The Flyer (31 page)

‘Do not speak of my son!’ Edith screamed at her furiously. ‘If he was here, he would have killed this man with his own hands. And then he would kill his whore of a wife too!’ She stepped closer and aimed the gun at Helene’s face. ‘I will send you to hell where you belong!’

Helene stared at her. ‘Then do it. I would rather die than spend another minute living with you.’

The shot was loud. Helene flinched, but she didn’t feel the bullet. Edith’s gun fell to the ground and the old woman crumpled. A few feet away William was still lying on his back, but in his hand he held the pistol. He fell back again, his face creased with pain, his skin pale. When Helene reached him, she felt for his wound. His clothing was soaked with blood beneath his left shoulder, and when she undid his shirt and put her hand inside he stiffened and groaned.

‘The bullet has gone all the way through,’ she said, feeling the exit wound in his back. There was a lot of blood. It pumped slowly between her fingers. ‘Can you sit up?’

‘I’ll try.’

She helped him and then went to Edith’s body. The old woman lay on her side, her eyes open but lifeless, her thin lips drawn back in a grimace over yellowed teeth. Quickly Helene tore the old women’s dress to make a bandage, and tied it as tightly as she could around William’s chest to stop the bleeding. When she’d finished she helped him to stand.

‘Can you walk?’

Beads of perspiration popped on his brow even though it was cold. He nodded, his eyes glazed with pain.

‘I’ll boil some water at the house and clean the wound properly.’

But William grabbed her arm. ‘We can’t go back. Somebody might have heard the shots. And I need a doctor. We’ll carry on as we planned.’

‘But you are hurt.’

‘If I can make it to the aerodrome, I’ll be alright.’

‘Can you fly a plane like this?’

‘I think so. Get the gun.’ He struggled to his feet. ‘We have to hurry.’

*****

From the edge of the trees, William watched the sentries stop to smoke. The tips of their cigarettes glowed red in the dark. They stamped their feet to keep warm and spoke in low voices punctuated by muffled laughter. They were careless, certain of another night of boredom.

He turned to Helene. ‘Ready?’

She nodded, though she looked worried. It had taken them much longer to get to the aerodrome than he’d planned. The dressing Helene had put on his wound had stopped most of the bleeding, but William was in considerable pain. The last mile had been the most difficult. He’d had to rest frequently, and even now the world swam and blurred around him, though he tried not to let on. He knew if he didn’t follow his plan through now, he never would. He needed a doctor, and it was unlikely that he could make it back to the Lisle’s farm.

Two hundred yards of open grass lay between where they were crouched and the hangers. There was a moon, and once they left the cover of the trees they would be committed. They had to reach the other side before the sentries turned to come back. They had timed it. To be safe they could only count on three minutes, and suddenly William doubted that he could make it.

‘William,’ Helene said. ‘The sentries. We must go.’

He saw they had started their patrol again but he hesitated.

‘What is it?’ she said.

‘It’s too dangerous.’ He took Helene’s hand. ‘Go back to the farm. If you bury the bodies nobody will know.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’ve got to try.’

‘Then I will come too,’ she said resolutely and he knew she wouldn’t change her mind.

‘Alright.’

She helped him to his feet and he put his good arm around her shoulders. They began to walk across the field as quickly as they could, but before they had covered a third of the distance William knew they would never do it. The hangars seemed impossibly far away and already the sentries were half way to the ends of their patrol. All it would take is for one of them to glance in their direction and they would be discovered.

‘Wait,’ he said and when Helene stopped he took his arm from her shoulder. ‘We can go faster this way.’

She looked doubtful, but he started to walk and then to run a little. The pain was agonising. Sweat soaked his hair and ran into his eyes, and he was swaying like a drunkard. After a moment Helene caught up with him. She looked back.

‘They’re almost there.’

He picked up his pace. He saw the hangars through a black fog, and once he stumbled, but somehow managed to stay upright, though he felt strangely disconnected from his legs and knew he was losing consciousness.

‘Just a little further,’ Helene said, her voice tense.

He forced himself on for her, because her life was in his hands and he owed it to her. From somewhere he found reserves of strength. The hangars were very close. No more than fifty yards. He ran faster, and then finally they were there and he collapsed in the shadows.

