The Rainbow and the Rose (16 page)

‘She was telling me about it last night. She said that everybody has such fun down here …’

‘We get quite a crowd here at the week-ends,’ I said. ‘It gets to be a bit of a riot sometimes, I’m afraid, but we do our best to keep things under control. Everybody’s fairly young, you see. Still, I got the Lord Mayor as a member last week and the Chief Constable the week before, so they can’t think too badly of us.’

‘Esmé told me Colonel Chance had joined. She says he’s learning to fly.’

I nodded. ‘He’s had two lessons. He’s going to be all right.’ The Chief Constable had two sons in the Royal Air Force, and he wanted to learn the craft that was important in their lives.

‘He’s awfully old to learn to fly, isn’t he?’

‘I think he’s about fifty-eight. It’s not difficult, you know, so long as you’ve got good eyesight.’

‘Can a person really learn to fly when he’s as old as that?’ she asked. ‘I always thought you had to be frightfully young.’

I smiled. ‘Not to fly this sort of aeroplane. Of course, if you want to fly the latest Air Force fighter, then you do have to be young. The Avro Avenger and the Hawker Fury – they do two hundred miles an hour and
they land at over sixty. But anyone can fly this sort of aeroplane.’

‘Women also?’ she asked. ‘Could you teach me to fly?’

‘Of course, Mrs Marshall. Would you like to learn?’

Her eyes sparkled. ‘It would be marvellous! But I thought I’d be too old.’

I smiled. ‘You must be under thirty, surely.’

She nodded. ‘That wouldn’t be too old?’

‘Of course not. Your eyesight’s all right, isn’t it?’

‘I think it is. I don’t have to wear glasses.’

‘Your heart’s all right? There’s nothing the matter with you? It doesn’t look as if there is.’

She laughed, and blushed a little. ‘I think I’m quite all right.’

‘Of course you can learn to fly,’ I told her. ‘You’ll probably get a lot of fun out of it.’

‘I believe I should. I used to sail a boat. It’s like that, isn’t it?’

‘A bit,’ I said. ‘You’re keen on sailing?’

She nodded, and put down her cup. ‘Would you like to come outside and sit in the machine?’ I suggested. And as we walked over to the Moth I said, ‘If you’re going to learn to fly you’ll have to join the club. That’ll cost you three guineas.’

She laughed. ‘That’s really what I came here to do. I didn’t mean to learn to fly at all.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘One thing leads to another.’

I showed her the footholds on the fuselage and helped her into the back cockpit. When she was settled down and comfortable I started in to show her the controls, using the Gosport patter. I found that she was rather above average of women pupils for her comprehension of things mechanical. That was probably due to her position; she was used to driving a fast car and interested in it. The oil pressure gauge and the rev counter were familiar to her, and she
readily grasped the starting-up procedure to avoid kicking back. She learned the idea of the main controls without much difficulty, and when she had got that far it seemed to me that she had had enough for one day. She sat on for ten minutes longer in the machine, getting the feel of it, and to assist her we swung the Moth round to face the rain-swept aerodrome through the open door and lifted its tail up into flying attitude upon a trestle to make the look and feel of the machine realistic for her.

Presently she got out of the machine, made an appointment for a lesson the next day, and drove off in the Alvis.

It was sunny and cold next morning, with a touch of frost in the air and not much wind. I fitted her up with a helmet and headphones, lent her my leather coat and goggles, put her into the back cockpit, strapped her in, and saw that she was comfortable. Then I got into the front seat and the G.E. swung the prop for me, and I sat explaining to her over the phones what I was doing in the pre-flight checks. Then we taxied out to the far hedge, and got into the air.

She wanted to see her home, Duffington Manor, from the air, so we did a circuit over that, and then went up to a thousand feet for her to learn to fly straight and level, while I gave her the patter. She got on all right, and at the end of half an hour I took over the control and told her we were going in to land. She was to rest her hands and feet lightly on the controls and just watch what I did.

She said, ‘Before we land, do you think we could loop the loop?’

I was surprised. ‘Would you like me to loop it?’

‘Not if it’s any bother. But I would like to loop the loop one day.’

