Down Daisy Street (47 page)
Norah gave him a cup of tea and doled out some eggs on toast whilst Jane picked up her letters and examined the writing. One was from Mrs Kelling, who visited Kathy every single day and kept Jane informed of her progress, and the other – oh bliss – was from Jimmy. His letters were never long but quite often he told Jane when he would be available to receive a telephone call, and the pair of them enjoyed their conversations almost as much as a meeting.
Jane felt the envelope; this was a thicker letter than usual, so she was in for a treat. But she decided to open Mrs Kelling’s letter first to see how Kathy was.
Ever since that awful night, Jane had been miserably aware that most of Kathy’s injuries, if not all, were her, Jane’s, fault. If she had worn her tin hat, if they had not quarrelled, if she had been faithful to Jimmy all those years ago . . . but Jane was too practical a person to believe that vain regrets would help anyone. So she had decided to do everything in her power to help Kathy to get well again and she had dashed off a letter to Alec, admitting everything. She told him how she had not even realised that one crumpled page of his letter had been stuck down the side of her kit bag. It had been the page on which Alec had suggested rendezvousing some way from his station and, unfortunately, Kathy had found and read it. Jane apologised humbly to Alec both for the way she had behaved in the past and for her carelessness in holding on to a letter which she should have destroyed ages ago. Then she had explained that, as a result of their subsequent quarrel, Kathy had been badly injured and was now in the Stanley Hospital.
I’ve known Kathy for years and she were in a rare old temper after the row we had
, she had written,
so I guess her first act was to ring you up and tear you off a strip. I know she spoke to you, Alec, because I were sitting by her bed one night, before she’d regained consciousness properly, and she kept mumbling on about saying horrible things to you and how she wished she hadn’t.
, she had written,
so I guess her first act was to ring you up and tear you off a strip. I know she spoke to you, Alec, because I were sitting by her bed one night, before she’d regained consciousness properly, and she kept mumbling on about saying horrible things to you and how she wished she hadn’t.
This had not been strictly true because Kathy’s mumblings had been wild and fragmented, but Jane had got the gist of what her friend meant to say. The writing of the letter had done a good deal to ease Jane’s conscience about the whole affair since she had ended with a desperate plea to Alec to come as quickly as he possibly could so that her friend would know he bore her no grudge.
Jane had realised, even in her distress, that if Jimmy saw her writing on an envelope addressed to Alec he might naturally demand to be allowed to read what she had written and that would never do, so she had got Acting Corporal Ellis to do the necessary and, ever since, had been awaiting Alec’s arrival with mixed feelings.
Jane scanned Sarah’s letter, which was brief. It said her friend was very depressed and miserable and in a great deal of pain, though she was trying to do without the tablets the doctors had prescribed for her since she said they made her feel ‘sleepy and stupid’.
Jane decided that she would visit Kathy in her lunch break, then thrust Sarah’s letter into the pocket of her boiler suit and began to read Jimmy’s. It was, as she had suspected, a long letter but, far from being a treat, with every word she read Jane’s sense of foreboding grew. Jimmy would not go on like this, telling her all about how Skip had asked Alec to do an extra op as a favour to another pilot, unless something had happened. And sure enough, on the next page, Jimmy had written it all down.
I thought Alec was sure to refuse,
Jimmy had written.
It’s bad luck to go changing your plane – and your crew – in most men’s eyes, same as the fellers don’t like doing an op on a wedding anniversary or a special birthday. In fact, Skip was pretty sure he’d refuse as well and had already started asking around amongst other crews. Alec had been playing cards or something, but he was called away to the telephone, and when he came back Skip’s pal asked him again if he were on and Alec said he were.
Jimmy had written.
It’s bad luck to go changing your plane – and your crew – in most men’s eyes, same as the fellers don’t like doing an op on a wedding anniversary or a special birthday. In fact, Skip was pretty sure he’d refuse as well and had already started asking around amongst other crews. Alec had been playing cards or something, but he was called away to the telephone, and when he came back Skip’s pal asked him again if he were on and Alec said he were.
I thought he looked odd; ill almost, but when I asked him if there were anything up, he just stared at me for a moment and then said, ‘No, why should there be?’ and walked away. It’s not like Alec to act unfriendly so I guessed he’d got a belly-ache, or maybe it were a premonition because that Wimpey never come back after the raid and the whole crew, including Alec, is posted as missing.
