Inherit the Skies (36 page)

When she was strong enough he took her to the converted cowshed at Long Meadow that was now the hub of their activity. There he introduced her to Max and Annie and she had her first sight of the framework of wooden struts and piano wire which went to make up the frame of the flying machine. To the uninitiated it might have appeared an unwieldy and unprepossessing structure but to Sarah, used to the trappings of the balloon factory, there was a comfortable familiarity in the way it lay there like the skeleton of a great wooden bird waiting for the power of the wind to give it flight. Her heart lifted with excitement and she picked her way around the framework of struts taking care not to damage any of them while Adam pointed out the features of their design.

Max welcomed her warmly enough, shaking her hand with a grip that was pleasantly firm, but Sarah was disconcerted by the shrewd way he was appraising her when he thought she was not looking and by his shrivelled left arm. It was wrong to take notice of such a thing, she knew, yet it bothered her all the same for the more she tried to ignore it the more conscious of it she became, her eyes pointedly fixed at the level of his face. But Annie she liked instantly.

Perhaps it was her face, sweet and friendly beneath her broad flower-trimmed hat which was so attractive, perhaps it was her voice, low and soft. But somehow Sarah did not think it was either of these things. Annie was not a beautiful girl – her features were too square and ordinary for conventional beauty – but she had great warmth and there was a kind of innate goodness about her which shone out of her wide set eyes and curved her full mouth. Annie thought the best of everyone, always managing to find some saving grace however obscure and wished only good to all, even those who wronged her. She had not an enemy in the world and Max and Adam in their different ways both adored her. Sarah, meeting her for the first time, knew only that she wanted to be her friend.

In one corner of the shed a heavy duty sewing machine at which Annie had been working disgorged yards of neatly stitched wing canvas, in another a billycan bubbled merrily on a primus stove. At Adam's suggestion Annie brewed tea and the three of them sat on a low wooden form to drink it while Adam leaned casually against the workbench.

‘So you are going to organise us into a viable company when we are successful, I hear, Sarah,' Max said affably.

‘I wouldn't quite say that. But I would like to be of what help I can.' She glanced up to see Adam's eyes on her and flushed. ‘Of course when I know enough I expect Gilbert will allow me to work at Morse Motors. But that is a long way off yet.'

‘And I hope it does not mean that you will neglect us,' Annie said warmly. ‘I can't tell you how nice it is to have another girl to chat to. These two are always totally absorbed in technical details and I don't understand the first thing about them.'

‘No, but you are the best seamstress I know.' Max gave Annie an affectionate hug.

‘Sometimes I think that is all you want me for!' she retorted, tossing her head so that the flowers on her hat bobbed fetchingly, and Sarah felt a small pang of envy. Tease one another as they might, there was obviously a very strong bond between Annie and Max. They were in love and it showed.

‘Why don't you come over and visit me sometime?' Annie went on. ‘I have a nice little room at my lodgings but it can get lonely when Max and Adam are working late and I can't help wishing I could be with them at the Plume of Feathers.'

‘You know your father would never let you lodge in a public house, however respectable,' Max said seriously. ‘You would not have been allowed to come with us if he had thought you would be staying in a place where there was strong drink on the premises – and where my room was just along the passage from yours!'

Annie wrinkled her nose. It was a pretty nose, tip-tilted and far and away her best feature.

‘I expect you're right. Anyway we shall be married just as soon as you can spare the time and then I shall do as I please.'

‘Oh no you won't, my girl. You'll do as I tell you!' But the warmth was obvious in his voice and she gave him a small playful push.

‘Oh – you! Now you see what I have to put up with, promise you'll come and visit me, Sarah.'

‘I promise,' Sarah said laughing.

As they finished their tea the talk turned to the big aviation meeting being held in Reims – la Grande Semaine d'Aviation de la Champagne. Gilbert had gone to France to attend and it was said that all the great names in the flying world would be there.

