Two Blackbirds (5 page)

Sharon took Linda's elbow and walked her friend toward the hangar. “I hate it when they talk to me like that,” Linda said. “I bet I've got more hours in the air than the pair of them put together!”

“And the really amazing thing was
that the other pilot — the handsome one — was smitten with Linda!” Sharon slapped her hand on the table in the garden at Honeysuckle's home. The roses were in full bloom and filled the air with their scent.

“No, he wasn't,” Linda said, a little too quickly. Her face turned red.

“What was his name?” Honeysuckle wore her hair shorter now after a disastrous haircut and colour. Two months ago, her hair was jet black. Today, there was a grey stripe over the top of her head with black all around the edges. She'd vowed to let the colour grow out and usually wore a dilapidated, hand-me-down tweed trilby to cover up the mess.

“Myron or Meron or. . .” Sharon frowned.

“Milton,” Linda said.

“So you did notice!” Honeysuckle said.

“Oh, shut up.” Linda reached for a sandwich.

“I think it's because you punched the other pilot in the nose. I got the distinct impression that you did what Milton was dying to do. After all, Milton was the civilized one.”

“Tell me you didn't punch the other pilot,” Honeysuckle said.

“He was the idiot who opened fire on us. Of course, Sharon had already anticipated his next move, and we were never in harm's way,”

Linda added quickly, anticipating her mother's reaction to the news.

“Someone was shooting at you?” Honeysuckle asked.

“Yes.” Sharon put her hand on Honeysuckle's shoulder. “We're flying a captured German aircraft. Linda spotted the Spitfires before we were in any real danger. The first pilot was a trigger-happy Canadian. Luckily, Milton was smarter and dropped his flaps and wheels, then led us into Barton. It's less than an hour southwest of here.”

Linda got up and stood next to her mother. “The Storch is painted black and white all over. The stupid bastard in the lead airplane wasn't paying attention. He was just looking to put a notch in his gun belt.”

Honeysuckle shook her head. “Did you break his nose?”

“I hope so,” Linda said.

“Where's Sean?” Sharon asked.

“I've been wondering that, too,” Linda said.

“He went for a walk with Sam.” Honeysuckle smiled.

“Sam?” Linda asked.

“Oh, I didn't tell you. We have a new dog named Sam — a cross between something and something else. He's only three months old, and the two of them are becoming quite close.” Honeysuckle sat up and looked over her shoulder. “They like to go for long walks. Sean is trying to train Sam. Without much success, I might add.”

Sharon stood up. “Which direction?”

Honeysuckle pointed east along a familiar pathway.

“I'll see if I can find them.” Sharon stood up and walked down through a gap in the trees.

The pathway meandered around the trunks of evergreen and birch trees. Bluebells covered the ground on either side of the pathway. She felt a longing for home and the western slopes of the Canadian Rockies where trees grew all the way up to the mountains' shoulders.

The trees thinned to reveal a pasture framed on all four sides by a rock wall. She could see Sean leaning with his back against the east wall and his face to the sun. His legs were stretched out and his feet at awkward angles. A brown, black, and white dog lay with its chin on his lap.

Sharon walked closer. The knee-high grass brushed against her trousers.

The dog's head lifted. Sean kept his eyes closed as he rubbed Sam's head.

Sharon slowed her steps. Sam's tail wagged once. Sharon put her finger to her lips. Sam barked.

Sean's eyes opened. He smiled at his sister, then wiped the drool away from his chin.

Sharon reached out with her right hand. He grabbed it, and she pulled him to his feet.

“You've grown another foot.” Sharon had to look up to meet his gaze.

Sean patted her on the top of the head. They shared the same shade of brown in their hair. Their eyes were blue. His shoulders were broader now, and he had a barrel chest. “I didn't hear you arrive. Did you fly in?”

She nodded as she took him in. “Your voice is changing.”
You sound
just like our father. I can see Patrick in front of the hangar just before
he was killed.

Sam stretched his paws out front, lowered his head, curled his tail, and yawned.

“Why are you crying?” Sean asked.

