Voices on the Wind (5 page)

‘Are you ready? I thought we'd go down together.'

Kate jumped up, feeling guilty. ‘I haven't even combed my hair.'

The older girl said quietly, ‘I'd hurry up then. I'll wait for you, but it doesn't do to be late.' She waited while Kate fumbled in her holdall for lipstick and quickly combed her hair. She's quite beautiful, she thought, but she doesn't know it. Michaelson is going to give her hell. It would be interesting to see how the girl coped. There was a lot of the schoolgirl about her, and an independent gleam that Captain Michael-son would do his best to extinguish. If he succeeded, she was out. Judy looked at her watch.

‘I'm going down,' she said.

‘Wait for me!' Kate threw the holdall into a corner and hurried after her. ‘It's only a minute or two after he said,' she protested.

‘It's still late,' Judy answered. ‘It'll count against you.' They were almost at the door of the staircase and the man called Philippe was already by the fire, talking to the others.

‘How do you know?' Kate demanded.

‘Because I've been here before,' Judy answered.

Captain Michaelson advanced on them. ‘Come and meet the rest of the group,' he said.

Kate hardly listened to the names. Six men, all different, roughly the same age, all shaking hands and answering to names like Raoul and Jean and Bernard, which sounded unconvincing. Some with accents, others completely English; one with a distinct Welsh lilt. She felt shy and excited. Someone gave her a gin and tonic and lit a cigarette for her. The conversation was forced. Questions about her journey; over hearty laughter about the state of the trains. She wanted to join up with Judy, but she was talking to Michaelson. She had been there before, so she would know the form.

‘Hallo.' She found Philippe beside her. The young soldier she'd been talking to moved away.

‘You look anxious,' he said. The amazing translucent eyes smiled at her. She found them disconcerting, and wanted to look away. ‘You needn't worry,' he said. ‘You'll find everyone here helpful and friendly. They're not encouraged to say too much when they first meet you. And I gather one of their best men has retired injured, so there's a little cloud over them all tonight.'

‘You sound as if you've been here before too,' Kate answered. ‘Judy has, she told me. I thought one only had to train once.'

‘For me it's a refresher; for Judy,' he shrugged, ‘I don't know. I don't know anything about her. Or about you. Except you are very new.'

‘I'm
new
,' she agreed, ‘and I wish I wasn't. How did this person get injured?'

‘He had an accident rock-climbing,' Philippe answered. ‘They lost a girl two weeks ago. She put her foot in a rabbit hole and broke her ankle when they were out on an exercise. So you'll have to be careful not to hurt yourself.'

He was being kind and reassuring. She wished she liked him. ‘I'm pretty tough,' she said. ‘My PT instructor said so.'

‘I'm sure he did,' was the answer, ‘but I think you'll find this quite a lot harder than parade-ground PT. Would you like another drink? The first evening is relaxed, but they don't serve alcohol normally. Just now and again.'

‘That won't worry me,' Kate said. ‘I don't drink anything except wine.' She pulled a face. ‘I don't even like gin.'

‘Then you'll have wine tonight,' Philippe smiled. ‘Always on the first night, there is wine for dinner. There is the gong. Come, I'll show you where we go.' He guided her by a light touch on her arm. A gong. It was like something out of a Hollywood film. This imposing house with its evidence of class and privilege, but going back a very long time. The confident shabbiness of generations. The dining room was like a school refectory. One long table, orderlies in white coats to serve the food, an atmosphere like a school. The food was generous; quantities of vegetables and luxuries like fresh bread and butter. The wine was thin and sour, but she was thankful for it.

She didn't try to talk; she found herself seated next to Captain Michaelson, who hardly spoke to her at all, and the strange men on either side were polite but disinterested. The new girl had nothing to contribute. They seemed preoccupied and exclusive. She felt miserable, which Michaelson noticed. Homesick on the first night, he thought. Nobody was making a fuss of her, though she was the best-looking girl they'd seen in a long time at Loch Gary. And she hadn't flirted with Philippe, who had given her the opportunity. That was a good sign anyway. He wasn't sorry for her. She had no right to expect his sympathy, if she felt like a lost soul, and wanted to turn round and go straight back to her Portsmouth Barracks and forget it all. She had only herself to blame for coming to Loch Gary, and for getting involved in the Service. Women shouldn't be allowed, he protested silently, and again his hands trembled, remembering Lisette. Women shouldn't be sent over.… By Christ, he was going to lean on this girl. And he'd see the instructors did the same. She'd hate his guts for it, but she might just live to thank him. Unlike Lisette, whom he'd sent out to her death only eight months ago.

