Whisper on the Wind (57 page)

Paul, my darling,
why
? Why did it happen to us? I thought my love could keep you safe. I thought you would make it, make your thirtieth. But you didn’t, Paul. You were too young and good, we loved too well …

They had loved too well and now it was over. No more lying close, lips to lips, heart upon heart; no more taking and giving, loving and needing. No more small, sweet thrills as he touched her; never again the joy of seeing him walk toward her. Only Paul broken and burned, his beauty defiled.

She clenched her teeth until her jaws hurt. She wished Polly would go. Why did she sit there? Were they afraid she would do something if they left her alone?

Where are you now, Paul? Can you hear what I’m saying to you – what my heart is saying, or have you gone from me? Is death the end of everything or will I see you again? Will you be waiting there like always? Will you smile and kiss me, say you’ve missed me? Or is there nothing for us, Paul?

The door opened quietly. ‘Still asleep, is she?’ Footsteps across the room.

‘Aye. It’s that stuff the doctor gave her.’

‘Poor lass. Poor little lass …’

Grace and Polly, whispering. Only she wasn’t asleep. Whatever he’d given her only made her feel numb inside, and floaty. She would never sleep again.

‘I’ll come downstairs, Grace. She’s hard on.’

Polly and Grace leaving her; one of them propping open the door; the fifth stair down creaking.

She stretched her cold, aching limbs, opened her eyes, looked at the clock. Ten minutes past noon yet it seemed she had lain here for a lifetime. But what was a lifetime? For Paul it had been not quite twenty-three years.

I’m glad we were lovers, my darling; I’m glad about – everything. I don’t know how I’ll face it, but still I’m glad …

Strange that there were no tears inside her, no anger. But perhaps that was because of the tablet the doctor had made her swallow.

‘I’ll leave two more downstairs, Rosalind. One for tonight – another for the morning …’

And what else had he said – that she must call him at once if she felt ill? Stomach cramps or abdominal pain or vomiting. Day or night she must call him. He’d been kind to her, yet she couldn’t remember his name.

Paul, sweetheart –
why
…

‘I think,’ Polly said, ‘that if I let myself I could scream and scream till I’m blue in the face. It’s frightening, Kath. This family, I mean. Nothing but bad luck all down the years. Dogged with it, the Fairchilds – every generation beset by tragedy.’

‘She was so happy about them getting married – well, not happy exactly, Polly. More like she’d believe it when it happened. But it was Paul’s flying. It hung over her all the time. And he’d so nearly made it.’

‘Aye. That’s the way it is, when there’s a war on. But hadn’t you better be getting over to the hostel? Didn’t you say the Warden wanted to see you? If you go now you’ll be well back before I leave. Because I’ll have to go, Kath. There’s Arnie to see to, but him and me will move in here for a while, if they say you must go back. Somebody’s got to be with her, though. She can’t be left on her own.’

‘I think it’ll be all right – for a time, at least. I don’t think it matters where I sleep, so long as the work gets done. Trouble is I’m not working all that much these days, am I?’

‘Happen not, but Roz comes first – Mat would be the first to say it. Haytime’s over, now – they’ll manage, until harvest. And they’ve got the prisoner. He’s a decent young chap …’

All at once, Polly had taken to Marco, Italian and enemy though he was, for hadn’t he been there, with the Mistress? Hadn’t he held her and comforted her last moments? She’d have been alone, if the prisoner hadn’t been there. Alone and afraid, but for him. There was good and bad in all things and all men, and Poll Appleby was the first to admit it.

‘Decent? Yes, he is.’ Better than decent. A man she could love for all time. ‘Well, if you’re sure, I’ll get over to Peacock Hey and have a word with the Warden. I won’t be long. I’ll be back as soon as I can to let you know what she said.’

It would be strange, going back to Peacock; back to the noise and chatter; to where everything was as near to normal as you could hope to find it. There might be another letter waiting for her; a pale blue lettercard with Passed by Censor stamped on it in red and Barney’s name, rank and number printed across the back. If there was, would Barney have written it, or a nurse? She didn’t know. All she could be sure about was that she was very tired and very unhappy; in desperate need of arms to hold her, someone to whisper that one day it would all come right.

