Churchill's Angels Part 25

'Daisy, Adair was shot down over the Channel last night. There was no warning; the enemy appeared from out of a cloud. He was the leader, Daisy, in the front, and there was nothing anyone could do, no time for evasive action, although they say he stood his plane on its head. Who could stand a plane on its head, little Daisy, but our friend?'

'They'll pick him up.' She jumped up. 'Oh, Tomas, you mustn't let the Germans pick him up.'

'We picked him up.'

Hope surged and then sank without a trace as she saw the pain and sorrow on the Czech airman's face.

'No hope?'

He shook his head.

She stood up, holding herself together as best she could. 'Oh G.o.d, he gave me his lucky scarf. I had his scarf. Oh, Tomas ...'

'Stop it, stop this nonsense. I thought better of you and so did Adair.'

She looked at him, tears trembling on the ends of her eyelashes. 'I'm sorry. What happens now?'

'The air force will contact his next of kin.'

'Alf?'

He swallowed a laugh with a tear. 'Wouldn't that be wonderful? No, he has a cousin whose lawyers will arrange an interment. I'm sorry, Daisy, but even this n.o.ble cousin is not within what they term degrees of kins.h.i.+p to be given leave. Besides, the War Office doesn't seem to be very sure where he is; somewhere in North Africa, I think. Adair will be buried in the crypt of the chapel in his cousin's home.'

'The Old Manor,' she said, and burst into tears.

Tomas held her and she lay against him and cried until she could cry no more. Then, slightly embarra.s.sed, she straightened up. 'Oh, Tomas, what are we going to do?'

He stood up and pulled her up with him. Holding her by the arms he looked down into her eyes. 'You and I, dear Daisy, are going to be glad that he was in our lives, and we are going to work as hard as we can to win this war. Every time I fly, I say, "This is for Czechoslovakia," but now I will fly and fight for my country, and this lovely green place which has given me a life and a chance to fight back, and I will add: "This is for Adair, a very young Englishman, a perfect gentle knight." Is that not what your Chaucer says?'

Charlie would have known what he was talking about. 'I don't know, Tomas, but thank you for coming to tell me. Silly, but we hoped there would be ham for Christmas this year. I wanted to give Alf my share and he would share ...' She could not continue.

'I must go back. You have a friend ...?'

'Breakfast time, Wing Commander, and then I have a cla.s.s.'

They walked quietly together towards the area where they had first met. A staff car with a uniformed driver was there.

Tomas stopped. He stood looking towards the car. 'We are friends, Daisy, yes?'

'We are friends, Tomas, yes.' She saluted and then watched him walk across to the car. She did not watch it drive away.

Her face in the mirror was not a pretty sight. Her eyes were so swollen she looked as if she could have been in a fight, and her skin was blotched. What could she do before she went to cla.s.s? She groaned as she remembered that it was to be a practical cla.s.s and her eyes certainly did not give the impression of being alert. Charlie would have known what to do. Her make-up bag had always seemed to contain whatever it was that anyone needed. Daisy heard a sob and realised that she had made the sound.

Don't think, Daisy. You've cried all you're going to, thanks to Tomas. But try as she would, she could not forget the beautiful picture of Adair, running towards her across the gra.s.s, waving his lucky yellow scarf.

She ran the cold tap until it was ice cold and then splashed water over her face. She took some toilet paper from a stall and soaked that and held it against her eyes until she heard someone enter the toilet.

'Hay fever? Poor thing. My gran swears by honey. Bit late for you this summer but next posting, make sure to use local honey and don't let them sell you anything but.'

The voice stopped and Daisy threw her sodden paper in the wastebasket and hurried out.

'Hay fever,' she muttered when anyone looked at her oddly. 'Thanks, it's nothing,' when they commiserated with her and by dinnertime she was almost ready to believe it herself.

She said nothing to Joan and Maggie. Words made the appalling nightmare real. If they thought she was not quite herself they said nothing. Everyone was allowed a few days a month to be difficult, and besides, they were all tense as the course drew to its end.

Daisy did not write home. She could not. Alf would tell them.

Adair's station commander was rather surprised to be told that Alf Humble, a farmer from Dartford, was listed as Adair's next of kin. The War Office had no record of Alf although one of the secretaries pointed out that the address of one next of kin and the address of the other were remarkably similar. The Old Manor for the first, and Old Manor Farm for the second.

'Some mistake. Obviously this Humble fellow tenants the farm and since the house has been requisitioned he's got the spare set of keys.'

Therefore it was only when a large car drove up to the farmhouse one sunny summer afternoon, and a uniformed officer asked that the crypt be opened that Alf and Nancy found out about Adair's tragic death.

