A Song At Twilight (34 page)

‘He
can’t
be here. It’s not his fault, Stefan. There are plenty of other women in the same position, and look at all the friends I have. May, the neighbours in Milton Combe, you …’

‘Ah yes,’ he said, ‘you do have me. I am your friend, Alison. I hope you know that, and I am happy to do whatever you want. You must only ask.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him. ‘Now, would you like a cup of tea?’

‘I will make tea,’ he declared. ‘And look – I have brought you a present.’ He produced a paper bag from his pocket.

Alison peeped inside. ‘I can’t take your chocolate, Stefan,’ she said. ‘You need it. And Andrew gives me most of his – I’ll get spots if I eat too much.’

‘Chocolate does not give spots. It is good for you. It has iron in it, good for blood. Please. I wish you to have.’

‘All right, then. Thank you, Stefan. And it would be lovely if you could make the tea. But I really don’t need to be waited on all the time. May looks after me very well and it’s not as if I’m ill. It’s a perfectly natural process, you know, having a baby.’

‘And very hard work too,’ he said. ‘I know because my sister had a baby the year before I left Poland. I saw how tired she became and how her husband helped her. I know Andrew can’t help you as much as he would like, and I am honoured to do what I can. I will go and make tea.’

He disappeared into the kitchen and Alison leaned back, thankful to be looked after despite her protests. She was beginning to feel weary of her pregnancy now. To begin with, it had been exciting and joyous, but as time went on and the war seemed to gather pace again, with her anxieties over Andrew growing sharper every night, her cumbersome body had become a burden to drag through the days. She felt awkward and ungainly, too big to sit in the armchairs, almost too big to share the bed with Andrew on the few nights he could spend at home. Too slow to take Hughie for walks, too tired to play with him as she would have liked to do. I just want it over now, she thought. I just want to be slim and energetic again, able to cope with it all.

Stefan returned with the tray of tea and they sat together in quiet companionship. After a while he got up and went to the piano, the soft, clear notes of a Chopin prelude drifted through the air and Alison closed her eyes.

All I want to do these days is sleep, she thought.

Stefan was still playing when May arrived with Hughie. May opened the front door and hesitated as she heard the music, but Hughie tore his hand from hers and ran in, shouting excitedly.

‘It’s Uncle Stefan! Uncle Stefan, guess what we found! We found a nest, a bird’s nest, and it’s got eggs in, blue ones. May says it’s a robin’s nest and the mummy bird will sit on them to keep them warm until the babies come out. Why doesn’t she squash them? Do you know? Mummy, do you know why she doesn’t squash them? Why couldn’t you have laid an egg for a new baby? I could have helped you keep it warm.’

‘I don’t know,’ Alison said, laughing as she struggled to sit up. ‘I think it might have been a very good idea. Hello, May. I must have been asleep. It was so peaceful here, with Stefan playing the piano.’

‘You did go to sleep,’ he said, smiling. ‘And very nice you looked when you were asleep.’

‘I’m sure I didn’t,’ she said, blushing. ‘Stefan made me some tea, May. I expect there’s still some there, it should be quite hot. Where was this nest, then, Hughie? I hope you didn’t disturb the mother bird.’

‘No, she flew away just as we got there. We just looked at the eggs. May said we mustn’t take any because it was like taking a baby robin and killing it. But I can show you where it is.’

‘Next time we go out, then. Are you going to have some tea, May?’

‘No, thank you,’ May said, hanging her jacket in the passageway and coming through to the room. ‘I’ll make some more later on, when we have our supper. You’ll be going now, I dare say?’ she said to Stefan.

‘Yes, I must go back to the station. We’re on duty tonight.’ He uncoiled himself from the piano stool and smiled down at Alison. ‘I will come to see you again, though. If there is anything you want me to do—’

‘It’s all right,’ May broke in crisply. ‘I can see to anything Alison wants done. I know how she likes things.’

‘Thank you, Stefan,’ Alison said with a smile. ‘It’s nice just to have you here, you know that. And you make a very good cup of tea!’

‘I’ve practised,’ he said with a grin, and gave May a small nod of the head and a tiny bow. ‘It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you are here with Alison.’

