Whisper on the Wind (52 page)

‘So that’s what you’ll do? Stay here and try to make a go of it?’

‘Isn’t that what Gran would want?’

‘Aye. She’d want you to, lass, but what do
you
want?’

‘I want Ridings – and Paul.’

‘Then that’s all right, isn’t it? Seems you’ll have what you want. Not many of us get that.’

‘I know, and I’m grateful. And Polly – Paul and I want to be married. Did Gran tell you?’

‘She told me. She said she’d never wanted less than your complete happiness. Them was her exact words. Telling me, I reckon she was. Telling me – in case –’ She bit hard on her lip to stop its trembling. ‘So if that’s what you want, you’d best tell your young man it’s all right. Quiet, though, it’ll have to be. If there hadn’t been a war on you’d have had to keep to the mourning – you know that, don’t you? If there hadn’t been this war, you’d have to wait six months at least.’

‘I know, Polly, and thanks for letting us.’ And for understanding that time was so short; that six months could be six lifetimes, or six nevers. But it was going to be all right. Gran would have said yes, and Polly understood.

Relief washed over Roz like a blessing. Tonight, if she saw Paul, she could tell him. If she didn’t see him, then there’d be only three more ops to go and after that they would have a whole year of lovely tomorrows and that was as far as she dare imagine. For the first time in two days she smiled; a tremulous, trembly little smile. ‘Thanks, Polly love – and bless you …’

‘Right, then. I’ll be getting on with the bathroom.’ Head high, lips set tightly, Polly picked up dusters and cloths, banged the door too loudly behind her and walked upstairs where nothing had changed except that
she
was gone. The soap she had used on Monday morning was still there; the bed she had slept on unruffled and untouched as though she would turn back the quilt and sleep in it tonight. But for all that, she was never coming back.

‘Because I’m a minor, Kath, Mr Dunston is doing everything for me; you know – getting the death certifícate, and everything. I didn’t know there was so much to be done. I thought that death was death; that that was the end of it, but it isn’t. So many formalities …’

She sat, chin on knees, looking down over Peddlesbury. Standby had become reality, now. Paul’s squadron was operational tonight, and this would be his twenty-seventh flight over Germany. And it would be all right. It was the last one, the thirtieth, that would be so awful; for herself, for Skip and every one of Sugar’s crew. The last op. of the tour was every bit as fear-filled as the first and the thirteenth.

She reached for the binoculars they had remembered to bring and held them to her eyes. ‘Do you think it’s terrible of me to come up here and watch the take-off – disrespectful, I mean? Will people think I shouldn’t have?’

‘Shouldn’t show your face until Thursday, you mean? Rubbish! Who’s to see you, anyway, up here? And if they do, what business is it of theirs?’

‘Oh, but they’d make it their business. They’re like that, Kath, in villages. But I couldn’t have stayed in. Okay – so I could have sat in the garden and counted them out from there, but I wanted to be here.’

‘So it’s all right, then.’ Kath offered her cigarettes. ‘Want one?’

‘No, ta. Smoking on an empty stomach makes me feel queasy.’

‘Then for goodness’ sake eat something!’ Hardly a thing inside her since Monday morning, Kath brooded. Drinks of water and sips of milk. She’d be passing out soon, if she wasn’t careful. But the air tonight was cooler, and fresh; it might sharpen her appetite. ‘Can you make out who is who?’

‘Yes. When they start taxi-ing to take-off I’ll be able to see their markings. We’ll know exactly which one is Paul, then. Wish we’d thought to bring these things sooner.

‘And there’s a couple of crew-trucks going along the runway. Amazing how clear these glasses make them. They could all be up and away within half an hour …’

‘Good. Then we’re going straight home and you’ll eat something – or else! You can’t go on like this. Are you trying to punish yourself? What’s to be gained by starving yourself, will you tell me? You’re going to be married, girl. Try thinking about that for a change.’

‘I’m not starving myself. I just can’t face food. I’m glad about us being married and I’ll be all right, truly I will. It’s just that it won’t leave me, Kath – Monday, I mean. I keep telling myself it didn’t happen. I close my eyes and will her to be there when I open them. And she isn’t. I suppose that’s why it hasn’t sunk in that Polly said yes. I’m probably still waiting, inside me, for Gran to say it, too.’