‘We can loop it now,’ I said. ‘We’ll get a little bit more height, first.’ As we climbed I made her check her safety belt. Then with her hands and feet resting loose on the controls I dived the thing a bit and sailed it over in a loop,
telling her what I was doing all the time, cutting the engine when the ground came down from the ceiling. When we were flying level again I twisted round to look at her, and she was flushed and laughing. ‘That was marvellous!’ she said.

I turned back to the voice pipe. ‘Did you have your hands and feet on the controls?’

‘Yes. I felt everything you did.’

‘Okay. I didn’t feel you.’ I learned then that she had a very gentle touch, very sensitive hands. ‘Keep them there while we land.’

I brought the Moth on to the circuit and in on final to the hedge with a bit of sideslip, talking my patter all the time. I put it on the ground and taxied into the hangar, and stopped the engine. I got out and helped her out of the machine, and when she was on the ground she said, ‘I don’t know when I enjoyed anything so much. How long were we up for?’

‘Half an hour,’ I said. ‘That’s enough for one lesson.’ She was flushed and bright-eyed, looking ten times better than she had the day before.

‘It seemed like five minutes. Can I have another one tomorrow?’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘If you’re going to learn to fly, it’s quite a good thing to go on and do it every day, if you can manage to. You don’t forget things in between.’

‘How long would it take me before I could go solo?’

I smiled, and thought for a moment as we walked towards the office. Women usually take longer than men, but she had very good hands and some knowledge of motor cars. Still, I’d have to be very sure of her before I let her go. Navigation would probably be a weakness; she might lose sight of the aerodrome and get lost. ‘Most people take ten or twelve hours dual,’ I said. ‘Twenty or twenty-five lessons.’

‘Three weeks,’ she said. ‘Then one day you just get out of the front seat and tell me I can go alone?’

I laughed. ‘That’s right. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘I’d love a cup of tea.’

We went into the office and I sent the boy for tea, and she took off my coat and helmet and ran a comb through her short, curly hair. She was full of questions about the machine and her instruction, really interested and very much alive. I took twenty-five bob off her for the lesson and three guineas for her membership, and seven and six for a book of flying instruction that I thought would do her good. Then the tea came, and she took a cigarette off me.

As she was smoking it, she asked, ‘Tell me, Captain Pascoe – are you English? I’m afraid that’s a frightfully rude question.’

I laughed. ‘It’s a very natural one. I’m Canadian. Have I still got an accent?’

‘Not an accent,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘It’s more of a rhythm. I thought at first you were American, and then I didn’t think you were. Forgive me for asking.’

‘I come from Hamilton, Ontario,’ I told her. ‘I came to England in 1915 to join the R.A.F., and I’ve hardly been home since. I don’t suppose I’ll ever get to talk quite like an Englishman.’

‘You’d rather be here than in Canada?’ she asked.

I nodded. ‘I’ve grown into things here. I’d probably feel like a fish out of water back at home now, after all these years.’

‘I’ve never been out of England,’ she said. ‘It must be fun to travel.’

I was very much surprised, for she was evidently well off, to live in a house like Duffington Manor. I would have expected her to know the south of France, and Italy. ‘You’ve never been to France?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve never been anywhere. I suppose you’ve been to France a lot of times.’

‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t. Only in the war, and that doesn’t count.’

‘Esmé said that you were flying fighters in the war.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Were they very difficult to fly?’ A shaft of the January sunlight came in weakly through the office window and made a golden aureole around her in the blue haze of the coke stove.

‘They were much more difficult than a Moth, although they only had about the same performance. They had rotary engines without any proper throttle control, most of them. It was much more difficult to learn to fly in those days than it is now.’

‘What you taught me today wasn’t very difficult.’

‘You seemed to get hold of it all right.’

‘Will it be more difficult when I get further on?’

‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘It’s like everything else – don’t try and learn too much all at once. Don’t bother about that loop, for example – put that out of your mind for the present. I’ll teach you that later. Just concentrate on what you’ve done, and then next time we’ll do a little bit more, and so on. You won’t have any trouble.’

She finished her tea, and made an appointment for another lesson next morning, at the same time; she asked me to ring her up if the weather should be too bad. As she was leaving, she said, ‘I’m not sure that I’m dressed right, Captain Pascoe. A skirt isn’t very convenient. Would it be better if I wore a pair of trousers?’

