Whisper on the Wind (54 page)

‘Please,’ said Kath.

‘Right, then. Set a tray, Roz, there’s a good lass, though I suppose I shouldn’t be giving you orders, now.’

‘You shouldn’t,’ Roz smiled, ‘but you will, Poll Appleby.’

‘Aye. And come to think of it, I’ll be able to go on giving you orders till you’re one-and-twenty,’ she teased, glad of that smile, though brief, on the young girl’s lips.

‘Mind if I go upstairs and get out of these clothes?’ Kath’s walking-out uniform of breeches, knee-length stockings, pullover and shirt was much too hot for a day such as this. ‘Won’t be long.’

‘Is your young man coming tonight?’ Polly asked when they were alone. ‘I think it’s right that him and me should meet, don’t you? Your Gran would have wanted it.’

‘She would, and you shall – but tomorrow. I’m almost sure he’ll be flying tonight. He hinted as much when he phoned me this morning. He said he’d had a talk with the padre – about us getting a special licence. It’s still all right – the wedding, I mean?’

‘I said as much, didn’t I?’ Polly Appleby did not go back on her word. ‘But quiet, mind.’

‘Just Paul and me and you and Kath as witnesses. How will that suit you?’

‘It’ll have to suit me, I suppose, though I’d have liked to see you in white and a decent honeymoon afterwards.’ But the rationing of clothing had made proper weddings impossible, she sighed – unless a bride could borrow a white dress and shoes. And what about utility wedding rings? Her face flushed dully as she remembered.

‘Roz – there’s something you must know. When Mr Dunston went to the hospital about –
things
, they gave him your gran’s wrist-watch and the pearls she was wearing, and her wedding ring. They’re upstairs in her jewel box; they’re yours, now.’

‘And?’ Roz whispered.

‘And I’d like it if you’d wear her pearls on your wedding day, and –’

‘Be married with her ring, Polly?’

‘Be married with her ring,’ she confirmed gravely. ‘That way she’d be there, too, wouldn’t she?’

‘She would, Polly. I’ll wear them for her – and thank you.’

‘Nay. ’Twas but a thought.’ Polly’s mouth trembled and her eyes misted with tears but she blinked them away impatiently. ‘Stands to reason you don’t want one of them cheap little utility rings. Which lass would, given the choice? Ah well, I’ll just sup this tea, then I’ll be off. Don’t want Arnie waiting for me at the gate.’

Arnie had had more than his fair share of neglect these last few days; he’d felt Mrs Fairchild’s passing, too. Best make a bit of a fuss of the bairn tonight. A bit of love and attention once in a while never hurt anyone. Besides, she wanted to be out of this kitchen. Tomorrow she would start afresh. Tomorrow Roz would be mistress of Ridings, Polly reasoned, and by then she would have cried her long-overdue tears, cussed them Germans roundly and asked the good Lord to see to it that Mrs Fairchild was with her Martin again.

‘Say so-long to Kath for me,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll be here tomorrow, same time. I’ve got my own key, if you’re out.’

She left quickly, for tears still threatened.

‘Bless you, Polly,’ Roz whispered to the empty room. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

‘Polly said,’ Kath murmured, draining her cup gratefully, ‘that there was great respect at the church today. Every house in Alderby represented and half of Helpsley, too.’ Polly had watched and noted; had taken in every smallest detail of the afternoon. It had kept her mind off things; helped her maintain the dignity of Ridings. ‘The church was packed.’

‘Was it? I hardly saw a thing. I shut myself off; I had to. All I saw was the grave. It seemed so very sad. Until then I’d told myself no, it hadn’t happened, that I was going to wake up from this gigantic nightmare and Gran would be there, pottering about in the ruins. But this afternoon, in the churchyard, I had to accept it. I’m on my own, now.’

‘You’ve got Paul. And you’ll soon be married.’

‘Yes, I will. And I’ve got you, Kath. You won’t ever think of moving on, will you?’

‘I won’t. Only if they insist and then not without protest. But how about tonight? Are we going to Tuckets Hill? I feel like notching up another op.’

Anything to steer the conversation away from the trauma of the afternoon. And she must learn, Kath resolved, to be a good listener, for there was so much more, she was sure of it, that Roz had yet to talk out of herself.

