Out of the Blue (4 page)

They returned to the gate and met Uncle Geoff coming the other way. Charlie had dismounted and was inspecting the stripes of white paint that now adorned his mudguards.

‘So you can be seen at night,’ Sammy said, ‘in the blackout.’

‘Charlie’s only fifteen – we don’t let him ride about at night,’ Uncle Geoff said quietly.

‘No sir, I only thought – you know, maybe in wintertime for when it’s darker.’

Sammy stood straight and gave the older man his full attention. Kitty held her breath. She desperately wanted Uncle Geoff to like him.

‘Well, maybe he won’t need them come the winter,’ Uncle Geoff said. ‘Now that we have the help of the United States Army, this war will be over by Christmas –
isn’t that what people are saying?’

‘Sammy joined up as soon as he was old enough – he’s been here since ’41,’ Kitty said. Uncle Geoff looked at her and away again.

‘Look,’ Charlie said, wheeling the bicycle towards his uncle. ‘Sammy’s painted the frame with Spitfire paint.’

‘Has he now?’ said Uncle Geoff, glancing down at the bicycle then back at Sammy. ‘I wouldn’t have thought the Air Force had paint to spare for boys’
bicycles.’

Kitty’s heart sank; she could see no hope for Sammy now.

‘Well, no sir, you’re absolutely right – it hasn’t. I waited for the ground crew to finish a repair and I kind of worked the brush clean on Charlie’s
bicycle.’

There was a pause and Uncle Geoff nodded and held out his hand.

‘Mr Bellamy.’

‘Samuel Bailey, sir – pleased to make your acquaintance.’

Aunt Vi called them in for tea and Kitty stole an admiring glance at Sammy – it might be too soon to say, but it seemed to her as though he had just achieved the impossible and won round
Uncle Geoff. He caught her looking at him and smiled.

The next time Kitty saw Sammy was the following Tuesday evening at a Welcome Committee Concert organised by Mrs Parkes and Reverend Howles at the request of the American Red
Cross. It was due to start at seven o’clock, but Kitty arrived at the village hall at six-thirty with the other members of the choir for a last rehearsal. After they had climbed the steps to
the stage and found their places, Mrs Parkes told them what an important job they were doing. Kitty stared intently at Mrs Parkes and tried to stand up straight while Dora jabbed her in the ribs
with her elbow.

‘These young men are just like your fathers, brothers and sons – they are a long way from home and no doubt missing their families very much. It’s important that we share with
them our values and standards and show them some decent society.’

Kitty knew that Mrs Parkes was shocked that some of the town girls had been seen walking out with American soldiers, because she had overheard her talking to Auntie Vi about it.
‘Consorting,’ she had called it.

They were singing ‘Linden Lea’ for the second time when the door opened and Sammy stepped into the hall.

Kitty could be relied upon to carry the melody with confidence, and so Mrs Parkes glanced up from the piano when she heard her falter. Sammy raised a hand in apology and retreated backwards
through the open door. The gesture had been aimed at Mrs Parkes and the vicar, standing beside her as page turner, but somehow Sammy had managed to catch Kitty’s eye and smile at her. As the
door closed behind him, a wave of murmured interest spread through the choir and Dora turned to Kitty and raised her eyebrows.

‘Ladies, please, ladies!’ Mrs Parkes called sharply. ‘We haven’t much time. Let’s run through it once more, if you please!’

She adjusted her music, flapping away the vicar’s hands as he tried to assist her before adding, ‘And will you kindly concentrate, Kitty Danby!’

Kitty’s mind was overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. So much so that she felt disconnected from what was happening around her. She didn’t take in a word
of the vicar’s lengthy welcome speech. And the musical recitals, the singing, serving tea and making polite conversation to khaki-clad Americans passed by with Kitty not noticing anything but
her own state of excitement. She kept reliving the happy shock of seeing Sammy smiling at her from the doorway. The hall was crowded and they spoke only briefly, but in Kitty’s memory of that
night it was as though she and Sammy had been the only two people there.

Each time she looked across the hall, she found him immediately, and no sooner had her eyes rested on him than he had looked away from the person he was addressing and their eyes met. Similarly
each time she glanced away from the face before her, it would be to find Sammy looking at her.

When it was over, Aunt Vi had the job of washing up the cups and saucers and tidying the hall and Kitty helped her. By the time they left, dusk was falling. It had been hot inside and as they
stepped out into the chill air, Aunt Vi paused to put on her cardigan.

‘Well, you sang beautifully, Kitty dear, as usual. I shall write and tell your mum all about it in my next letter – she would have loved to have heard you, my word, she
would.’

