Читать книгу Windflower Wedding - Elizabeth Elgin - Страница 8

‘Pity we missed Drew and Kitty,’ Tatty sighed.

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Daisy firmly. ‘Well, from your point of view, I mean.’

Daisy, home from the Wrens on seven days’ leave; Tatiana Sutton, home for two nights from her translator’s job in London.

‘Why isn’t it?’

‘Because you’re hurting still over Tim, and seeing them together would have been awful for you. I miss Keth till it hurts, but at least I’ll see him one day. You don’t even have that to hold on to.’

‘No. Just memories. I often wonder what would have happened if I’d got pregnant. Sometimes, I wish I had; it would have been some part of Tim. I know there’d have been the usual upset – Tatiana Sutton getting herself into trouble, and all that cant – but I wouldn’t have cared. Grandfather left me comfortably off – I could have kept the little thing.’

‘Well, you didn’t have Tim’s baby, love, but if you had I’d not have pointed a finger. It could’ve happened to me and people who live in glass houses don’t throw stones.’

‘You’re a good friend. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone about Tim and I appreciate you going up the pike whenever you can to let him know he isn’t forgotten. I got up early this morning and went there. I felt very near him.’

‘Good.’ Daisy reached for Tatiana’s hand and they walked on, glad to be together for just a little while. ‘How’s London, by the way – and Sparrow?’

‘London’s okay; better, now that we don’t get so many air raids. The Blitz was awful. I feel like a Londoner now. There’s so much kindness about – everyone being nice to each other; smiling, and all that. It’s because we’ve been through all that bombing together, I suppose.’

‘I know what you mean. I felt very close to the Liverpool people, knowing I’d seen their blitz out with them. You and me have really grown up, haven’t we, Tatty?’

‘Me especially. I defied Mother and Grandmother over Tim and then I walked out and went to London. I only wish Tim and I could have been married – even though it would have been only for a little while.

‘And another thing – Uncle Igor is quite nice to me these days. I go and see him every week now. At first I did it because I felt sorry for him – all alone in that house in Cheyne Walk – and I suppose I went because I wanted to find out about my father.’

‘What about him?’ Daisy said sharply. Not that it was any business of hers, but she was as sure as anyone could be there was something not quite right about Tatiana’s father, even though he’d been dead for ages. For one thing, both Mam and Dada changed the subject if, innocently, she had mentioned him and for another, Aunt Julia’s mouth went positively vinegary when anyone said Elliot Sutton’s name. ‘Did you find out, whatever it was you wanted to know?’

‘Oh, yes, I did. Uncle Igor couldn’t stand him. He said he warned my mother not to marry him, but she was determined to have him – and all the while Grandmother Petrovska and Grandmother Clementina encouraging it. It seems that Grandmother Clementina was so rich she could buy anything she wanted and she wanted a title in the family.’

‘Hm. By things I’ve heard – in passing, sort of – I believe she had money but no – er – well, she was a little bit bossy.’

‘Grandmother Clementina had, as they say around these parts, plenty of brass, but no breeding. I’d believe it, too. What little I remember of her was that she was a bit – well – loud. Anyway, my mother had a title. In Russia in the Czar’s days, the daughter of a count was entitled to call herself a countess and Grandmother Clementina seized on it like it was the answer to all her dreams. A real countess at Pendenys Place! Uncle Igor thought it was pathetic.’

‘And what else did he tell you?’ Daisy was intrigued.

‘I’ll tell you – one day. Right now, I’m enjoying being home – when I can keep out of the Petrovska’s way, that is. I wish she’d take herself back to London and look after Uncle Igor at Cheyne Walk, but I think she’s still scared of the bombing. I notice Uncle Igor isn’t falling over himself to persuade her back. I think he’s quite contented on his own. He lives in the basement kitchen now. The rest of the house is closed up except for what was once the servants’ sitting room, next to the kitchen. That’s where he sleeps.’

‘I wonder why Mrs Clementina ever bought a house in London,’ Daisy frowned. ‘She hardly ever used it.’

‘A whim. That’s all it was. Did you know,’ Tatiana giggled, ‘that when the Petrovska and Mother and Uncle Igor first went to live there – when they had to get out of Russia because the Communists took over – Grandmother Clementina complained bitterly that Eastern European refugees had taken over the property next door, and the value of her own house would go down.’