But it wouldn’t come right. It couldn’t. Not for her and not now for Roz. Not ever.

She called, ‘Bye, Polly. Won’t be long,’ and her words were harsh with tears.

The RAF truck approached her travelling too quickly for the winding, narrow lane and Kath pulled her bicycle on to the grass verge, giving it room to pass.

With a squeal of brakes it came to a stop, then backed down the lane, weaving erratically from side to side. It came level with her and Juney jumped out.

‘Kath! Gawd, girl, how’s Roz?’

Her face was pale and her cap, perched on the back of her head, gave her a curiously vulnerable look. Only a kid, Juney was. She’d thought the world of Sugar’s crew.

‘Roz? I – I don’t know. It’s as if she hasn’t taken it in yet.’

‘It’s a bugger of a war, innit? I’m going to the Black Horse tonight. I’m going to get as tight as a tick, Kath. They were a smashin’ bunch. And they nearly made it. Just three more ops and they’d have been laughing. And what about Julia? What about Skip’s wife, then? Did you know?’

Kath shook her head.

‘There was this telegram, see. For Skip, it was, only it arrived just before they – before they took off. Afterwards – when they cleared their things out, they found it. On his bed. Someone had left it there.’

‘Cleared their things out, Juney? That was a bit quick, wasn’t it?’

‘Nah. They always do it quick. Strip their beds, empty their lockers, pack everything up and send it to the next of kin. It’s got to be like that. There’ll be a new crew in them beds tomorrow, like as not. But the bod from the Adjutant’s office found the telegram. He had a Waaf sergeant with him, packing their things up and he told her to open it. A little girl, Kath. Both well, it said. Skip had a daughter, only he never knew. Tell Roz, won’t you – when you think she’s up to it.’

‘I’ll tell her.’

‘I’d like to see her. Paul and Roz – they were great together, weren’t they? Don’t suppose we’ll be seeing you at the Friday-night dances, now?’

‘I doubt it.’ Not for a long, long time. She hadn’t even thought about the Friday dances. Come to think of it, she’d hardly had one coherent thought in her head since Sugar crashed. ‘Do you know what went wrong, Juney?’

‘Not really. There’s been talk, mind, but they’ll never know; not for sure. Nothing left of that Lancaster, see? But a bloke was there, right at the end of the runway and he said the plane just suddenly slewed; went out of control. A burst tyre, they’re saying it was. Makes you think, dunnit? Had luck written all over them, that crew did.’ Her lower lip had begun to tremble; tears shone brightly in her eyes. ‘Tell Roz I was asking, will you? Tell her I’ll call and see her one day.’

‘She’d like that. When things get a – a bit better.’

‘Not on her own, is she?’

‘No. Polly’s with her. I’ve just been to the hostel. The Warden says I can stay with her – probably I’ll move into Ridings permanently.’

‘Well, I’m glad she’ll have someone with her. Poor kid. Talk about getting kicked when you’re down. But keep in touch, Kath. Let me know how she’s getting on? You can ring me on 217. Ask for the MT Pool – motor transport.’

‘I’ll do that. I’ll give Roz your message.’

‘Yes.’ She climbed back into the cab, swallowing noisily, sniffing loudly. ‘See you, mate. Take care.’

‘So long, Juney. Be lucky.’

Marco was waiting by the yard gate at Ridings, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

‘Hey, Kat!
Ciao.
’ He looked up, and smiled. ‘I ate my rations quickly and I come to see you, but there is no one.’

‘No. Roz is upstairs and Polly will be with her. It’s good to see you, Marco.’

‘It’s a long time since we talk. Hardly at all since the
signora
died. And now there is Paul.’

‘Now there is Paul. I can’t believe it, Marco. Roz is devastated. I don’t think she’ll ever get over it.’ She slid her hand into her pocket and brought out cigarettes, offering him one. ‘I can’t stay to talk; not this morning. But I’ll be here at Ridings for a time. Come and see me tomorrow, if you can?’

