The Flyer (17 page)

He knew who she was referring to. ‘Since the airshow, I gather. Though I think they’ve only met a few times. Christopher only mentioned her to me the other day.’

‘He seems to like her.’

‘Yes, I think he does.’

‘What happened to your friend, Mister Hawkins?’

‘I don’t think he and Sophie were really seeing each other in that sense.’

A few minutes later, as they approached the shore, Elizabeth dropped the sail and William rolled up his trousers and climbed out into the cold water to pull the dinghy up to the bank. Christopher and Sophie were still some way off, in no hurry at all.

William carried a blanket and the picnic basket onto the grass. Elizabeth poured them both a glass of wine, while William took several bottles to the shallows, where they would keep cool.

‘I’ve never been here before,’ he commented. ‘It’s really quite beautiful.’ It was the combination of the water and the shady fringe of willows, the sound of a cuckoo in the woods nearby. But perhaps in the end these things only created a mood, or helped to. It was because he was there with Elizabeth that he felt the way he did. But when he looked at her she was lost in her own thoughts, and he followed her gaze out onto the water where Christopher was standing up now, acting the fool as he dropped the sail. The boat rocked precariously, and Sophie laughed as she gripped the sides, and then abruptly Christopher lost his footing and fell into the water. For an instant he vanished, and then reappeared in a burst of spray.

When they finally reached the shore, Christopher had to change into his swimming costume and hang his clothes on the trees to dry. His body was pale and slim.

‘Do you know, we ought to have brought a gramophone with us,’ he said. He was lying on his back with his head on Sophie’s lap. Twisting himself around, he looked up at her. ‘What kind of music do you like, Sophie?’

‘Something with a bit of life,’ she said. ‘A foxtrot, or that American ragtime. I don’t like anything dull.’

‘We should go out one evening,’ he suggested. ‘The four of us. There’s always one hotel or another where there’s a band. What do you think?’

‘Yes, lets!’ Sophie replied eagerly. ‘I love dancing.’

‘We’ll go next week then. What do you say you two?’

Elizabeth smiled. ‘Yes, alright,’ she said though William thought she didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

Christopher didn’t notice though and began making plans. He said he’d find out from some people he knew where the liveliest places are. ‘Harry Thwaites will know.’

As the sun reached its zenith the breeze died away, but in the shade of the trees, with the sapphire reservoir beyond, William thought there was no more perfect place to be. They ate the picnic prepared for them by the cook at Pitsford House, and drank the wine that William had put in the water to chill. After they’d finished it was too hot to be bothered speaking about much. The heat and wine made them heavy limbed and drowsy. Christopher resumed his supine position with his head in Sophie’s lap, and dozed while she gazed lovingly at his smoothly aristocratic features. They made no attempt to disguise their new intimacy. William was surprised at how close they were, as if they’d known each other for months. Elizabeth was reading a book of poetry, though he noticed she rarely turned a page. She seemed distant.

Eventually, William decided he would go for a swim. He walked along the bank underneath the hanging branches of the willows, and when he was out of sight he got changed and waded into the water. It was freezing cold, but it cleared his head, and once he was over the initial shock he swam fifty yards out and then turned and came back again. When he was close to the shore he saw Elizabeth sitting beneath the trees where he’d left his clothes, watching him.

‘Is it cold?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’ He came ashore and began to towel himself dry.

‘I’m worried,’ Elizabeth said.

‘Worried? What about?’

‘Sophie.’

‘Why are you worried about her?’

‘Because I’m afraid Christopher will hurt her. Not intentionally perhaps, but he will nevertheless. Christopher doesn’t take things seriously. He races his cars and flies aeroplanes and goes to parties.’

‘Perhaps Sophie doesn’t take things seriously either.’

‘She does though, can’t you tell? There was a girl he was seeing two years ago. I won’t say her name because her family is well known. She was in love with Christopher, and she thought he was in love with her. He didn’t mean to deceive her. When she realised he wouldn’t marry her she tried to kill herself. And then there was that business with that girl last year after she saw his picture in the paper, the one you saw in town that day.’

‘I thought you said it was her own fault.’

‘It was. But the point I’m making is that the same thing is going to happen to Sophie…’ Elizabeth broke off, aware at last of his expression. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Are you in love with Christopher yourself, Elizabeth? Is that what this is about?’

She was taken aback. ‘What on earth are you talking about? Of course I’m not.’

But William didn’t believe her. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at him.’

‘You’re being ridiculous!’ She said angrily. She stood up and began to walk away, but then stopped and turned back to him. ‘How on earth can you presume to know what I feel?’