I asked and asked everyone who was on ops that night whether the kite had been shot down and whether any of the crew had got out, but it seems it were a big raid – masses of ack-ack and searchlights everywhere, so you were lit up like on a stage – and Jerry fighters coming at you from every angle. We had heavy losses that night. We’ll miss Alec like the very devil. He were the best, you know, and I’m not just saying that because he were me pal. He were a first class navigator, got us safe there and back, night after night. Well, we were a good team, to tell you the truth. Skip’s a steady sort of pilot, not like some of these young ones, all talk and no do, so as I said, we’ll miss Alec. There’s been no word of his ditching coming home, but you never know; they might have used their ’chutes and got down safe somewhere. I hope to God they have.
Jane sat back in her chair and let the tears rain unchecked down her cheeks. She kept getting a mental picture of her dear Kathy lying crumpled and broken in her hospital bed. She would have to tell her what had happened because otherwise she would be watching the doors at the end of the ward, hour after hour, day after day, expecting Alec to come bursting through them, with a grin on his face and a straggly bunch of flowers in one hand. Jane had heard girls in the crew whose boyfriends had been killed saying that by far the worst time had been the waiting, the not knowing. The girls said they could not take up their lives afresh when they did not know whether they had lost their lovers or whether the missing one would walk through the door one day and give them a big hug. Oh yes, Jane thought, not knowing, and being able to imagine unimaginable horrors, is by far the worst.
Kathy was sitting up in bed trying to read a book, though the letters kept blurring and then doubling up as she strove to concentrate. The crack on the head she had received from the balloon had not affected her too badly, but as soon as she grew tired her eyes refused to focus, so now she laid her book down on the coverlet and glanced, hopefully, towards the swing doors, through which a figure was coming, accompanied by Sister, who was chattering away to the newcomer and gesturing up the ward as though pointing out a bed.
Kathy had been in hospital now for two weeks. She had not heard a word from Alec but told herself, resolutely, that the fault was hers. She had been absolutely horrible to him the last time they had spoken and though she longed to write and apologise, explain that she had had no right to blame him for something long past, she had not yet managed to do so. She had broken her right wrist in the fall, and in any case this was the arm into which the tubes led, so it was strapped to a board and pretty well useless. As she was right-handed, letters were an impossibility, and though several people had offered to take one down at her dictation, her pride simply would not let her make her feelings so public. She had toyed with the idea of simply agreeing to let her mother write to Alec, explaining that she was in hospital and would very much like to see him. But she hesitated to do so. She was such a mess! Two badly broken and painful legs, now hoisted up on a pulley contraption and terminating in permanently icy cold feet, a broken wrist which made even feeding herself difficult, a memory which was unreliable to say the least, and a tendency to splitting headaches did not make her much of a companion. Besides, for all she knew, Alec might have been so upset that he had gone out and got himself another girl, and who could blame him? So, on the whole, it would be wiser to wait until she was well enough to pen her own apologies, though in her secret heart she was sure Alec would be in touch long before then.
The woman coming down the ward was getting closer and Kathy realised she looked familiar. What was more, Sister was leading her straight to Kathy’s bed and the woman was smiling at her, though it was a sad, lopsided smile.
‘I’ve a visitor for you, Miss Kelling,’ Sister said. She was a brisk and businesslike woman, but today her voice was gentle. She drew the curtains round the bed, saying as she did so: ‘I think you might like some privacy and because you’re on traction I can scarcely offer you the loan of my office.’ She left them, but not before giving Kathy’s shoulder a squeeze.
Kathy stared apprehensively up at her visitor. She had reddish-brown hair and eyes that matched exactly and a strong, handsome face. She held out her hand to Kathy, then shook her head at her own foolishness and sat down on the end of the bed.
‘I see you can’t shake hands, and whass more, you don’t know me from Adam,’ she said rather gruffly. ‘I’m Betty Hewitt, Alec’s mum. I’ve had a letter, thass from my son’s squadron leader. I think you should read it. I’m that sorry to be bringing bad tidings but, if it were me, I’d rather know than not.’
She held out a thin sheet of blue paper but Kathy did not take it immediately. As soon as she had heard the woman speak, she had known that this must be Alec’s mother, for they shared the same accent, the same way of turning a sentence. She looked steadily across at her visitor and saw that her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
‘I guessed who you were; you’re so like Alec,’ she said huskily. ‘I don’t need to read it,’ she went on, her own voice unsteady. ‘Alec has been killed, hasn’t he? Was it a car crash? Only I’ve a friend whose boyfriend flies with Alec and if anything had happened to him, she’d have told me.’
Mrs Hewitt looked puzzled but continued holding out the letter so Kathy took it and began to read, through tear-blurred eyes.
