Chapter 34
London, England
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Dickie drove. Cole was simply too tired to concentrate on the road. The Royal Navy officer began pumping Cole for information about
Sea Lion
and the battle before Cole had even cleared the aircraft.
Finally, Cole said in exasperation: “Jesus Christ, Dickie. Can't you wait until I get a decent cup of coffee in me?”
“I can't help it,” Dickie said, “I was born an inquisitive child.”
Cole had told him where he wanted to go when Dickie picked him up at the base. “You're mad,” was all that Dickie had said but agreed to drive him despite his injured leg. He was going to see Rebecca of course and he had everything planned outâwhat to say and how to say it, and what not to say; that was perhaps the most important pointâthat the wrong thing not be said.
“If I'd known what you were about I should have refused to drive you,” Dickie said with indignation.
“Shut up.”
“I do have standards, you know. I'm not completely amoral. I was raised with principles, I'll have you know.”
“You must keep them in the top drawer because I've never seen them,” Cole said, and then the anticipation was too much to bear. “Have you talked to her lately?”
“I haven't seen her,” Dickie said. “We've taken quite a pasting, so I'm sure that she has spent all of her time at hospital. You know we've developed quite a friendship, she and I. Brother and sister, that sort of thing. I do hope you two children find happiness with each other. Your dilemma is getting worrisome.”
“Have you heard about her husband? When he's due in?”
“Not for some time, I'm told.”
The car turned the corner into Warren Square and Cole was relieved to see Rebecca's house untouched by the raids. He half thought that he would be enveloped in a melodrama: one lover killed before the other had a chance to declare himself. He was nervous, excited, and anxious to see her, to hold her tightly in his arms. Dickie pulled up in front of the house and laid his hand on Cole's shoulder as he started to get out.
“Listen,” Dickie said. “You are both my very dear friends and I shouldn't like to see either one of you hurt.”
Cole nodded.
“You must be very gentle with her, Jordan.”
“I will,” Cole said and climbed out of the car. He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. There was no answer. He rang it again. He thought he heard a noise inside and thought perhaps he should open the door and simply call for Rebecca. He rang again and almost instantly the door opened.
She stood there and Cole's heart raced. He was about to speak when he heard someone call from inside the house.
“Becky? Who is it, dear?” It was a man's voice.
She looked at Cole, desperation in her eyes.
“Becky?”
“A friend of Dickie's, dear.”
Cole felt cold.
“Have the poor chap come in. We can't have any friend of Dickie's standing at the door.”
“Yes, dear,” Rebecca said, her voice weak. “Won't you come in, Lieutenant Cole?”
Cole found himself moving into the house in a daze. There was the staircase and next to it was the telephone table with the black instrument sitting on the white lace doily. Nothing had changed, he thought dully as he walked into the parlor. There was the large oak table that had served as their bomb shelter, and the fireplace and the sofa where Rebecca lay the last night that he had seen her.
“Can I take your hat, Lieutenant Cole?”
“Cap, Becks. Hats are for civilians, aren't they, Lieutenant?” The words came from a small form, bundled in blankets, sitting in a wheelchair near the fireplace. White bandages, stained brown along the edges, covered the man's head and one side of his face. The skin that was exposed was red and mottled. One of the man's legs was missing. A pair of crutches were propped against the wall behind him.
“This is my husband, Lieutenant Cole. This is Gregory.”
Cole's mouth was dry but he tried to sound as natural as possible. It was then that he noticed the smell. It was the faint scent of charred flesh and salve.
“How do you do?” Cole said. He forced himself to add: “Call me, Jordan.”
“Royal Navy, are you?” Gregory said. “Is he Royal Navy, Becks?”
“American, Greg,” Rebecca said with strained pleasantry.
“Of course he is. Sit down, Jordan. Would you like a drink? Becks can make one for you, can't you, Becks? She's developed a taste for it herself. I'd do it, you see”âhe gestured to the missing legâ“but part of me is still in North Africa.”