‘I bet she soon changed her mind about her next-door neighbours when she found they had titles! Is Cheyne Walk as nice as Aunt Julia’s little house in Montpelier Mews?’

‘No. The Cheyne Walk house is much, much bigger and not half so cute. I love being at Montpelier with Sparrow. She’s a darling. We might even have Kitty living with us if she gets sent down to London to work.’

‘You won’t get yourself upset though – Kitty going on and on about Drew, and you – well …’

‘Loveless, and wanting Tim? No. That part of my life – and it wasn’t much more than three months, remember – is most times locked up inside me. I only let it out when I feel very brave, but one day I’ll be able to think of him without hating the world, I suppose. Sparrow says I will.’

‘Mm.’ When Tatiana talked about Tim, Daisy felt guilty because Keth was safe in Washington and it made her want to hug her friend and tell her she understood, but there was still a coldness around Tatiana that warned everyone away.

‘Well, that’s life, as they say.’ Tatiana’s attempt at a smile failed dismally. ‘And here we are at the crossroads so do we go to Denniston or your place?’

‘Whichever you want.’ Daisy would rather not go to Denniston House because Countess Petrovska always looked at her in a very peculiar way. As if, almost, the daughter of a gamekeeper had no right to be best friends with the daughter of a countess. And that was very stupid of her, Daisy thought hotly, when that gamekeeper’s daughter was rich enough to buy the entire Rowangarth estate and Denniston House too, had she wanted to.

But she tried not to think about the money because it must not be allowed to come between her and Keth. Hardly anyone knew about it; only her parents, Aunt Julia and Drew and Keth – not even Keth’s mother knew. Money left to her by an eccentric old bachelor when once they lived in the New Forest. Money that never seemed quite real because she had only got it legally on her coming-of-age last June, and now there was nothing to spend it on because the shops were empty and Wrens were not given clothing coupons, so she couldn’t go raving mad and buy a fur coat – just for devilment, of course!

‘Hey!’ Tatiana was snapping her fingers in front of her nose and Daisy blinked and smiled guiltily. ‘You were miles away in a trance!’

‘No. In Washington,’ Daisy said without so much as a blush. ‘So where are we going then?’

‘Your place,’ said Tatiana promptly. She liked Daisy’s parents and she loved the cosy kitchen and always being made to feel wanted. ‘And you never showed me what Keth gave you for your twenty-first. A case full of make-up, you lucky dog! Are you sure you won’t use it till your honeymoon?’

‘Absolutely sure. I keep it in the pantry where it’s cool so none of the pots of cream will go off. It would be awful if they did.’

‘They’ll be all right, but shall we just have a gloat over them and maybe a sniff? It’ll be positively sinful to see so much make-up all at once. It’s ages since I got even a pot of cold cream. I suppose that now Keth’s been sent back to America he’ll be sending you silk stockings and all sorts of things.’

‘I wouldn’t mind a few pairs of stockings, for going out in, I suppose, but such a lot of parcels get torpedoed these days, crossing the Atlantic. Mind, the last one Kitty’s mother sent from Kentucky got through, and would you believe it, she had sent glace cherries? Tilda was speechless – well, she hasn’t been able to make cherry scones for ages, there being no cherries in the shops. I shouldn’t wonder if she didn’t bake some for Drew, when he was on leave.’

‘They were lovely days, weren’t they?’ Tatiana sighed. ‘When we were all young, I mean, and Bas and Kitty came over on one of the liners and the Clan was together. Will we be together again, do you think?’

‘Yes, we will. There are five of us here already. Whoever would have thought Bas and Kitty would make it to England with a war on, an’ all? And Aunt Julia says she feels it inside her that Keth will get home too. She’s getting as bad as Jinny Dobb, but oh, if only he could come back …’

They had climbed the far fence of Brattocks Wood and were standing beneath the elm trees where the rooks nested. Daisy looked up at the big black birds that circled overhead.

‘Have you ever told it to the rooks, Tatty?’

‘Told what to the rooks?’