“You sound just like Patrick.” Sharon wiped a sleeve across her eyes.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Sharon nodded. “And you look like him, too.”

“I can't remember what he or my mother looked like. It's been almost four years since they were killed.”

“Look in the mirror and you'll see Dad,” Sharon said.

“So, what do I do about my mom? There weren't any pictures left in the rubble, were there?” Sean began to walk in the direction of Honeysuckle's home.

“Is right after supper okay?”
Sharon looked at Honeysuckle.

“Perhaps before would be better,” Honeysuckle said.

Sharon frowned, saw Honeysuckle nod in Sean's direction, and remembered Edgar's airsickness. “Of course.”

Linda said, “Go on. Mother and I need to do some catching up.”

Sharon grabbed her goggles and helmet. “Think there will be any trouble with trigger-happy colonials this time?”

Linda shook her head. “This is West Yorkshire. There isn't much in the way of air traffic around here. Most of that is on the east side of the country.”

Sean waited for Sharon to go out the back door first. She nodded and headed out.

“I have to tie up the dog or he'll follow us.” Sean whistled for Sam.

For five minutes, the dog ran in circles around them. Each time Sean or Sharon would get close, he'd dart away. Finally he tired, and Sharon grabbed him by the collar. Sean tied a leash to the dog's collar, tied the other end to a ring in the barn, and set a dish of water in front of Sam. “Now we can go.”

She let Sean lead her through the preflight checks on the Storch and helped with the finer points while explaining its handling characteristics.

“Sit up front.” Sharon climbed into the back seat.

She took care of the takeoff and took a good long look around for other aircraft before she said, “You have control.”

Sean took a few minutes to get used to the new controls before trying a few gentle turns.

Sharon figured they'd been able to squeeze in about fifty hours of flying time over the past three years. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you want to try a landing?”

Sean looked back over his shoulder, smiled, and nodded. He headed for home and took a careful look at the surrounding sky before preparing to land.

On short finals, Sharon leaned her head around to the right, then did the same on the left. She saw a person walking from left to right across the field next to the Townsend Farm. The walker and the Storch were on a collision course.

She tapped Sean on the shoulder. “I have control!”

Sean lifted his hands away from the controls to show her he heard and understood.

Sharon added power and leveled out at fifty feet. She looked down to see the upturned face of a woman who looked like her grandmother. The woman's hair looked wildly unkempt. She wore a pair of Wellington boots and nothing else.

Sharon did another circuit. Cornelia had disappeared. Sharon did a short-field landing just in case Cornelia jumped out in front of them.

At supper, Sharon asked, “Have any of you seen Cornelia lately?”

Linda looked at Honeysuckle, who said, “It's something we need to talk about. Cornelia, unfortunately, has not been well.”

“I saw an old woman out in the pasture. She was wearing nothing but her Wellingtons.” Sharon looked at Sean, who had taken a sudden interest in looking through the kitchen window. “It looked like my grandmother.”

“Most likely it was.” Honeysuckle put her hand on Sharon's. “It looks like she's suffering from dementia.”

“It happened suddenly?” Sharon asked.

“She hasn't been feeling well for about four months. The last two weeks have been especially difficult.” Honeysuckle hesitated.

“What?” Sharon asked.

“Walter McGregor called when you and Sean were out. He asked to see you in the morning.” Honeysuckle used her fork to point at Sharon and Sean.

“What about?' Sharon asked.

Honeysuckle shook her head. “He didn't say.”

After supper, the cleanup, and a freshly brewed pot of tea, Honeysuckle and Linda settled into a catch-up session.

“Tell me more about this Milton,” Honeysuckle said.

Linda blushed again.

Sean stood up. “Sam needs a walk.”

Sharon looked at her friend.

Linda cocked her head to the left as if to say, “I can handle this; you go with Sean.”

Sharon stood and patted her full stomach. “Hang on, Sean. Mind if I tag along?”

Sean stopped at the door, turned around, and smiled.

As they walked out of the door, they could hear Linda when she said, “Yes, Mom, he was very nice. But I don't think I'll be seeing him again.”

