Wild Lily (7 page)

‘What, into the lake, to amuse your friends? I don’t love you that much, Antony. I’m only doing it once, without anyone seeing, somewhere private. And even then I might not, when the moment comes.’

‘Soon, Lily. The next time I’m here when the weather’s right. No wind. In the dawn, just when it’s light but everyone is still asleep. It will be wonderful.’

Will it? Lily wondered. Her insides tingled at the thought. It was big in her head now, this thing she had to do, and it filled her with excitement, misgiving, downright panic. But she knew if she refused it, she would never forgive herself.

Aunt Maud went home, taking the dog, and Squashy cried inconsolably, driving Lily mad.

‘Barky loved him too. We both want him!’

‘He’ll come back when Aunt Maud comes again. Not long, I expect.’ Not in the middle of Antony’s party, she prayed. Aunt Maud had intimated that with her brother expected to be in South America for a few weeks over the summer, she might ‘drop in’ to keep an eye on Antony. Antony had lied to
her and told her he was going to be staying with friends in the early summer, and she said she would come later, though she also needed to check her itinerary for her annual trip to the French Riviera. One could only pray.

‘The old bat! She thinks I’m not to be trusted.’

A wise old bat, Lily thought, but did not say. ‘Forget about her. She’s a pain. Nice dog though.’

‘Yes, nice dog.’

Squashy started to cry again.

‘I want Ludo!’

Lily wanted to hit him, but knew she couldn’t. Oh, to be up in the sky, floating slowly down with the clouds all round and the sun shining on her and her soul free like a bird … she longed for it suddenly: a rare, rare brightness beckoning, which she would remember for ever. Antony said it was as safe as houses, and no one else knew they were going to do it.

‘Now the weather’s warmer, the first Sunday with no wind. Early in the morning, so no one will see,’ Antony had said on a Long Leave at home in the spring.

Already Lily could feel the excitement mounting.

‘If I come home specially, you won’t funk out, will you? You won’t let me down? I trust you.’ His eyes had been challenging.

‘I might at the last moment. How can I tell? I might not be able to make myself—’

‘I shall never forgive you.’

‘How can I tell though? If it was you – it’s not as if the plane’s on fire or anything so’s you’ve got to get out. Only a bit of fun.’

‘I know you can, Lily. That’s why I love you so.’

That clinched it. She said no more. But the fear bubbled inside her. She tried not to think about it. But it was like those volcanoes they had been taught about at school, always ticking away beneath the surface, to erupt in flames without warning
(not in England fortunately) – the fear leaped into her throat without warning when she was cooking or pulling up a cabbage or just lying in bed nearly asleep. Fear or excitement, she could not tell, just the feeling of bursting with an uncontainable emotion, indefinable … when it was over, if she were still alive, how dull life would be without it … although there would still be the party to anticipate …

Her father thought she was sickening for something. ‘What’s wrong with you, gel? You’re like a cat on hot bricks.’

She tried to play it down, contain it. But she didn’t have long to wait. Antony arrived unexpectedly, saying he had been suspended, whatever that meant, for a couple of weeks. Not to come back till after the Easter hols. His father gave him a thrashing, then was quite nice to him, forgetting all about it.

‘A fortnight off is a waste of his money, that’s all he thinks of. He doesn’t really care about what I did.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Oh, a bit of larking about. Bit of a birthday celebration – I
am
eighteen now, don’t you see! Someone got hurt though, so we got into trouble. Nothing really.’

It sounded like her parachute jump.

‘Tomorrow, eh, Lily? The weather’s just right, no wind, clear visibility. We can go off early and be back for breakfast. No one need know.’

‘Yes, all right.’

In a way, it was a blessing to get it over. No more agonising. Dead or alive, it would be decided. To be dead would be so peaceful.

‘Piece of cake,’ Antony said.

