Just Desserts (5 page)

As they walked down the path, Bobby looked with interest at the small freezer bag that Penny was still clutching. ‘Have you got a packed lunch too, Gran?' he asked.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I'm going to Leo's boat. We're going to feed the ducks.'

‘I like feeding ducks,' said Bobby hopefully.

‘I expect we can call in after nursery,' said Penny. She glanced back at the house, still experiencing a sense of profound shock. ‘Somehow, I don't think Mummy and Daddy will mind what we do today.'

Penny flopped down on Leo's saloon couch after putting the tubs in his cold box. She was reeling from the experiences of the morning and it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. ‘I need tea,' she said, and told him all about it. After he'd finished roaring with laughter, she said, ‘So that was it all along. Tom was testing ingredients for some other company in the normal course of his work, made the thoroughly astonishing discovery that real, local, natural milk made the best-tasting desserts. So he came up with the idea of designing ice cream with Rachel, purely for Lucinda because she loves it so! It's probably the single most romantic thing he's ever done – or will ever do – in his whole life.'

Leo quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘Ten percent of the profits? He's a romantic with an accountant's heart, I'd say. It's going to make a lovely story for the paper. Presumably they won't be averse to the publicity?'

Penny took the mug of tea he handed her, beginning to feel more like herself. She chuckled. ‘Before you run it, you'd better check with Rachel when she's likely to have production up to speed. At least she can take on extra help now that Lucinda has had her lovely surprise and it's all out in the open. No wonder the poor girl was so flustered the day the Dun Cow review came out. They'd only been testing the ice cream on a small scale up until then, but she wasn't about to turn down potential sales! Oh, Leo, I am
so
relieved, I can't tell you.'

He grinned, but she could see sympathy veiled behind the humour and was touched by it. She would have said more, but –

‘I'm just glad we've cleared the mystery out of the way,' he said, and flexed his hands. ‘It was distracting you something rotten. Now we can concentrate on the
real
story.'

Chapter Three

Penny looked at Leo with mild exasperation. ‘Excuse me, but sorting out my daughter's marriage was important! Which particular
real
story did you have in mind to concentrate on? The secret lab or the mysterious fifties plane crash?'

‘Both of them,' he said cheerfully. ‘Also, since my editor pointed out that sixty-three percent of the
Messenger
's readers are female, I need a ‘Famous Daughters of Salthaven' story to run straight after the Andrew Collins one.'

‘Always assuming you manage to solve Andrew Collins's plane crash in the first place. Which famous daughter did you have in mind?'

Leo grinned at her. ‘That's exactly what I was going to ask you. What a coincidence!'

‘You, Leo Williams, are an opportunist.'

‘She doesn't have to be enormously famous, just noteworthy. Someone unusual or inspiring. Your Aunt Bridget? Himalaya walking at the age of eighty?'

‘Hardly. All her friends think she's bonkers. And before this she's lived a really ordinary life. All my family have been ordinary. Generations of women who have worked as well as keeping the home fires burning, juggling family and community because that is what Salthaven is about. Lucinda will be just the same. We fundraise for the playgroup, visit the library every week, use local shops, pay our WI subs, and support community events. Completely ordinary.'

Leo made a brushing away motion with his hand. ‘There's nothing wrong with ordinary as long as they've made a significant contribution to the town. It makes a story personal. If all else fails, I'll find someone who was born locally and who has since become an extra on TV or a scientist working on ground-breaking medical cures or something.'

‘If I think of anybody, I'll let you know. Oh, and talking of ordinary, here's the copy of the Salthaven Show schedule I promised you. You'll need to get the names of the winners correct on the day or the paper will be inundated with complaints and you'll have to print the whole list again in the next issue.'

‘You think I'm a rookie? I have reported on neighbourhood shows before, you know.' He looked at the list of classes. ‘Penny, there are hordes of them!'

‘The more classes, the more entries, the more money we make for the library. Salthaven likes to do things properly.'

Leo was still reading through the schedule. ‘I didn't realise there
were
so many jams. I'm going to be writing for hours.'

Penny chuckled sympathetically. ‘I've suggested on several occasions that we reduce the jam classes simply to stoned or unstoned, but some of our ladies have got a very competitive streak. At least the curds and marmalades aren't itemised. Right, I'm off. I've got a WI committee meeting this morning, sifting through ideas for our seventieth birthday next year. Is it OK if I stop by with Bobby after nursery? I'm looking after him for Lucinda this afternoon and he loves feeding the ducks on the river on our way home.'

‘Sure. Do you want a spare key in case I'm out?' He turned to a drawer.

‘No! That is …' Penny stopped, flustered. Quite why the thought of having a key to Leo's boat should bother her, she wasn't sure. ‘We can feed the ducks from the cockpit.'

