Whisper on the Wind (50 page)

‘Hi, Kath. Thought I heard someone come in.’ It was Flora in dressing gown and slippers, wet hair wrapped in a towel, her face grave with concern. ‘How is it at Ridings? I can’t believe it. Does it make them feel good to gun down a woman? How’s Roz taking it?’

‘Pretty badly. I wish she’d cry, but she won’t. I was hoping Paul could be with her tonight. I waited to tell him, but he didn’t turn up. He’ll be flying again, I suppose.’

‘You’ll give Roz my love, Kath? And tell Mr Ramsden that if he wants any help for a few days, I’ll do what I can for him. But be sure to tell Roz I’m sorry …’

‘I will, and thanks. I don’t suppose there’s any food about?’ Not that she was hungry, but she hadn’t eaten since noon and her inside was making noises.

‘Cook’s left some plates on the cold slab for late workers. Cheese salad, I think it is. Help yourself. And Kath – I’ll be in the kitchen. When you’ve got your things together, will you pop in? I’ll put the kettle on. Could you do with a cup?’

‘Thanks, but no. Best I should get back to Roz. Polly said not to leave her, the state she’s in. Won’t be long …’

She ran up the linoleum-covered stairs then up the narrow little staircase that led to her attic. Nothing had changed since she left it this morning. Her sheets and blankets lay folded on the black-painted bed; the window was still open wide; the vase of wild flowers was there on the sill.

Frowning, she closed the window then placed pyjamas and slippers and the clean clothes she needed in a carrier-bag. She loved this attic with its low, sloping ceiling and the little window in the gable end of the house. It was bare, hot in summer and cold in winter, but it was all hers; the first room she had been able to call her own.

Sighing, she hurried downstairs. A cup of tea would have been bliss, but there was no time tonight to sit and chat.

‘There y’are, hen. I’ve sorted you a sandwich; lettuce and cheese. All right, is it?’

‘Fine, thanks. Bless you, love. I’ll eat it on the way back. Sorry I’ve got to dash, but I’ll tell Roz what you said. I suppose it’ll be all right if I stay at Ridings till after – well –’

‘Stay as long as Roz needs you.’ It wouldn’t matter all that much, Flora considered. A lot of landgirls lived out – ate and slept on the farms they’d been allocated to. ‘I’ll make it all right with the Warden tomorrow and get you a temporary ration card. But sit down – I’ll pour us a cup.’

‘Sorry, Flora. I really must get back. I’ve left Roz alone too long already. I’ll let you know how things go …’

‘Sit down, Kath!
Now
! There’s something I must tell you. There was a message – at half-past six. She’d been trying to get through all day, she said –’

‘For me? A – a message?’

‘Sugar?’ Flora’s face was grave.

‘Y-yes. One. Flora – what is it?’ All at once her mouth had gone dry. She reached for the mug, wincing as the too-hot liquid burned her tongue.

‘I don’t rightly know. She was in a bit of a state. Mrs Jepson. You know her?’

‘Aunt Min? Oh, Flora – not an air-raid?’

‘She’s fine, as far as I know, and it was nothing to do with bombing. There was a letter, addressed to you. She opened it, she said, because it looked official.’

‘Yes?’ Kath drew in her breath sharply.

‘From your husband’s Commanding Officer. It was to tell you he’s in hospital – wounded. Look, Kath, I’m sorry but I’m not one for beating about the bush. That’s what she said, but she didn’t have long. The pips went and the operator didn’t give us any more time.’

‘But was that all she said?’ Kath reached for her mug then put it down again. ‘I mean, she couldn’t just –’

‘No. She said she’d already posted the letter on to you but she thought you ought to know.’

‘But wounded? Was that all it said? Surely there was more?’

Oh, God. Barney wounded! Dear, sweet heaven – she didn’t love him but she hadn’t wanted this. Not once had she wished him harm.

‘Aye. He’s in hospital at – oh, some Egyptian name – I couldn’t make it out. But like I said, she was in a state, poor old body. And the letter said his condition was satisfactory, but she didn’t get time to say any more. You know what long-distance calls are like these days?’

‘I see.’ Her lips were so stiff she had to make a conscious effort to speak. ‘What’ll I do, Flora?’

