Inherit the Skies (48 page)

‘If you think it is necessary,' Max said.

‘I do. It may sound alarmist, Max, but I believe this is a case when it would be infinitely better to be safe than sorry. And there is something else to consider. It is quite possible that if war comes the Ministry will decide to take control of all aircraft manufacture – monopolise the factories and orchestrate production. I would fight such a move every inch of the way, through the courts if necessary, but if I failed it would suit our purpose better if Max was officially deemed to be working for the Motor Company.'

Max nodded. ‘Agreed.'

‘Good. We'll hope it does not come to that, of course, and I shall do my utmost to persuade the powers-that-be to begin looking a little further than their noses.'

‘If anyone can do that, Gilbert, it is you,' Adam said. ‘But there is one thing you haven't thought of. If war comes and we are as short of fighting men as you say we are then there is going to be a campaign to swell the ranks urgently.'

‘Conscript, you mean, Adam?' Leo asked. He had gone very white.

‘Not necessarily – though it may come to that. I would imagine they will try persuasion first. Either way we could find ourselves losing a lot of skilled men just when we need them most.'

‘You are right,' Gilbert agreed. ‘ Some young hotheads are bound to rush off to enlist. We shall just have to do our best to persuade them – and the War Office – that they are more use to the country where they are, doing what they know best. Well, I don't think there is a great deal more we can usefully discuss at the moment. We may as well get back to work – if we can work this afternoon with this threat hanging over us. Though I dare say it is a pressure we shall have to get used to.'

In sombre mood they dispersed, Max going back to the Motor Works with Lawrence to decide upon an office for his future use, Leo excusing himself to deal with what he mutteringly called ‘ urgent paperwork'. Adam however remained in Gilbert's office, looking out of the window at the rolling Somerset hills, green and sunlit beneath the clear blue sky, while Gilbert took his leave of the others. When they had gone Gilbert closed the door and crossed to the oak cabinet which stood behind his desk.

‘Let's have a drink, shall we, Adam? I dare say we could both do with one. Unless you're anxious to get back to Chewton Leigh and Alicia, of course. You haven't seen much of her these last months, have you?'

‘That is true,' Adam agreed. He had been supervising intensive pilot training courses at the three British based Morse Bailey Schools in his capacity as chief instructor, but since he was seldom in one place for long Alicia had remained at home. ‘I must get back and spend a little time with her. But you're right, I certainly could do with a drink, and in any case there is something I want to talk to you about.'

‘Scotch or brandy?' Gilbert asked, unlocking the cupboard to reveal a row of bottles and an array of crystal glasses.

‘Scotch, please. Neat.'

Gilbert poured the drinks, generous measures, and brought one across to Adam.

‘This is a damnable business and no mistake.' He gulped his brandy with the air of a man recently rescued from the snow by a life-saving St Bernard. ‘Well, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?'

Adam sipped his whisky, equally grateful for the bite of the alcohol on his tongue.

‘I thought I should warn you,' he said directly. ‘If this conflict comes – and like you I am almost certain it is bound to – I intend to volunteer for the RFC.'

Gilbert looked up sharply. His glass shook in his hand.

‘Good God, man – why?'

‘Because I believe I could be of most use to the war effort if I did. I am a pilot, first and foremost. It's what I am best at. And the Flying Corps is going to need every competent man it can get.'

Gilbert was silent for a moment whilst he digested Adam's words.

‘But surely you could be of most use training others,' he said at last.

‘I dare say. But I would be able to do that inside the service as well as outside it and I could fly myself too,' Adam reasoned. ‘Besides I wouldn't be at all surprised if the Government take over our flying schools the moment war is declared.'

Gilbert nodded. ‘Yes, they will see central control as a necessity – though I am bound to say I find it galling after all the years of batting our heads against a brick wall while they shilly-shallied. The best we can hope for is that there will be someone with a little intelligence and foresight in charge at the War Office. Kitchener would be a good man. It is fortunate that he is in the country at the moment, though I understand he is due to return to his duties as Agent-General in Egypt. I only hope Asquith will have the good sense to appoint him Secretary of State – though heaven knows even he will have his work cut out. This war is going to be a terrible one, Adam, mark my words.'