‘I know, love. I know.’

‘And there’s Thursday to be lived through and after that there’s Paul’s last three. Sometimes I want to go to sleep, Kath, and not wake up till it’s all over, and all I have to worry about is getting to the church. You know I’d give anything –
anything
– to have Paul with me tonight. I need him so much – just to be near him; nothing else. Would you say that was selfish and heartless of me?’

‘I’d say that it’s your life,’ Kath said slowly and carefully, all the time watching the wisp of smoke that rose, trembling, from her cigarette, ‘and that it’s up to you who sleeps in your house. It’s nothing to do with what Alderby thinks. But you won’t have Paul stay the night. Not yet. You’ll do things
her
way for just a little while longer; you know you will. And give me the glasses, will you? There’s one of them not revved up, yet. The others all seem to be moving, but one looks like its propellers haven’t done a turn.’

‘Where?’ Roz held tightly to the binoculars, sweeping them the length of the runway.

‘Focus on the control tower, then over to your left. Got them?’

‘Yes! And it’s Sugar – I know it is! The crew are all standing around. I can see them. Take a look.’

‘Now how on earth can you tell who’s who? All crews look alike in flying kit.’

‘I know they do, but Paul and Skip are a head and shoulders taller than the rest of the crew; I just
know
it’s them. There’s some sort of trouble. They won’t be going, Kath. They’re not going to take off – bet you anything you like!’

‘So what’ll we do? Wait and see?’

‘No! We’ll get back home. Paul will ring me – let me know what happened. I’ve got to be there when he phones.’

She was on her feet and running down the steep slope of the hill, Kath slipping and sliding behind her, calling to her to be careful.

‘Wait for me, Roz! And watch it! The grass is slippery. You’ll break your neck!’

They waited for a long time, eyes on the telephone, willing it to ring, but it did not.

‘It was probably some other crew,’ Kath ventured, eventually. ‘You didn’t get a proper look at the markings, did you? You only saw that Lancaster head-on; it could have been any one of them.’

‘It was Sugar, I know it.’ Roz’s chin tilted stubbornly. ‘And it was Sugar’s crew standing around. Think I don’t know Paul when I see him?’

‘I still say they all look alike in –’

‘
It was them
.’ She would endure no contradiction. ‘And how many took off? How many did you count on the way back here?’

‘Eight.’

‘Yes, and so did I. And it’s usually nine or ten. Paul won’t be going, now.’

‘All right. It was Paul’s plane we saw – but he won’t be able to ring. You know that. There’ll be no calls in or out. And you’re shattered. Go to bed, Roz. He’ll ring in the morning just as soon as he can …’

She didn’t like saying it; didn’t like seeing the pain in Roz’s face. It was like dashing the hopes of a small, eager child, Kath thought; like taking away a promised treat. And Roz looked dreadful. Her face was pale and tight with stress; if she didn’t get some sleep soon she would make herself ill.

‘I’ll wait a little longer. You go to bed, Kath. You’re doing the milk-round in the morning and you need your rest. I’ll wait up, for the phone. I wouldn’t sleep, anyway,’ she added hastily, ‘for fear I missed him. You go on up.’

Kath had been going to refuse; had almost countered with, ‘No. If you stay up, I stay up,’ when the knocking on the back door caused them both to start.

‘It’s him! It’s Paul!’ Roz flung wide the door and was in his arms in an instant, laughing, crying, searching with her mouth for his, whispering, ‘I knew it was you, darling; I
knew
all the time it was Sugar …’

‘Paul,’ Kath whispered, relieved it had not been Grace, or Jonty who stood there. ‘How did you manage to get out?’

‘Oh, the luck of the Rennies.’ He grinned. ‘And how did you know we had gremlins in two engines?’

‘We were watching take-off on Tuckets Hill,’ Roz gasped, her eyes not leaving his face. ‘Stay with me tonight, Paul? Don’t go back to Peddlesbury?’

‘Sorry, sweetheart.’ Gently he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I shouldn’t be here at all. I can’t stay too long.’