‘Do, lassie? I’d wait for that letter, if I were you. It’ll be here by morning – by the midday post at the very latest. I’ll get it to you, somehow. And Kath – I’m sorry, really I am. And I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you.’

‘No. You’ve been kind. I – I haven’t taken it in, yet. It’ll be a military hospital, won’t it? Are you sure she didn’t say where?’

‘Not that I could understand. But when the letter comes you’ll likely make more sense out of it. I suppose you’ll be getting told officially when the great war machine gets round to it. And, Kath – at least they didn’t send you a telegram.’

‘No.’ That, she must be thankful for. When they sent a telegram first it meant only one thing.

‘Cheer up then, lassie. It mightn’t be as bad as it sounds. You’ll know tomorrow. Now you’re sure you’re all right? I’ll ring Ridings and tell Roz – if you don’t feel like going back there.’

‘No. She’ll need someone with her. I don’t think I’ll tell her just yet. She’ll have enough to worry about in the next few days. Maybe Aunt Min panicked a bit. Perhaps when I’ve read the letter for myself, it won’t seem quite so bad.’

‘Aye. And think on this – while you’re worrying, your man’s likely tucked up all snug being fussed over by a bonnie wee army nurse. He’ll be fine, Kath; just see if he isn’t. Now, will I wrap up that sandwich so you can eat it later? And stay a wee while longer,’ she hastened when Kath got unsteadily to her feet. ‘At least drink your tea.’

Thank the good Lord, the Forewoman thought, that it was Kath Allen sitting there and not others she could mention who’d have thrown a weeping fit and gone all to pieces to hear such news. But Kath was like that; Kath never showed her feelings. Quiet, she was, and private, somehow.

‘Tea? Yes.’ She sat down again; not because it was the most sensible thing to do but because her legs had suddenly gone weak and she really did need that tea.

Barney wounded? But how badly, she fretted, guilt flushing her cheeks. And how wrong could she have been because not once had she ever imagined that anything would happen to him. She hadn’t worried, as Roz had, because Barney had always had the ability to take care of himself. ‘Don’t worry, girl,’ he’d said. ‘No heroics for Barney Allen. I’ll be looking after number one – get myself a cushy number. I’ll be back, Kath …’ He’d been so sure.

The tea was cooler, now, and she drank gratefully. She hadn’t wanted anything to happen to him; she really hadn’t. Their marriage was over as far as she was concerned, but she hadn’t, never once, she told herself again, wished him harm.

But this was a judgement on her. She had fallen in love with another man – a man she could never have – and she was being punished. There was no one to blame but herself.

Barney. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve been hurt and that you’re in hospital, but I can’t love you. I can’t. I don’t think I really ever did …

‘You’ll be all right? You’re sure, now?’ Flora urged.

‘I’m fine – or I will be, once I’ve seen that letter. And I’d best be getting back. I’ll be better with something to take my mind off it. If you think of what Roz has got to face – well, I’ll manage, once I’ve had time to take it all in.’

She rose to her feet, pushing back her chair, grasping the edge of the table. Tomorrow she would believe it. When the letter came, then she would know it was true. Tomorrow she would worry. Tomorrow was always the best time …

Slowly, suddenly very tired, she pedalled the familiar lane back to Ridings. Everything was so normal. The sky was blue, still; birds were singing as if nothing had happened, and in the ripening cornfields poppies grew red with white ox-eye daisies. Such incredible beauty, silently mocking the cruel world.

Peddlesbury was behind her, and if she didn’t turn and look at it, she could almost believe there had been no war; that none of today’s awful things had happened. The barrage balloons had been winched down again, the danger over, and nowhere in the sky was there sight or sound of any war plane. But Mrs Fairchild was dead. It had taken two startled minutes. Those fighters had screamed in, had circled and dived then hurtled out, skimming treetops and rooftops, flying low out to sea.

And in minutes, a phone call had consigned Barney to a hospital bed in a faraway country in some place Aunt Min hadn’t been able to pronounce and this lovely world around her only served to remind them all how it once was and would never be again.

Yet tonight she must go back to Roz; tell her that Paul hadn’t been there and that there’d be no awakening from this nightmare – for either of them.