‘Oh – things. Special things like secrets and wishes and fears – anything, I suppose. They always keep secrets and sometimes I think it helps to tell them your worries.’

‘Isn’t that a bit pagan?’

‘No. Country people often do it. Some people tell things to the bees, but Mam and I tell it to the rooks.’

‘Your mother does it?’

‘Yes. Always. And it wouldn’t surprise me if Aunt Julia doesn’t have the odd word with them from time to time, even though she’s the wife of a vicar!’

‘But how do you do it?’ Tatiana wasn’t at all sure that Grandmother Petrovska would approve of such things, her being devoutly Russian Orthodox still, and always crossing herself and praying to her icon.

‘Well, you lean your back against the tree – any tree where rooks nest, then you put your arms behind you, palms touching the tree and you close your eyes and you do it.’

‘But what if someone saw you, or heard you?’

‘Oh, they’d have you branded a witch and it would be the ducking stool for you!’ Daisy gave a shout of laughter. ‘You don’t actually say things out loud. You think them and your thoughts go up to the rooks.’

‘And it works?’

‘I’m not sure – but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?’

‘And could I talk to Tim?’

‘No. You’d need a medium for that, and only Jinny Dobb was any good at it.’

‘And Jin’s dead.’

‘Yes.’

‘The same night as Tim died. When his bomber crashed.’

Daisy nodded her head. She didn’t want Tatty to talk about that night.

‘It’ll soon be a year since he died, Daisy.’

‘I know, love. But Reuben died that night too, and your Grandfather Sutton and Mrs Shaw and Jinny.’

‘And all Tim’s crew!’ Tatiana’s mouth set traplike. ‘Bastard Germans!’ she hissed.

‘Don’t, Tatty …’

‘Don’t hate that pilot who shot Tim down? So what do you think I’m made of – grit and granite?’

‘No, I don’t. You know I don’t.’ Daisy grasped her friend’s hands, squeezing them tightly. ‘I hate them too for what they did to Reuben that night. He was the nearest I ever got to a grandfather and I loved him every bit as much as you loved your Grandfather Sutton!’

‘But it was special between Tim and me. Grandfather Sutton and Reuben and Mrs Shaw and Jin were old. Tim had hardly lived!’

‘Tatty – please. I’m sorry we came here, started this. I shouldn’t have told you about the rooks.’

‘Yes you should and I’m glad you did! Oh, I’m not going to tell them how much I love Tim – not yet, anyway – because I’m too bitter inside me. But show me how you do it, because I’m going to tell those rooks how much I hate German fighter pilots who shoot up an aerodrome just because it’s a wizard prang and how especially I hate the one who got Tim’s plane.’

‘If you think it will help, but I don’t think the rooks much like bitterness and hatred. Leave it, Tatty? Leave the fighter pilot who killed Tim to God, why don’t you?’

‘Yes. I’m being awful, aren’t I? And I suppose I should remember that Tim’s plane dropped bombs on the Germans – and maybe killed old people like Grandfather Sutton and Reuben, and little children, too …’

‘Yes – well that’s what wars do to people like us, Tatty. Mam says the old ones make wars and the young ones have to fight them. And let it come, love, if it’ll help.’ She gathered her friend to her as tears filled Tatiana’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. ‘Let’s give the rooks a miss today, and tomorrow we’ll go up the pike. You’ll be nearer to Tim up there.’

‘Yes. That was where he died.’ She dabbed her eyes, then blew her nose furiously. ‘Thanks for being so nice about it, Daisy. It’s awful trying to be normal when you know you’ll never be normal again.’

‘I know, love. You’ll feel a lot better once we’ve heard the curlew call at the top of the pike.’

‘I will, won’t I? And do I look awful? Will your mother know I’ve been crying?’

‘No, Tatty. You don’t go all red and blotchy when you cry like I do. And if you did, she would understand. Don’t forget Mam knows what it’s like. For a whole year she thought Dada was dead.’

‘Yes, and for almost a whole year I’ve known Tim is dead and that I’ll never see him again. But I’m glad for the time we had together, Daisy. No matter what, no one can take that away from me.’

‘No, love. And no one who cares for you as much as I do would ever want to. So let’s go and see Mam and have a look at my make-up?’