‘Stay long enough to make her eat something,’ Kath entreated. ‘If she doesn’t eat soon, she’ll be ill. She won’t listen to me. And I’m sorry, but I’m off to bed. Got to be up early for the milk-round. You’ll have to excuse me. Goodnight, both.’ She smiled, eager to leave them alone. ‘God bless.’

‘Well, now. What’s this about not eating?’ Paul demanded as the door closed.

‘Oh – I just can’t be bothered,’ Roz countered, shrugging, it tastes so – so
awful
in my mouth. I suppose it’s all to do with – well, with Gran. Shock, maybe. I’ll pull myself together, soon.’

‘How about a sandwich, and a glass of milk?’ Paul took off his jacket and draped it over a chair-back. ‘Where do you keep the bread? I’ll go this minute, if you don’t eat something,’ he threatened, his eyes deep with concern. ‘Kath’s right. You’ll be ill.’

Roz ate a slice of bread and drank the milk Paul poured for her then set the glass down triumphantly.

‘There now – satisfied? Let’s go outside. It’s a lovely night. Let’s sit on the staircase seat. There’s something I want to tell you – something wonderful. How long have we got?’

‘An hour. No longer than that. It’s a half-hour’s walk back. And if it’s so wonderful, tell me now.’

‘Do you still want to marry me?’ She reached up, taking his face between gentle hands. ‘Do you still feel the same – that we should get married as soon as we can?’

‘At the end of the tour.’ He took her hand in his and they walked out into the twilight. ‘Is that soon enough?’

‘How about next week? Before you finish the tour, even? Polly says I can. She’s one of my legal guardians and today she said that Gran had told her it was all right, so she said yes. We could get a licence in less than a week. Marry me, Paul? Quietly, with just two witnesses? Please, darling?’

‘They do say,’ he said gravely, ‘that a special licence only takes three days. Allowing for the weekend, we could even make it by Tuesday – if you think that’s not too soon?’

‘No. Gran would understand. I’ll have to get Polly’s official permission, I suppose. Wish I knew how it’s done.’

‘I know how it’s done. I talked to the padre at Peddles-bury. It’s the bishop who grants the licence, I believe, but your vicar’ll tell you. A bloke in the Mess got married in York the same way only last week. Shall you and I be married in York, darling?’

‘And stay at the house in Micklegate again?’

‘Would you like that?’ He draped his battledress top around her shoulders then sat down beside her, pulling her close. ‘But didn’t we once say we’d do it in style?’

‘
You
said that. The house in Micklegate will suit me fine,’ she smiled indulgently. ‘But I won’t speak to the vicar until – well, until after Thursday. Best not till then.’

‘I can’t believe it.’ He laid his cheek on hers. ‘We
are
talking about a wedding, aren’t we?’

‘We are. A quietly-in-York-by-special-licence wedding. And fifty years from now, my love, I’ll bet you anything you like we wouldn’t have done it any differently.’

‘Fifty years from now,’ he echoed, knowing that he’d settle for five years, for five weeks, even; knowing that all he wanted was to marry her for however long or little the Fates allowed. ‘Do you want children, Roz?’

‘Of course I do. I think we’d better have three.’

‘Two boys and a girl?’

‘No. I rather fancy two girls and a boy.’

‘There you are! We’re arguing already.’ Laughing, he kissed her gently, all at once seeing her pregnant with his child. It was the sanest, most certain thing he could think of in an insane, uncertain world. ‘We’re going to make it, you and me, Roz. There
will
be a fifty years from now for us. I know it.’

‘Mm. Remember the thirteenth op. – and Jock? Nothing still to come can ever be as bad as that, darling. Just remember that, won’t you?’

‘That I was ready to jack it in, Roz?’

‘That it was normal and natural for you – for you
all
– to think that way after what happened. But you all went on, and soon you’ll have made it.’

‘I’d still rather forget that night.’

‘I wouldn’t. That night you said you’d always love me. We made love for the first time.’

‘I still love you, Roz, only more. And I feel good about us; sure I’ll make it. Shall we live here, at Ridings? Fifty years from now, shall we sit here and remember tonight – the night Sugar refused to take-off?’