But Leo was holding out a key ring. ‘I was thinking I ought to let someone have a spare in case I lose mine.'

And after all, what was the difference between having Leo's key and having her friend Rosamund's, for instance? Penny dropped it in her handbag. ‘OK then. But no phoning me at midnight because you've been in the Crown & Anchor too long and can't find the lock.'

He smiled. ‘As if.'

‘Well now,' said Mrs Carr, the current WI president. ‘I'm afraid the entries for the Salthaven Show are a little disappointing again, but there has been a gratifying response to our request for ideas for birthday celebrations. The idea of a Forties dance – as would have been common in our founding year – was popular. We could hold it in St Mary's church hall and ask everyone to bring period refreshments. An advantage to that is that it wouldn't cost very much. We can easily work out what they ate at functions in those days.' She patted one of the four large bags beside her. ‘I've been up in the loft and found the archives.'

The rest of the committee eyed the bulging bags of scrapbooks, minutes, agendas, and other WI paraphernalia with apprehension. The WI records were the stuff of legend – none of it good.

‘Let me see, now, what else was there?' Mrs Carr consulted her notebook. ‘Oh yes. We all wanted a nice birthday cake.'

Two hands shot up at the speed of light to volunteer their services.

‘And an anniversary banner to replace the one currently in St Mary's …'

Another three ladies exchanged swift glances. ‘Just our sort of thing,' they said quickly.

‘An announcement in the
Messenger
would be appropriate.'

The secretary lifted her pencil with brief efficiency from her shorthand pad.

‘And finally, there has been a
very
good suggestion for a proper history of the Salthaven Women's Institute.' Mrs Carr's gaze rested with bright speculation on Penny. Silence filled the room.

‘I can tackle that if you like,' Penny heard herself saying.

Mrs Carr beamed approvingly. Everyone else tried to look sympathetic.

‘Honestly, you should have seen the speed at which they shifted the bags to my car,' said Penny to Leo later as they both watched Bobby throwing lumps of bread at the ducks.

‘You'll enjoy it. Those old bits and pieces are often fascinating. I'd give you a hand, but I'm off to London. It's my weekend with Daniel.'

Penny's heart softened. ‘Have a lovely time then. Will you stay with your parents?'

He nodded, his lips tightening. ‘He knows them. It's ‘allowed'.'

‘Leo, you've got visiting rights. You could insist on your ex-wife being a little fairer to you.'

‘I'm not having Daniel made a pawn. I love him too much. I'll put up with Kayleigh's rules for the moment.'

Leo stared at his ex-wife in disbelief. ‘What do you mean Daniel has got a birthday party this afternoon? I have him one weekend in four – and today is now ruined.'

Kayleigh lifted one slim shoulder. ‘Do think of someone besides yourself, Leo. He can't not go to parties when he's been invited. You don't want him to be the odd one out amongst his friends, do you?'

Leo kept a grip on his annoyance. ‘You might at least have emailed to warn me. I had plans for us today.'

‘I'm sure you'll find some work to do while you're waiting,' Kayleigh said waspishly. ‘I took second place to your job for years. It won't hurt you to know how it felt.'

So, here were Leo and his son on the bus to Daniel's friend Sam's birthday party. Leo looked at Daniel's legs swinging with excitement and found it difficult to stay cross. They scrambled off and found the right address.

‘I'll be back at five o'clock,' he said. After Daniel had gone in, he stood for a moment outside the ordinary semi-detached house, listening to the squeals of excitement every time the door opened for a new arrival, watching the other parents get back into their cars and drive away for an afternoon's respite from their offspring.

His heart ached. He didn't want a respite. He wanted to be with Daniel. And he didn't have a car and this part of residential Hendon seemed singularly devoid of places to while away an unwelcome free afternoon. Or was it? Leo hunted through his memory for the trigger word that came after Hendon … Aerodrome. Of course. Hendon Aerodrome. Except it wasn't now, was it? It was Hendon RAF Museum.

 ‘I wonder,' he said out loud. Kayleigh's taunt about work came back to him, but he had to do
something
for the next three hours and he did have a plane crash story to research. If he went home his mother would only fuss over his leg and mention the physiotherapy that he wasn't doing. And then it wouldn't be long before she started asking whether he'd made any nice friends in Salthaven yet and who was this Penny that he'd talked about? No, much better to stay out until he had Daniel back as a first line of defence. He sat on a garden wall to check the Maps application on his phone for the RAF museum. There it was! And not that long a walk away either.