‘It’s alright,’ Helene said as she looked back across the field. ‘They didn’t see us.’

He tried to smile, but he felt light-headed and thought he would be sick. He lay still, feeling his heart pumping too fast, and he took long slow breaths. His shoulder felt like there was a fire burning deep inside somewhere. He was hot all over. They remained hidden where they were until William felt strong enough to move again. He thought that he must have passed out for a few minutes because he couldn’t remember how long they had been there.

Eventually, with Helen’s help, William struggled to his feet and told Helene to follow him. They made their way to the front of the hangar. It was dark inside. He waited, listening for any sound that would give away the presence of a sentry. From somewhere nearby he heard voices, but inside it was silent. The planes stood in pairs facing out to the field. There were four of them, three Albatrosses and a two-seater. He led Helene to the two-seater and showed her where to put her foot to climb up to the rear cockpit. The observer’s cockpit was fitted with a machine gun, which was armed. William hoped that meant the plane was also fuelled. He showed Helene how the machine gun worked.

‘If anybody tries to stop us, cock it and pull the trigger.’

She nodded.

When he climbed up to the pilot’s cockpit, William found that the controls seemed much the same as a British plane, and once he’d found the switches for the magneto and the fuel he climbed down again and went around the front to prime the engine. As he reached up to turn the prop he felt something give in his wound, then warm stickiness oozed down his side and he knew he was bleeding again. Outside the hangar, the moon appeared through a break in the cloud and the field was washed in pale grey light. He looked up at Helene.

‘It’s now or never.’

‘Then it’s now,’ she replied.

He switched on, then went around to the front again and took hold of the prop and pulled down as hard as he could. The engine exploded into life, and as quickly as he could manage William climbed up to the cockpit and opened the throttle. As the plane rolled out of the hangar, William saw the sentries across the field standing motionless, too surprised to move. He turned to face the runway and as the plane began to quickly gather pace the sentries shouted out and began to run, un-slinging their rifles at the same time. A shot rang out. William ignored them, focusing his attention on the grass ahead. He glanced at the gauges and began to pull back on the stick. Another shot was fired and the bullet hit one of the wings. The sentries were only fifty yards ahead and to their left, and both of them had had the presence of mind to stop running so they could aim their rifles properly. William willed the machine to lift off the grass, afraid that the sentries would find their target. Suddenly, he heard the heavy bark of the machine gun behind him and clods of dirt flew up around the sentries. Helene fired another burst and both sentries threw up their arms and were spun around, and then the plane was past them and began to lift from the ground.

When the wheels cleared the treetops, William looked down at the figures running all over the aerodrome. He saw flashes from rifle fire and the machine gun barked again as Helene fired off another, long burst.

*****

As the night faded with the sunrise, William began to take the plane down. They had crossed the lines ten minutes earlier, and below them the country was unscathed by fighting. He was eager to land before they were taken for an enemy scout and set upon by an early patrol. He was feeling faint again and his shoulder had begun to throb, the pain coming in waves. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could remain conscious.

He chose a grass field bounded by a road to put the machine down. As he approached, he felt the wheels skim the top of a hedgerow and then they hit the ground. The plane bounced and wobbled and then the wheels touched again, and this time William shut the throttle down.

As soon as they stopped he switched the engine off, and as the sound died he leaned back and closed his eyes. A lark hovered overhead, and for once the guns were silent, and all he could hear was its song. From the road came the sound of an approaching engine, and peering across the field he saw a lorry approaching at speed.

‘We’d better get out before they start shooting at us,’ he said. As he struggled from his seat he turned to Helene. Her head was resting against the back of the cockpit and her eyes were closed. ‘Helene?’

He felt her neck for a pulse. Her skin was cold to the touch, and though he couldn’t see where she’d been shot he knew she was dead. With difficulty he climbed down onto the grass. An intense weariness overcame him and he sat down. On the other side of the hedgerow the lorry had stopped and soldiers were climbing out. Somebody shouted orders and they began to clamber through the hedge holding their rifles in front of them cautiously. There were half a dozen of them in khaki led by an officer holding a pistol. William closed his eyes.

He heard voices. Somebody said that he wasn’t wearing a uniform and then another said there was somebody else in the plane.

