The Laird of Lochandee (33 page)

* * *

Less than a week later the Allied troops made a surprise landing in France. Rachel prayed this marked the ending of the war and the return of all the men. She hoped in vain.

Although there were reports that Normandy had been liberated, plans were being made to evacuate more children out of London. The Germans had no intention of surrendering and their flying bombs were lethal and came without warning.

In September Conan came home on twenty-four hours leave. He told no one of his orders but Bridie sensed the tension in him and gleaned enough to hope the war would be over if the next operation was successful. She prayed fervently.

Even prayers were to no avail. The Allied soldiers failed to take a vital bridge and many of the paratroopers were taken prisoner. The German forces were putting up strong resistance in spite of reports that the Allies were supposed to be pushing the frontiers further out every day.

“
All the men and women in the Lochandee Home Guard, and in Lockerbie too, have been told they can hang up their uniforms
,” Rachel wrote in her weekly letter. “
Surely the end of the war must be in sight now? Will you be home for Christmas? Would Nick like to spend it with us? He will be very welcome
.”

The war was not over and neither Conan nor Nick was able to spend Christmas at Glens of Lochandee, but Bridie was not the only one who was disappointed.

‘I was really looking forward to Harry being home to play Santa Claus,' Beth told Bridie. ‘Lucy is almost three and Harry has missed so much of her young life.'

‘At least we know they are still alive,' Bridie tried to comfort her. ‘It said on the radio that Colonel Glen Miller and two of his friends are missing somewhere over the Channel. There is no trace of their aeroplane.'

Beth, who never swore, suddenly burst into tears and sobbed.

‘This bloody war! It seems to have gone on forever. Why do good men have to die so cruelly?'

Neither Rachel nor Bridie could answer. They both felt more like weeping with her, but for them worse was to follow.

Chapter Thirty-two

I
T WAS
F
EBRUARY WITH
the usual dark and dreary weather so Conan's cheerful letter was doubly welcome to them all.

“
We have just returned from another successful mission. As usual the padre was waiting to greet us with a cup of hot sweet tea and the bottle of brandy in his hand. I swear it is like nectar from the gods after six hours of …
.”

The next two words had been scored out and replaced by “up there” and the letter continued:

“
It has become a sort of ritual. The padre always asks “with or without?”. Even after the most exhausting trip there is always one of the lads who chants
“WITHOUT, Padre! Without TEA, if you please.”

We are beginning to feel there must be an end in sight. The atmosphere at the base is lighter and more cheerful, though we have no real news to make us feel this way.

The food is no more plentiful though, but we should not grumble. We are privileged. Cookie still manages to scrape up an egg, as well as bacon, for our return meal. I expect you find it difficult to believe eggs are scarce as gold, when your hens run around the yard, trying to hide five or six eggs in strange nooks and crannies. We always swear we can smell the bacon frying as soon as we cross the Channel on the way back.

Of course nothing tastes as good as your cooking, Mother. Nick and I can't wait for the end of all this so that we can get on with building up a business and a garage together.

I am enclosing a letter for Bridie. Give Ewan a hug from me.

Love to you and Father.

Conan
.”

Only three days later Ross and Rachel received the news which they had dreaded since Conan first left Lochandee to join the RAF. They had dared to think Germany must surrender soon. They had begun to believe Conan would come through the war unscathed. The shock was worse because it was unexpected.

‘I don't believe it!' Rachel whispered hoarsely. ‘How can he be missing? How can his plane just disappear? How can he …' Her voice had risen hysterically. Bridie watched as her father drew her mother tenderly into his arms, holding her close, murmuring, soothing. His own face was white and strained. Bridie crept silently out into the cold February day, unaware that her own face was even whiter than her father's.

‘Lord, lassie! What ails ye?' Sandy Kidd asked in alarm as he met her crossing the yard on her way to the calf house. Bridie always sought solace among her beloved animals.

‘It's Conan. Father has just had word …' She gulped hard on the knot in her throat. ‘He has been reported missing. Their plane was seen by one of the other pilots – spiralling out of control. They were behind enemy lines ….'

‘But he might have survived? Surely to God he might have – have …?' Sandy stared at Bridie in dismay. So far both his own sons were safe. But who knew the day or the hour?

It was several days before Ross and Rachel heard more details. The deaths of the pilot, Mark Murray, and another member of the crew had been confirmed. The plane had burst into flames on impact. The official view was that the other members of the crew had possibly been injured, or even killed, before the plane went out of control and had burned with the plane.

This seemed to Rachel to be the worst of all possibilities. Conan's body had not been found, nor even his identity disk. There was nothing left of her beloved son.

