Whisper on the Wind (45 page)

Oh, and Gran, there are things I can’t tell you – not yet – but you must let us get married – you must.

‘Roz, child, it’s all right. All I want is for you to be happy. I only want you to be sure, that’s all. Bring Paul home – soon. And let’s eat our soup. If you don’t fret about Paul, I’ll forget about the – the prisoner and we’ll both calm down and act like grown-up people, shall we?’

‘Okay.’ Roz blew her nose loudly. ‘And you’re right. Of course you must meet Paul, first …’

She picked up her spoon, staring down. She didn’t want the soup; she didn’t want anything. She felt churned up inside and ready to scream. When she wasn’t with Paul she went to pieces, just thinking about things. Only when she was with him could she force herself to believe that things were normal and would turn out right. But for Paul, she would have done anything.

She lifted the spoon to her lips. The soup tasted awful. She wished she could be sick.

‘It was good of you to come up here,’ Roz murmured. ‘Didn’t much fancy waiting it out on my own.’

‘No bother. Didn’t fancy a night in the hostel; most of them have shoved off into York, to a show. Peacock is so quiet it isn’t natural.’

They sat, arms round knees, looking to their left to Alderby, to their right to the aerodrome. The evening sky was bright and cloudless. From here on Tuckets Hill it seemed that if they tried hard they would pick out the spires and towers of the York churches.

‘I knew Paul would be flying tonight. Doesn’t seem right, somehow, going bombing on a Sunday night.’

‘It’s one less to go,’ Kath countered, practically. ‘And the sooner Paul’s off flying the better, as far as I’m concerned.’ The strain was telling, now, on Roz. That darting smile was seldom seen lately, and the mischief had gone from her eyes. ‘And no, if you’re about to ask, there wasn’t a letter there when I got back last night, though I hope he’s all right.’

There had been heavy fighting in North Africa, the BBC news broadcasts had given out soberly, to be followed by more graphic accounts in the daily papers. Rommel was attacking at Mersa Matruh. Mersa Matruh had surrendered. Rommel’s tanks were pushing on to El Alamein. There had been heavy casualties.

She hoped he was all right. Her love for Barney was gone – if love there had ever been – but still she wished him well.

‘Did you know,’ Roz said softly, her eyes fixed on the control tower at the runway end, ‘that Gran came face to face with Marco yesterday, and cut him dead. She was really upset. In the end I started talking about Paul, just to get her mind off the Germans and Italians. I didn’t mean to, Kath. I’ve been playing it close to my chest; fingers crossed, sort of, and not meaning to say anything till Paul knew where he stood. But lately she’s been talking more and more about Grandpa, though I don’t know why. Maybe she’s getting tired of the war.’

‘Aren’t we all – and this is your gran’s second war, remember. But I knew about it – about her and Marco, I mean. Marco told me. He didn’t say a lot; just that she was a formidable lady and he’d keep out of her way in future. I think he was a bit hurt, though.’

‘So would I be.’ Roz pulled a stem of grass then chewed it reflectively. ‘How are things going, by the way, for you and him?’

‘They aren’t, and what’s more they mustn’t.’ Kath narrowed her eyes, staring down at Peddlesbury. ‘You know what we need up here, don’t you? A pair of binoculars or a telescope, or something. We could see better, then. We might even be able to make out which one was Sugar. Mind, if anyone caught us at it we’d get carted off to prison as spies, I shouldn’t wonder – but it’s a thought.’

‘Kath! You’re brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? We’ve got a pair at home somewhere. Next time, I’ll bring them. But we were talking about you and Marco. Are things really bad?’

‘As bad as they can be, I’d say. D’you know, Roz, ever since I knew I didn’t want to go on living with Barney I feel guilty every time I see Marco – as if it’s because of him that it happened.’

‘And it wasn’t, of course? You’re sure? Would you swear that if you’d never met Marco, things would have been all right between you and Barney?’

‘They wouldn’t. Things started going wrong when I joined the Land Army. If I’m truthful, I suppose it was when I got it into my head that if I didn’t go out and volunteer there and then I’d be trapped for the rest of my life. Trapped? A young married woman shouldn’t have been thinking like that.’