‘I only wish we could have gone,' Max said wistfully. ‘The latest aeroplanes will be on display, and new records will be set. But at present our place is here. We couldn't have spared the time, even if we could have afforded to go. But perhaps next year …'

‘Perhaps next year we will be there with our own aeroplane,' Adam said and once again Sarah was aware of the feeling of excitement that unwieldy framework of struts and piano wire could generate.

‘Perhaps I should be taking you home, Sarah,' Adam said. ‘For someone who has been as unwell as you have I think this is quite long enough for your first outing.'

Regretfully Sarah agreed. She had enjoyed herself enormously but now she was beginning to feel tired.

Dusk was falling as Adam drove her home, the soft dusk of an early August evening, and the headlamps of the motor made a golden path along the narrow grey ribbon of road between the burgeoning hedgerows.

‘That was fun,' Sarah said. ‘Annie and Max are nice, aren't they?'

‘The best.' He glanced along at her, his face taking on that faintly quizzical expression she was coming to know. ‘Aren't you glad now that you decided to come to Chewton Leigh?'

Instantly her defences came up.

‘It wasn't my choice, you know. If it hadn't been for my accident …'

‘So why did you break off your engagement to Eric?' he asked.

She had no answer and confusion made her sharp.

‘That is absolutely no business of yours.'

‘Isn't it?' he asked softly. ‘Are you sure of that, Sarah?'

She was trembling, the blood hammering in her veins.

‘I don't want to talk about it.'

‘Perhaps not. But I think you should.' He stopped the motor and turned to look at her. ‘ Why do you insist on fighting it, Sarah?'

‘Fighting what? I don't know what you mean.'

‘Look.' His voice was steady, no hint of sarcasm now. ‘ I honestly don't know how we came to get off on such a bad footing. It seems whenever we are alone together we end up quarrelling. I really don't know why. But if we are going to be working together don't you think we should call a truce?'

She looked at him. In the half light his face was all planes and shadows. A muscle contracted in her throat.

‘I'd like to go back to the beginning and start with a fresh slate.' he said. ‘Would you be agreeable to do that, Sarah?'

The muscle contracted again. ‘Yes – yes, I suppose so.'

‘Good. And this time I intend to make my intentions clear from the very start.'

And then almost before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms. For a brief moment she tried to pull away but he was holding her firmly and the trembling of her own limbs made her weak. Beneath her outstretched hands his chest felt rock hard, the faint soapy smell of his skin and the tang of tobacco on his breath made her senses swim. As his mouth covered hers she remained motionless, trapped in time and space by the strength of his body and her own tumultuous emotions, then as the pressure of his lips parted hers a tremor ran through her like the whispering sigh of the wind in the grass and she let her hand slide around his shoulder to the nape of his neck. As her fingers encountered the corded muscles there beneath the thick line of his hair, the trembling increased and she found her lips moving beneath his, responding to his kiss. It was as if all her pent-up longings, all the dreams and desires she had hardly dared admit to, even to herself, were released by his touch and she clung to him, drowning in the sea of her own emotions, wanting only to be close, closer, and for the magic of this moment to last forever.

When at last he lifted his mouth from hers he did it so slowly that even when the pressure was no more their lips still clung then hovered, so sensitised that the very air between them was a caress. Then he released her, sliding his hands up her neck to cup her chin tenderly and those hazel eyes looked down into hers so deeply that she felt he was seeking her very soul.

‘Oh Sarah,' he said – no more.

She could not move. She was spellbound, helpless in her longing. Somewhere out across the darkening countryside an owl hooted, herald of the night. The sound floated on the edges of her consciousness.

‘That is why you could not marry Eric,' he said simply and she knew it was the truth.

Adam would never be hers as Eric might have been. He was too hard, too independent. There would always be that other side of him that she could not reach and certainly could not tame. But he was all she had ever wanted in a man.

‘I think perhaps I should take you home,' he said roughly. Still holding her chin cupped in his hands he bent and kissed her again – a restrained kiss as sweet and chaste as the other had been darkly passionate.