'You can't bury the lad without 'is friends around him. There's Wing Commander Sapenak, and what about 'is lords.h.i.+p, he'll want to be here even if just for form's sake. They hardly ever saw each other but they was cousins, and there's Daisy. Daisy Petrie. You can find her. She's a WAAF. Lad was teaching her to fly.'

In the end, only Tomas and Alf attended the interment. Alf was angry but Tomas calmed him.

'I told Daisy, Alf, and it's impossible for her to come, or Adair's cousin he's in North Africa. Had we buried him in a military cemetery he would have had a guard of honour, but it is right that he should lie here; his mother is here. The entire squadron mourns, old friend.'

'How was the la.s.s?'

'She loved him very much, I think, but she is strong and will find a way to deal. You too.'

'He were like a son to us. I think my Nancy pretended he were hers when she was making him a pie. Don't really know how us'll cope.'

'I knew him for so little time, Alf. But he was a special person. And now I must return.' Tomas shook hands with Alf and turned to leave.

Alf watched him walk down the driveway to a waiting car. 'You know where we are, lad, when you need a cuppa or a bed for the night.'

Tomas did not look back but he lifted his hand in acknowledgement.

'You have done extremely well, Aircraftswoman Petrie.' The commander shook Daisy's hand. 'Any air base will be delighted to have you. Good luck.'

'Thank you, sir.' Daisy saluted Group Captain Lamb and stepped back smartly.

She was a fully trained aircraft mechanic and had papers that proved it. For the first time in weeks her spirits lifted as she thought how proud her parents would be. Her case was packed, her gifts from Charlie, which she would take with her to every posting, wrapped carefully in her pyjamas in case they were thrown around on the train. She waved to Joan and Maggie, who were waiting for her, and hurried to meet them. Both had pa.s.sed well and had already been given their postings. Now, like Daisy, they were heading home for ten days' leave. By now they knew of Adair's death but, after the first shocked expressions of grief, they had agreed with Daisy that no one talk about it.

'Did his nibs say anything about your posting, Daisy?'

'No, just that any base would be happy to have me. Sounds like it, doesn't it?'

'They're fighting over you, that's what's happening.'

To Daisy's surprise, her friends suddenly pulled themselves up and saluted.

'At ease, ladies.'

'Tomas, what are you doing here? Sorry, sir, I mean Wing Commander Sapenak.'

'Just friends today, Daisy.' He shook hands with each of the girls, introducing himself as he did so. 'Daisy and I are old friends,' he explained, and then he turned back to Daisy. 'I tried to get here in time for the parade but last night was busy. Now, if you don't have plans with these other friends ...'

'We're just off, sir, rus.h.i.+ng for a train. 'Bye, Daisy, don't forget to write.'

There was a moment of silence once Joan and Maggie had hurried off.

'It is good to have friends, Daisy. I had hoped, as I said, to be here earlier, but I would like to take you to lunch, perhaps on the way to London.'

'London?'

'You go first to London, yes?'

She nodded.

'And I have business in London and hoped to drive you to the Dartford train on my way. Unfortunately I cannot take you home.'

Thank G.o.d for that, thought Daisy. She could not begin to think what the neighbours would say if they saw her arriving home with an officer in RAF uniform. And as for her parents ... 'You're very kind, Tomas, but I can easily catch a train.'

'I a.s.sure you I did not arrange the London meeting, Daisy. I am only a small cog in a very big wheel.'

She looked up into his face and saw new marks of sadness there. She knew nothing about this man, except that he had come to Britain from Czechoslovakia to fly fighter missions against their mutual enemy, that the governments of both countries had decorated him and that Adair Maxwell had called him friend.

With eyes sparkling with tears, she smiled at him. 'Lunch and a lift to London would be lovely.'

They stopped at a country pub where the landlord apologised profusely for the poor selection he was able to offer them. 'In a month or two we'll have some game birds, sir, delicious.' He sighed. 'And later, venison, but today all I have is chicken, mutton or rabbit. Hoped I might have a nice trout but, afraid not.'

Tomas was tired of rabbit and so they ordered mutton stew, which was served with beautifully prepared vegetables. Tomas looked at them in some awe.

'No boiled cabbage, and in fact nothing is boiled to death. We must remember this Buckinghams.h.i.+re pub, Daisy.'

They drank cider with the meal and laughed as Daisy told Tomas that the chicken would probably have been an old hen.

'They can say mutton without shame. What is wrong to say old hen?'

'In English, mutton sounds better than old hen.'

The chatter was light and the smell of freshly mown gra.s.s from an open window competed with the odours of beautifully cooked food. Daisy felt relaxed and, if not happy, at least she had found some sort of peace. The months ahead would not be easy but she knew that she was trained and capable. She would so much have liked to tell Adair how well she had done.

She had to stop thinking of Adair. Tonight she would be at home and soon the letter would come telling her where she was to be stationed.

Tomas dropped her off at her London station and she was delighted to find that a train that stopped at Dartford was leaving in a few minutes.