‘Hands up, Willy!’ one of them called out.

Willy. It struck him as amusing and William smiled to himself.

‘What’s he think’s so funny then?’ a voice wondered.

Somebody said he was bleeding. William felt the sun on his face, and something wet, which he realised were tears. He heard one of the soldiers climb up on the plane.

‘Bloody ‘ell, it’s a woman. She’s dead, sir.’

‘Get her down, will you corporal.’

And after that, William heard nothing.

CHAPTER 29

As Elizabeth reached for the ward door, her ring caught the light. Christopher had written to his mother to ask her to send it. The ring, a diamond solitaire, had belonged to his grandmother. With a stab of guilt Elizabeth slipped it from her finger and put it on a silver chain she wore around her neck. She told herself that wearing jewellery was against the rules anyway.

The nurse on duty was Margaret. She smiled when Elizabeth came into the ward. ‘Hello. I know who you’ve come to see.’

‘Is he awake?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. But you can go and see for yourself if you like. He’s down there at the end.’

Elizabeth hesitated. ‘How is he?’

‘They think he’ll be alright. You know they operated on him this morning?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you alright?’ Margaret asked, looking at her with concern.

‘To tell the truth I’m a bit nervous,’ Elizabeth admitted. ‘When I heard the news I could hardly believe it. I still can’t.’ She looked along the ward. ‘I think I’m afraid that it won’t really be him. That there’s been another mix-up.’

‘I can understand that. It must be very strange to think that you’ve buried somebody you care for, and then discover that he isn’t dead after all.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘You needn’t worry though,’ Margaret assured her. ‘I talked to the Captain who brought him in. Apparently he was drifting in and out of consciousness, but he told them who he was. Apparently there’s no doubt.’

‘Have you spoken to him?’

‘Not yet. He was asleep when I came on.’

Still Elizabeth hesitated, but she couldn’t explain to Margaret that she had other reasons to be nervous. She didn’t know how William would react when he saw her. For all she knew he hadn’t thought of her for years, or perhaps he had, and he hated her. She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

‘Liz, can I ask you something?’ Margaret asked tentatively.

‘Yes, of course. What is it?’

‘When you were nursing the other chap... the pilot you thought was Lieutenant Reynolds… it was obvious that he meant a great deal to you. I didn’t know you well then, and I didn’t like to ask, but I’ve always wondered if… well, how well you knew each other.’

‘You mean were we lovers?’

‘Gosh, that does make me sound terribly nosy doesn’t it?’

‘It’s alright,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And the answer to your question is, yes. But it was all rather complicated. We were young. I became very mixed up. There were others involved, you see, and it all ended terribly.’

‘You knew Christopher before the war too didn’t you?’

‘Yes. He and William were friends.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said wryly.

She found William sleeping. He was pale, but that was to be expected after losing so much blood. He looked thinner than she remembered too, but otherwise he hadn’t changed a great deal. His arm and shoulder were heavily bandaged, but as Elizabeth already knew, the wound was clean. He was lucky the bullet hadn’t hit a bone. She reached out to touch him, as if to assure herself that he was really there.

She hadn’t been certain how she would feel when she saw him. When she’d nursed the burned pilot, her feelings had been complicated by the almost certain knowledge that he would die. She had pitied him as she would anybody so terribly injured. She’d also thought she loved him, but the reality was that she loved a memory. It was an echo of the past.

Now she wondered if perhaps after such a long time, and faced with the man William was now, her feelings might have changed. In a way she hoped that they had because she was engaged to be married to Christopher. Yet she was also afraid of that possibility. When she gazed at his face, however, there was, after all, no confusion, no troubling doubt. Only a welling tide of relief that he was alive, and the absolute certainty that she loved him, just as she always had.

*****

The café where Elizabeth had arranged to meet Christopher was on the corner of Rue Paris, in the old part of the town, not far from the hospital. It was small, and though it did a steady trade with the local people who were its regular clientele, it was never really busy. A few streets away there were several places that stayed open until early in the morning. They hired bands that played ragtime and were filled with soldiers on leave from the trenches.

Christopher was already waiting when Elizabeth entered. He stood up and kissed her cheek.

‘Am I late?’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, we were busy today.’

