Inherit the Skies (67 page)

Perry continued to shake his head. ‘Well, I s'pose t'weren't fitted proper in the fust place. Not tight enough. That's the only thing it can be. But I can't understand it. I went over that plane meself the day afore yesterday. I should've thought I'd have noticed straight away. I don't know, I'm sure. 'Tis a mystery.'

‘A mystery you had better get to the bottom of and make certain it doesn't happen again,' Adam said tartly. ‘ We could have been killed. You realise that, don't you?'

‘Too true! I've already had Mr Morse threatening me with God knows what. But I don't think ‘tis my fault and I don't see why I should take the blame.'

‘Because you are paid to be responsible,' Adam informed him. ‘Well, I dare say there is no point going over it now. Let's get the plane loaded on to the lorry and back to Chewton Leigh so it can be examined properly. Then if you are found to be at fault, Perry, I wouldn't give much for your chances of keeping your job. This is the kind of carelessness we can't afford.'

Perry went pale but he said nothing. There was no point arguing. It was his responsibility. He still couldn't understand it, though. He'd been sure there was nothing wrong with the propeller when he had looked the plane over … Ah well. With typical countryman's mentality Perry thought that what could not be cured must be endured.

‘Right, Mr Bailey, let's get to work,' he said stoically.

‘So – what do you think would be the best route from England to South Africa, Adam?' Gilbert asked.

‘Sorry, what was that?'

Adam, who was leaning against the great oak desk in Gilbert's office, came back to earth with a jolt. He had been asked in to discuss Eric's attempt at a record-making flight, but he had been only half listening to their plans for his mind was occupied with his own problems.

It was three weeks now since he and Sarah had spent the night together and still she was prevaricating. Not only that, he thought that she was deliberately avoiding him – easy enough now that she had gained her ‘A' licence and no longer needed him as a tutor – and he was fast coming to the conclusion that she would never leave Eric. Well, if that were the case, then he had no intention of remaining here like some lap-dog. Plans were afoot to re-establish the South African branch of the company and Adam had made up his mind to ask Gilbert to send him there.

‘Which route do you think would give Eric the greatest chance of success?' Gilbert repeated, sounding faintly irritated.

Adam pushed his private thoughts to one side and crossed to the huge map which covered one wall of the office.

‘Let me see. France, over the Alps, Italy, across Egypt, down through Africa, Kampala, Bulawayo, Johannesburg – and then south-west to Cape Town.' He traced the line with his finger. ‘It's direct and there are plenty of places where you would be able to put down for fuel and water. That's the way I'd go.'

‘I think you're right,' Eric agreed. ‘But it's a hell of a long way, isn't it – even for a good plane like the Condor. We are bound to meet extreme weather conditions and God alone knows what sort of expertise the mechanics we shall have to rely on along the way will have. The trouble is if the smallest thing is not as it should be it can cause disaster. Take the accident you and Sarah had a few weeks ago – a few nuts not tightened properly and you lose your propeller. If the same thing happened over a desert or jungle it would certainly mean the end of the record attempt and over the sea it would probably be fatal.'

‘Thinking of giving up the attempt, are you?' Adam asked, unable to resist a dig at the man who stood between him and Sarah.

‘No, certainly not,' Eric said coolly. ‘But I could do with a really experienced co-pilot. Why don't you come with me?'

‘Me?' Adam almost laughed aloud at the irony of it. ‘No, I don't think so, Eric.'

‘I suppose you would prefer to stay around Chewton Leigh.' Eric said. His tone was pleasant enough but there were undertones beneath the apparent friendliness and quite suddenly the air was alive with electric tension.

Hell fire – he knows! Adam thought, and then, almost simultaneously, no, it's not possible. No man worthy of the name could suspect that his wife was being unfaithful to him and ignore it. It was all he could do to remain in the same room as Eric and not land a punch on his nose – and he was not the injured party!

‘I only hope you can pull the venture off, Eric,' Gilbert said. He seemed oblivious to the atmosphere which had arisen between the two younger men. ‘The publicity will be invaluable to the new airline and to the success of the new South African division. We need that new business to get us over this sticky patch.'

