Out of the Blue (7 page)

Kitty wasn’t sure.

‘My gran told me never to have my photograph taken with a young man . . .’ She stopped and blushed, remembering that what Gran had actually said was that couples photographed
together before their marriage would never be wed. ‘She’s a bit superstitious though – silly really.’

‘No, sounds like just the thing my grandmother would say. How about we just get our pictures taken separately; then I can take you with me when I go and you can keep me here with you.
How’s that sound?’

‘I wish you were going to be here with me, Sammy.’

‘It won’t be for long, Kitty – I’m sure of it – once we push them out of France, it’ll be over.’

A young mother, carrying her little boy on her hip, joined the queue behind them. The child was not much more than a baby and he stared shyly at Kitty and hid his face in his mother’s neck
when Sammy spoke to him.

‘We’re getting our picture taken for Daddy, aren’t we?’ the young mother said, tipping her head to see her small son’s face. ‘Daddy’s gone to France,
hasn’t he?’

‘I bet your daddy’s proud of you!’ Kitty said as the child lifted his face from his mother’s shoulder. ‘What’s his name?’ she asked the mother.

‘William, his dad’s William too – well, Bill.’ Hearing his name, the child turned his head and stared at his mother.

Ten minutes passed and they moved up to the shop door and, at last, stepped into the studio followed by the young mother and her son. The two women in their Sunday best were waiting in front of
them. The air was heavy with the smell of chemicals and furniture polish. A soldier came out through a curtain behind an oak counter, and was followed by a tall thin woman who went with him to the
door and spoke to the people who were still waiting on the pavement outside.

‘Mr Wilson regrets that he will not be able to photograph everyone waiting today. We’ve been expecting a delivery this afternoon and I’m afraid we’re nearly out. If you
could come back tomorrow.’

The photographer’s assistant stepped back into the shop, turned the sign in the window from
Open
to
Closed
, and invited the two women to follow her through the curtain into
the studio. The young mother was beginning to look flustered, as she struggled to entertain her child who was now fidgeting and squealing a protest at being held for so long. He arched his back,
then made a grab for his mother’s hair and succeeded in pulling the rolled curl at her temple free from its hairgrips. At that moment, the assistant reappeared from the back of the shop.

‘Mr Wilson says he is very sorry but he can only do one more now – on account of those ladies wanting separate portraits as well as being done together.’ Her look suggested
that, if she had her way, the two women would not be getting one photograph, let alone three.

Kitty and Sammy glanced at each other and then at the harassed young mother who could not hide her disappointment. Kitty smiled at her.

‘Would you like to go next? We were just passing by – I mean, it does seem a pity, now that you’ve got this far with the little one, for you not to go in.’

The young woman’s face lit up.

‘Oh, are you sure? Only Bill’s going to miss his first birthday and I . . . Oh thank you, thanks ever so much.’

She balanced William on her hip and struggled to open her handbag and take out her comb. Sammy reached out and took the baby from her.

‘Hey, big fella, let your ma fix her hair.’

Sammy held the boy up at arm’s length over his head and Kitty opened her eyes wide and cooed at him.

‘Look at you, young William! Look how big you are!’

William’s mother took a compact from her bag and hurriedly tidied her hair and reapplied her lipstick. Kitty stood close to Sammy as he held the boy, and laughed with him as the
child’s fat little fingers scratched at the silver winged badge above Sammy’s chest pocket.

Sammy squeezed Kitty’s hand as they left the shop. ‘I don’t need your photograph – I can see you whenever I close my eyes.’

Later they had lunch in the tearooms where they were served steaming-hot bowls of the dish of the day and tried to decide if it was a thin stew or a thick soup. Kitty drank
tea, but Sammy ordered coffee and then shuddered as he swallowed each mouthful.

‘Wait until you taste my ma’s coffee,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask her to bake us a walnut and maple syrup pie – you’ve got to try that. Ma’s pie with a
cup of strong hot coffee – oh boy, that’s the best.’

‘I thought you said that snow buns were the best,’ Kitty teased.

‘Well, yes that’s correct, they are too.’ Sammy grinned, pleased that she had remembered.

Kitty smiled at Sammy over the top of her cup. He met her gaze but he was no longer smiling. Kitty slid her hand across the table.