‘Okay.’ Tatiana looked up sharply as a bomber flew low overhead. ‘See it, Daisy? That’s a Halifax, a new one. They’ve got them at Holdenby Moor to replace the old Whitleys.’

‘Do you still do your aircraft recognition, Tatty?’

‘I do. If it flies, I can tell you what it is – ours or theirs. Come to think of it, why didn’t I join the ATS as an aircraft spotter? I’d have done very well at it.’

‘Well, you’re stuck with being a translator now. We’re both of us stuck with what we’ve got for the duration. And who’s to tell, Tatty, maybe you were intended to go to London? Maybe it was in your stars that you should.’

‘And meet someone else, you mean? Oh, no!’

‘I didn’t mean that. But you’ve made friends with your Uncle Igor, haven’t you, and somewhere in London something might just happen to at least help you to come to terms with losing Tim.’

‘Help me accept what I can’t change, you mean?’

‘Something like that – yes. I hope you will, Tatty. I can’t bear to see you like this. And maybe there’s some truth in what Mam always says – that nothing lasts; not the good times nor the bad. Maybe soon it’s going to be your turn for something good to happen.’

‘Maybe. And I really am learning to count my blessings, Daisy. Did you know I’m helping the WVS now; a sort of escort. I’ve done it twice. It was Sparrow’s niece Joannie started me off. She asked me to do it as a favour the first time, and I’m thinking of doing it regularly: taking airmen out. I don’t mean dating them, but they’re mostly aircrew, in need of an escort, really. And don’t look so bemused. The first time I did it I was shattered; didn’t think it was for me. But then I felt so sorry for them, you see.’

‘Wounded airmen, you mean? You go to the hospital and talk to them and walk with them?’

‘No. They could walk fine, those I met. But they have been in hospital and now they’re going out some, you see. Facing the world again, I mean.’

‘Facing the – Tatty, you don’t mean they’ve been burned?’

‘I mean just that. They’re all young men, Daisy, and some of them look awful. It’s mostly their hands and faces. Their hair and their ears are just fine; protected by their helmets. But their poor faces – oh, the first time I saw them I felt sick inside.’

‘Were they so bad, then?’

‘Yes. Their features all gone. But that wasn’t why I felt awful, Daisy. We were going to the theatre, you see – me and three other girls and four airmen. It was their first time out of hospital blues and into their uniforms again. And it was the first time they’d been out since – since it happened.’

It must have taken a lot of doing – for them, I mean.’

It must. Like I said, I felt sick, but I didn’t let it show. I smiled when I was introduced to my airman. I looked right into his eyes and smiled and do you know what, his eyes looked relieved. His face didn’t, because he can’t smile yet. But his eyes smiled.

‘He was a navigator called Sam. He held his arm out so gallantly, and I took it because that man could have been Tim. My wonderful Tim could have looked that way, and just for a second I was glad that he hadn’t suffered like that.’

‘I know what you mean, Tatty. All of them intelligent and good-looking – then for that to happen is awful.’

‘Yes. I know Tim dreaded it. Do you know he once said to me that he’d rather die than fry?’

‘Tatty! Don’t say such things!’

‘Tim said it, not me. Most aircrews say it. It made me cry so much he promised never to say such a thing again. And he got his wish in an awful kind of way. At least it was clean for him, and quick.’

‘Tatty – don’t. Tim wouldn’t want you to be like this.’

‘No, but he’d have wanted me to go out with those wounded airmen because they are worse than wounded, Daisy. They said there’s some wonderful work going on – skin-grafting and things like that. They can even build up noses again. Sam said he was glad about that because his original nose was awful. Said he hoped he got a better one second time round.’

‘I don’t know how he could joke about it.’

‘Nor me, because it isn’t just their poor faces that are wounded, it’s their pride too. Sam got a bit serious and told me that when he was in hospital, the girlfriend of the airman in the next bed came to visit and she started to scream and make a fuss when she saw him. He said the Ward Sister just got hold of her and all but threw her out. The girl never came back. She wrote later, and broke it off.

‘So they are really marvellous and that’s why I shall go out with them and dance with them and help them to come to terms with what’s happened. They’ll learn to accept it, I hope, and that special hospital helps a lot. But it’s still awful for them. Tim would have hated it.’