Most people had dispersed, but a small group of airmen stood to one side of the door talking and laughing. Sammy was with them and he turned towards them, still grinning from the shared joke. He
spoke to Aunt Vi.

‘Ma’am, I’d like to walk you and Kitty home, if I may.’

Before she could reply Charlie rode up on his bicycle and screeched to a stop beside them.

‘Ah, here’s my chaperone,’ said Aunt Vi, ‘but I daresay that Kitty will be glad of the company, Sammy.’

As they set off for home, Charlie dismounted and, wheeling his bicycle beside him, he fell into step with Sammy.

‘Our mum drives an ambulance in London,’ he said.

‘Kitty didn’t tell me that,’ Sammy replied, turning towards Kitty and smiling broadly. Charlie dropped back, moved behind Sammy then sped up on his other side, pushing his
front wheel between Sammy and his sister.

‘She used to work in munitions but now she’s a driver. I can’t wait till I drive. What’s it like flying a Spitfire?’ he asked.

‘Well, it’s great. I mostly fly a Mustang now,’ Sammy said, reluctantly turning his attention from sister to brother.

‘Won’t you tell me what it’s like though?’ Charlie persisted.

Aunt Vi shook her head. ‘Come on, Charlie, let’s you and I go on ahead and leave Kitty and Sammy to get to know each other a bit.’ Then to Sammy she said, ‘Will you join
us again for Sunday dinner – you can satisfy this boy’s curiosity then.’

Flying schedule permitting, Sammy accepted and Aunt Vi shooed Charlie away. Kitty and Sammy walked on in silence for a few minutes until the shadowy figures of Aunt Vi and Charlie, wheeling his
bicycle beside her, disappeared in the gloom.

‘You know, I shouldn’t be here by rights,’ Sammy said at last, ‘in Kent, I mean. I made an emergency landing a few weeks ago – I’m still getting fixed
up.’

‘Oh,’ said Kitty. ‘Were you hurt?’

Sammy shook his head and laughed. ‘No, I’m fine – it’s my plane that took it bad. It was going to be my last flight for a while – I was due R and R after that
– you know? Rest and recuperation? But now I’ve volunteered for something that means I have to stay here a while.’

‘Do you think you’ll be able to come on Sunday?’ Kitty asked.

‘I hope so – but I was wondering if I could see you sooner than that.’

Kitty felt her insides tipping over.

Sammy went on. ‘This will maybe sound like a mean thing to say but I sure am glad that you fell off that bike.’

Kitty laughed. ‘Yes, well I’m glad that you came along and found me – though I’m not glad that you made an emergency landing – I don’t like the sound of
that.’

Sammy stopped walking and touched his fingers against her elbow. ‘It was kinda hair-raising – I never thought that I wasn’t gonna make it, but it was a close thing.’

‘Sometimes we hear engines spluttering out and I always try to imagine the pilot inside, and hope that somehow he knows that I’m wishing him safely down.’

Sammy imagined how it might be to fly a mission having this girl willing him home and he suddenly understood what had been intriguing him and drawing him to her. Talking to her was as easy as
thinking.

‘I flew over your house the day after I found you. I was test-flying a Spitfire and I wanted to have a look at your place from the sky.’

Kitty thought,
He flew over my house.
She said, ‘I’d love to see that.’

‘Well, actually, I was hoping to see you.’

‘And did you?’ Kitty caught her breath and tried to remember.

‘No, I saw your uncle working in the garden but you were nowhere to be seen.’

‘I would have waved,’ Kitty said. It was too dark to see his face properly, but she could feel his attention on her and the warmth in his hand. Sammy’s fingers slid down her
arm and found her hand and they walked on.

‘So, can I see you tomorrow? It’ll be around nine by the time I get free. It’s kind of late – do you think it’ll be okay?’

‘Yes, I should think it would be all right.’ Kitty felt certain that Aunt Vi would be pleased to see Sammy; she could imagine her plumping up the cushions for him and offering him a
cup of Ovaltine. But she was not sure that Uncle Geoff would welcome him.

‘I’ll tell Aunt Vi to expect you,’ she said, secretly hoping that it would be one of Uncle Geoff’s nights to meet Tom Farrell for a drink at the pub.

They continued to dawdle home. Kitty listened carefully as Sammy described the home farm where his mother made cakes that he called snow buns because they melted in the mouth. He asked her about
London. Kitty told him how she felt as if her life were on hold until the war was over.