She had not told her parents the time of her arrival and so she knew there would be no one to meet her, but she was quite happy to walk from the station. Ten days at home, plenty of time to catch up with friends. The train was crowded but she was content to stand outside a carriage in the corridor, gazing out of the window. There was evidence of intense bombing everywhere, reinforcing her awareness of just how dangerous and difficult life had been in this pleasant corner of England.

I'm a mechanic now, she told the gaping holes and empty buildings. We'll help keep our pilots flying to protect us. Just you wait and see.

At Dartford she was pa.s.sing the waiting room when a railway employee came out of it, glanced at her, walked a few steps and then stopped and came back. 'Sorry to startle you, miss, but is you the WAAF as was here in March when we 'ad the air raid?'

There must have been scores of girls in uniform pa.s.sing through the station, Daisy thought, but she told him that yes, she had come home on leave in March.

'Just that there's a little suitcase in Lost and Found, miss, and the gentleman as 'anded it in said as how a pretty little WAAF with s.h.i.+ny brown hair had dropped it in the fuss but he couldn't see her anywhere to give it to her.'

Her suitcase. Miss Partridge's dress. Oh, surely not after all this time.

'I did lose a suitcase, has the most beautiful dress in it.'

'You won't want to lose a pretty frock, not with clothing coupons as scarce as they are.'

It was a very happy girl who walked home that evening, a suitcase in each hand.

Fred was in the act of cleaning the shop window when he looked up and saw his daughter coming slowly along the street. He dropped the duster and ran out, regardless of who saw him. 'Daisy, love, you should have told us and I'd have fetched you. Oh, your mum will be that glad to see you, and our Rose an' all.'

He took both suitcases and hurried her along, firing questions as they went. 'Two suitcases. Why didn't you take a taxi? Why didn't you tell me? I'd have been at the station.'

'I know, but I didn't have two suitcases when I got on the train; this one's been in Dartford Lost and Found all this time. And I wouldn't waste money on a taxi, if I could have found one, petrol being scarce as it is, because I've got lovely comfy leather shoes.' She laughed and tucked one hand into his arm. 'How's everything?'

Since they had already arrived at the shop Fred didn't answer. He closed the door behind them and locked it. Then he walked to the foot of the staircase and called up, 'I've somebody here wanting a cuppa, Flora, anything doing?'

A few minutes later a slightly fl.u.s.tered Flora was at the top of the stairs seeing one of her children walking upstairs.

'h.e.l.lo, Mum, ten days' leave. Today was pa.s.sing out parade.'

Naturally she had to explain what 'pa.s.sing out' meant and then had to take off her handbag from where she'd strung it across her body, having no free hand because of finding the lost suitcase. In her handbag were her papers that showed that Aircraftswoman Petrie Daisy was now a mechanic, first cla.s.s.

'Oh, we're that proud of you, and just wait till Rose hears, and our Phil.'

Fred explained that letters from Phil were few and far between. 'We hadn't heard a peep since he left after Christmas and then your mum gets four all at once just two weeks ago. Very confusing since we didn't know which one to open first. First letter says the new s.h.i.+p is the last word and the next one says he hoped they'd soon transfer to their new s.h.i.+p. He's been in Malta, would you believe, but they couldn't go ash.o.r.e. They was just delivering supplies and I think something happened to the s.h.i.+p there and that's why they needed a new one. Malta's had a battering, and no supplies getting through. But you can read them later. Now have a nice cuppa while we wait for Rose. Tell us all about where you go next and then we'll let Rose tell her news.'

'She's not marrying Stan?' asked Daisy as she accepted a cup from her mother. To her horror, Flora burst into tears.

Fred and his daughter tried to soothe and comfort her but Flora was too upset. They held her and let her cry until she hiccuped to a halt.

'Drink your tea, Mum. You'll feel better.'

Flora found her handkerchief in her ap.r.o.n pocket, wiped her wet cheeks, and then blew her nose somewhat ferociously. 'Why would I be worried about Stan? It's you I'm worried about.'

Daisy had not the slightest idea what her mother meant. She could not know about Adair, could she?

'Great, here's Rose,' she said in excitement, and began to run downstairs.

'No, Daisy, don't hug me,' said Rose. I'm filthy. We had a bit of a fire; I'm covered in smoke and stink to high heaven. Mum, Dad, see you in a minute.' She disappeared into the bathroom and Daisy returned to the kitchen.

'A fire? In a munitions factory? Who'd credit it?'

'She's OK?' asked Flora, getting to her feet.

'Just needs a bath, Mum. Know what's the best thing about the WAAF? Showers. Next base might not even have hot water; some have-' She stopped as a look of distress had crossed Flora's face. 'What is it, Mum? Rose's fine.'

'Oh, Daisy, love, Alf told us. He said you was upset.'