Starlight (21 page)

Sally rose and gave Jess a last tight hug.

‘Now, I'd better go. But we'll meet again soon, eh? Have a coffee, or something, now that I‘m a lady of leisure?'

‘And if you ever get tired of being that, and the baby's got a minder, maybe you'll come back to the Princes?' Jess asked. ‘Oh, it'd be so good to have somebody like you around here again!'

‘Hey, I might take you up on that. Going to walk me out?'

On their way through the foyer, they passed the same pictures of the stars that Sally had pointed out to the candidates on the box office interview day. Which, to Jess, always seemed to belong to another age, when she'd been a much younger, quite different person.

‘There they are!' Sally cried. ‘All the stars, eh? Oh, my, I could tell you were star-struck all right, Jess. You were up there with them, weren't you? Eyes shining like it was Christmas. Remember how you used to like Henry Fonda?'

‘When did I say I liked Henry Fonda?' Jess asked quickly.

‘Well, was it Tyrone Power, then? Or Laurence Olivier? I'm sure it was one of those handsome heart-throbs.' Sally's cheerfulness failed her for a moment. ‘All seems different now, eh?' Her lip trembled. ‘World seems darker.'

‘Don't say that!' Jess cried. ‘Think of all you've got to look forward to. The baby and everything.'

‘Aye, but it's the chaps we'll want home, eh? And Arnold's with the Black Watch – they're always in the thick of battle.'

‘He'll come home, Sally,' Jess said urgently, wondering why people brought out such words without meaning. But of course she knew why. They were for comfort. For hope. You had to say something. ‘Rusty, too,' she added.

‘Well, you watch out when you meet Rusty again,' Sally cried, casting aside her sudden fit of the blues. ‘Aye, you take care. Or there'll be two of us with the green ration books for expectant mothers!'

I'll take care, all right, Jess told herself. In the future, yes, she would want a baby, but not now, when she was so keen to make something of her job. As for Rusty's future – she couldn't bear even to contemplate that one day he might not have one at all.

‘I'd just like to pop in to see the dear old place,' Sally was murmuring, bouncing into the box office, but of course she couldn't stay long for Flo was on her own and the queue waiting for tickets was winding into the street.

‘Watch out, you'll have to lend a hand,' Jess said with a laugh, at which Flo, giving a harassed smile, said she wished Sally could, and Sally herself promised, next time she was in, she would.

‘Not to worry,' Jess told Sally. ‘I'll help Flo for a while, seeing as Netta is not due in till five. We're still what you always said we were, you know – one big happy family!'

‘Ah, that's good, Jess, that's good!' Sally cried, and hurried away, back to her waiting mother, calling as she went that she'd be in touch.

‘Don't forget!' Jess cried, and telling Flo to go for a cup of tea, stepped back with ease into her old job, just for half an hour.

When she arrived home that evening, there was a letter on the doormat. Thank God, from Rusty.

He had done well. Passed out near the top of the list, which meant he was truly a navigator. He would be home at the weekend, for end-of-course leave, so get ready to celebrate. No mention of a posting, of course, for the censor would probably only have crossed it out, but while she was preparing to celebrate, she'd better prepare herself for Rusty's news of it.

Thirty-Eight

Somehow, Rusty seemed to know, even in the darkness, that Jess was smiling, and ran his finger round the outline of her mouth as they lay together on his first night home.

‘What's the joke?' he whispered. ‘Or is that smile for me?'

‘All my smiles are for you.' For some time, she kissed him, then pulled away, still smiling. ‘But I was thinking of Sally.'

‘Sally? We've just made love, and you're thinking of Sally Dollar?'

‘Ah, but she's isn't Sally Dollar now, she's Mrs Arnold Adams. She got married, and you'll never guess why. There's a baby on the way!'

‘Help, earth-shattering news!' Rusty grinned, reaching out for his cigarettes on the bedside table. ‘So, what's so funny?'

‘I wasn't smiling about the baby. In fact, I think it's lovely – Sally's really thrilled, whatever she says. No, I'm just remembering all the advice she gave me and how she said she wouldn't be married for years. And then she falls for a baby herself!'

Rusty, smoking, for some time made no comment.