‘And the sooner we can get it over and done with the better.' Adam drained his glass. ‘I'm sorry if my news has come as a bombshell to you, but I just wouldn't feel right at a time like this not being in uniform. Call it patriotism if you like or simply damn-fool recklessness. Perhaps there are times in history when they amount to much the same thing.'

Gilbert smiled thinly. I can't pretend that what you propose pleases me, Adam. It's bad enough knowing that Hugh is bound to be in the thick of things without seeing you rush off like a lemming as well. I could ask you to think of Alicia, if nothing else. As her father I think that is my duty. But I dare say it will do no good.' He glanced at Adam, his eyes narrowing. ‘Perhaps this is none of my business, but things are all right between the two of you, are they?'

Adam crossed to the table, setting down his empty glass. He did not meet Gilbert's eyes.

‘Of course. But at a time like this personal considerations have to take second place. As you yourself said unless we can win this war and quickly life won't be worth living for any of us. I have to do my bit, and do it in the way I know best.'

Gilbert nodded. Adam's answer had not entirely satisfied him. He was not convinced that everything was as it should be between Adam and Alicia. Adam took his absences – necessary to his work though they were – too lightly, and there was a brittleness about Alicia which suggested she was not entirely happy. But then Alicia had always been something of an enigma, and that fierce pride of hers meant that she was good at hiding her true feelings.

Gilbert sighed. Alicia, Blanche and even Sarah were all liable to behave in inexplicable ways. The only woman he had ever truly understood was Rose – sweet natured, open, warm hearted Rose – and the tragedy of it was that though he had been exceedingly fond of her and honestly devastated by her death, before then she had long since ceased to interest him as a woman. Perhaps it was complexity, the mystery and the intrigue that constituted the spark of attraction, Gilbert thought. Unfair it might be, yet inescapable, primitive as the law of the jungle, yet able to influence a man as civilised as he considered himself to be. Had it not been that way with Rachel?

‘Well, Adam, I won't try to dissuade you. I can see your mind is made up. If I were twenty years younger I would probably feel just as you do. That is the trouble with growing older. The spark goes and caution sets in. I look on war now as something which will bring about suffering on a scale it is almost impossible to imagine – whilst to the young I suppose it is a shining crusade, a tremendous adventure. Thank God for the young men with the courage and vigour to fight – and thank God for the older ones who may have the wisdom to know when to hold back.'

‘There can be no holding back this time,' Adam said.

‘No, but it makes me very sad. Even though I dare say it will mean progress for our industry at a rate we should never achieve in time of peace. Do you want another drink?'

‘No thank you. I think I will get over to Chewton Leigh. Alicia will be expecting me.'

‘I shouldn't drink at this time of day either,' Gilbert admitted. ‘It makes me maudlin. Very well, Adam, I'll see you at dinner. We may have more news by then.'

‘Let us hope so,' Adam replied. ‘Otherwise we can do nothing but wait for midnight.'

Gilbert shook his head. ‘I feel as if we are waiting for Armageddon,' he said grimly.

The atmosphere around the dinner table at Chewton Leigh was tense for the strain of these last hours, waiting for what they all believed to be the inevitable declaration of war, yet still hoping for some miracle to avert it, had taken its toll on all of them and matters had not been improved by Adam's announcement that he intended to volunteer for the RFC.

Eyebrows were raised all around the table but it was Leo who voiced what they were all thinking.

‘Good grief, man, how are we supposed to produce aeroplanes if you set that kind of example to the work force? It's bad enough the reservists have all been called up – if you go tearing off into uniform half the factory will think it's all right for them to do the same. Already I've heard enough jingoism on the shop floor this afternoon to sink a battleship and if the call goes out for volunteers the only thing we shall – be able to do to stop them rushing out in droves is to appeal to their loyalty.'

‘I can only do what I believe to be right,' Adam said evenly.