Kate had never been so cold in her life. Her hands and feet were numb, a vicious wind whipped at her face, and the summit of the rock loomed overhead, slippery and smooth. It was the third rock-climbing exercise that her group had been set and the most difficult. Michaelson had supervised their preliminary training, under a grim-faced PT instructor; stiff and sore, Kate remembered Philippe's warning the first day. ‘Don't try too hard, let your body get accustomed, or you'll hurt yourself.' She hadn't listened, determined to prove herself, and found out just what good advice that was. She hated heights, but never said a word. They climbed a modest outcrop and she felt more confident. And Michaelson watched her, silent when she did well and scathing about the least mistake. The evenings became more relaxed; people formed friendships, hoping they might end in the same team, but not knowing. The group who had been there when Kate arrived dispersed ten days later. No one knew who had passed or failed. The next morning they weren't there. That was all. No questions were asked, no explanations offered. The discipline was accepted without demur because the penalty for breaking it was a taxi ride to Lossiemouth and a rail voucher out. After the rock-climb, there would be twenty-four hours' rest, Michaelson had announced the night before. They would begin with a survival course in open country the following day. Next to Kate the airman muttered, ‘Christ,' and pulled a face. ‘What's he trying to do, kill us off?'

‘You made a comment?' The chilly stare passed over Kate for once. The young man grinned; he was always cheerful, and Kate liked him. His name was Fred and he came from the Midlands.

‘Just a silent prayer, Sir.'

Michaelson said, ‘Next time, keep it more silent.'

The night before the climb Kate couldn't sleep. The second climb had been a miserable ordeal, undertaken in sheets of icy rain, and she was trembling with fright and exhaustion when she reached the top. The instructor was there first, assessing each of them as they arrived and she felt he paid special attention to her.

‘Lovely view,' he said, inviting them to stand up and take a look. She didn't linger to admire it; there was no view in the driving rainstorm and he knew it.

‘Don't like heights?' The question was sharp.

‘Not much,' she said.

‘Didn't think you did. You won't fancy going up Corrib's Peak. Right, take ten minutes' breather and down we go.'

Corrib's Peak. Everyone knew it was a major test and failing it meant ultimate failure on the course. Courage, fitness, agility and determination were the qualities needed. Philippe was not among the team. He tried to help her, giving advice on the finer points of the climb. He knew it well and there was nothing to worry about. He seemed to sense her fear. Concentration was the secret, to channel the mind in the direction of the next hand and toe hold, so that it couldn't take a mental peep below. Regular breathing helped the supply of oxygen to the muscles and regulated the heartbeat. It also controlled the nervous impulses. She was grateful to him, wondering why he took so much trouble with her. He was a detached man, set apart from them by his field experience. The instructors treated him with respect and Michaelson talked to him as an equal. Even so, it was obvious that they didn't like each other.

There were two very senior officers from F Section, who came and went from group to group. A charming Scotsman who introduced himself as Major McKay and a sour, abrasive Englishman called Taft. These two, Judy told her, were the final judges of who left to go on the second stage and who returned to their original units.