She found them in the garden, sitting on the staircase seat. After running from room to room, calling Roz’s name, she saw them from the bedroom window, Roz with her head on Paul’s chest, he with his arms around her. Neither of them moved nor spoke. They did not need her. For Roz, the worst was over.

Slowly, dejectedly, she returned to the familiar, once-friendly kitchen and pulling out a chair she folded her arms on the table, laid down her head, and wept.

It was late when Roz came in. Her face was pale, and tear-stained, but she seemed calmer.

‘How are you, love?’ Kath’s tears were over. She had washed her face and combed her hair, determined not to add to Roz’s unhappiness. The news from Aunt Min, dreadful though it was, must wait.

‘Better, now. I needed to say it out loud, make myself believe it. Paul just listened, most of the time.’ He had held her tightly and safely, understanding the pain inside her and the terrible burden that was her conscience. ‘I wanted him not to go; to stay with me. But it wouldn’t have been right, would it? Not tonight, when she’s – I mean, not until after …’

‘After Thursday,’ Kath supplied gravely. ‘Until it’s – over.’

‘Thursday, yes. At two, it’ll be. Until then this is still Gran’s home and I must do things her way, keep to her rules – well, that’s how I feel about it. I wanted him with me tonight, just to be beside me; to hold me if I awoke – nothing else, Kath, but –’

But Paul had understood. He had just kissed her gently, and whispered a goodnight, promising to ring in the morning, telling her she was to try to sleep. She had watched him go, wanting him to turn and wave, knowing he would not invite ill-luck by doing so.

‘Tonight he was kind, Kath, gentle and safe, somehow, to be with. I love him so much.’

‘I know. You’re good for each other. It’ll all come right, Roz, I know it will. I’m going to put the kettle on now and you’re going to share my sandwich, that’s an order. You’ll never sleep if you don’t eat something.’

‘Yes. Think I’d better. I feel so – so
drained.
Did you see Flora?’

‘I saw her. She sent her love and said I was to stay as long as you needed me. She’s popping over some time tomorrow to bring me a – a ration card.’ Mustn’t mention the letter. On Thursday, when it was all over, she would tell Roz about Barney. ‘I’ve put my things in the small spare room – the one I had before. Is that all right, Roz?’

In the little room with pale green walls. Last time she’d slept there Paul had been on leave and they’d gone to the Helpsley dance. And Marco had – But she mustn’t think about Marco. Not tonight. Never again, if she had an iota of sense left in her.

‘Of course it’s all right. Paul might be flying tomorrow. The twenty-seventh, it’ll be, Kath. He said I wasn’t to wait by the wood. If they’re not on ops he’ll come here to me. Did you know Gran had asked him to Ridings tonight? He phoned me, like always, but I was at Home Farm. He had a little talk to Gran and she asked him to come and call for me. That was why he wasn’t at Peddlesbury Lane. It’s awful, isn’t it? Gran might have been on her way to tell me …’

‘Well, at least they met – if only over the phone; but you mustn’t think things like that. Your gran was probably only out for a walk. It was a lovely afternoon. Maybe she wanted to see how the haymaking was going. We’ll never know, Roz.’

‘No. But it makes it all right for Paul to be here, now. She’d asked him to come, hadn’t she, so I don’t feel I’m sneaking him in the minute – well, you know …’

‘Yes. She wanted him to come. She always did. Look, there’s no need for you to get up for the milk-round, but if you wake up and find me gone you’ll know where I am. You’ll be all right for a couple of hours, won’t you?’

‘I’ll be fine. Mr Dunston is coming and Paul will be ringing. Can you manage on your own?’

‘Of course I can. It’ll be funny without you, though.’ She sliced the large, thick sandwich into two then poured tea into the dainty china cups Hester Fairchild had always used. ‘Supper first, then straight into bed. You look all in. I’ll check the blackouts and lock up. We’ll both feel a whole lot better in the morning. Sleep. That’s what we need.’

Sleep did not come easily. Kath lay unmoving in the unfamiliar bed, thinking about Barney; wondering how he was and where he was; how seriously he had been hurt. She could not envisage Barney in a hospital bed, maybe helpless and in pain. Was he thinking about her, wanting her beside him, his pique forgotten? Soon, perhaps, he’d be coming back to England. They did that, didn’t they – brought wounded men home in hospital ships?