Leo bristled. ‘Right indeed! Well all I can say is that your idea of what is right and mine certainly do not coincide.'

‘And never have, Leo. I take it you will not be volunteering?'

‘Most certainly I will not. No-one with any sense will. Why, you admitted yourself this afternoon that we cannot afford to lose skilled men just now, so why set them such an ill-advised example?'

‘Adam must do as his conscience dictates,' Gilbert said quietly. He had drunk a good deal of brandy since the afternoon meeting but it had done nothing to lift his depression. If anything it had only served to make him more morose. ‘When it comes to defending honour and freedom then that is all anyone can do.'

‘Honour and freedom!'

‘That is what this war is about, surely? It is the only thing that justifies such desperate measures.'

‘No war can be justified,' James said. They all turned to look at him briefly, a little surprised, for they had almost forgotten he was there. The years had not made James any less of a shadow – he spent much of his time alone, painting and scribbling poetry, and seldom contributed anything to family discussion so that when he was away at university he was scarcely missed.

‘What are you talking about?' Gilbert asked, irritated as always by his youngest son.

‘Nothing can justify killing and maiming,' James replied, his face very pale and set. ‘ Leo is quite right to be against it and refuse to volunteer. So shall I. I would refuse absolutely to have any part in it.'

‘Oh for heaven's sake!' Gilbert exploded, thoroughly annoyed.

‘I'm sorry but it's the way I feel,' James said defensively, aware that he had managed to arouse the hostility not only of his father but also the rest of the assembled family. ‘You understand, don't you, Alicia?'

He turned to his sister for the backing she invariably gave him but for once he was disappointed. Alicia seemed barely to have heard him. She sat white-faced, her meal untouched since Adam had shocked her with his announcement.

It could not be true! she was thinking. Surely Adam could not have made such a decision without even discussing it with her? Bad enough that he should be prepared to abandon the company which, as Leo said, needed his full support. But her hurt went deeper than that. Far, far deeper.

‘Alicia, are you feeling well?' Blanche enquired. ‘You look very pale.'

Alicia laid down her fork, only her iron control preventing it from clattering onto her plate. ‘I do have a headache,' she said. ‘ If you will excuse me, I think I will go to my room.' She rose from her chair.

‘Of course, my dear. Millie can bring you a cup of hot milk if you would like it. Millie …' Gilbert's concern was obvious and Alicia felt high spots of colour begin to burn in her cheeks. Did he know this was the first she had heard of Adam's decision? The humiliation of it – learning along with everyone else what one's own husband planned to do!

‘Thank you, but please don't trouble Millie.' She glanced at Adam, but he was eating steadily, totally oblivious to the furore he had caused.

Propelled by anger she swept up the staircase and into her room. She and Adam shared a suite – a pair of bedrooms linked by a small sitting-room. On her instructions the curtains had been left open to allow what air there was on this hot August night to circulate more freely, but the sheets had been turned down and her most glamourous nightgown laid out ready for her. Her lips tightened when she saw it, remembering with what high hopes she had selected it for Adam's first night home after two weeks' absence touring the flying schools. So much for her plans to seduce him all over again! The fact that he could humiliate her this way showed how little he cared for her – and his eagerness to join the colours without a thought for her wishes was confirmation of it – if confirmation were needed.

Alicia wriggled to unfasten her dress, determined not to summon Millie, stepped out of it and kicked it contemptuously into a corner. Let the maid hang it up in the morning and if it was creased well then she would have to iron it. Why should Alicia care? She stripped herself of her undergarments, dropping them with the same careless abandon, and slipped into the nightgown and matching peignoir. After the restrictions of her corset the filmy silk felt good against her hot skin and when she sat down at her dressing table to unpin her hair she was slightly mollified by the picture her reflection made.

There was no doubt about it, the ivory silk flattered her, setting off the blue-black sheen of her hair and making her look pure, though not in the least virginal. But the flush of pleasure did not last. She drew the brush through her hair for the first of the hundred strokes that she had performed every evening since she was a child and reflected on the pathetic sham her marriage had become.