‘You bet we’re going up to Tuckets! And Kath – I
will
try to pull myself together. Just give me a little time.’

They were half way up the hill that overlooked Peddlesbury aerodrome, walking slowly in the early evening warmth, hands clasped companionably.

‘Crazy, isn’t it,’ Roz muttered, ‘them being so cagey about accepting phone calls when the squadron is operational? It’s like confirming it; like giving advance warning. Any German agent need only lift the phone and ask for 217.’

‘Oh, I doubt it, Roz. So our bombers are flying? How is Jerry to know how many – and where they’ll be heading? I’ll bet they’ve come to expect air-raids, somewhere or other, every night of the week, now. Those thousand-bomber raids must be getting Hitler really rattled.’

‘You could be right. And don’t take any notice of me. I won’t be fit to live with till Paul’s got these last four behind him. I thought, just
thought
, mind, that it might be nice to hold back the wedding till he’s finished his tour. But we won’t. I just want to be married to him; properly and openly married, and as soon as we can. And, Kath – thanks; for these last few days, I mean. I don’t know how I’d have got through them if you hadn’t been with me. They say no two women are really close until they’ve shared a grief, and wept together. Thank you for sharing mine, and putting up with my tears …’

‘No bother.’ Kath’s reply was rough with emotion. Just to be needed was thanks enough. She had never been close to anyone; not before Roz. ‘You’d have done the same for me. In fact there’s something I’ve got to tell you. I’ve known since Monday, but I figured you’d got enough on your plate. Flora brought me the letter, telling me about it, and when I saw her this afternoon she gave me another; one that arrived this morning.

‘Barney’s been wounded, you see. His CO wrote to me first, to the Birmingham address. Barney’s in hospital at a place called Hafiif – it’s near Cairo – though they told me precious little else. But this morning’s letter was from Barney – well, sort of. Actually, it was written by a nurse; she put a little note on the bottom.’ She reached into her pocket for the envelopes, handing them over with a shrug of resignation. ‘Read them, Roz. See what you make of it. I’d just about got used to it, and then the second letter came. Do you think it could mean he’s too badly injured to write?’

‘Oh, Kath – I’m sorry. I know Barney could have his moods, but I’m sorry he’s been hurt. But his letter – well, the reason could be simple, couldn’t it? It could just mean that his right hand – or arm – has been injured, or something. I mean, think back to a time when you might have cut your finger – fairly badly, that is – remember how awkward it was, writing with even one finger bandaged? Maybe Barney’s arm is in a sling – of course a nurse would write a letter for him. Anyway, it’s one way of looking at it.’

‘I suppose it is. Oh, I know I’d decided that Barney and I were finished, but I didn’t want this to happen; truly, I didn’t.’

‘I know. Don’t you think Barney might have told you a bit more in the letter? He said he was fine; mightn’t he have said
why
he couldn’t write, or didn’t it occur to him?’

‘Don’t think that. Let’s face it, nurses are there to nurse, not write letters all day. There could be quite a few in that hospital not able to hold a pen and maybe the nurses don’t have time for long letters. Or perhaps they aren’t allowed to give out information like that?’

‘You’re always willing to give Barney best, aren’t you? But you’re going to have a bit of facing-up to do now, you know. Have you told Marco, by the way?’

‘No. No one knows but you and Flora. I’ve been trying to keep away from Marco these last few days, but tomorrow I’ll be getting back to normal working and it won’t be easy.’

‘It won’t. Have you thought what’s going to happen now between you and Barney?’

‘Happen? How
can
I know?’ Kath let go a sigh of exasperation. ‘I won’t change my mind, if that’s what you mean, but I thought the day I asked him to let me go would be a long way off and suddenly it isn’t. It’s almost certain he’ll be sent back to England, now. The wounded usually are.’

‘You could be right.’ Roz handed back the letters. ‘But maybe he hasn’t been seriously wounded; at any rate, that’s the way you’re going to have to think until you hear to the contrary. Just tell yourself that he can’t write because his arm is in a sling – okay? And I think you should tell Marco, too, because it seems that decision time is going to be a whole lot sooner than you thought.’

‘Decision time? But I already told you. I’ve made up my mind. Nothing has changed. I want to leave Barney. Does that make me sound like an unfeeling bitch, Roz? My husband is in hospital – maybe badly wounded – yet still I want him to let me go?’