‘Perhaps because I’m in love with you.’

Her eyes widened. ‘I wish you weren’t,’ she said, then turned and went back through the trees.

He wondered why he had told her how he felt when he hadn’t planned to. He wasn’t even sure he was in love with her until the declaration spilled from his mouth, but now that it was out in the open he realised it was true.

Late in the afternoon they loaded everything into the boats and sailed back across the water. Elizabeth barely spoke the whole time and avoided looking at William.

When they reached Pitsford, Christopher pulled over and asked if they minded walking the rest of the way so he could drive Sophie home. Sophie waved as they drove off.

‘Bye, see you soon,’ she called out.

The sound of the engine faded, leaving William and Elizabeth to walk in awkward silence. The lane shimmered with light streaming through the leaves of the trees, and as they walked a thin layer of dust covered their feet. They reached a bend from where Pitsford was visible, standing magnificently alone in emerald parkland, and William paused to admire it. After a moment, Elizabeth realised he’d stopped and turned back to him. For a few moments they regarded one another.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last, and then she turned and walked on and left him wondering what exactly she was sorry about. When he caught up with her she gave him a wan smile, and though they continued in silence it felt a little easier than before.

CHAPTER 15

A few days after the picnic at the reservoir, William had to go to Northampton to see about some parts he wanted engineered, and on the way back he stopped at the garage to see Arthur, who told him there were some letters for him.

‘I’ve been meanin’ to send them on,’ he said.

They were from the French engine manufacturers that William had written to, and he was irritated that they had been sitting unopened for a week, though his irritation became dismay when he saw the disorganised mess of paperwork cluttering Arthur’s desk. There were letters addressed to the garage that were also unopened, and incomplete work sheets that ought to have been used to make up invoices. Some of them were from a fortnight ago.

Arthur made a vague gesture. ‘I’m a bit behind. It’s just we’ve been so busy I ‘aven’t ‘ad the time.’

‘You can’t afford to let it pile up like this,’ William told him. ‘If you don’t get your invoices out people won’t pay you on time and then you won’t have the money to pay your bills.’

Arthur regarded the confusion of paperwork with a dispirited look. ‘I never were much good at writin’ and figures and all that. I thought Sophie would help me, but I ‘aven’t seen her lately. Not since the airshow.’

For a moment William thought of Sophie sitting by the reservoir with Christopher’s head in her lap. It annoyed him to see things in such a state at the garage, but he supposed he felt a kindred sympathy with Arthur since they were both in love with people who didn’t return their feelings. But at the same time there was no use in Arthur allowing his disappointment to destroy him.

William looked about his old living quarters. Without his few possessions; his books and a picture or two to make it feel more homely, the place had a mean, wretched air. The bed was unmade, and the remains of a meagre meal of bread and cheese had been left out. At least the garage appeared to be busy. There were cars outside, and the mechanic Arthur had taken on was busy hammering away at something or other underneath a Ford in the workshop.

‘If you don’t think you can manage the paperwork you ought to hire somebody to help you,’ William suggested. ‘A few hours a day would do it. What about the landlord’s wife at the pub? You could ask her.’

‘You’re right, Will. I’ll do what you say. Anyway, things aren’t as bad as they look, I’ve got your money ‘ere, see.’

He went to a drawer and took out some notes and counted out the first month’s instalment of the money he owed William. Though William was glad of the money he worried that Arthur couldn’t afford it.

‘Are you sure this leaves you enough to keep up with your bank payments?’

‘I already paid the bank,’ Arthur assured him.

‘Alright, thanks.’ William put the money away and then gestured to the paperwork. ‘Look, I’ll sort out this lot and then you can have a fresh start. So long as you promise me you’ll get someone to help you.’

‘You’re good to me, Will, an’ I appreciate it. I’ll see the landlord’s wife later.’

Having sent Arthur off to his work, William settled down at the desk to wade through the backlog of invoicing and bills. Though it took him most of the rest of the day to get things up to date, at least by the end he was reassured that the garage was still getting plenty of work. Nevertheless, before he left, he sat Arthur down and did his best to impress upon him again that it was no good getting the work if he didn’t manage the financial side of the business.

‘You could have a hundred cars out there, but it won’t make any difference if you don’t get paid. You have to keep the money coming in so that you can pay your bills, otherwise you’ll go under before you know it.’

Once more Arthur made him a faithful promise that he wouldn’t allow things to fall behind again, and reassured that Arthur would keep to his word, William promised to look in again when he had a chance.

It was late in the afternoon by the time William arrived back at Pitsford House. After he’d taken a bath and changed he went downstairs and found Christopher in the drawing room.