She did not weep. She could not accept it. She could not eat. She could not sleep. When Ross did his best to comfort her she turned away. One morning when she was exhausted from lack of sleep she accused him of not caring, of never loving Conan as she had done.

In her heart Rachel knew she was being unreasonable and unfair but she seemed incapable of sensible thought. She railed against the world. She believed the world was against her. She refused to go to Church. She could not bring herself to meet, or speak to, the Reverend Simms.

Ross was worried, but he was hurting too. He felt a gulf was opening up between himself and Rachel, a worse gulf than ever before. He began to feel she was blaming him for Conan's death. She was losing weight and had no energy. Ewan clung tearfully to Bridie for consolation, sensing his mother had no interest in him.

Even Beth's sympathy was repulsed. She still had Harry, so why did Conan have to die?

Nick was missing Conan too. They had been friends since they began their training as flight engineers. Bridie longed to see him, to talk with him, to ask him if he had seen Conan's plane go down. She wanted him to hold her close and tell her the world would come right one day. She knew her own letters were stilted and subdued.

“
Dearest Bridie
,” Nick wrote at last. “
I long to visit you and your parents. I can offer nothing in the way of comfort, I know that, but I am missing Conan too. Do you think it would be in order for me to spend a night at Lochandee?

Conan knew how deeply I care for you. He would not have wished to keep us apart. He would have wished us to be happy together.

Please tell me what I must do, for your sake, and for your parents.

Ever yours. Nick
.”

Bridie showed the letter to her father. Her face was troubled.

‘Do you think it would upset Mother more than ever if Nick came to see us?'

‘I don't know, lassie. I really don't know anything anymore.' He drew a weary hand across his brow. There were dark rings beneath his eyes and for the first time Bridie realised how much thinner, how gaunt his face had become. He frowned. ‘I don't think anything can make your mother feel much worse than she does already. If only she could grieve and find a release for the tension. She simply cannot accept that Conan is – is dead. Just you tell Nick whatever you think best.'

Bridie consulted Beth.

‘It might help your mother if she talked to Nick. I think he's sensitive and caring underneath his banter. Maybe he could tell her things or she might ask him questions. After all, he was one of the last people to see Conan.'

Bridie followed Beth's advice and asked Nick to visit but it was the middle of March before he arrived at The Glens of Lochandee.

Although Bridie had told her mother Nick was coming, she wondered whether the news had registered. Rachel had nodded listlessly and made no comment.

When Nick entered the kitchen in his RAF uniform Rachel stared at him as though he was an apparition. Disconcerted Nick looked back at her. Then to Bridie's and Ross's amazement Rachel held out her arms and hugged Nick. Her face crumpled and slow tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

‘I-I'm so sorry, Nick.' Her voice shook. ‘You were a good friend, I know. I-I just can't believe Conan is dead.' She gave a hiccupping sob. ‘You must miss him t-too.' She drew away and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand but the tears would not stop. She looked across the kitchen to Ross, her eyes drowning in tears. He moved to her side and took her his arms, thankful that the healing tears had come at last. She clung to him like a lost and helpless child.

Over her head Bridie met her father's eyes. She nodded. Taking Nick's hand she lead him out of the kitchen.

‘At least they have each other,' he said huskily, ‘but I'm sorry if the sight of me in uniform has upset your mother even more, Bridie. Do you think it would be better if I stayed in the village tonight? At Beth's maybe?'

‘No! No, don't do that. You may have helped Mother more than we know. Besides … I need you too, Nick. I've been longing to talk to you.'

He smiled then and for a moment he looked boyish and happy.

‘You don't know how much that means to me, Bridie. You are all I have left now. The only person in the world who really matters to me. I have not dared to think about the future since Conan …' He frowned. ‘I can't say died. He was so vital and full of life and plans. I can't think of him as dead. I suppose I'm like your mother, I need proof before I can believe it.'

‘Did – did you see his plane go down?'

‘No. Only one member of another crew saw it spiralling out of control. I've questioned them and questioned them until they're sick of me.' He pulled Bridie into his arms and kissed her hungrily. ‘I can't help hoping he may have baled out,' he whispered against her cheek. She leaned back to peer into his face.

‘Is that possible?' she asked eagerly.

‘It would be cruel to raise false hopes for anyone, – especially your mother, but it is the one hope I have left. They were behind enemy lines when the plane went down. Surely it would be better to be taken prisoner and have some hope of surviving?'

‘I-I don't know? I suppose so. Life is very precious.'

‘You are more precious to me than life itself,' Nick said seriously. Gently he drew her back into his arms. He kissed her with reverence, but she felt the tension, the passion, in him.