‘Oh, lovey!’ Daisy reached for her friend, hugging her, blinking away tears that filled her eyes. ‘Tatty Sutton, you’re a truly lovely person and I know why Tim loved you so much. He’d be proud of what you are doing.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so, and I’m proud of you too! So let’s go to Keeper’s and take a peek at my make-up – and why I’m saving it I just don’t know!’

‘I do,’ Tatiana whispered. ‘And thanks, Daisy.’

‘Why, for heaven’s sake?’

‘For being my friend – and for understanding. And tomorrow, before I leave, we’ll go to see the rooks – okay?’

‘The good old rooks,’ Daisy smiled. ‘You bet we will!’

Keth had not done so much writing since his student days. He put down his pen, rubbing the back of his hand, frowning.

He would be gone for ten days, they told him – certainly no longer than two weeks. So write your letters to the people you usually send them to, they said; address them and date them as if you were still in Washington, and write them as if you were still in Washington too.

‘But my mother and fiancée will carry on writing to that address – I won’t get any letters!’ he had protested.

‘They’ll be redirected to you. You’ll get them – eventually.’

‘But why? And where am I going for ten days?’ Surely not another stupid course trying to make a soldier out of him when all he was good at was mathematics and code-breaking.

And then an awful thought filled his head and he quickly dismissed it because they couldn’t be sending him to make another parachute jump? He shuddered to remember the last, the only, jump he had made; tried to shut out the look of disbelief on his instructor’s face. And far worse than that had been the awful bruising he got on landing and how lucky he was, he’d been told, not to have been badly injured, and to go back to signalling because surely he was better at signalling than parachuting out of a plane!

‘Where you’re going you’ll know when you’ve been kitted out,’ he was told. ‘And you can leave your stuff here because here’s where you’ll be coming back to.’

‘I see,’ he’d said, but he hadn’t understood a word of it because they still weren’t giving straight answers to straight questions. All he knew was that the muscular sergeant major he encountered on his first night at Castle McLeish was a drill instructor who supervised assault courses and who took great delight in putting officers with soft hands through it time and time again. He could also be very insulting – respectfully insulting, that was!

So Keth had written two letters to his mother and four to Daisy and he would have to write at least two more because usually he wrote to Daisy every day.

Two of the letters he had supposedly written from Kentucky where he was having a weekend with Bas and Kitty’s parents, told how delighted they were that Kitty and Drew were engaged and how sad Mrs Amelia was not to be having the time of her life organizing engagement showers and fussing over her daughter’s trousseau. He felt all kinds of a heel as he wrote them.

Trouble was, he had seen no evidence yet of anything in the least familiar to him. As far as he was concerned, Castle McLeish was little better than a drill camp and Keth Purvis was being toughened up for something that this far had nothing to do with Enigma nor bombes nor code-breaking. Something, somewhere, didn’t fit and the more he thought about it, the more apprehensive he became.

If only somebody would say – in answer to his oft-asked question – ‘Yes, Purvis, this is what you are here to do,’ then go on to explain exactly what it was they wanted of him and why he was going away for ten to fourteen days. It was a simple enough request to make but it had not been answered. Nor had anyone looked him straight in the eye and that, he decided, was what made him even more apprehensive.

Well, he’d had enough! He laid down his pen, picked up his cap, in case it became official, and made his way to the mess where he knew he would find the adjutant. And he would have answers to his questions; eyeball-to-eyeball answers, or his name wasn’t Keth Purvis!

He had waited his time in the mess; waited until the adjutant was alone, then walked across the room to face him.

‘A word, if you please – sir!’

The adjutant recognized the narrowed eyes and jutting jaw and asked him if it wouldn’t wait until tomorrow.

No, Keth said, it wouldn’t. Either he got a straight answer now to a couple of questions he wanted to ask or he would put in a request to see the Commanding Officer!

That was why he sat here now, in the outer office. Wait, he had been told. The Commanding Officer would see him in just a minute. The minute had stretched out to fifteen; the customary waiting time for all subordinates intent upon wasting the CO’s time. A heel-cooling period.