‘That’s alright.’ He took her coat and they sat down. ‘Can you have a drink or do you have to work again tonight?’

‘No, I’m off until the morning. Can I have Vermouth please?’

Christopher gestured to catch the attention of the owner who was behind the counter. ‘Un Vermouth, et un whisky, s’il vous plait.’

‘Oui, Monsieur.’

‘Have you been waiting long?’ Elizabeth said, noticing Christopher’s empty glass.

‘No. A few minutes, that’s all.’

He was drinking a lot lately, she thought. ‘What happened today?’

‘I saw Faversham. I’ve been given my own command.’

She didn’t know what to say. He’d told her that he expected to be given another posting, but she’d hoped he would be sent back to England to train new pilots or something.

‘You don’t look very pleased, Liz,’ he said. ‘It’ll mean a promotion in due course. Major Christopher Horsham. It has a rather distinguished note, don’t you think?’

He was putting a brave face on it, Elizabeth thought. Perhaps that was what she was expected to do as well, but she knew he was hiding what he really felt. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t pretend to be pleased that you’re going back to the fighting.’

‘Don’t worry. We all have to do our bit, you know.’

‘You’re forgetting that I’m a nurse. Every day I see what happens to people who do their bit. And they are the lucky ones.’

She sounded bitter. It happened to everybody sooner or later. Disillusionment set in, the futile questioning. Nothing changed, and sometimes she wondered if anything ever would. Perhaps the world would keep fighting until there was simply nobody left to fight. Christopher emptied his glass and signalled for another.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I must be tired I expect. Don’t take any notice of me. Tell me about your posting.’

‘That’s the spirit. Anyway, you needn’t be so glum about it. I haven’t told you the best part yet. It’s a completely new squadron. We’re getting the new SE5s.’

She had heard of the Flying Corp’s new plane. The pilots were all talking about it as the answer to their prayers.

‘It seems the brass have decided at last to take a leaf out of the Hun’s book. They’re equipping entire squadrons with the new machines,’ Christopher went on. ‘And by all accounts they’re more than a match for the bloody Albatrosses.’

He seemed genuinely enthusiastic, even excited by the prospect, which puzzled her. She thought it must be for her benefit, so that she wouldn’t worry about him.

‘Don’t,’ she said quietly.

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t pretend like this. I know how you really feel about going back to the fighting. I don’t want you to pretend for my sake. I want us to be honest with each other.’

‘Yes, I can see how you’d think that,’ he said. ‘Sorry, I should have realised. But the truth is everything is different now, Liz. The SE5 will turn the tables.’ He appeared to actually mean it.

‘Can these planes really make such a difference?’ she wondered.

‘Absolutely! Fifty six squadron proved it. They were the first to get them. They shot down four Albatrosses on their first outing.’

His new found confidence confused her. ‘I’m sorry, I expect I’m just being selfish because I’ve become used to us being together.’

‘Yes, of course, I feel the same way,’ he said. ‘But the chateau where we’re going to be based is only about ten miles from here, so I’ll still be able to get back and see you.’

He ordered more drinks and they asked for a plate each of the café’s speciality cassoulet.

‘I went to see William earlier,’ she said.

Christopher reacted. He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes even though he had just put one out. When he met her eye again there was a hint of trepidation in his gaze. ‘I thought you must have. I didn’t like to ask. How is he?’

‘He had an operation on his shoulder, but apparently he’ll make a full recovery.’

‘Good.’ Christopher twirled his glass and stared into its contents. ‘You must have had a lot to talk about.’

‘I didn’t speak to him. He was asleep.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘I don’t even know if he’ll want to see me when he wakes up.’

‘I suppose that’s possible. But you will at least try I expect?’

‘Yes.’

‘Of course. Will you tell him that you tried to find him?’

‘No,’ she answered, having already decided.

He was surprised. ‘Why not? After all, you came to France because of William. Why wouldn’t you tell him the truth?’

‘Because there’s nothing to be gained by telling him now,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And he’s only part of the reason that I came here. I do want to see him. I want to tell him that I’m sorry because I think I behaved terribly once, and I suppose the truth is I’ll never feel comfortable until I’ve done that. But everything has changed now, Christopher.’