‘Come on, Sammy, we’re going to enjoy today, remember? Forget all our worries for just one day.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Sammy replied. ‘I was just thinking, you know, what if we got married straight away – then we could spend all our time together. When
I’m flying out of Europe I won’t be able to see you anyway. If we’re married, then you could go to the States. My folks are going to love you, Kitty, and they’ll take good
care of you. I don’t know – is it a good idea, what do you think?’

Kitty thought. Various scenes – the consequences, both delicious and frightening to imagine, of a hasty marriage and sailing to America alone, vied for attention in her mind. She imagined
meeting Sammy’s parents, seeing his home and being among the things he cared about and the people he loved. Then she saw herself alone and so far away from him. She imagined saying goodbye to
Charlie and the possibility of never seeing him or her mother or Aunt Vi again. She imagined the Atlantic crossing, the steel-grey ship and unfriendly seas.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sammy interrupted her reverie, ‘that wasn’t put in the most romantic way.’

‘Oh it’s not that, it was romantic – it’s just that America is so far away. It’s hard to explain but, even though you’ll be in France or Italy and I’m
in England, I think I’d still feel as though we were under the same sky. When I get up in the mornings, I’ll think of you and it will be morning for you too, and I think I’ll feel
close to you because of that. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? Does that sound silly?’

‘No, that’s not silly at all – you know, Kitty, you say something that hasn’t occurred to me before and I know exactly what you mean and I think that you’re right.
I guess, it’s just that, when I think of home, it is so safe, there’s plenty to eat. No fighting, no bombs – I want to think of you there, safe and away from this war.’

‘We’re not doing very well, are we?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Not thinking about the things that worry us.’

Afterwards they wandered into the park. It no longer had railings, half the grass area was now given over to an air-raid shelter and the flower beds were planted with
vegetables. They sat together on a bench and talked. An elderly woman passed with a cocker spaniel on a lead. Sammy told Kitty about the farm dogs and the little mongrel that he had found half dead
as he walked to school one day. It was a sad story and, as he told it, Kitty leaned towards him and studied his face and imagined the scene: Sammy at ten years old, playing truant from school so
that he could care for the injured puppy. She was relieved when he got to the happy ending and suddenly felt overwhelmed by a mixture of love and pride. Sammy returned her gaze for a moment then
grinned broadly.

‘Actually, you remind me of Skipper when you look at me like that,’ he said and began to laugh.

‘Hey!’ Kitty protested and raised her arm as if to slap him, but he caught her hand and pulled it to his lips and kissed her fingers.

‘I’m kidding. It nearly drives me crazy when you look at me like that. I love you so much, Kitty.’ He kissed her.

They were interrupted by a sharp voice.

‘Kitty Danby – is that you?’

They broke away from each other and Kitty jumped to her feet and found herself looking at Mrs Parkes. Sammy stood up slowly and nodded at the older woman.

‘Hello, Mrs Parkes. How are you?’ Kitty said and was then horrified to feel herself blushing.

‘I am very well, Kitty,’ Mrs Parkes replied coolly. ‘Tell me, does your aunt know that you are in Ashford with this young man?’

Kitty felt furious and indignant to be asked such an impertinent question. How dare Mrs Parkes imply that she was doing anything improper?

‘My aunt knows perfectly well where I am and who I am with.’ Kitty’s voice wavered with anger. She glared at Mrs Parkes defying her to treat her as anything less than the adult
she considered herself to be.

‘Mrs Parkes, isn’t it?’ Sammy said then, stepping forward and offering his hand. ‘Perhaps you don’t remember me? You must meet so many servicemen at the socials you
organise. You’re very highly thought of, you know, ma’am. All the officers at the base sing your praises; why, they say, if it wasn’t for Mrs Parkes, what would we do with
ourselves?’

Kitty gazed up at Sammy as he spoke and then turned her head slowly back towards Mrs Parkes as he finished. She smiled as Sammy took her arm.

‘Well, you must excuse us now, Mrs Parkes, but Kitty and I are going to the cinema.’

‘Good day to you, Mrs Parkes,’ Kitty said.

Sammy led Kitty away and, when she glanced over her shoulder, Mrs Parkes was still standing on the path beside the bench.