‘Maybe it was Aunty Minnie who was getting you down?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe it was Barney and Barney’s mother’s house and Aunt Min, all rolled into one. All I know is that I wanted out; wanted to start again, in the country. I knew, even as I signed on the dotted line, that Barney wouldn’t like it.’

‘And you’ve been proved right. Do you think he’ll let you go, Kath – willingly, I mean?’

‘No, I don’t. Not for one minute. But I wouldn’t ask him for anything – only my clothes and they’re mine, anyway. He could have all I’ve saved. There’s quite a lot in the bank, now; enough to buy him that car he’s always wanted. He’d like that, I know.’

‘And he could take Aunty Minnie out for rides in it.’ Roz laughed, mischief briefly lighting her eyes.

‘He’s welcome to her. Personally, I need Aunt Min like I need a rat up my trouser leg!’

‘Now we’re back to Marco again! Funny how the talk gets round to him, isn’t it?’

Marco, and threshing day, and the rat. Marco holding her wrists, telling her to hang on, the thresher beneath her, banging and turning. Then Marco holding her close, hushing her, telling her it was all right. Even then it had felt good to be near him. Now, she could think of little else.

‘Tell me what you told your gran about Paul?’ she demanded, shutting down her thoughts.

‘I told her we want to get married.’

‘Great! I always said you should be open with her, didn’t I?’

‘I know. But she said she’d have to meet him first. She didn’t say a downright no, though.’

‘She’ll love him, Roz. She’ll fall for him – bet you anything you like she will. So don’t look so miserable. And what’s that, down there? Something’s going on. There’s a couple of little pick-ups on the perimeter track …’

‘Yes. The crew-trucks. They’ll be taking-off soon. Oh, dammit. Wish I’d got those field-glasses with me!’

‘We’ll bring them next time.’ Kath reached for Roz’s hand and it felt cold in her own. ‘Come on, love. Let’s count them out and wish every one of them well? He’s going to be all right, I know he is. And tomorrow night, I think you should take him home. It’s time he and your gran got to know each other – all right?’

‘All right. Except that I forgot to tell you. By tomorrow night we could be on with the first cut of hay. Mat said that as soon as the grass was dry in the morning he was going to open up the Beck Lane field.’

‘Open up? What’s that?’

‘They cut the first hay – and corn, too – by hand with a scythe, to make an opening so the mower can get in. I hope Mat won’t want to go on working till it’s dark – won’t expect you and me to stay too late, Kath.’

‘Wouldn’t know, love. It’ll be my first haytime. And listen! There’s one of them starting up.’

They sat, breath indrawn, and thinly the sound came to them: four engines, warming up. Then there would be more and more until there were close on forty great roaring engines being revved into full-throttled life.

Kath crossed her fingers as the first bomber began its clumsy trundle to take-off point. ‘Good luck,’ she whispered. ‘And next time we’ll be able to see which one is Sugar, won’t we?’

But Roz made no reply. Already her eyes were wide with apprehension, her world fear-filled until she knew Paul was back.

‘He’ll be all right.’ Kath squeezed the hand that lay clenched in her own. ‘He will be. I know it.’

‘Yes, Kath. Funny, but I always had it in my mind that they’d get that tour of ops over with around haytime and it looks as if I’m going to be right.’

‘It does. And didn’t you tell me it was lucky to see a load of hay – that it was good for a wish? Think of all the loads of hay we’ll be seeing – all the wishes?’

Wish on a load of hay. Like the first swallow and the first cuckoo-call, hay was lucky.

And she would be wishing, Roz thought as the first green light flashed out from the control tower. She wished a lot these days and always,
always
for the same thing.

‘Take care, Paul,’ she whispered. ‘Come back safely.’

Last evening they had watched nine bombers heave reluctantly into the air; had silently blessed them on their way, wished them a safe return. Some had needed the full length of the runway, skimming the top of Peddlesbury Lane wood with little to spare.

‘They’re heavy. Seems they’ve got a full fuel load,’ Roz had said, ‘it’s going to be a long one tonight.’ Deep into Germany. Berlin, could it be?

