A Song At Twilight (38 page)

There was no reason, Stefan thought uncomfortably, why he should be angry about the accident that had taken the Pole to the maternity home at just that critical moment. But if he knew the feelings that Stefan had towards his wife, he would have every justification. He might think Alison the most lovable woman in the world, but that didn’t mean he wanted other men loving her.

And I do love her, Stefan thought. All these months when I’ve been visiting her, talking to her, building castles with Hughie and telling him stories, playing the piano – all this time, I’ve been falling in love with her. I should have realised what was happening and stopped before it was too late. But I didn’t. Perhaps I didn’t want to realise it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last. ‘I didn’t mean to take myself where I was not wanted. It wasn’t my wish. But I was there – and of course I wanted to see her. And I think she was pleased to see me too.’

‘I’m bloody sure she was!’ Andrew burst out. ‘She named our baby after you, didn’t she!’ He stopped by the high mantelpiece and leaned his elbow on it, biting the side of his thumb.

There was an uneasy pause. Then Stefan said, ‘I think when a woman has just had a baby she is at the mercy of her emotions. She probably regrets it already. You do not have to call the baby that name. I will understand.’

Andrew turned and came over to him. ‘No, it’s all right, Stefan. If that’s what Alison wants to call the baby, she shall. You’ve been a good friend to us, after all – especially to her. Keeping her company all these weeks …’ His voice trailed off and he hesitated, as if suspicion had touched his mind. Then he shrugged it away. ‘I know you’re a man of honour. You won’t have taken advantage of the situation – I don’t think that for a moment. It’s just – well, it’s so bloody
disappointing
.’

‘I know,’ Stefan said quietly. ‘And I am very sorry.’

They stood in silence for a moment or two and then Andrew heaved a deep sigh and said, ‘Well, you’d better tell me. How is she, really? Matron said she was fine but you know what these nurses are – they say you’re “comfortable” when you’re half dead. And tell me about the baby, too.’

Stefan smiled, relieved but unable to push away his guilt completely. ‘Alison is very well. Tired, but she had a difficult night. All she needs is a good sleep. She is looking beautiful. And so is the baby.’

‘Is she? Is she really?’ Andrew seemed to have forgotten his anger. ‘What’s she like? Does she look like Alison? Is she like Hughie? He was like a snowball when he was born.’

Stefan laughed. ‘No, she’s not like a snowball, not in the least. And she is not like Alison either. In fact, she looks very much like you.’

‘Like Andy?’ Robin Fairbanks asked, joining them with a pint of beer in each hand. He gave one to Andrew and one to Stefan, then turned away to pick up his own. ‘I thought you said she was good-looking?’

‘Who sent for you?’ Andrew demanded good-humouredly, then turned back to Stefan. ‘What do you mean, she looks like me? I thought all new babies looked like Winston Churchill.’

‘This one doesn’t. She looks like a princess. Pale, smooth skin and thick black hair just like yours.’ He winked at Robin. ‘It seems impossible, doesn’t it, that a baby can look like Andrew and yet be beautiful?’

‘Impossible? I’d say it was a blooming miracle.’ Robin lifted his pint. ‘If you ask my opinion, the poor kid’s going to need all the help she can get. Anyway, let’s drink to a long and happy life for her. To – what did you say her name is?’

‘Caroline,’ Andrew said. ‘Caroline Morag.’ He paused, glanced quickly at Stefan, then added, ‘Stephanie. Old Dabrowski here’s going to be her godfather.’

‘Is he, by Jove?’ Robin raised his eyebrows and lifted his glass to Stefan, who hoped he didn’t look as astonished as he felt. ‘Well, here’s to you, old boy, as well. And here’s to the proud daddy.’

‘To Andy!’ the others shouted, and Stefan realised that the whole squadron had gathered about them. ‘Andy and Alison and their new sprog.’

Stefan drank with them, thankful when the conversation was directed away from himself. He moved away and stood by the window, looking out at the twilight and thinking about the picture Alison and her baby had made in the white hospital bed.

Robin Fairbanks came and stood beside him.

‘It’s a bloody shame old Andy can’t get out to see them, you know,’ he remarked quietly. ‘It must sting a bit, to know that you were there instead. But I dare say he’s glad, on the whole. I’m sure
she
was.’