‘Will she get you into trouble with your aunt?’ Sammy asked.

‘How can she? We haven’t done anything wrong!’ Kitty replied crossly.

‘Well,
I
know that, but she seems the type to stir up mischief if she can.’

Kitty leaned her cheek against Sammy’s sleeve and squeezed his arm. ‘Let’s forget about her. I don’t want anything to spoil today and I am certainly not going to worry
about Mrs Parkes. What shall we do now?’

‘Well, what do you say we catch a movie?’ he asked.

‘I’d love to – I wonder what’s showing?’

‘Who cares? I’ll just be happy to sit beside you. And it’ll be dark so I’ll be able to kiss you as much as I like.’

‘Oh, that’s what you’ve got planned is it?’

‘Well, the thought did just cross my mind.’

‘Hmm. We’ll just have to see about that – I’m a very respectable young lady, you know.’

Kitty carries her portable typewriter in its grey case to the dining room table where she heaves it up and opens it. She sits down and passes a sheet of paper through the
roller and begins to type.

Dear John F. Bailey Rowe,

I did indeed know your grandfather and he was the very best of men. He spent some of World War Two stationed at an airbase near my aunt and uncle’s home where I had
been evacuated with my brother during the Blitz in London. A few years ago, after my husband died, the cottage came on the market again and I bought it as I have very happy memories of living here
despite the war. As you see, Danby was my maiden name and I doubt your letter would have found me if it were not for my moving back here.

The brief time that I knew your grandfather was very special and he is fondly remembered. Personally, I do not know much about the planes your grandfather flew but I am still in touch with Mr
Albert Wright who was a member of the ground crew at the airbase. He remembers your grandfather very well and I am enclosing some information that Bert has given me about the Mustangs – P-51s
– that he piloted. I believe that he was an exceptional pilot. I know that he was brave and flew many missions into Germany accompanying the B24s that bombed the Luftwaffe factories before
D-Day in 1944.

When I next go to the post office I will send you a book of poetry that once belonged to your grandfather – there is a photograph inside that was his also.

Kitty pulls the paper through the typewriter and replaces it with a clean sheet on which she types up the notes that she took at Bert’s house. She reads everything
through and imagines Sammy’s grandson, a freckled, fair-haired teenager, pouring over flight specifications and battle manoeuvres. She signs the letter then folds it into a blue airmail
envelope and carefully copies out John Bailey Rowe’s address.

Soon she will take it to post, but now Kitty sits with the letter in her hands and in a moment forgets the boy it is addressed to.

In the flickering darkness of the cinema, Kitty’s mind wandered from the images on the screen. She had known Sammy for such a short time, yet being with him did not feel
new or awkward. Kitty marvelled at this for a while, her small hand held in his large one. Just a few weeks ago she had not heard of Sammy Ray Bailey and now, somehow, she felt more at ease and
happier than she had ever felt before. She didn’t feel at ease with, say, Uncle Geoff whom she had known all her life.

In the film two men, one fat and one thin, were trying to move a piano. Sammy laughed at their slapstick antics – a loud joyous explosion that lifted his feet from the floor and threw his
head backwards. Kitty turned to him and grinned, her own laughter soft and bubbling in her throat. He kissed her, then another laugh, partly suppressed, burst from him. With the warmth of his
breath on her face, Kitty felt a rush of energy and thought she would melt into her seat. Sammy hooked his arm around her neck and pulled her close to him. Kitty leaned against him and let her
attention drift between the film and her thoughts. Waves of laughter filled the auditorium and she thought,
If there wasn’t a war on, this is how it would always be.

And, just as Kitty was conjuring up a world without the war, the low wail of the air-raid siren began and the film juddered to a halt. Sammy grabbed Kitty’s hand and pulled her into the
aisle even as she reached for her coat. The majority of the audience were now making their way up the auditorium towards the foyer. Sammy went against the queue of people and towards the stage and
screen, weaving his way between people and pulling Kitty along behind him. They arrived at the fire exit and Sammy dropped Kitty’s hand and hit the bars so that the doors swung open. Several
people turned then and followed them on to the street. The siren had reached full pitch and volume now and, as it was sited on the town hall opposite where they stood, they felt the full impact of
it.