He went out to the passageway and put on his jacket. Alison gave him a last smile and May a brief shrug. Then he let himself out of the front door and went off along the road.

Alison glanced at May. ‘Are you all right?’

‘As well as I can be. Why?’

Alison hesitated. ‘I know how you must be feeling. It’s only a week or two since we heard about Ben and you’ve been so brave. You know, if you don’t feel like coming here, you don’t have to. I don’t mind being on my own. Mrs Potter says I’ve only got to knock on the wall and she’ll—’

‘Don’t talk so daft!’ May snapped, and bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But you know I don’t mind coming here to spend the night. I like coming, and anyway I’d never sleep a wink, thinking of you here by yourself. It’s just – well, I don’t like that man. I never have.’

‘Stefan?’ Alison said in surprise. ‘Why ever not? He’s really nice, and so helpful. You heard what he said – if there’s anything I need him to do …’

‘Well, he didn’t need to say that, did he? He knows I’m here. I just wonder why he comes so much. What does he want?’

Alison looked at her. ‘I think he just wants company,’ she said quietly. ‘Someone to talk to about his own family. He hasn’t seen them since the war began, you know. He doesn’t even know what’s happened to them. He just wants to be in a home.’

May sighed and picked up the tea-tray. ‘Well, that’s as maybe, but he’s here a lot, isn’t he? You don’t want people talking.’

‘They’re hardly likely to talk about us with me as I am now!’ Alison said with a laugh. ‘Honestly, May! Everyone knows this is open house for half the airfield. There are always pilots in and out – most of the time, when Stefan’s here, there are half a dozen others as well. It’s what Andrew wanted – somewhere for his men to come and feel at home. I really don’t think you need worry about gossip.’

‘Maybe I don’t.’ May started towards the kitchen. ‘But it’s not me they’d be gossiping about, is it? All I want to say is, you ought to be careful. ’Twon’t be long now before you’re slim again, and with your hubby not here much … well, there’s always someone with a nasty tongue in her head. I wouldn’t like anyone saying things about you, that’s all. I wouldn’t like anyone to think you were carrying on.’

‘Carrying on!’ Alison exclaimed. ‘Just because I try to be friendly to someone who’s far away from his own home, and fighting for us as well? Surely nobody will think that. But if they do – well, let them! If anyone’s got a nasty tongue and uses it that way, everyone else will know what she’s like and won’t take any notice. Isn’t that true?’

‘It is for most,’ agreed May, ‘but there’s always those who say there’s no smoke without fire. All I’m saying is, I know there’s no fire, nor ever likely to be – but you wants to watch out that there’s no smoke either!’

She went out to the kitchen and began to wash the cups Alison and Stefan had used, staring out into the garden as she did so. She didn’t believe for one second that Alison was ‘carrying on’ with Stefan, nor that she ever would. All she knew was that if she and Ben were married, she wouldn’t ever let another man make himself as much at home as that Pole had done.

If she and Ben were married …

Tears began to drip steadily into the washing-up water.

There had been no reply to the letter she had sent to John Hazelwood. It had taken her several days to compose it, writing on the few pages left in her school exercise book, reading the laboured sentences, trying again and rubbing them out until the paper was so thin you could see through it. Eventually she had managed a few paragraphs she was satisfied with and had copied them on to the lined writing-pad that her mother had given her, and posted them to Ashford. She knew there wouldn’t be a reply for several days – maybe even a week – but as time went on she began to think that either the letter had never arrived, or they just didn’t mean to answer. They didn’t want to know her. They wanted to shut her right out of their lives – out of Ben’s life. They wanted to pretend she had never existed.

It was like another little death. Like someone trying to wipe out the love she and Ben had shared; a denial that it had ever happened.

I just wanted to share it with them, she thought. I wanted to be able to go there and see where he’d lived, see the places he knew and the people he loved. I wanted them to know me, so that they’d know about that other part of him. If we can’t do that, we’ve all lost something precious.

If Ben’s mother hadn’t been so distressed already, May might have tried again. But now, there was simply nothing more she could do.