‘That was the funny thing,' Jess said, trying to see his expression. ‘Don't you think so?'

‘But now Sally's thrilled. How would you feel, Jess?'

‘About having a baby? Well, I'd like one some time, but I don't feel ready yet. I've got my job.' Her fingers kneaded the edge of the sheet. ‘And then – the time's no' right, is it?'

‘I'm not so sure. Maybe it's exactly right for you to have a baby.' Rusty, feeling for the ashtray by the bed, put out his cigarette and took Jess in his arms. ‘Mine, Jess.'

In spite of the warmth of the night, she shivered and drew away.

‘I know what you're thinking,' she whispered. ‘You're thinking a bairn would be something of you, aren't you? For me to have – if you . . .'

He put his hand over her lips. ‘No words. Don't put those thoughts into words. I'm coming back.' He laughed. ‘Haven't gone anywhere yet.'

‘Where are you going, Rusty? You haven't told me.'

‘An airfield in Kent. Mainly reconnaissance work.'

‘That's a relief. I thought you'd be bombing.'

‘Not yet. For me, anyway.'

‘You will be going on raids, though?'

‘Look, I don't know what I'll be doing exactly.'

She was silent, staring into the unknown, but knowing there was no point in questioning him further. After a while, he said quietly, ‘You still don't want to, Jess? I mean, start a baby?'

‘No, it wouldn't be right just now.'

‘Because you know what it's like, to have no dad?'

‘Hush, don't talk like that, Rusty!'

‘Well, the other thing is, you've got your job.'

‘And I've got my job. I'll no' deny it means a lot to me.' Holding him close, she kissed him passionately. ‘But no' as much as you.'

‘You want to go to sleep now?' he asked tenderly.

‘Oh, I don't think so,' She flung her arms around him. ‘Might be a bit of a waste.'

‘My thoughts exactly,' Rusty said.

In the morning, bliss over, reality set in. As Jess prepared their frugal breakfast, she knew she was going to have to speak about things that mattered. For her own peace of mind. This was the time, before Rusty left her, to discuss what hung over her like a dark cloud, except when making love rolled it away. But they couldn't make love all the time.

‘Sorry, the breakfast's no' up to much,' she told him, when Rusty came into the kitchen, smelling of soap from the bath she'd run for him, his short hair damp and on end. ‘There's bacon, but no eggs. I used them for that cake you like.'

‘Hey, bacon's a feast! It's what the pilots get.' He gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and sat down. ‘But you've got some, haven't you?'

‘You know I'm no' fussy over bacon. Toast'll do me.'

Pouring tea, she looked away from his happy face, so that she should not be distracted. But maybe she should say nothing? Let things go. Share his happiness on this last weekend before his posting? No. Resolutely, she turned aside from that easy option. She had to speak. There was no other way.

‘It was grand that you did so well on the course,' she said, carefully scraping a little butter on her toast. ‘There were no problems, then?'

Already, his gaze was wary, as he looked at her over his teacup. ‘I told you I'd no problems with the course, Jess.'

‘But you do have problems, Rusty.'

He set down his cup, pushed away his plate.

‘What are you trying to say, Jess? Just tell me.'

‘Well . . . I saw Ben before he went south. Marguerite asked Ma and me round.'

Rusty's lips tightened. ‘And what's Ben got to do with anything?'

‘He told me he'd met someone from your course.'

‘Who?'

‘He didn't give his name. But this chap, whoever he was, said he knew you and that you were a good guy . . .'

‘Ha!' Rusty cried. ‘So I am, then.'

‘I said that, too, but, apparently, the chap thought you were . . .' Jess hesitated. ‘A bit nervy. Maybe not so fit . . . as you'd been. I'm wondering . . . why he said that.'

‘So am I. He has his cheek, discussing me with a complete stranger.'

‘Ben is sort of your brother-in-law, Rusty.'

‘But the other fellow didn't know Ben, did he? What the hell gave him the right to tell Ben anything at all about me, for God's sake?'

‘Does he know about your drinking?' Jess cried. ‘That's what's worrying me. If he knows, who else knows?'

‘Nobody! Nobody knows, or I'd have been out on my ear by now. There's no need for you to worry. It's my secret, and yours – no one else's.'