‘I hope so,’ Stefan said, thinking of the soft touch of her lips on his. ‘I hope so.’

May came in to see Alison as often as possible. For the whole two weeks she was in the home, Alison was not allowed to put a foot out of bed. She fretted and railed against it.

‘I feel perfectly well now. I’m sure I could manage. And I’m going to have to, once I get home again. I’m just getting weaker, lying in bed all this time. It’s silly.’

‘You’ve got to get over the birth,’ May said, putting a small brown-paper parcel on the bed. ‘It’s hard on a body, having a baby. You’ve got to get your strength back.’

‘I’ve
got
my strength back,’ Alison grumbled. She had been feeling tearful and crochety for two or three days now. ‘Look at women in Africa and India. They have their babies while they’re working out in the fields. They just go behind a bush for a while, then come out and carry on working, with their babies on their backs. They don’t stay in bed for a fortnight.’

‘Well, they’re different,’ May said. ‘Open your present. It might cheer you up.’

‘I’m perfectly cheerful, thanks,’ Alison said ungraciously, but she unwrapped the brown paper, smoothing it out carefully so that it could be used again. ‘Oh May, they’re lovely!’ She held up a tiny pink knitted jacket and a pair of minute bootees. ‘Have you knitted these since the baby was born? Wherever did you get the wool?’

‘That little shop in Yelverton,’ May said, smiling with pleasure. ‘I saved some of my coupons and the lady put by some pink and blue baby wool for me, so that I could have the right colour. Mother knitted them, though. I haven’t had much time myself.’

‘No, of course you haven’t. You’ve been looking after Hughie as well as doing your other work. Well, say thank you to your mother for me until I can do it myself.’ Alison gazed in admiration at the little garments. ‘They’re so tiny, aren’t they? I can’t believe Hughie was ever that small. How is he, May? I hope he’s not missing me too much.’

‘He’s getting along fine. We keep him busy most of the time so he doesn’t have time to miss you, and when he goes to bed he’s asleep the minute his head touches the pillow. He’s been helping Grandpa in the garden, and I took him down to Double Waters this afternoon – he walked all the way there and back and hardly complained at all. We saw the herons on their nests, and a dipper, and a kingfisher! And he found a shiny stone on the old mine-dumps there. He thinks it’s a diamond, but Father says it’s called marcasite.’

‘It sounds as if he’s having a lovely time,’ Alison said wistfully. ‘I wish I could come home, May. I’m missing him so much.’

‘I know. But the time will soon pass, and you’ve got to get to know little Caroline as well. You’ll soon be back and then you’ll have your own family all around you.’

‘Will I? I hope so. But with everyone getting ready for the Invasion … well, I’ve got a nasty feeling about it, May. I’m so afraid that something’s going to happen to Andrew.’ She stopped and looked at her friend with wide, frightened eyes. ‘I might never see him again. He might never even see his baby!’

She burst into tears, and May immediately moved closer to comfort her. She put both arms around Alison and drew her close, patting her shoulders and murmuring. Alison turned her head so her face rested against May’s breast, and sobbed as if her heart were broken.

‘I’m sorry, May. I’m being so selfish, especially after you’ve lost Ben. But that’s just made it worse – it’s made me realise all over again how dangerous it all is. I can’t stop thinking about it. I try, I really do – I tell myself how lucky he’s been so far, what a good pilot he is and all that – and then I think about Ben and how good
he
was as well, but how it didn’t make any difference in the end. And I wonder just how long anyone can go, being lucky, and … oh, it all goes round and round in my head, and I feel like a prisoner in here, and Andrew’s a prisoner on the station. We’re only two miles apart but we can’t see each other. And then I think how he may fly off one day and never come back, and it starts all over again. I can’t seem to stop it.’ She lifted her head and looked at May with red-rimmed eyes. ‘And you’re doing so much for me, looking after Hughie and bringing me lovely presents and all I can do is snap and grumble and be a grouch and then cry all the time. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’

‘You’ve just had a baby,’ May said soothingly. ‘It often takes women like that. And you’ve got plenty to grumble about, too. Everything you say is right, after all. It’s awful for you.’