In Ashford, the letter had arrived and been opened, as May had expected, by John Hazelwood. He had read it with pity for the girl who had written those stumbling lines, understanding the effort she had made and knowing what it had cost her. So they had got engaged after all, he thought. Ben had done the whole thing properly – asked her father, even though she was of age, and intended to buy her a ring. It was tragic that his crash had happened before he could do so, tragic that she had nothing to remember him by. John felt his heart go out to the bereaved girl and he longed to be able to do something for her.

There was nothing he could do, however. All she wanted was acknowledgement – to know that she was accepted as Ben’s fiancée that John and Olivia would have welcomed her into the family. And as things were now, that was just not possible – might never be possible.

He knew he should write back. Common courtesy, as well as his own compassion, demanded that he should; yet he felt a powerful loyalty and compassion for his wife as well. He would have to go behind her back to write to May Prettyjohn, and he had never done that in his whole life. It would make a shadow between them and, in her present fragile state, it might be the shadow of the last straw.

I’ll wait, he thought, folding the letter and slipping it into the pocket of his cassock. I’ll wait for a sign.

Jeanie too was sorrowing over Ben.

I know he didn’t love me the way I wanted him to, she thought, sitting in her room after Hope had gone to bed. I know he only thought of me as a sort of sister. But I thought he’d always be there, just the same – like a brother is. And he was Hope’s godfather, too. I thought we’d always know each other, we’d always be special to each other. And now he’s gone. I won’t ever see him again.

Grief welled up in her heart and somehow it was mixed with the grief she had felt when her fiancé Terry had been killed. She had thought then that her life had ended, and never dreamed that worse was to come when she discovered she was pregnant. Terry would have married her if only he had been at home, but instead he had never even known about their baby. Her parents had been shocked and angry, and if it hadn’t been for Terry’s family in Portsmouth – for his sister Judy being in Ashford and knowing the Hazel-woods – she didn’t know what would have happened to her and her baby. And she would never have met Ben.

If was a strange thought, that if Terry hadn’t died, she would never have met Ben. And now he was gone too. The world seemed a very cruel place.

She looked down into the twilit garden and the pale glimmer of blossom on the apple tree. A blackbird was sitting in the topmost bough and she could hear its liquid song filling the air. It was under that tree that Hope had been born, and Judy Taylor had been with her. She felt a sudden longing to see Judy again, and the rest of the Taylor family. Here at Ashford, with the vicar and Mrs Hazelwood so wrapped up in their own grief, she felt for the first time as if she were out of place. She wanted to go back to Portsmouth, to the small houses in the narrow back streets where she had grown up, to feel for a little while as if she were a child again and everything secure around her.

That’s a laugh, she thought wryly, remembering how Portsmouth had been blitzed. But she knew that even the bomb damage wouldn’t take away that feeling of security that a family could give. And then she remembered that she couldn’t go home. Portsmouth was within the exclusion zone – nobody could travel in or out. It was as barred to her as if it were in a foreign country.

For a moment, despair descended upon her like a heavy grey cloud. And then she pulled herself together. There was nothing to be done about it. She would just have to wait until this Invasion they were all expecting was over, and go then. And in the meantime, she told herself sternly, I ought to be making myself useful, not sitting here with idle hands. I’ll go and fetch the vicar’s cassock and mend that hem he said was coming down.

Cassino, in Italy, finally fell in the middle of May. The news came through a few days later.

‘You must feel very proud of your country,’ Alison said to Stefan. ‘It was the Poles who took it in the end.’

‘And our flag is flying over the ruins of the monastery,’ he agreed, looking at the newspaper she held. ‘A shame that such a fine and ancient building should have to be destroyed first. And how many more are there? Towns like Cassino, like London and Coventry, like Warsaw – even like Berlin. The world will never be the same again.’

‘It will be rebuilt,’ she said. ‘They’re already making plans to rebuild Plymouth as a modern city, with wide streets and boulevards, quite different from the narrow streets and poky shops they had before. I know we’ll all have lost a lot, but there must be gains as well.’

‘Yes,’ he said, looking at the newspaper again. ‘But at what cost?’

Alison was silent. She knew that he must be thinking of his family. What had been happening to them during the past five long years? What would he find when the war was over at last?