The morning of the climb came, and they set out just after daybreak. Corrib's Peak! She didn't look up when they arrived at the bottom. She held fast to the Frenchman's advice, shuttering her mind against the pictures her imagination painted. They started up, roped together, five of them, with Judy in the middle and Fred behind Kate. He managed to make a joke as they started. There was no rain, only the bitter wind. Kate went on; hand hold, toe hold, hand hold, toe hold, inching up, following the back view of the one above her, numbed and beginning to ache with tiredness. Keeping her eyes fixed on the next place to grasp and heave upwards. She was not going to be sick. She was not going to listen to the devil at her ear that urged her to look down and see how far she'd come. She was going to get to the top, without slipping, or shouting up to the others to give her a minute to rest, or actually just losing hold and swinging out from that rope like a puppet on a string.… If you fail this, you might as well pack up and go home. Everyone knew that. She wasn't going to fail. She didn't realize when a hand reached down to haul her up; she clung on with her dead fingers and heaved and toed her way the last few feet to the plateau. She sat and gasped for breath and suddenly a sense of sheer well-being came over her. Adrenalin poured into her bloodstream and she wasn't tired or nauseated any more. She'd done it. She'd made the climb and Corrib's Peak was conquered. She saw Judy, who called out, ‘Well done!'

‘You too,' was Kate's reply.

The instructor crouched beside her. ‘Like to see the view?'

She started to get up and he put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Only a joke, Miss. You did well. Have a rest and a smoke anyone who wants.'

After a pause Kate said, ‘Where's Fred?'

‘Down the bottom,' came the answer. ‘Didn't like it. Cut his line and stayed below.'

‘Oh, poor Fred, what a shame.'

There was a celebration that night. Philippe was the first to congratulate her.

‘It was thanks to you,' she said. ‘I couldn't have done it without all your advice.'

He smiled and for a moment the pale eyes reflected it. ‘You were a little frightened, I thought. Yes?'

Kate said, ‘I was absolutely terrified. I was having nightmares about going up there. Any height makes me sick.'

‘Then you must be specially pleased,' he answered. She looked past him to Michaelson. He was sitting next to Judy. He hadn't said a word to her, but she had heard him praise the others.

‘It doesn't matter how hard I try,' she said. ‘I can't do right with him. He ignored me tonight. You'd think I'd chickened out, like poor Fred. I ought to go and talk to him, he looks so down. He'll be sent home, won't he?'

‘Maybe, maybe not. He has other skills. Not everyone has to have a head for heights,' Philippe answered. ‘Don't let the Captain worry you. He knows you did well.'

A party developed that went on way past midnight. Drinks were served after dinner and she settled down to comfort Fred.

‘I couldn't bloody do it,' he complained. ‘I thought it'd be just a piece of cake. But I got frozen up, Katie.' He called her Katie, but no one else did. ‘Christ, I could've fallen and broken my bloody neck if I'd gone on. Well, I'd better start packing my gear for the morning trip to Lossiemouth.'

While the party went on in the hall downstairs Michael-son was in conference with the senior officers, McKay and Taft. They were discussing Fred.

‘He should go,' Michaelson insisted. ‘He's a good chap, but he showed a total loss of nerve today.'

McKay and Taft looked at each other. They echoed Philippe's comment. ‘He's got other skills, remember. They say he was one of the best safe men in the Midlands. You'll get people who'll get themselves up Corrib, but they won't be able to open a German strong-room. I think you should forget about this morning, Michaelson.'

‘Then why did the others have to do it? Because if they're pushed, and they have to use the escape route to Spain, they might
have
to make a climb like that! Or are you saying that Fred Gunn's expendable, if things go wrong?'

Taft said acidly, ‘They're all expendable and you know it. We train them, we equip them, and we send them out. What happens after that is not our business.'

‘Well,' Michaelson got up. ‘I'm glad you can look at it like that.'

‘That's how you should look at it too,' McKay said quietly. ‘The Fitzgerald girl did well today.'

‘Yes,' Michaelson said. ‘Unfortunately she did. But there's a way to go yet. I'll say good night. They're having a bit of fun downstairs. I'll tell Gunn he's staying on. No point in spoiling his evening.'

When he had gone McKay lit a cigarette. The dour Taft didn't smoke. ‘He's got a real down on that girl; we'd better keep an eye on her.'

‘He should pack it in,' Taft remarked. ‘He's got a thing about women after Lisette. Personally I think we should put in a word with F Section and get him posted out of here.'

‘I agree with you,' McKay said. ‘But not till he's seen this lot through the first part of their course. You can't upset them in the middle by changing. Then he goes. Now, nightcap?'