From that moment, through the evening and all through the night, Lily’s brain wrestled with emotions she could scarcely contain, ranging from a pitiful fear of death to euphoria of a blazing intensity. Sleep was impossible. It was a calm spring night, the sky glittering with stars. She felt she was to become part of the sky like the stars themselves, a magical being at one with the clouds and the raindrops and the highest flying eagles, pitched from a prosaic little aeroplane into a sphere unknown to human beings: the great canopy of the sky, all alone. She did not think her mind would work in such conditions, to instruct her to do all the things Antony had taught her, to save her life. To walk out on the wing and jump off backwards, not to pull the ripcord until she was well free, not to panic … impossible …

‘They do it all the time in America
…
Lindbergh’s done it four times
…’

Then to think: it’s all a dream, Antony just said it for a joke and it’s not going to happen. And then the hollow disappointment worse than the fear, the falling into a black pit of misery to think her boring life was not to be illuminated by this wonderful intimacy with the clouds and the sky, out there alone in inestimable space … I am going batty, she said to herself. I might never recover my brains after this. They say a great shock sends you loopy. Antony is doing this to me. She told herself that hundreds of men had jumped out with parachutes and lived to tell the tale, and Antony had bought her the latest design by Mr Irvin, unimaginable that it would
not work, a piece of cake indeed, go to sleep. Impossible.

The stars began to fade and the grey light of dawn filtered into her bedroom under the eaves. She crept out of bed, dressed rapidly and went downstairs. She had put out her warmest clothes and a scarf to contain her hair in case it should get caught in the rigging. What hadn’t she thought of? Absolutely nothing. Her brain had now cooled and she felt calm and slightly sick. It was impossible to think of eating, so she unlatched the door quietly and went outside. The sharp fresh air was wonderful, a slap in the face to shift her stupid imaginings. She drank in deep breaths and started to walk firmly away from the cottage. Would it be the last time? Don’t be so stupid! The lake with its familiar blurring of mist hiding the far trees lay silent and mysterious as always. Would the sight of it be her last? Don’t be so stupid!

‘Lily!’

‘Oh, Antony!’ The relief at seeing him, all the ridiculous clutter in her head dropped into oblivion. She did not notice that he too was pale, and frightened, yet seeing her he also laughed, and they hugged each other.

‘I didn’t think you’d come!’

It had been a hope, in reality, his night having been spent sleepless in a terrible fear at what he was asking of her. But seeing her so game, laughing, changed his mood.

All the same, he said, ‘You don’t have to, Lily.’

‘Oh yes, I do,’ she replied. ‘I must do it.’

She had not suffered those weeks of doubt to fail at the last moment. She did not know the thoughts that were going
through Antony’s head: that if she were to be killed, then he too would crash the plane and die. It was a wild and impulsive resolution. He could not believe, in the cold light of dawn, that he had been so stupid to ask her to do this thing. It had been in the nature of a joke initially. He had not expected her to agree.

‘You are wild, Lily!’

‘Hark who’s talking!’

They walked down the side of the lake together towards where the little plane stood waiting. Antony had had the tank filled, and the brand-new parachute was sitting waiting in the passenger seat. It looked to Lily cumbersome and grim, a rucksack thing with heavy straps. Antony arranged it on her and gave her instructions.

‘When I give the word you climb out onto the wing. You can see that’s quite easy, holding onto the strut. The wind will try and blow you off so to jump is quite easy. You just let go and go off backwards, the wind will take you. But don’t pull the cord until you’re well clear. You’ve got to fall clear first, else the chute might open and get caught in the tail. Fall clear first and then pull the cord to open it. It’s very simple.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve picked an airfield about twenty minutes away, not near anywhere and no one will be about at this time of day, so with luck we’ll have the place to ourselves.’

God, if her father found out! Lily thought. But it was scarcely daylight, and little stirred. The sky was steely grey, with just a faint streak of a greenish dawn beginning to stir
behind the trees. Even the farmers were still asleep. If they were not back before her father was up she could say she went out for … what? She would think of something before they got home. She shivered.

Antony tightened up the straps and showed her the red ribbon of the ripcord. ‘That’s it then. We’ll be off.’

He fastened up his helmet, pulled down his goggles and went to start the engine. Its crackle sent the birds spinning out of the trees, shattering the peace of the morning and setting Lily’s blood racing. Now there was no going back: the little plane careered down its strip of mown grass and rose gracefully over the roof of the cottage where Gabriel and Squashy no doubt were coming to swearing life, cursing the young Sylvester and his new-fangled idiot contraption – Gabriel did not mince his words in his contempt for Antony and his way of life.

If only he knew – Lily laughed out loud. Twenty minutes and already her blood was throbbing with excitement and her hands trembled; she twitched and shivered in her seat, free of any straps holding her in, aware only of the weight of the parachute and wondering how it would feel when she made her move. It was a cumbersome thing, this giver of life. Climbing out might be quite difficult, dragging it with her. She would fall off the wing with no trouble.