That was a very daring suggestion, and I was surprised. ‘Well – yes, it would,’ I said. ‘It might make you a bit conspicuous, though.’

‘I could change here, couldn’t I?’ she asked. ‘In the Ladies’ Room?’

‘It would be better,’ I said. The Lady of the Manor had a position to keep up in Duffington. ‘Have you got a pair of trousers?’

She shook her head. ‘I know a shop in London where they sell them for ladies, ready made.’

‘If you’re going to do that,’ I said, ‘I think I’d go the whole hog and wear an overall, a boiler suit. There’s always liable to be a bit of oil about an aeroplane. We try and keep them clean, but they aren’t like a car. If you wore a boiler suit over everything, it might save your clothes.’

She nodded. ‘I believe you can get white ones in London. One could have them laundered, then.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘You
can
get white ones, and they look very nice. You could come in your own clothes and change over at the clubhouse.’

She got into the Alvis and drove off, still bright and excited, and looking very pretty. That afternoon it was sunny, and Colonel Chance came out for a lesson, the Chief Constable. He had had four or five before, and he was doing turns. I had him up for half an hour, and when he landed we stood smoking outside the hangar for a few minutes.

‘I got a new member yesterday,’ I told him. ‘Mrs Marshall joined. She had her first lesson this morning.’

‘Mrs Derek Marshall?’ he asked. ‘From the Manor?’

‘That’s right.’

He smiled. ‘How did she do?’

‘All right. She might make a good pilot.’

He stood thoughtful behind bushy grey eyebrows, the short, clipped grey moustache. ‘I should think she might. She drives that car too fast, but she drives quite well. Pity about her husband.’

‘He’s in some kind of hospital, isn’t he?’

He said shortly, ‘He’s in The Haven.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know.’ The Haven was a very expensive private home exclusively for mental cases, on the outskirts of Leacaster.

‘He got shell-shock in the war,’ he said. ‘When they were married everybody thought he was cured, but then he got a relapse. He’s been in and out of The Haven ever since.’ He paused, and then he said, ‘Of course, it wasn’t
the shell-shock. There was a weakness there before. The Marshalls all used to marry their cousins.’

‘Is he in there permanently?’ I asked.

‘I think so. He’s certified now, anyway. They keep on trying every new thing, of course.’ He drew on his cigarette, and then he said, ‘She’s had a time with him.’

I was grateful to him for telling me. It’s better to know the scandal about members, and then one can avoid saying the wrong thing. I think that was in his mind, too, and that was why he told me.

‘They must be pretty well off,’ I said.

‘Wool spinners,’ he replied. ‘Marshall and Collins. They’ve got a big mill in Halifax. His brothers run the business.’

I wrinkled my brows; now was the time to find out everything I ought to know. ‘Who’s the old lady – Mrs Duclos, that lives at the Manor?’

‘That’s her mother,’ he told me. ‘She came to live there after Marshall was certified. I suppose it was lonely for Brenda living in that big house all alone.’

‘Are there any children?’

He shot a glance at me. ‘Children? Oh, no. I suppose they had more sense.’

He went away, and I went back to writing up the log books and digested my new information. Next day my pupil came again for another lesson, and told me she was going down to London. There was a gap of a few days then, and when she came for her third lesson she had a brown paper parcel in her hand as she got out of the car.

I smiled: ‘You got it?’

‘I got three of them,’ she said, ‘and a white flying helmet. Look, are they all right?’ She undid her parcel on the bonnet of the car and spread her purchases out, child-like, for my approval.

I turned the flying helmet over in my hands. ‘That’s all
right,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a spare pair of headphones we can put in this.’

‘I asked about that,’ she said. ‘They told me these ear flaps were designed to take the standard R.A.F. phones.’

‘That’s right. It should look very nice when you’re wearing it.’

‘I got a pair of goggles, too, like yours,’ she said. She showed them to me. ‘And I got this leather waistcoat to go underneath.’

I turned the garments over, smiling. ‘You’ve got everything. You must have spent a lot of money.’

She said simply, ‘I had a lot of fun. Shall I go over to the club and put them on?’