‘Not unfeeling. Just honest – so for goodness’ sake stop agonizing. It’ll give you wrinkles. Right now we’re here to see Paul on his way – remember? After that we’ll talk about you and Barney – and Marco.’

‘No, Roz. There’s one thing I
have
faced up to and that is that there’s no future at all for Marco and me. Nothing is more certain, or more hopeless.’

Her eyes misted with tears and she covered her face with her hands, wishing she didn’t feel so guilty, so heartless. But she’d be punished, wouldn’t she? They, the Fates – or whoever it was up there who decided the way things should be – would make her pay for what she wanted to do. ‘All right,’ they’d say, ‘let her be rid of Barney, if that’s what she wants. But she shan’t have Marco …’

‘Don’t say that, Kath. Think how hopeless it seemed for Paul and me; yet look at us now – almost married.’

‘But
you
are single and I’m not.’ Kath dabbed at her eyes then blew her nose, loudly. ‘And you’re right – we’re here to wish Sugar good luck. Look down there, Roz. Something’s happening. A couple of them have got their engines running already – and we forgot the binoculars!’

‘Never mind. We’ll just wish them all good luck, like always, then we’ll know they’ll all get back. And they will. They’ll be all right, won’t they, Kath?’

‘They’ll be fine. Paul has the best skipper in Bomber Command. He’s got you to come home to and Skip has his baby to look forward to, so they’ll make it. They’ll do their thirty. Why don’t I go back for the binoculars? It won’t take me long and we’ll be able to see a whole lot better.’ She held out her hand. ‘Give me the key and you just stay here and relax. Close your eyes and think about weddings – okay?’

‘Mm. Weddings.’ Smiling, Roz closed her eyes. ‘Don’t be long?’

‘I won’t.’ It was good to see her smile again.

Once she reached the bottom of the hill, Kath began to run. Not so very far away she knew that Mat and Jonty and Marco would still be busy with the last of the hay. Since the first cut, the weather had been perfect, with a hot sun beating down from a clear sky and though she had missed her first haytime, Kath knew that hay needed sun to dry it. Now that hay, sweet with the scent of high summer, had been raked into cocks, ready for carting away and storing in the loft above the cowshed. In spite of time lost, just one more day would see them finished, Mat had told her. And another good day they would have, Kath thought, lifting her gaze to the sky. The swallows were still flying high. Mat’s hay would be safely in before the weather broke.

She heard the slow, steady clopping of a horse’s tread and knew that just around the bend in the lane she would meet up with Duke, the waggon behind him piled high with hay and Mat leading him companionably. Stepping on to the grass verge she waited, smiling, as they passed.

‘Whoa-up, lad.’ Mat brought the horse to a halt. ‘Now then, our Kath. Out for a walk?’

‘No, Mat. Just going to the house to pick up something we’d forgotten. Roz is up at Tuckets, watching the take-off. Thought we’d see it better with the binoculars …’

‘Is Roz feeling a bit better? She looked badly this afternoon. Happen now it’s over she’ll pick up a bit.’

‘I think she will. Mat, I don’t know about Roz, but I’ll be back to work in the morning. I can manage the milk-round alone; tell Grace I’ll be seeing to the dairy work, too. It can’t have been easy for you with the two of us off.’

‘It wasn’t. Didn’t realize we’d come to rely so much on the pair of you. Grace has missed having you about the place, Kath. Will I tell her you’ll be in for an early cup, like normal? She’s been in a terrible state over Mrs Fairchild. Try to cheer her up a bit, there’s a good lass.’

‘I will.’ Kath smiled up into his eyes, her affection real. Our Kath, they always called her and she wished she were indeed theirs. Could she have chosen her parents they would have been exactly like Mat and Grace. ‘But I’ll not keep you. You look tired, Mat.’

‘I am. Shan’t be sorry to hit the hay tonight,’ and he threw back his head and laughed at his play on words. ‘So-long, lass. Tell Roz I –
Good grief
! See that?’ His face creased into disbelief as he reached for Duke’s bridle. ‘What’s he playing at?’

Kath closed her eyes, flinching at the roar of a bomber flying low; too low. A Lancaster, its black underbelly so near she could almost have reached up and touched it.