“No,” Cole said. “Nothing for me.”
“Nothing? Never heard that from a Royal Navy chapâ”
“He's an American sailor,” Rebecca said. “Don't you rememberâ”
“Of course I do,” Gregory said curtly. “Friend of Dickie's. Well, he won't mind if I have a drink.”
Cole saw Rebecca's chin tremble. “The doctorâ”
“The doctor, the doctor, the doctor,” Gregory mimicked in a shrill voice. “Fix me a drink and be quick about it. And have a double yourself, my dear.” He turned to Cole. “Hardly took a sip when we were married, now she drinks enough for both of us.” Rebecca handed him a glass. “If I let her.”
“I just came by looking for Dickie,” Cole said. “I don't want to intrude.”
“Of course you were looking for him,” Gregory said, staring into his drink. “Why else would you be here?”
Rebecca knocked over her glass. “Please don't be rude, Greg.”
“Rude? Was I rude?” He looked at Cole, the burned skin on his face seeming to glow angrily as he attempted a smile. “Was I being rude, Jordan?” The words came out slowly, bitingly.
Cole stood. “I should be going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Gregory.”
“Of course it was. You were charmed by my presence. Forgive me if I was terse. Time for my pills, you know. The only way to manage the pain. Pop a few pills, down a few scotches. Come back again.”
Cole nodded.
“Becks?” Gregory called out. “See our visitor to the door, won't you? Then hurry back and make me another.”
Rebecca followed Cole into the hall and handed him his cap.
“Why did you come here?” she said, her voice breaking.
Cole swallowed heavily, trying to fight back his anger. “I came here to tell you that I love you and I want you to marry me. You've got to get away from that bastard.”
“He's just bitter. He lost his leg and his friends. It's going to be very difficult for him. I can help. I can help him.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Becky? I say, Becks? Can you come in and give me a hand? I've got to piss like a racehorse.”
“Don't do it, Rebecca. Don't throw your life away.”
“I've got to go to him.”
“I love you.”
“Oh, Jordan,” Rebecca said. “I know that. I love you as well. When I sent you away before I thought that I should die, but when Greg came home I realized what I had to doâwhere my duty lies. You've got to understand that. You've got to understand that I can't continue to live with the guilt of betrayal. I know that you love me as much as I love you. Every part of me feels the love of that lost little boy.” She took his hand in hers, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We can no longer see each other. We were just something that happened during the war, that's all. You must believe that. You'd better go.” She began closing the door when she stopped and tenderly touched his cheek. “Good-bye, darling.”
Cole felt nothing as he walked down the steps. Dickie must have been talking to him for several moments before he realized he was at the car.
“Her husband's home,” Cole managed.
“Bloody hell!” Dickie said.
“He's a son of a bitch. He's going to sap every bit of life right out of her. She's going to let him.”
Dickie lit a cigarette and offered one to Cole, who refused it.
“That's that, then,” Dickie said.
“The hell it is,” Cole said angrily. “I'm going to get her back. I don't know how, but I'm going to get her back. If I ever saw anything worth fighting for, it's that lady in there.”
“Cole! For God's sake, think of her feelings.”
“She doesn't know which way is up. I'll do it. I'll get her back come hell or high water. . . .” Then Cole remembered what she asked of him and the agony that he had brought to her life. He turned and looked at the closed door, her words ringing in his mind, and exhaled a ragged breath; the fight was out of him. He choked back the tears that he knew were close.
“Jordan?” Dickie said.
“âWhen I was a child, I spoke like a child,'” Cole whispered. “âI thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.'”
Dickie remained silent.
Cole remembered the hospital where he first saw her, and the picnic in Hyde Park, and the terror that he felt when he thought that she had been killed in the bombing raid. And he knew, despite his soul screaming that he must not go back, that she was right.
“Come on,” Cole said to his friend. “Let's go get a drink.”