Inherit the Skies (30 page)

‘I am sorry you feel like that, Blanche,' Gilbert said, ‘ because I intend to invite her and her friend to Bristol to discuss the matter.'

‘You intend to invite her
here
? After what she did?' Blanche demanded.

Gilbert's eyes held hers. ‘What did she do, Blanche?'

Blanche crumpled up her napkin impatiently. Inwardly she felt very cold but she had no intention of letting Gilbert know that.

‘She behaved disgracefully. After all you did for her – to run off like that.'

‘It wasn't entirely her fault,' Lawrence said.

They all turned to look at him and he felt the colour rush into his face and neck. The very mention of Sarah revived unpleasant memories for him, painful echoes of an incident he would prefer to forget. But alongside his secret insecurities Lawrence nursed a deep-rooted hatred of injustice. Though the loss of his pride had made him anxious to put the matter behind him he believed Sarah had been wronged. No matter how often he had told himself that Hugh had spoken the truth and he had mistaken screams of laughter for cries for help he knew it was not so. The family had closed against her in a conspiracy of silence and to his undying shame he had gone along with it. Now he knew if he did not speak out on her behalf his self-esteem would be damaged beyond repair.

‘What do you mean, Lawrence?' Gilbert asked.

Lawrence opened his mouth, caught Blanche's eye, cold with fury, daring him to speak out, and lost his nerve. To tell the whole story now would be to open a Pandora's box of mischiefs and focus attention on his own inadequacy. Perhaps it would be enough to take Sarah's part.

‘I simply mean we should not judge her too harshly,' he said lamely. ‘Things weren't easy for her, particularly when you were away, Father.'

For a moment Gilbert continued to look at him as if he knew there were more to it than that. Then he nodded.

‘Very well. Then it is up to us to make her welcome when she is here. Anything less will meet with my hearty displeasure.' He refolded the letter and placed it in his breast pocket. ‘Before you leave, Lawrence, we will discuss the matter of the aeroplane engine. And now perhaps we had better all of us get on with our breakfast.'

He opened his copy of
The Times
, forking bacon into his mouth, and Lawrence, Alicia and Blanche each knew that for the moment the subject of Sarah was closed. But each was equally certain that the curtain had not fallen on that particular episode in their lives.

Sarah stood at the window of Gilbert's office at Morse Motors looking out at the sunlit expanse of countryside. The works were situated on the outskirts of Bristol with ‘the front door in the city and the back door in the country', as Gilbert had once described it so that, though it occupied a prime position conveniently placed for accessibility to all the amenities provided by the centuries-old port and business centre and the labour force who lived in the narrow streets of back-to-back houses, yet it commanded fine views of the rolling hills and valleys that stretched south and west, almost unbroken, for the ten miles to Chewton Leigh itself and beyond.

This afternoon the June sunshine bathed those fields and hillsides in soft golden light so that the vivid green took on a freshness that was accented by pools of deeper colour where the hillocks and hollows undulated gently, and away towards the horizon where blue-tinted hills met bluer sky, white flecked with small fluffy clouds, Sarah could see a herd of lazy cows grazing peaceably and a threshing machine, pulled by a pair of sturdy horses, pursuing its plodding progress across a meadow of sweet deep mowing grass.

She breathed deeply, sniffing at the air which wafted into the office through the open window – air which smelled of the grass, the wild flowers and new mown hay with only the slightest whiff of the metallic oily smells from the workshops below to taint it and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had come home.

Motoring down from London with Adam she had been aware of the turmoil of emotions within her. Firstly there had been the disturbing presence of the man himself, for without doubt he had an effect on her which no other man had ever had, making her aggressive and oddly defensive both at the same time for though she disliked his self-assurance and the amused challenge of his attitude towards her she also found him almost disturbingly attractive – a fact which oddly seemed only to reinforce her feelings of antagonism and resentment. She wished heartily she had not had to travel alone with him but a crisis in the balloon factory had forced Eric to remain behind and she had been left with the task of going to Chewton Leigh with Adam to make the introduction. Then there was the creeping apprehension she was unable to quash at the thought of facing the Morse family, coupled with a tingling eagerness to see Gilbert again. Taken all together and shaken into a cocktail by the jolting of the motor the warring emotions had settled into a hard knot of nervousness in the pit of her stomach and woven a gossamer web of unreality around her. But as the wide flat expanses of the Wiltshire Downs had taken on the soft curves of the Somerset hills she had been aware of a strange stirring in her veins and all the nagging doubts and irritations, all the edgy apprehensions, had ceased to matter.