Adam turned his back on Eric, speaking directly to Gilbert.

‘How bad is it?' he asked.

‘Bad.' Gilbert's expression was grim. ‘But I am trusting you two not to mention that fact outside these four walls, not even to the other members of the Board. There is nothing like loss of confidence to make things worse.'

Adam's eyes narrowed. ‘You don't mean we are going to go to the wall?'

‘We wouldn't be the first.' Gilbert drew himself up, summoning the determination that had helped him build his companies into institutions of which he was rightly proud. ‘Don't worry. I don't intend to let that happen. We can weather the storms, gentlemen, and the time will come when the name of Morse Bailey will be synonymous with aeroplanes. And I believe this record attempt will herald the beginning of a new chapter in our history.'

By the end of the month everything was well under way. The whole of Chewton Leigh was bubbling with enthusiasm, and the glamour of the project had temporarily eclipsed even talk of the proposed airline. Curly Bowden, an old friend of Eric's from his RFC days, who was anxious to find a niche in commercial flying now that the new RAF was streamlining to meet the needs of peacetime, had agreed to be his navigator and the press came in their droves to interview the pair of them and photograph them beside the Condor.

‘We shall never be ready if they don't stop hindering us!' Eric grumbled to Gilbert. But Gilbert was more philosophical.

‘Every reporter who comes here bothering you is equal to another few inches of newsprint and the name of Morse Bailey is hammered home yet again,' he pointed out.

‘I suppose you are right,' Eric agreed, but he found the constant bombardment infuriating and the lack of privacy worse. Before long one of the newspapermen had unearthed the fact that not only had he shot down a Zepp during the war but also that he had once been a balloonist – and that his wife had been Sarah Thomas, Sweetheart of the Skies. Old photographs of Sarah in her ballooning costume appeared alongside new ones of Eric, Curly and the Condor and the clamour for interviews extended to her.

Sarah could not help enjoying the fuss. It seemed a very long time ago since she had been the centre of attention. And at a hastily arranged meeting Gilbert came up with a suggestion which would satisfy the reporters' interest in Sarah and at the same time exploit it.

‘We'll put on a demonstration flight for them,' he informed the other members of the board. ‘That way they will get all the pictures they want and we will reap the benefits of the publicity they generate.'

‘And how exactly do you propose to do that?' Leo drawled. Since losing the vote on the formation of the airline he had become more and more obstructive, each and every suggestion that was put up Leo was certain to oppose it with such vehemence that he sometimes persuaded one or two of the others to his viewpoint.

‘As you know Eric and Curly will actually begin their record attempt by taking off from Brooklands.' Gilbert's eyes were narrowed against the thin stream of smoke from his cigar. ‘It is about the closest we can get to the Channel coast. But the Condor has to get there from Chewton Leigh. Now what I suggest is this – we make a big set piece of the departure from here and invite along the press, but instead of Curly in the co-pilot's seat, we put Sarah! Husband and wife setting off on the first lap of the great adventure – it's the kind of story they'll lap up, especially in view of the fact that they used to balloon together. We might even let Sarah take the controls for the benefit of a headline now that she has her licence.'

‘Isn't that a little unfair on Curly?' Adam asked. ‘After all, he is the one risking his neck along with Eric.'

‘Curly will have his share of glory if the flight is successful,' Gilbert said. ‘Just look at the reception Alcock and Brown got – mayoral receptions, flags, speeches and cheers in this country and tickertape in New York. If it works out this could be even bigger. But we have to be practical about this. If something goes wrong and they don't make it, Morse Bailey still needs all the publicity we can get. And whether you like it or not Sarah is news. Take a pioneering spirit, a measure of danger and a pretty face, mix it all together and the resulting cocktail will be very potent, I promise you.'

He looked at Leo, throwing out a silent challenge, but surprisingly the younger man said nothing. He sat thoughtfully rolling a pencil between his fingers and it was Adam who voiced dissent.