Bravely, her gaze locked with his. ‘I think Ben knows.'

Rusty pushed back his chair and stood up.

‘He couldn't,' he said huskily. ‘He's not even been up to the airfield. There's no way he could know.'

‘Unless this fellow from the course knows. And told him.'

Watching him now, Jess was painfully wondering how she could ever have thought Rusty looked happy. And she had done it. She had wiped the bliss from his face as though with a wet towel. She had ruined his time with her, and it might be his last. Yet, as she ran to take him into her arms, she knew she couldn't have taken any other course. There'd been no other way, except to tell him, warn him.

‘Rusty,' she gasped, ‘I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I've upset you. But I had to tell you – I had to try to make you see . . .'

‘See what?' he asked dully. ‘That I'm hurting you? I know that already.'

‘Hurting yourself! How are you going to carry on, keeping your drinking a secret? You know it isn't possible. It will come to light and then . . . well, I don't know what will happen . . . but, oh, Rusty, could you no' try to give it up?'

He slowly ran his hand down her face, and looked away.

‘I wish I could, Jess. I wish I could.'

They put the dishes into the sink and sat down together on the sofa in their living room, winding their arms around each other as though all was well, as though they were still the carefree lovers of the night. But to Jess, it was as though they'd both grown older, taken on the cares of a lifetime they could never shake off – except that they had to.

Dredging up strength she didn't know she had, she pulled herself free from Rusty's embrace and took only his hands.

‘If you want to, you can,' she said softly. ‘I know it will be hard . . .'

‘Jess, you don't know anything,' he said wearily. ‘It's not possible, just to stop like that. Especially not the way things are.' He pulled his hands from hers. ‘What do I do? Join one of these associations? These gatherings where they try to help you? And then I say, excuse me, I'm just off to bomb Berlin, or something, and I'm too scared to get on the plane? Be reasonable, Jess, I can't do anything like that while we're at war.'

She stood up. ‘Are you saying you won't even try?'

He rose to stand beside her. ‘No, I'm not saying that. I know I'm at risk, I know I could be in deep trouble. But if I say I'll try, it doesn't mean I'll succeed.'

‘No, but just to hear you say that, Rusty, just to hear you say you will try, whatever it costs – that means so much to me.' Her voice trembled, her eyes stung with tears. ‘So much – you've no idea . . .'

He held her close without speaking, and after a long moment, she drew away and, dabbing away her tears, managed a smile.

‘So, shall we get ready and go to Ma's? The butcher's let her have a joint this week. She's going to do Yorkshire puddings.'

Sunday dinner with Addie? Roast beef and Yorkshire puddings? Just like old times. Roll away the war, then. Roll away the problems.

‘Let's go,' Rusty said lightly. ‘Shame I have to wear my uniform, but it's the rule.'

‘I like you in your uniform,' Jess told him.

‘I like you anyway,' he whispered, and for some time they clung together, while around the city the sun shone and war seemed far away.

Thirty-Nine

In early September, some days after Rusty had left for Kent, the Luftwaffe bombed London. The Battle of Britain was over. The ‘Blitz' had begun.

‘Of course, it's just what we knew Hitler would do,' John Syme remarked to Jess after one of her regular meetings with his board in Glasgow. ‘He's lost the Battle of Britain, so now he's trying air raids. Won't make any difference, we'll never give in.'

‘But the poor Londoners,' Jess murmured. ‘They're bearing the brunt of it.'

‘For now, yes, it's London's turn. Tomorrow – who knows?'

‘They'll be targeting other cities?'

‘Sure to. They'll move on to Liverpool, or Birmingham, places like that.' John shook his head. ‘Or maybe here.'

‘Edinburgh?' Jess's gaze sharpened. ‘You really think that?'

‘No. Not really. We haven't enough industry to make it worth their while. No, if it's anywhere in Scotland, it'll be Glasgow. The shipyards. The docks.'

‘I suppose we shouldn't expect the south to take it all,' Jess said in a low voice. ‘I feel terrible, anyway, thinking of so many folk in danger. So many lives already lost.'

‘Pilots, civilians – that's modern war, I'm afraid.' John studied her thoughtfully. ‘How are things for you, then, Jess? Your husband's away now? I won't ask where.'