‘Remember,' he said, ‘that this is our fresh start.'

He got down to crank the engine; in the light of the headlamps she watched the powerful ripple of his shoulders as he swung the handle and longed to feel them beneath her fingers again. Then without another word he climbed back up into the Panhard and drove her home.

The first thing she heard when she woke was the song of the birds outside her window clamouring in the dawn chorus. Sleep had come easily and quickly, now despite the earliness of the hour she had woken feeling refreshed. For a moment she lay wondering why it was she felt so happy, then memory came flooding back and she let herself savour again the sensuous delight his kiss had brought, the potency of the chemistry that had been worked between them.

Adam! she thought and his name was like an aria soaring in her heart.

She loved him. Useless to deny it any longer. Why had she ever tried to? Because she did not trust him – or because she did not trust herself? He was such an enigma, he raised such a welter of conflicting emotions in her, frightening as well as delighting her. But it was a fact she could no longer ignore, no longer try to hide, even from herself. She loved him with all her heart, with all her body, with her very soul, and she thought she had done from the first moment she had laid eyes on him. Why else should she have reacted to him with such vehemence if he had not stirred her in a way that no-one had ever done before?

Did he love her? He wanted her, yes, but that was not necessarily the same thing. He was a man used to his power and she knew instinctively that many women had fallen prey to it. Easy to believe, when she so much wanted to, that unless he felt as she did that force field of desire could never have come into being. Might it not simply be that his desire was purely physical, as Hugh's had been, coupled with a desire to dominate?

No, don't spoil it! she wanted to cry. Take what you have and be grateful. God alone knows such perfect happiness is rare.

She pushed aside the bedclothes and padded softly over to the window, drawing back the curtains and looking out into the freshness of the August morning. The sun had not yet cleared the hills but the park was bathed in soft golden light and a faint haze hung over the copse that hid the lake. The grass of the lawns sparkled darkly with dew, the haunting perfume of the bushes of flowering currant and the stocks in the neat beds beneath her window wafted up on the sweet fresh air. In the trees the chorus of the birds rose to one last clamouring crescendo before dying away almost as suddenly as it had begun. Sarah thought the song and the ensuing silence were the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard.

The gelding cantered across the meadow with flowing grace, lithe muscles rippling beneath his shining coat, mane and tail streaming in the brisk wind of an early September afternoon. On his back Alicia Morse sat with an ease which echoed the perfection of movement of the horse, back straight, slim hands controlling the reins with just the right blend of strength and gentleness, chin lifted so that the wind whipped colour into the ivory of her cheeks. Her royal blue riding habit was spread out against Baron's pale flanks and today she wore a little hat set at a jaunty angle on her upswept hair. Alicia was something of an exhibitionist – even when doing something she enjoyed and excelled at as she did at riding she liked to strike a pose so that the people she passed would stare in admiration and report to their families: ‘I saw Alicia Morse out riding today – she looked magnificent!'

There was a low brush hedge at the perimeter of the field; Alicia set Baron at it and he cleared it easily, landing on the other side with the sure-footedness of a cat and finding his stride again at once. For another hundred yards she let him have his head then as the ground began to drop away she pulled him up. From this high point the valley spread out below in a panorama of green with only the copper beeches to lend a touch of the hues that would soon transform the entire vista with the russets of autumn. Away to the left a herd of Friesians grazed, to the right the chimneys of Chewton Leigh House were just visible over a fold of the hill. But Alicia was not looking at any of these things as she sat there relaxing for a moment against the pommel of her sidesaddle. Her gaze was directed at the converted cowshed immediately below her and the contraption which had been pushed out onto the grass in front of it, a contraption which at this distance looked no more than a child's toy, a flimsy framework of wooden struts, brown paper and canvas. But even this miracle of modern engineering did not interest her much. It was the man bending over to inspect some detail of the structure who held her attention, and her pulses, already racing from the excitement of the ride, beat a little more insistently at the sight of him.