Sean closed the door and went to the barn to get Sam. The dog had a bed in one of the empty stalls. Then Sam was straining at the end of his leash as he dragged Sean out of the barn. “Hold on, you daft twit!” Sean said.

Sharon grabbed Sam by the collar. “Sit!”

Sam cocked his head and gave her a puzzled look. She pushed his back end down until he assumed a posture more to her liking.

“What are you doing?” Sean asked.

“Unfortunately, dogs have a pecking order.” She looked at her brother. “And it doesn't work very well when you're at the bottom of the dog's pecking order.”

“A class system, then?” Sean reached for the leash.

“Something like that.” Sharon walked west toward her grandmother's estate.

“You sure you want to go that way?” Sean asked.

Without turning around, Sharon asked, “Why not?”

“Your Uncle Marmaduke is a wanker, that's why.” Sean pulled up beside her with the dog in between.

Sharon smiled. “So you've bumped into him?”

“More than once.” Sean looked ahead to where a hedge ran along the edge of a pasture.

A woman stepped through a gap in the hedge. Her white hair was uncombed. She wore a floral print dress and Wellington boots. She lifted her dress and squatted.

“Grandmother?” Sharon caught the strong scent of urine on the breeze.

The woman looked their way. “I don't know where my friend is.”

“Cornelia?”
She sounds like a child.
They were within fifteen feet of Cornelia, and Sharon saw the vagueness in her blue eyes.

Cornelia stood and let her dress fall. “Do you know where Agnes is?”

“Agnes?” Sharon asked.

“Yes, Agnes. My friend.” Cornelia bent at the waist to peer around Sharon and Sean as if she might find Agnes hiding behind them. “That's a nice dog you've got.”

“His name is Sam,” Sean said.

“Do you want us to take you home?” Sharon asked.

“No!” Cornelia turned and walked through the gap in the hedge. Sharon followed.

Sam sniffed the pee patch. Sean pulled him away and followed his sister.

“Cornelia?” Sharon asked.

“You might want to stay on this side of the hedge,” Sean said to Sharon.

“She's my grandmother.” Sharon turned a branch to the side and pushed through.

In the clearing beyond the hedge, Cornelia was walking purposefully to the west.

Walking toward them was a man dressed in black hat, scarlet jacket, white jodhpurs, and black leather riding boots. Sharon recognized her Uncle Marmaduke's hooked nose.

“Now we've had it,” Sean said.

Sam barked.

“Mother!” Marmaduke pointed his leather-gloved hand in the air for emphasis. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Looking for Agnes,” Cornelia said.

“Agnes died ten years ago,” Marmaduke said.

Cornelia began to cry. “No, she didn't. Agnes is my friend. We go to school together. She said she'd meet me down there.” She pointed toward the gap in the hedge.

Marmaduke raised his hand. “You're being ridiculous.”

Cornelia ducked her head.

“Hello, Uncle.” Sharon felt Sean grow tense beside her.

Marmaduke stared at Sharon, then at Sean.

Sharon saw his pupils narrowing, his nostrils flaring, and his head pulling back.
He looks like a horse
, she thought, and it made her smile.

“What's so damned funny?” Marmaduke asked.

Sharon planted her feet and looked up at her uncle. “Well, you are, of course. It must be difficult for the other fox hunters to distinguish between you and your horse.”
I'm not afraid of you,
she thought.

Marmaduke's eyes grew wide. He took a step forward and cocked his right arm.

Sharon moved closer to her grandmother. She sensed Sean moving closer to stand beside her. Sam strained at the leash and growled.

Marmaduke dropped his arm.

“Agnes?” Cornelia asked and walked past her son.

“You and your mongrel brother are trespassing on my land. Leave!” Marmaduke said, then turned to follow his mother.

Rage's fire lit Sharon. She stepped forward.

Sean grabbed her arm. “Let him go.”

She turned to her brother, tried to reply, and found she could not.

“You know, you're absolutely right. He does look very much like a horse.”

Sharon shook her head and smiled. “He does, doesn't he?”

“Let's go and see if Linda is still being interrogated by Honeysuckle.” Sean pulled on the leash, tugged Sharon's elbow, and headed east.