She loved Somerset with a fierce love whose roots were in the distant past, not a past marred by the ill temper of Bertha Pugh or the spite and resentment of Blanche and Alicia but a past when she had run and laughed and played in woods and fields very like those through which they were driving, a child secure in a carefree world bounded by love with no presentiment of what lay ahead. And deeper still, for her love of the country had been born in her, in genes passed down from generations of ancestors who had lived and loved, worked, played and died here. It was a part of her whether she liked it or not; here she belonged, here she felt a sense of rightness which only a soul in its element can experience. And now, standing at the window and gazing out across the peaceful vista her responses crystalised and took shape so that she knew without doubt that this place was not only her past but also her future.

The men were discussing the aeroplane, Adam explaining, Gilbert asking innumerable questions, Lawrence occasionally venturing a comment in his earnest way. Sarah was aware of the rise and fall of their voices but she was not really listening. The idea of flight fascinated and excited her, the melange of technical details did not. She thought they were making progress however – for all Lawrence's reservations the suggestion that Morse Motors should build the engine had not been dismissed out of hand. Then she heard Gilbert say: ‘Does £225 sound fair to you?' and realising they were about to reach an agreement she swung around in time to catch a fleeting expression of surprise and delight on Adam's face before it was replaced by his usual nonchalant smile.

‘Very fair.' He extended his hand swiftly. ‘I know I can speak for my partner when I say we shall be happy to accept your quotation.'

‘Good.' There was a gleam in Gilbert's eye which reminded Sarah of the look of a child who has just unwrapped a Christmas parcel to discover a much coveted toy inside. Lawrence however was attempting to conceal his disapproval behind a rather false smile and Sarah, who knew nothing whatever of the costings of such a project, decided that, the price Gilbert had quoted was probably more than fair – because the idea fascinated him Gilbert had been generous in the extreme. Morse Motors would not be making much profit, if any, on the deal.

‘Where do you propose to do your flying trials?' Gilbert asked Adam.

‘I must confess we have yet to find a suitable site,' Adam admitted. ‘So far all the design work has been done in a room at our lodgings which we have converted into a drawing office and a vacant railway arch we rented to use as a workshop. But we can hardly taxi an aeroplane on the public highway and ideally we are looking for a shed close to a suitable field so that we can simply push the machine out for trials rather than having to move it out in bits and reassemble it again each time.'

Gilbert took out his cigarettes, fit one and drew on it thoughtfully. ‘Does it have to be in the London area?' he asked.

‘Our jobs are in London and we only work on the aeroplane in our spare time,' Adam confirmed. ‘ Why do you ask?'

‘Because I think I know of just the place – a field at the rear of my house at Chewton Leigh. It's open apart from a clump of elms at the far end and it's on a slight slope – ideal for the extra impetus that might help get a flying machine into the air. And there is a barn close by which could be used as a shed. The roof needs some repair but apart from that it is sturdy and fairly spacious. I think it would suit your purpose admirably.'

‘Is it not in use?' Adam asked.

‘The barn is empty except for a few bits of farm machinery and though we do graze the Home Farm cows in Long Meadow it would be easy enough to move them out when you wanted to do tests. What's more they would keep the grass short enough for taxiing on. But of course it is a good long way from London,' Gilbert said eying Adam speculatively. ‘Unless of course you could find employment in the Chewton Leigh area,' he added after a moment.

Sarah suppressed a smile. Try as he might to hide his feelings she could see how eager he was to have an aeroplane taking shape in his own back garden.

‘You wouldn't want to leave your present employer, I take it?'