‘It’s awful for everyone,’ Alison sniffed. ‘Not just me. There are plenty of people worse off than I am. You are, for a start. You’ve lost your fiancé before he even had a chance to give you a ring, and you’ll never have his babies. And I shouldn’t be saying things like that!’ she burst out as May’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m just making it all worse.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re saying what’s true. And I’ll tell you something, Alison – it might sound funny, but I’m glad to hear somebody saying it, because most people are frightened to. And if I say anything like it, I just sound sorry for myself. But it is true. We never had a chance to get married or – or to love each other properly – and I’ll never have his babies. But nothing’s going to happen to Andrew, and even if it did, at least you’d have Hughie and Caroline.’

‘I know.’ Alison found a hanky under her pillow and wiped her face and eyes. ‘I’m sorry, May. I’m just being selfish. You won’t want to come and see me any more if I go on like this.’

‘Of course I will,’ May said stoutly. They both looked round as a bell began to ring in the hallway between the two wards. ‘I’ll be here every day, until you can come home. You don’t need to worry about that. But I’ll have to go now – that’s the end of visiting time.’

‘Next Tuesday,’ Alison said as May bent to kiss her. ‘That’s when I’m coming out. A whole week away – it seems more like a year.’

‘It’ll soon go by,’ May told her, and gathered up her things. ‘I’ll take this brown paper away with me, it’ll come in useful again, but I’ll leave the jacket and bootees, shall I? I tell you what, I’m looking forward to seeing the little dear in them. I just wish I could see her now.’

‘I do too.’ Husbands were the only ones allowed to see the babies before they went home, which seemed to Alison to be a dreadful waste. Because Andrew couldn’t come, she was the only one who would know what Caroline had looked like during these first two weeks of her life.

Except for Stefan, of course. He had seen Caroline when she was less than an hour old.

She watched May walk down the ward and turn to wave goodbye. Alison lifted her own hand and fluttered her fingers, and then turned back to her own thoughts.

Stefan. Somehow, he had become inextricably entwined with her thoughts about Andrew. And her fears that she might never see either of them again were even more intense.

Dusk was gathering in blue shadows as May walked back from the maternity home. Once, this walk across a neck of the moor and through deep, leafy lanes would have been a peaceful stroll, with no sound other than the evening song of blackbirds, thrushes and robins as they prepared to roost for the night. Now, the air was filled with the sound of aircraft; their engines running as they waited to take off, the roar as they lifted into the sky, the distant growl as they set off on yet another bombing raid.

Much of the moor where she had once roamed so freely was fenced off too, buildings crowded where once there had been nothing but gorse, heather and grass. The ponies and sheep that had grazed there had been pushed aside, and tarmac roads and runways criss-crossed the land. And even the roads themselves were busy with traffic – heavy vehicles on their way to the coast, lorries filled with soldiers camping at the roadside. The atmosphere was tense with waiting; there was the air of a country holding its breath as the preparations were made for a new and, perhaps, ultimate chapter in the whole troubled story of this war.

May felt as if dusk were gathering in her heart as well. She could still not quite believe that she would never see Ben again. She had had no time to come to terms with his loss, no time to search her own heart and grieve. Alison’s situation had taken over; you couldn’t turn your back on a baby being born, or on the woman giving birth, especially when she was your best friend. And that was what Alison had become. In the short time since she and Andrew had moved into the cottage at Milton Combe – less than eight months – May had found in her a companion and confidante such as she had never known. She couldn’t quite understand it – they were from such different backgrounds, their whole lives had been different and in normal circumstances they would barely have met. Yet because of the war, they had come close together. Probably the same thing had happened to many girls and young women – finding themselves in one of the Services, mixing with others that they would never have known in Civvy Street, and finding out that class and background had little to do with character. Friendships were being made during these years that would last a lifetime.

And people had fallen in love. People like her and Ben.

At the gate to the cottage, she paused. The airfield was behind her now, out of sight, and for a few moments there was silence. Looking down into the valley, she could just see the turret of the little church, and far beyond that the glitter of the River Tamar as it widened out into Plymouth Sound. The sun had disappeared in a glory of flame and apricot and the first stars were pricking the pale blue sky. The birds had almost stopped singing and there were just a few sleepy twitters from the hedgerow.

Her heart ached at the beauty of it. A beauty that Ben would never share now. A beauty that she would have to live with, alone, for the rest of her life.