‘Has it?’ he asked. He glanced at the engagement ring on her finger again, and suddenly Elizabeth understood why he had been so determinedly positive about his new posting. She guessed what he was about to say.

‘Liz, when I asked you to marry me, you believed William was dead. We both did, otherwise I would never have asked. But I feel it would be wrong of me to hold you to our engagement if you feel differently now.’

He was being noble, Elizabeth thought, doing what he thought was right and honourable. That was why he pretended to be so pleased about his new squadron. But she knew him and despite what he said, she understood he needed her. He talked about their future often, about the things they would do when they went home. He even talked about children. She sometimes thought that without this vision of their future life he wouldn’t be able to carry on. She knew then that her own feelings and desires were unimportant. Once, her selfishness had resulted in terrible consequences, but she would not repeat the mistakes of the past. Though she loved William, she would never reveal her feelings to anyone.

‘You don’t have to hold me to anything,’ she said. ‘Because I want to marry you. I want to be your wife, Christopher.’

He looked into her eyes and she could see how much he needed to believe her. But he still doubted her. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘What did you feel when you saw him?’

A flippant response sprang to her mind, but Elizabeth knew that he would see through it and so she tried to be as truthful as possible. ‘I felt the love that anybody would feel for an old friend, and sorrow for the way I behaved.’

‘Then you’re not in love with him?’

‘No, Christopher, I’m not in love with him.’

He smiled. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am.’ He squeezed her hand tightly.

After their meal they walked to the hotel where Christopher had been staying since he left the hospital. The concierge on the desk glanced at Elizabeth disapprovingly as they crossed the lobby, but she had long since given up caring what people thought. She spent the night with Christopher whenever her shifts allowed, perhaps twice a week. Old fashioned notions of propriety seemed pointless in the midst of the war.

When they reached his room he asked her if she wanted a drink.

‘Yes, alright. A small one please.’

He poured her a whisky and brought it to her. ‘I’d like to see him, you know.’

‘William?’

‘I want to explain. Apologise, I suppose.’

She was surprised, and yet when she thought about it she didn’t know why she ought to be. They had been friends. Good friends. That was the point wasn’t it? What made it all such a betrayal.

‘Will you tell him for me that I’d like to see him?’

‘Of course.’ She got up and kissed him. ‘I’d better not have any more. I’ve got an early start.’

She went through to the bedroom and undressed. When she got into bed she turned out the light. She knew Christopher wouldn’t come through yet. He always stayed up late drinking whisky. He was avoiding her. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he was avoiding physical intimacy. The first time she’d stayed with him after he asked her to marry him, he had tried to make love to her but couldn’t. He blamed his wound. He said the drugs affected him. She hadn’t minded of course. But when it happened several more times, she realised it wasn’t his wound. He worried about it, apologised repeatedly, but even though she did everything she could to reassure him, she knew he felt humiliated by what he saw as his failure. It was the war, she told him. They would have all the time in the world for that sort of thing when it was all over, when they were married. He was grateful to her. Now he avoided the situation altogether by waiting until he thought she was asleep before he came to bed.

She sensed he was standing in the doorway watching her. Her eyes were closed and she breathed evenly. After a little while he undressed and got into bed beside her. She waited for him to put his arms around her but he never did. She thought he was afraid she would wake up. After a few minutes she turned around and let her arm fall over his chest, still feigning sleep. Eventually he kissed the top of her head.

When she woke it was pitch black. Christopher was mumbling and thrashing his arms about. Elizabeth got up and turned on the lamp. She fetched a damp cloth and mopped his brow. He was feverish, the bedclothes twisted tightly around his body. She untangled him and then lay beside him and held him.

‘It’s only a dream,’ she whispered. ‘You’re safe now.’

She thought on some level he must hear her and understand. Gradually he quietened down, as he always did. When she was sure he was sleeping she kissed him and went to the window to look outside. She thought about their conversation earlier. Christopher had asked her if she was in love with William, and when she said that she wasn’t, she knew she ought to have told Christopher she was in love with him, but she hadn’t. He’d offered to break off their engagement, and she had told him there was no need because she wanted to be his wife, but she hadn’t said that she was in love with him then either. It struck her that she’d never said those words to Christopher, and she wondered if he’d noticed.