Adam shrugged. ‘Speaking for myself I owe them no particular allegiance and I don't believe Max does either. Our main concern is our aeroplane. Unfortunately we depend on our everyday jobs to keep us going. Even pioneers have to eat.'

‘Lawrence – do we have any suitable vacancies at present?' Gilbert enquired.

Lawrence's rather puddingy face was set stubbornly; already this interview had taken more than one turn that he did not approve of.

‘No, Father, I don't believe we do.'

‘Pity,' Gilbert said regretfully.

‘Good gracious, I certainly could not impose on you to provide us with employment!' Adam said swiftly. ‘You have been more than kind already. But your suggestion is certainly worth looking into. I'll talk to Max about it. Do you have any other motor car works in this part of the world?'

‘No, but there are coach builders, ship builders and engineers of every kind. Perhaps one or the other of them might be able to accommodate you.'

‘I shall certainly discuss it with Max,' Adam said. ‘What sort of figure would you be thinking of for the rental of your field and barn?'

Gilbert shrugged. ‘Nominal. I wouldn't bankrupt you, Mr Bailey. I would look on it as my small contribution to progress in the field of aviation. I suggest we run over to Chewton Leigh now so that you can have a look at it. And if you decide to transfer to this part of the world then you will know the offer is open to you.'

‘Thank you very much, sir,' Adam said.

Lawrence rose still looking disgruntled and Sarah felt a moment's sympathy for him. His life had been a series of such setbacks, she suspected.

‘If you don't need me any more, Father, I have a great deal to do,' he said now.

‘No, please carry on, Lawrence,' Gilbert said smoothly. ‘Will you ride with me to Chewton Leigh, Sarah?'

‘Of course,' Sarah said, pleased he should have asked yet almost sorry she would have to wait to discover what Adam thought of Gilbert's offer.

‘I will lead the way,' Gilbert suggested. ‘Chewton Leigh is not difficult to find but the country lanes can be confusing.'

They went down to the front drive where Gilbert's gleaming Rolls was parked and waited while Adam started up his much older Panhard. Soon they were bowling along the open road leaving the mean streets behind them. Birds, disturbed by the chuntering of the motor, fluttered in the hedgerows and the sweet haunting perfume of the countryside sent small quivers of aching nostalgia through Sarah's veins.

‘I hope you didn't mind me writing to you,' Sarah said.

‘Mind? Good heavens I was delighted!' Gilbert shifted the gear stick and smiled at her. ‘ For one thing I am very pleased to be involved in this project, for another it is more than good to have you here, Sarah. I told you when I came to see you – nothing would please me more than if you should decide to return to Chewton Leigh – permanently.'

‘And what would the others say about that?' Sarah asked, nervousness at the thought of meeting them again creeping in once more.

‘Whatever differences you had with them, my dear, it was all a long time ago,' he said easily. ‘ Blanche is fond of you and it is good for Alicia to have the company of another young woman. She misses you, you know.'

Sarah said nothing. Was Gilbert merely being kind, or was he really unaware of the antagonism between her and Alicia?

‘You cannot balloon for ever,' Gilbert continued, steering the motor around a lumbering horse and cart and raising his hand in greeting to the driver. ‘When the thrill of it palls I hope you will remember your home is here with us.' He glanced along at her. ‘I take it Mr Bailey is a good friend of yours,' he said.

His tone was light, his eyes hidden behind his thick motoring goggles but Sarah was in no doubt as to the meaning hidden behind the seemingly casual words. So that was it – Gilbert had yet another motive besides his interest in aeroplanes in encouraging Adam Bailey to move his workshop to Bristol – he thought there was something between him and Sarah and he hoped his hospitality might go some way towards enticing her back.

‘I scarcely know Adam,' she admitted. ‘And in any case I am engaged to be married to someone else – Eric Gardiner, my partner in The Flying Dares.'

‘Ah!' His voice betrayed nothing of what he might be feeling. ‘I see! I saw your ring and assumed …'

Colour rose in her cheeks. She had quite forgotten she was wearing her engagement ring. Gilbert had noticed it and jumped to the wrong conclusion.