‘When I left the school here I wanted to go home and do a secretarial course, but my mum won’t have either of us coming back to London until the war’s over. So I help Aunt Vi
and I volunteer for war work locally. Charlie’s been doing farm labouring, but what he really wants to do is fight the Nazis.’

‘Your mother is right – you’ve gotta stay right here,’ Sammy said, ‘and Charlie’s not going anywhere either – this war will be over long before
he’s old enough to fight in it.’

When they reached the house, they paused by the rowan tree where, unseen by anyone who might have been watching out for them, they kissed. It was sweet and simple that first kiss: a brief
touching of lips. Kitty went inside and called out a goodnight and climbed the stairs to her room.
Dear me
, she thought as she closed her bedroom door and leaned against it,
I’ve
fallen in love
.

Kitty reverses out of the carport that stands on what was once Uncle Geoff’s vegetable patch. A horn blares from a passing car and Kitty jumps and hits the brake hard.
People drive far too fast round the lanes
, she thinks.
You wouldn’t want to walk along them at night these days; you would be risking your life.
Kitty drives to Maidstone and
parks at June’s house. June comes to the door with a can of furniture polish in one hand. She gives Kitty the key to her father’s bungalow.

‘Tell him I’ll be round at six with his tea.’

Kitty leaves her car outside June’s and walks down the road to Bert’s. She lets herself in and calls out to him. His voice reaches her from a back room and Kitty walks down the hall
and through the kitchen to a sunroom where Bert is sitting in front of open patio doors.

‘Ah, Kitty,’ he says and leans forward in his chair.

Bert’s eyes are watery and blue. Brilliant white tufts of hair sprout from a mostly bald head. Once a big man, he is now thin. His shoulders, collar bone, hips, elbows, wrists and knees,
the points which used to connect toned flesh and muscle, now protrude through his clothes.

‘Hello, Bert dear. How are you feeling?’

‘Mustn’t grumble,’ he replies and begins to cough. The coughing lasts a minute and leaves him breathless. Kitty takes the letter from her handbag and passes it to Bert, then
she goes to the kitchen to make them some tea. She calls back as she leaves the sunroom. ‘Just think – I would never have got it, if I hadn’t taken on Vi and Geoff’s old
place.’

Kitty returns with the tea and waits while Bert finishes reading the letter. He holds a magnifying glass over the sheet of paper. His lips move as he reads.

‘I suppose he’s dead, then? This lad’ll be wishing he had been interested in the war when his grandad was still alive.’

‘They’re so busy with their own lives these days,’ Kitty says.

‘Huh!’ Bert pulls a face then returns his attention to the letter. ‘He’d have been well into his eighties now. I’m ninety-three next month.’

‘He’d be eighty-two,’ Kitty says. ‘He was four years older than me.’

‘He flew a Mustang P-51.’

‘Yes.’ Kitty passes Bert a mug of tea. ‘I thought that you would know better than me the sorts of things this young grandson of his would like to know.’

Bert nods his head and lifts the wavering mug to his lips. He blows across the surface of the tea before sucking in a mouthful.

‘He was a nice lad, yes, he was – no swagger about him like some of them.’ Bert leans towards Kitty as if he is confiding a secret. ‘He was a bloody good pilot too, in
those cockpits for up to six hours at a time they were on those escort missions. Bombing the German factories you see, Kitty, leading up to D-Day. Muck up Nazi plane production. Keep the Luftwaffe
out of the skies. The P-51s were fast – they put Rolls Royce engines in them.’ Bert’s eyes shine and he smiles at Kitty. ‘Not as quick to turn as the Spits to my mind, but
they were fast, blow me they were. And they could go the distance.’ He nods his head, agreeing with himself.

Kitty puts her tea down and pulls her handbag on to her lap.

‘I’ve brought a pen and notebook Bert, hang on a second, I’ll write it all down.’

Bert had finished a last check of the guns when Sammy approached and climbed on to the left wing of the Mustang. He liked this boy’s ease with the machine. You could see
that Sammy didn’t feel claustrophobic inside the cockpit. In fact, he looked as though he would like to pull everything in closer if he could. Bert watched as Sammy stowed the survival kits
before stepping into his shell. He wriggled about in the seat settling into the familiarity of the space. He adjusted the rudder pedals and passed his arms through the shoulder harness, briefly
reaching down to pat the inflatable dinghy and slide his hand over the survival pack. He raised the left-side panel of the perspex cockpit enclosure then lowered the upper portion. He secured the
pins and made sure the handle was locked in place and that the felt moulding on the seals was in position. He grinned at Bert and gave him a thumbs-up before beginning the pre-flight procedure.