Dear Mr and Mrs Hewitt, I’m sorry to have to tell you that your son, Fit Lt Hewitt, took the place of a sick navigator in the crew of another Wellington bomber some days ago and the whole crew have now been posted as missing. This does not mean that he is presumed killed since it takes time before the authorities let us know if an airman has been taken prisoner. However, since neither he nor the rest of the crew has returned to the station, I thought it best to let you know. I have taken charge of all Alec’s personal possessions and will forward them to you in due course. Everyone who knew Alec liked him; he was a grand, cheerful chap and one of our top navigators. He will be sadly missed. Yours sincerely . . .
Kathy handed the letter back to her visitor and used the sheet to wipe her eyes. Then she fished the handkerchief out from under her pillow and blew her nose. For a few minutes she stared down at the bedclothes; then she looked up and the eyes that met Mrs Hewitt’s were no longer tear filled. ‘Do you
believe
that?’ she asked, in a cold, almost accusing voice. ‘Because I do not! It’s – it’s just the sort of letter they write to people when they’re not sure what has happened to their boys. I’m sure Alec’s still alive, I’m sure I’d have known if – if something awful had happened. To tell you the truth, I’ve been lying here wondering why he’d not got in touch, but it never occurred to me for one moment that he might be dead and I don’t believe it now – I
won’t
believe it!’
believe
that?’ she asked, in a cold, almost accusing voice. ‘Because I do not! It’s – it’s just the sort of letter they write to people when they’re not sure what has happened to their boys. I’m sure Alec’s still alive, I’m sure I’d have known if – if something awful had happened. To tell you the truth, I’ve been lying here wondering why he’d not got in touch, but it never occurred to me for one moment that he might be dead and I don’t believe it now – I
won’t
believe it!’
Mrs Hewitt leaned across the bed and took Kathy’s good hand. ‘You’re right and that’s what Bob and I keep telling ourselves and each other. But Alec had written to us a while back, telling us that he’d met the most wonderful girl and meant to marry her. He said he was going to bring her home next time he had a leave so’s we could meet up. And on the bottom of the letter, he’d scribbled your name and number and your address on the balloon site. And under that, he said if anything happened to him, he trusted us to get in touch with you and see you right.’
Kathy smiled ruefully. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say you were seeing me right. I’m in a real mess, but I expect they told you what happened when you visited Site Seven.’
‘Aye, they did an’ all,’ Mrs Hewitt confirmed. ‘And Sister told me you’d be stuck here for weeks and weeks, until they got you sorted out. But I wondered whether you might come back to Norfolk, to Father and me, when they let you out of hospital? It’s quiet country living but tha’ int like living in a city. We’ve all the fruit and vegetables we can eat, we make our own butter and cheese and there’s always someone killing a pig or pulling the necks of a few chickens who’ll be happy to sell a bit to a neighbour. I know Alec would want . . .’ her voice wobbled dangerously, then righted itself ‘. . . Alec would want us to do everything we could to get you well again,’ she finished firmly.
When her visitor had gone, Kathy allowed her fear and grief full reign, but only for ten minutes or so. She told herself again that she was sure Alec was still alive, and in any case she would no longer believe him to be angry with her. It had been impossible not to worry when the days passed and he did not get in touch. But because of Jane’s attachment to Jimmy, she had not dreamed that Alec might be posted as missing. She realised, of course, that Jane must have been aware of the substitution, must have realised that Alec had not returned from his last op, but could not find it in her heart to blame her friend for keeping such news to herself. However, when Jane arrived to visit her later that day, Kathy told her about Mrs Hewitt’s visit and the news the older woman had brought.
Jane looked relieved. ‘I didn’t know what to do,’ she confessed. ‘I only found out myself yesterday what had happened. As soon as I heard, I rang Jimmy in the mess. I told him you and Alec were going steady – he
was
surprised – and asked if I should break the news to you. But he said the Groupie was sending out letters and it was better that you heard official like.’ Jane leaned across the bed and took her friend’s good hand in a gentle clasp. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am, queen! He was one of the best, was old Alec, and you’re another. If – if it were Jimmy who’d been killed . . . but it don’t do to think like that.’
was
surprised – and asked if I should break the news to you. But he said the Groupie was sending out letters and it was better that you heard official like.’ Jane leaned across the bed and took her friend’s good hand in a gentle clasp. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am, queen! He was one of the best, was old Alec, and you’re another. If – if it were Jimmy who’d been killed . . . but it don’t do to think like that.’
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