They returned at first light, their engines making a different sound on the cool morning air, awakening those who still slept as they roared in low over Alderby. The last of them, the ninth, touched down as Kath reached Home Farm and she closed her eyes and whispered her thanks to the god who had brought them all back.

‘Hi!’ Roz called from the dairy, her voice light. Roz too had counted.

‘You’re early this morning. Couldn’t you sleep?’

‘When he’s flying, do I ever?’

‘I’ll tell you something, Roz. When it’s all over and done with, I shall feel as if I, in person, have flown all thirty. Don’t do it to me again, there’s a love. Where has everyone got to?’

‘Mat’s doing the milking and Jonty’s gone to collect Marquis.’

‘
Who
?’

‘Another shire. The mower needs two horses; Mat and another farmer have an arrangement – they each borrow the other’s. Marquis is Duke’s half-brother. Same sire, different mares. They look alike, too. Mat’ll be in his element, today.’

‘They won’t be using the tractor, then?’

‘They will, but later. Mat always uses the horses for the first cut, though. Grace wants milk, by the way. Be a dear, and take her some?’

Kath took jug and ladle, stirring in cream risen thick to the top of the churn before filling the jug. ‘Want a cup, if there’s any tea going begging?’

‘No, ta. You have one, though. Stay and have a chat with Grace.’

Roz was happy. Paul was back and tonight they would be together. And only four more to go …

‘The gaffer outside says I’m to stay for a cup.’ Kath smiled, taking a mug from the mantelshelf. ‘She’s in a good mood this morning.’

‘Got a date tonight, has she?’

‘Almost certain.’ Kath settled herself at the table. ‘Tell me about haytime, Grace?’

‘What do you want to know, lass? That it’s hot and dusty – that it always is? Got to have the sun. Can’t make hay in the rain.’

‘But how do you know when it’s time – when it’s ready for cutting?’

‘Mat knows. When the hay’s just coming into flower is the time, weather permitting, of course.’ Grace pulled out a chair and propped her chin on her hands. ‘A farmer knows his land, Kath; knows every field. Now’s the time, Mat says, and the weather set fair for a day or two. It’ll be a fair crop, this year.’

‘How can hay flower? I thought it was just grass.’

‘Oh, bless you no! There’s herbs and suchlike in hay – in good hay, that is. You’ve got to catch it just right. Mat can.’

‘And the weather?’ Could Mat order that, too?

‘No problem with the weather, this year. Didn’t you notice those little swallows, last night – so high up in the sky you could hardly see them? Swallows live on insects and when their food is high it means the pressure is high; don’t need a weather-glass to tell the day that’s to come. When swallows fly high, it’s haymaking weather. Mind, when they swoop low to the ground,’ Grace added, ever practical, ‘you know not to hang the washing out. Low-flyers means rain to come, and soon. Mat came in last night and said the sky was good and the swallows high. Mat knows.’

Mat knows. Mat can. Mat said. She still loved him, and he her. He didn’t notice the thickening at her waist, the grey hairs. Mat loved the girl he had married, for girl Grace still was, to him. Theirs was a quiet love, a sure love; a love it would take a thousand sonnets to describe. They were the lucky ones.

‘Roz’ll be eating here, today,’ Grace remarked. ‘I like to have us all together when there’s something big on, though it’s a worry, finding rations.’

‘Rabbit pie, will it be?’ Kath recalled threshing day. ‘And rice pudding?’

‘No. I’m getting low on rice and folks say it’ll disappear for the duration before so very much longer – the Japs, you see – so it’s baked custard and the last of the apples. You’ll tell Marco he’s to come in?’

‘I’ll tell him.’ Grace didn’t know about them. No one knew, but Roz. ‘Well – best be getting on with the milk. See you, Grace.’

Hester sang softly to the tune on the wireless. This morning she felt almost happy. Though dramatic, her talk with her granddaughter had been the first hesitant step toward the openness between them she so wanted. In wartime especially, having someone to love was normal and natural, but she had been dismayed by Roz’s evasions – yes, and lies, too. But soon it would come right; she was to meet this airman who had a name, now, and a twin sister and who wanted to be an architect, like Toby.