‘The war must be over soon. The Russians are closing in on one side and the Allies on the other. All the surrounding countries have declared war on Germany during the past weeks – Turkey, Egypt, Syria and Saudi Arabia. Hitler cannot have many friends left.'

‘And yet he hangs on still, people are dying still. War is a dreadful thing.'

‘I know, but Bridie, we must all hope for a future – as Conan did. Do you think, when the time is right, your father would speak to the Brigadier's lawyer about the plot of land for the garage? Conan talked about it a lot and that's where we had decided to set up in business. I can afford to buy the site and set up in a small way. I realise it may take some time to get established, especially on my own.' He hesitated, looking down earnestly into Bridie's face. ‘Oh God, I love you Bridie.' He hugged her closer and buried his face in her curly hair. I know I've no right to ask you yet when I've nothing to offer a wife, but will you wait for me, Bridie? I will work hard, I promise and …'

‘Oh, Nick …' Bridie's voice was husky. ‘I love you. You must know I will wait for you for ever, if that's how long it takes.'

Nick's eyes shone as though a light had been lit behind them.

‘Do you really mean it? It will not take for ever – not now that I have such a prize awaiting me.' He bent his head. This time his kiss was full of passion and Bridie revelled at the desire he could not hide.

‘It seems wrong to be so happy when Conan is not here,' he whispered against her cheek, ‘but I'm sure he would never have begrudged us our happiness.'

‘I know … he would not.'

Nick's visit passed all too quickly but he insisted on accompanying them to church before he left, even though it meant missing his Sunday dinner in order to catch his train.

‘Then we must make up a food parcel for you to take back, and some sandwiches to eat on the train,' Rachel insisted. ‘Bridie will do that, won't you dear?'

‘Of course I will.'

Rachel still could not accept Conan's death but there was a new calm about her and for the first time she accompanied them to church. Nick stood close beside Bridie and their voices rose in perfect harmony as they sang the words of the hymn, “Count Your Many Blessings”.

‘I didn't know you had such a good voice, Nick,' Ross said afterwards. ‘You and Bridie are well-matched for a duet.'

‘Thank you, sir,' Nick acknowledged but his smile was for Bridie. As they paused outside the church, Bridie and Ross both moved closer to Rachel, instinctively protecting. They need not have worried. The local people were unfailingly kind and welcomed her back with warmth. No one offered sympathy but they told her they were remembering her and her family in their prayers instead.

‘Thank you for coming, Nick,' Rachel said sincerely as they parted, ‘You have helped me to get things in perspective – well almost,' she added sadly.

It was the middle of April when the Allied troops liberated the concentration camp of Bergen-Belsen and other prisoners were liberated in the following days, but it soon became clear that the conditions in the camps had been unspeakably cruel. Mr Churchill declared that words could not express the horror.

Bridie shuddered when she read the announcement. Deep in her heart she had clung to the hope that Conan may have survived as a prisoner-of-war, but perhaps it was not a fate to wish on anyone.

It was nearly midnight on the last Thursday in April when Ross and Rachel were wakened by an insistent knocking on the back door which was just below their bedroom window. The door was never locked and Bill, Sandy or Alfie would have entered and shouted up the stairs.

‘Maybe the mare is foaling,' Ross muttered sleepily but she was fine at bedtime. He padded barefoot to the window and pushed up the bottom sash.

‘Nick! Is it really you? Were we expecting you?'

‘Tell him to go in to the kitchen,' Rachel said. ‘I'll get dressed and poke up the fire. I-I can there be anything wrong?'

Bridie heard the commotion but not the cause. She ran downstairs in her nightgown to see what was wrong. She could hardly believe her eyes when she saw Nick bending over the kitchen fire, coaxing it back to life. He turned at the sound of her voice and caught her in his arms, lifting her off her feet. Even in those few seconds he had time to register the pliant softness of her body beneath his hands and he kissed her with longing. When he raised his head it was to see Ross and Rachel standing in the kitchen door regarding them with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.

‘I-I'm sorry. Maybe I should not have come so impulsively,' Nick stammered, ‘b-but I think there may be a glimmer of hope for Conan. Just a – a glimmer …' he added anxiously.

‘But enough to bring you all this way, laddie,' Ross breathed incredulously. ‘Tell us whatever you know.'

‘Yes, please …' Rachel's face was white.

‘There has been word from two of the crew who were with him when the plane came down. I don't know the full story yet but apparently they all baled out except the pilot – that was Mark – and a fellow called Jim Rudd. Conan landed near the other two but he had sprained both ankles – rather badly, they thought. They helped him find shelter in a nearby wood. Conan insisted they should go on without him. He knew he would hold them up. They made their way through the wood and were given refuge in a small farmhouse. They told the occupants where they had left Conan and the owner promised other members of his group would search for him.