christ he adores you. Both of the brothers do.”

Jane covered her face with her hands. “I don’t want James at the side of Christ. I don’t want either of them at the side of Christ. I want them here, Grandfather, I want the two of them right here by my side.”

“I know.”

“I can’t live anymore. I can’t. God cannot take both of them away and expect me to survive. He’s asking too much.” She collapsed into Lord Preston’s arms and buried her face in the shoulder of his thick coat, her tears soaking into the dark blue cloth. “I feel dead inside. Absolutely dead.”

“I’m sorry, my girl. I can’t begin…I can’t begin…”

But Lord Preston broke down before he could finish his sentence. They held each other tightly as light flashed behind the drawn shades of the windows and the sound of exploding bombs reached their ears through the glass.

10

September–October, 1940

German raids on London and other British cities intensified during September. On September 24, a night bombing by more than two hundred and fifty aircraft set London ablaze. People began to flock to the underground tube stations for shelter, bringing food and bedding with them and camping out on the platforms. Even though bombs hit the Marble Arch tube station in September, killing twenty people, and the Balham tube station in October, killing sixty-eight men, women, and children, Londoners continued to seek refuge in the underground.

Washroom facilities and first-aid stations were set up, along with canteens that distributed food and drink. Thousands of bunks were put in place at almost eighty stations, and shelter marshals began to patrol the nightly gatherings.

“We must decide what we’re going to do and where we’re going to live,” advised Lord Preston at a family meeting at the vicarage of St. Andrew’s Cross. “Perhaps most of us ought to remove ourselves to Ashton Park and get well away from the bombing attacks on London.”

Victoria glowered, on her feet and using a crutch as her ankle mended. “We are not going to run from the Nazis with our tails between our legs, Father.”

In the end, it was decided to send the children to Ashton Park and have them under the care of Harrison and Holly. Montgomery also went there with two-year-old Paul, while Skitt, refused by the RAF, enlisted in
the army. Victoria ordered a grumbling Tim to Ashton Park, and with her house a rubble, she moved in with her brother Robbie, who likewise had seen his daughter, Patricia, off to the family estate in Lancashire. Caroline packed Cecilia off to Ashton Park as well and, her own house also in ruins, joined Victoria and Robbie, though Robbie was at the townhouse very little due to his military duties.

Eva kept a room there, and so did Charles, who joined the ARP in early October. Libby, her townhouse gone, was welcomed in by Charlotte so that both navy wives now lived together under the same roof and used the same Anderson shelter in the backyard, while Colm was sent by train to Liverpool and Ashton Park along with the other children. Catherine and Albrecht had a tearful goodbye with Angelika, who traveled with Colm and Tavy to the estate, and were offered a set of rooms at the vicarage. Lord Preston was also at the vicarage, at Jeremy and Emma’s invitation, continuing to sit as an MP in the House of Commons and to work as one of Churchill’s advisors. Lady Preston relocated to Ashton Park to be with the children.

“The service you held for Mrs. Longstaff and Darrington and Norah was lovely,” remarked Lord Preston the day after the funeral.

Jeremy took off his glasses and cleaned them with a small cloth. “Thank you. It was the very least I could do.”

“And not only lovely but spiritually significant.”

Lord Preston stood by the fireplace in the parlor. Photographs of Peter and James in their RAF uniforms were arranged on either side of the mantle with a vase of flowers in between. Emma watched the two men from her chair, her eyes dark. She had replaced the fresh cut flowers twice since James’s death.

“I expect you should have liked to have said something at your son’s funeral,” said Lord Preston, taking down James’s picture so he could examine it more closely.

“I’m not sure I could have borne up under the strain, to tell you the truth.” Jeremy continued to rub at his glasses. “Full military honors. Ben and members of his squadron, especially Matthew and Ramsay, bearing the casket from the lorry to the gravesite at King’s Cross. James resting alongside his brother Peter. The vicar at the church and the RAF chaplain conducting the service together. Ben delivering the eulogy. There is nothing more that I could wish for.” He put his glasses back on. “Except a resurrection of the dead.”