‘I’ll come, Kat. And Mrs Ramsden says to tell you she’ll be over, soon, with soup and milk.’

‘That’s kind of her. Tell her Roz is sleeping, will you?’

She held out her hand and he took it in his own, touching it gently with his lips. She wished with all her heart he could have taken her in his arms and whispered that it would be all right; just as it had been on threshing day. But he didn’t; it wouldn’t have been right. Soon she must tell him that Barney had been wounded and maybe was even now on his way back to England.

‘I’ll come tomorrow – if I can,’ he said softly. ‘Tell Roz I will pray for her, and for Paul. Take care, Katarina.’

‘And you, Marco.’

Roz heard the closing of the back door and footsteps crossing the yard and she looked again at the bedside clock. Polly, going home, that had been.

The bed was cold and clammy. Her feet were cold, too, and she wondered how long she could endure this limbo. She felt light-headed. Was it the tablet or was it because she couldn’t eat? She really should try, but food tasted like cottonwool in her mouth and the feeling of nausea was never far away.

Stewart. She remembered the doctor’s name. He’d been in the Medical Corps. He would always walk with a limp, but he considered himself one of the lucky ones.

She pushed herself upright and the bedroom tilted, then righted itself. It wasn’t true, about Sugar. She’d been lying here all morning and she hadn’t heard the phone. Best she should get up; best be there, when it rang. But Paul wouldn’t ring. Never again. She had almost accepted it. When the sentries left the field in Peddlesbury Lane – when she could go there and see it for herself; when something happened, something final and indisputable to prove it was true, then she would accept it and weep for Paul, try to get on with the business of living again. Yet until it happened, there
was
hope; there must be, or how was she to bear this terrible ache inside her? How was she to endure the sight of lovers together, walking close, and acknowledge that only her own little world had ceased its spinning? How soon before the longing for him, the need of his body against hers, became bearable? How long could she suffer a life alone? Fifty years from now she would still want him. When she was old and lonely, she would still remember every word, every whispered caress.

Paul. Paul Rennie. Precious, precious love. Gran had endured this agony, and Polly, too. For all those years, those empty, unloved years they had existed.

Did you know, Paul? When death was only seconds away, did you know
?

She had given him a kiss; had placed it in his hand for luck when next he took off. She hadn’t known, then, it was a kiss of goodbye.

She was sick and tired of this bed and the curtained window. She wanted to be outdoors; to run across the grass shouting rage to a world that dared to go on turning and a sun that had no right to shine.

She flung back the curtains and blinked in the sudden glare of light, then walked unsteadily to the door. She was still wearing her dressing gown and she wrapped it around her, tying the cord tightly. She hoped Kath was downstairs.

Kath was sitting at the kitchen table, pen in hand. She pushed back her chair as the door opened and stood up, not knowing what to do or say.

‘Kath …’

‘Hullo, love. Had a good sleep?’

‘No. The tablet only made me feel floaty. I was pretending.’

‘How about a cup of tea?’

‘No, thanks. A drink of water, perhaps …’

‘Grace came.’ Kath hurried to the tap, filling a glass, offering it. ‘She left soup and milk. Couldn’t you try just a little soup, Roz?’

‘Maybe I will. And, Kath – it wasn’t your fault.’

‘I know, but I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.’ She glanced down at the writing pad. ‘I – I was writing to Barney, and Aunt Min.’

‘Good old Aunty Minnie.’ Roz pulled out a chair then leaned her elbows on the table. ‘Any phone-calls?’

‘Just one, from Flora. The Warden’s going to give me a temporary ration card. She says I can stay here – maybe permanently. Since the York raid, the ARP people reckon it’s not on, people sleeping in attics. Too much risk from fire-bombs. Is it all right if I stay for good?’

‘Of course it is. You know that. When will you bring your things over?’

‘Later.’ She wished she knew what to say; wished she knew how to help make it easier. The silences were awful, the tension in the kitchen so thick and heavy it seemed as if she could reach out to touch it. ‘Roz. I’m sorry. You know I’m sorry, don’t you? I was talking to Juney,’ she rushed on. ‘She sent her love. Did you know that Julia has had a little girl?’