‘There you are, old man,’ Christopher said as he poured a drink. ‘I wondered what had happened to you. Whisky?’

‘Yes, thanks. I’m sorry I was away so long. I dropped in at the garage on the way back from the engineers.’ He related what he’d found and that he’d spent most of the day sorting out the accounts.

‘I must say he didn’t strike me as the sort who could manage a business very well. Presumably he’ll take your advice and hire somebody to help him now?’

‘Yes, I think so. Anyway, there were some letters waiting for me from the French engine manufacturers I wrote to. We ought to talk about what they had to say.’

‘I’m all ears,’ Christopher said as he lit a cigarette. ‘Is it good news?’

‘In a way.’ William had written to four firms, all of whom had replied offering him their latest engines and had included specifications, delivery times and pricing. ‘My pick would be the Rhone,’ he said once he’d outlined the salient points.

‘That’s a radial type, didn’t you say?’

‘Yes. It has seven cylinders and produces eighty horse-power, which is slightly more than the Clerget. But what I like most about it is that the previous models have been quite reliable, which is pretty important of course. Apparently a lot of the French Air Service machines have them.’

‘What about availability?’

‘They say they can have one here in about six weeks.’

‘That doesn’t give us very long does it?’ Christopher said doubtfully.

‘No, that’s true, but we’ve got all the specifications. We can go ahead and build the rest of the plane, so that when the engine does arrive all we have to do is fit it.’

‘Unless it’s late for some reason, and then we risk missing the trials.’

‘Yes, I know. It’s tighter than I’d like,’ William admitted. ‘And there’s another thing, the Rhone is the most expensive option.’

‘You know that needn’t be an issue,’ Christopher said.

‘It is for me. We agreed we would be equal partners and I want to keep it that way.’

‘I only meant that I can loan you some of your share if you need it.’

‘I appreciate the offer,’ William said. ‘But I’d rather not. It’s nothing personal, it’s just a matter of pride I suppose. Besides, I think I can afford it so long as nothing untoward happens.’

‘In that case, I agree with you. We should plump for the Rhone. We can send them a telegram in the morning.’ Christopher emptied his glass and began to pour another. ‘Now that’s settled, there’s something I want to ask you.’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s about Sophie. Would you mind not mentioning her to mother or Henry? The thing is… my mother is very keen for me to find myself a wife. She thinks it’s time I settled down to my responsibilities as the eldest son and all that rot, and I’d rather avoid a lot of unnecessary questions at the moment.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Thanks, I knew I could rely on you. Oh, and by the way, I spoke to my chum Harry Thwaites earlier. Apparently there’s a dance at the Royal Hotel on the Bedford Road this Friday. I thought we might all go, what do you say?’

William thought of Elizabeth and how they’d parted. He was torn. He wanted to see her again, but he didn’t know if she would agree to come. ‘Have you asked Elizabeth already?’ he said.

‘No, I only spoke to Harry this afternoon. Besides, I thought you’d like to ask her yourself. How did the pair of you get on the other day? I thought you were both a bit quiet actually. Everything’s alright isn’t it?’

‘Yes, fine,’ William answered vaguely. Christopher seemed oblivious to the way Elizabeth felt about him, he thought. He wondered if it had always been like that. Had Elizabeth always been waiting in the wings while he went out with different girls, always hoping that one day he would see her, not as his childhood friend, but a young woman in her own right?

‘There’s a telephone at her house. I’ll give you the number,’ Christopher offered.

‘Yes, alright.’

William waited until after dinner before he telephoned and asked the operator to put him through. The man who answered said that he would see if Miss Gordon was available.

‘Who may I say is calling, sir?’

‘William Reynolds.’ He waited while his message was delivered. His heart was beating faster than normal and he felt nervous. He decided that being in love could be unpleasant.

‘Hello? William is that you?’ Elizabeth asked when she finally answered.

‘Yes, it’s me. How are you?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. What have you been doing?’

‘Oh nothing much, other than working on the plane,’ he said. They spoke for a few minutes like that, exchanging meaningless chat while he tried to discern from the sound of her voice if she was pleased to hear from him. In the end he gave up and simply told her about the dance. ‘Christopher thought we might all go together.’

She hesitated briefly before she replied. ‘Yes, of course, that sounds wonderful.’

‘Good. We’ll see you on Friday then.’

‘Yes, goodbye.’

He replaced the receiver. She had been friendly enough, he thought, but there was a distinct awkwardness between them now and he wished he’d never blurted out his feelings to her the way he had.