Yet Keth did not want to cool down. He wanted to know why he had come from Washington only to do physical jerks and be ignored when he asked the sane and sensible question: what the hell was he doing here?

The phone on the ATS sergeant’s desk rang. Keth wondered why every army girl here was a sergeant. This one was a good-looker; hair like Lyn Carmichael’s. She smiled and told him to go in. He jumped to his feet, hoping his stare hadn’t been too obvious, then knocked on the door she indicated.

‘Enter!’

Keth closed the door behind him, came to attention and saluted.

‘At ease, Purvis.’ He was not invited to sit, so he stood feet apart, relaxing his shoulders, hands behind back. ‘Now the way we do things here, Purvis, is not to make a b nuisance of ourselves. We speak only when spoken to and we don’t ask questions – right?’

‘Sir …’ Keth acknowledged cautiously, because he had been speaking out of turn and he had made a nuisance of himself, he supposed.

‘Has the nature of what goes on in this establishment been lost on you, then? Did you never wonder why you had been asked to leave letters behind you?’

‘Yes. And I wondered – with respect, sir – what kind of a course I was going on, for about a fortnight. I thought I would be doing the work I did at Bletchley Park, but I can see no indication of it here.’

‘Enigma, you mean? Well, you’re right. We only know about Enigma here. We know about a lot of things.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Keth’s mouth had gone dry. He was beginning to wish he had left well alone.

If you’d kept your mouth shut for just another day, I could have given you the whole story, but since it seems you can’t,’ the senior officer paused to let his words sink in, ‘since you want to know why you were brought back from Washington, I’ll tell you.

‘We had your card marked, Captain – just in case we wanted something done by someone who had a working knowledge of the Enigma machine. And then we found we did and we want you for a courier’s job. And please let me finish,’ he snapped as Keth opened his mouth to speak. ‘There are any of a dozen other men could do the job and a damned sight more efficiently than you; men who don’t ask questions nor throw their weight about as you have been doing! But none of those men has your knowledge of Enigma, you see.’

‘Courier?’ Keth breathed, running his tongue round his top lip. ‘Deliver something?’ Was that what all the fuss was about, for Pete’s sake?

‘No. We – They – want something picking up. From occupied France.’

‘Ha!’ Keth’s body sagged. Then he straightened his shoulders, stared ahead and asked of the regimental photograph on the wall, ‘And if I don’t want to be parachuted into occupied France, sir?’

‘Then you can start packing your bags now and I’ll guarantee you a seat on the very next plane back to Washington! You asked to return to UK. You knew there would be conditions attached. You were specifically told so! What’s the matter with you, man – got a yellow streak?’

‘No, sir. Only when it comes to parachuting!’

‘Hm. Understandable, I suppose, when your one and only jump was an utter fiasco, according to your records. That’s why you won’t be parachuting in.’

‘Then that’s fine, sir.’ He didn’t like being called yellow.

‘I’m glad, because you’ll be leaving here tonight. SOE will kit you out and brief you. It will be in no way dangerous. All you have to do is pick up something and bring it back. It’s the operators in the field who’ll be taking the risks.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Of course it wasn’t dangerous. He hopped over to France every week of the year! ‘Am I to start packing my kit?’

‘No. Leave it all in your room. Anything personal or private you will place in an envelope, seal it down, and initial the flap. One of your drawers has a lock and key. Lock anything away that you want to and give the key to the adjutant when you leave. Afterwards, you’ll be coming back here so you can pick up your bags before you move on – back to Bletchley. Any questions?’

‘Just how will I be – er – going in, sir?’

‘All depends. On weather conditions. It’ll either be by Lysander – that’s an aircraft,’ he said, as if explaining to an idiot that a Lysander was an extremely efficient, small, light aircraft that could land on a postcard, almost, ‘or by sea – the submarine boys will put you ashore. Like I said, it’ll all depend.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

‘Right, then. Dismissed.’

Keth remembered to salute, to do an efficient about-turn, then left the room, also remembering to smile and nod his thanks to the red-haired sergeant on the desk, as if what he had just been told hadn’t knocked him for six!

Then he opened the door of his room, sat heavily on the bed and gasped, ‘Flaming Norah!’