The museum was vast. On enquiry, he discovered that they didn't have access to old civilian crash records, but apparently the manufacturers would very often still have them in their archives, especially if the aeroplane in question had been a prototype production machine. Leo thanked the receptionist and went to look at the Heritage Collection. As far as he could understand from the sketchy details available to him, Andrew Collins's plane had been based on the de Havilland Vampire. There was a Vampire in the hangar. It would be useful to see the size of it close up and judge whether it really could have been lost in Long Tarn as the authorities in Salthaven claimed.

The answer, when Leo located the small jet, was probably. He stared at it, walking around the compact fighter, trying to imagine how it would feel to be in something that size, hundreds of feet above the ground, tearing through the sound barrier. All of a sudden, his car crash came back to him. That split-second of being out of control. He imagined it happening in a plane, he could almost feel himself tumbling out of the air. Sweat sheeted his forehead and he stumbled backwards to a bench.

‘Are you all right, dear?' The elderly lady who had been sitting at the end of the bench turned a concerned face to him.

‘I … Yes. Thank you. Stupid. I was just imagining something this tiny breaking the sound barrier and  … Those test pilots must have been brave men.'

The woman regarded him quizzically. ‘They were, of course,' she said. ‘But they didn't think of themselves as brave. If you'd suggested any such thing, they'd roar with laughter.'

Leo's faintness disappeared. ‘You knew them?' he said, surprised.

She laughed. ‘Not all of them, there were too many. As soon as the war ended, the demobbed RAF boys
all
wanted to get back into aviation. There were plenty of companies developing aircraft around then, willing to take them on. I worked at one of the bigger ones – Hawkers.' Her smile faltered. ‘They missed the exhilaration, you see. Never considered the danger and wouldn't have thanked you for pointing it out.'

‘What did you do there? Sorry, I'm Leo Williams. I'm a journalist looking into an old crash.'

‘Betty Dawson, dear. I was what we called a computer.' She chuckled. ‘My grandchildren always laugh at that. It was long before the days when we had machines to do the job. We used to analyse the test data after crashes. See if we could work out why the planes had failed.'

‘Good heavens.' Leo was genuinely astonished. ‘And did you?'

‘Sometimes. Fatigue fractures were common. It was understandable with the new designs and the new alloys. Nobody quite knew how they'd cope with the strain, despite the tests in the wind tunnels. The engineers got better at it – but it didn't help those poor boys. Not that they'd thank you, as I say. They'd lived life so
fast
during the war, you see.' Her faded eyes twinkled, belying her years. ‘Being a civvy was boring.'

Leo snorted. ‘It's a point of view.' But underneath he was thinking it probably wasn't so very different from the way he'd felt about missing his job when he was forced to convalesce after his accident.

Betty's gaze rested on the Vampire. ‘The de Havilland 110 was developed from this. That was a beautiful plane. Flawed though, to begin with. My husband and I were at the Farnborough Air Show in 1952 when it broke up in front of our eyes.'

Leo felt a jolt of pure horror. He looked at his companion, but she was sixty-odd years in the past, her eyes misting as she remembered.

‘It had just gone supersonic – very thrilling and low – and was starting to climb when it just ripped apart. The elevator came off, the wings ripped away, and the vibrations shook the structure so much that the two engines became bullets. One came down in the crowd. The other fell into the car park. We could see the inside walls of the engines where they lay. Thirty-two people dead.'

‘I'm sorry, said Leo inadequately.

Betty shook her head, remembering. After a moment, she said, ‘They changed the rules after that. No more low-level flights at air shows.' Then her expression lightened. ‘Hello, love. Did they want them?'

An elderly man was approaching them. ‘They did. Not on display – they'll go into the collection.'

‘That's all right then.' Betty turned to Leo. ‘My husband, Jim. The children said that they don't honestly know what they'd do with his medals, so he's been seeing if the RAF want them. He was a pilot too, all those years ago – but I talked him out of being a daredevil and kept him.'

Leo walked with them out of the hangar. At the car park, he gave them his card and scribbled down their phone number. ‘Always useful to have a mine of first-hand information to call on,' he said with a smile. But as he made his way back to collect Daniel from the party his brain was telling him he'd missed something. Something important. It wasn't until he was jolting back on the bus listening to his son telling him about the party games that he realised what it was.

Betty had mentioned fatigue fractures. She'd seen pieces of aeroplane where it had ripped apart. If Andrew Collins had crashed in 1953, the likelihood was that he wouldn't have come down tidily in one piece. So where had the rest of the aircraft been? And who had cleared it up?

Penny gazed at the piles of WI records on her dining room table. It was all very well organising them into order, but how was she ever to compile it into a history? There was too much of it!

She glanced at her watch: it wasn't late. She'd text Leo. He must have sifted through this sort of thing before in search of a story. Maybe there was a knack to it.