On Friday they went in Christopher’s car, driving along the lanes and roads in the fading copper light of evening. William had borrowed evening clothes from Christopher, while Sophie was stunning in an elegant dress of mauve silk that, with her dark hair and olive complexion, lent her beauty a kind of arresting and exotic touch. By contrast, Elizabeth wore a simple pale dress with a pattern of black panels set off by a string of pearls around her neck. It was as if she had deliberately chosen not to attempt to compete with Sophie, and yet to William, Elizabeth was the more striking of the two. Sophie made him think of the lushness of the tropics, of brightly hued orchids, while he likened Elizabeth to a single pale rose or perhaps a lily.  

When they arrived at the hotel there were motors parked on both sides of the road outside. Every window was lit and the jangling notes of a rag-time tune tumbled into the evening air. People were standing outside, chatting and smoking cigarettes. Inside, the place was packed. It was a young crowd, everybody drinking and dancing to the band.

‘Harry Thwaites is around somewhere,’ Christopher said, speaking over the sound of voices and the music. ‘Hang on here a minute while I go and find him.’ When he returned he led them to a table where half a dozen people were already sitting.  

‘Come and meet Harry,’ he said to Sophie and introduced her to a short, slightly overweight man with a thick head of softly curling glossy black hair like a cocker spaniel’s.

Harry Thwaites got up from his seat. His face was flushed and his eyes glassy from drink. ‘I say, I’m jolly pleased to meet you. Christopher told me you were a beauty, but I think he did you an injustice. Here, I insist you sit beside me.’

‘Don’t mind him,’ Christopher said, though he was smiling.

‘Do you like to dance?’ Harry asked her.

‘I love dancing,’ Sophie said.

‘In that case I bags the first one.’ He poured her a glass of champagne. ‘I hope you like champagne too.’

‘Of course, who doesn’t like champagne?’

He laughed. ‘Oh yes, Sophie, I can see we’re going to get on famously, my dear.’

Elizabeth already knew everyone at the table, and she introduced William to them, though he couldn’t remember all of their names. A couple at the end were called Marian and Edward, and were over from Shropshire for the weekend, while the young woman he sat next to was called Emily something or other. She took out a cigarette, and when William lit it for her she asked if he had known Elizabeth for long.

‘No, not long at all actually.’

‘William helped Christopher fix his plane after he crashed it,’ Elizabeth said.

‘Are you an aviator too then, Mister Reynolds?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘You must have been at Sywell when that frightful accident happened. Gosh, wasn’t it absolutely awful? Poor Nigel.’ She shivered at the memory, and took a large drink from her glass, and then turned to the man next to her. ‘Did you hear that, Hugh? Mr Reynolds is an aviator.’

‘I say, are you really? I’ve been thinking I ought to have a go at flying myself actually,’ the man said.

‘Oh, I hope you don’t!’ Emily said. ‘We’ve already lost Nigel. In fact it’s lucky that Christopher wasn’t killed too. ‘

‘It was William who pulled Christopher out of his machine,’ Elizabeth said.

The young woman’s eyes opened even wider. ‘How exciting! Hugh, this is the chap who saved Christopher’s life!’

Though William protested, the young woman paid no attention, and now everybody at the table was listening and he found himself the centre of attention.

‘Do you live in Northampton?’ Emily asked.

‘Actually I’m staying with Christopher at the moment,’ he said.

‘But you come from Northampton don’t you? You’re not related to Caroline Reynolds by any chance?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘There’s no use asking William anything,’ Elizabeth said. ‘He won’t tell you. He rather enjoys being mysterious, I think.’

‘The truth is I’m embarrassed that there’s so little to tell,’ he said. He was relieved when the band took their positions again and began to play another tune. He noticed Sophie looking at him, something indecipherable in her expression, and then she emptied her champagne and took Harry Thwaites by the hand.

‘I love this one. Come on Harry, you can dance with me now.’

As she dragged him off, Harry went willingly enough, though he looked back at the others with a comical, helpless expression, his eyes like an owls’ behind his round spectacles. They soon attracted the attention of half the room, or at least Sophie did. The combination of champagne and the heat brought a flush to her face, and when Harry said something to her she threw back her head and laughed.

There was something about her that was raw and visceral, and at the same time innately sensuous. William glanced at Christopher who was watching her proudly, one arm languidly draped over the back of his chair. Now and then Sophie would look over and they would smile at one another, and throughout the evening William noticed that no matter who Sophie danced with she did this. He saw there was a bond between them that surprised him, because it had developed so quickly. He thought of Elizabeth’s warning that Christopher didn’t take things seriously, and wondered if in Sophie’s case, what Elizabeth was truly afraid of was the exact opposite.