Antony was making height, higher and higher. Usually he flew quite low, enjoying frightening what he called the peasants, not to mention the cows, the horses, the hens and the pigs, but now the fair earth was falling away at an alarming
rate. Peering over the side Lily was terrified afresh at how far she had to fall. But the further up they were, the safer, so she understood, and – if all went well – she would enjoy it more. As it was, she could not even think of enjoying it, as the fear swelled inside her.

Antony turned his head and grinned at her and mouthed, ‘Nearly there!’

At last he levelled off and the plane flew smoothly on its way. Lily could see half of England and the sea that bounded it away to port, and tiny puffs of cloud below them, inviting, as if you could lie on them as on a gigantic cushion. Would they come to meet her, clammy and full of raindrops? She was shaking all over, half crying.

Antony’s head turned again and he made a gesture for her to start moving.

She lurched to her feet, reaching out for the wing strut to haul herself out. As she put her leg over the side of the cockpit she felt the wind tearing at it, and as she pulled herself after it the wind grabbed her like a human hand and pushed her backwards. She managed to crawl against it for a fleeting moment, then her hand on the strut gave way and without even willing it she was falling through space, head down. She had not decided to jump: the decision was made for her and afterwards she thought ‘how lucky’, so strong had been her instinct to stay with the plane.

Without even considering how clear she was of the plane she jerked desperately at the red ribbon of the ripcord and immediately felt a great lurch, her body coming upright
and swinging violently at the same time so that she thought her stomach would fly out of her of its own accord. She looked up and saw the great flower of the silken chute billowing out against the pale, thin sky, as beautiful a thing as she had ever seen, holding her, comforting her: ‘
You’re not going to die, dear thing
.’ The words sung in her head. She was in love with her parachute, holding her so sweetly high above the amazing earth that seemed no nearer than when she had looked at it minutes before. So slowly, slowly she sank towards it, the amazement and the beauty of it making the tears spring into her eyes – or perhaps it was just the wind – she could not tell: the emotion was almost uncontainable. So she wept at the most heavenly thing she had ever done in her life, and through the tears watched the little fields grow into bigger fields and the little roads grow into cracks across the earth, higgledy-piggledy, and the white spots turn into sheep and the dark lines become the shadows of elms around the fields, long morning shadows cast by the morning sun that she was high enough to see, poking over the trees, making her blink.

Softly, softly she swung, as if for ever, and then, suddenly the field was no longer a sweet vision below, but a hard landing coming at her very fast. Antony had not said a thing about landing and she had thought it would be just a caress of her feet in the grass and a gentle subsidence of the body onto the dear earth. But actually it was a very sudden crash which jerked all her lovely thoughts into oblivion as the great folds of silk above her turned into a sort of flogging train dragging her willy-nilly across the field. For some moments she could not
make sense of it and then, as it started to hurt, she managed to turn herself over and start to fight with the billowing silk. Or was there some release mechanism to cut her free? If there was she had no time to search for it.

An innate sense of self-preservation gave her the strength to overpower the now capricious chute, throwing her body onto it and stuffing its surges underneath her until all the wind was knocked out of it. Then she lay still, wondering where to find the release mechanism, but not caring very much, her thoughts more intent on realizing that the great adventure was now over. It was hard to believe what had happened, that all those weeks of fear and indecision, excitement and horror, were now behind her. She had done it. She was still alive. She had with her now a memory – what a memory! – to take with her till her dying day.

Dear God! She kissed the dew-wet grass and stopped crying.

And then Antony was beside her, holding her in his arms, hugging her and kissing her and finding the release without any trouble and pulling her free, gathering up the great heap of silk and telling her she was marvellous. ‘I love you, Lily! What a day! Here, drink this. You’re frozen. Sit up!’ Something from a flask that he held to her lips and a wonderful fire filled her trembling body so that in a little while her senses came back.

She started to laugh. ‘It was—’ But there were no words to describe it.

The parachute safely contained, Antony pulled her to her
feet. ‘You’re a corker, Lily. There’s no one like you. Absolutely brilliant! What a pity the boys weren’t here to see it. They’d have died!’

‘You’re not going to tell them! No one must know!’

‘No, I know that. My father would flay me and so would yours, I daresay. No one must ever know. Just us.’

‘No. Just us.’

Flying home, Lily could not believe it had happened.