‘Frankly I am surprised at you, Gilbert. The whole idea strikes me as being incredibly cheap.'

‘But think of the glut of orders the publicity will produce,' Gilbert said evenly, then broke off, not wanting to mention in front of Leo just how close to the brink they were sailing. ‘Perhaps I have become something of a showman in my old age,' he added after a moment. ‘Whatever, my mind is made up. When Eric takes off from Chewton Leigh, Sarah will be with him.'

Sarah stood at the window of her office looking out towards the air strip where the Condor stood ready and waiting to leave on the first leg of its historic flight. At this distance it looked so small – incapable of leaving the ground almost, let alone covering thousands of miles over land and sea, and she shivered at the thought of the risk Eric was taking. For years now she had lived side by side with danger and the men who courted it, so that she had thought she had become impervious to the fears that accompanied each new venture. But somehow this was different, resurrecting the anxieties that had haunted her through the years of the war.

The mechanics were buzzing around the Condor like bees around a hive but Sarah knew their activity was show only – all the necessary checks and preparations had been made the previous evening in the privacy of the shed. Today belonged to the press – already reporters were bustling around with their notebooks open, interviewing anyone who would stop to talk to them, and photographers were taking countless shots of the Condor, the mechanics and even the Morse Bailey works. Tomorrow the newspapers would be full of them – together with the photographs of her and Eric. Again the imp of nervousness tugged at her and she wondered why. Perhaps because in the old days the achievement had been her own. This time she was window dressing only.

‘Half an hour, Sarah. Are you ready?' It was Eric. Sarah was surprised to see him – she had thought he would be out on the runway with the mechanics.

‘Yes. Are you?'

‘Uh-huh.' He joined her at the window and gesticulated towards the throng on the tarmac. ‘What a carnival! It's as well everything was checked last night, isn't it? If it had been left till this morning anything could have been missed.'

She was aware of another of those tiny pricks of apprehension.

‘They are sure everything is in order?'

‘Oh yes. I watched the check myself. You can be quite certain that you will be safe on your leg of the journey at any rate.'

‘And what about yours?'

‘That, of course, is infinitely more risky.' His eyes met hers, his mouth lifted in a quizzical half smile. ‘Never mind, Sarah, you never know, I might not come back.'

‘Eric!' she exclaimed, shocked. ‘What ever do you mean?'

Again the half smile. ‘It would solve everything if I didn't, wouldn't it?'

She felt sick suddenly. ‘What on earth are you talking about?'

‘Oh Sarah, don't pretend with me any more.' His voice was even. ‘I'd like you to know that if anything should happen to me, you and Adam have my blessing. Though whether you will have Alicia's is another matter.'

She stared at him, speechless.

‘I've known for a long time how it is between you and Adam,' he said quietly. ‘If you think I didn't you must also think I am a fool. But I didn't say anything because I didn't want to lose you. You mean more than anything in the world to me, Sarah. Without you I wouldn't want to go on living.' He paused, then continued. ‘I have thought about it a good deal, I can tell you, thought about it until my head spun. I've considered every possibility – even setting you free so that you and he … But I couldn't do it. Not even knowing you don't love me. I simply couldn't do it. But of course if I didn't come back there would be no problem, would there? And I have this feeling that I am not going to come back.'

In spite of the heat of the room Sarah was suddenly icy cold.

‘Just one thing I would ask of you, Sarah,' he continued in the same level tone. ‘ Don't make it too soon, you and Adam. I know it is stupid of me but please … would you mind leaving me a little pride?'

‘Oh Eric, don't say such things! Of course you will come back!' She was trembling, desperately wanting to tell him he was wrong but knowing instinctively that to lie to him would be to add insult to injury.

‘It would have been better, wouldn't it, if I had died along with the crew of that Zepp I brought down,' he said softly. ‘At least then I would have died believing you loved me.'

‘But I
do
love you!' As the words burst from her she knew it was no more than the truth. In her own way she did love him – a totally different love to the passion she felt for Adam but no less real for all that. ‘I do love you, Eric, and I will always be grateful to you for all we have shared. It's just that …'