Jane shrugged and began to polish her nails and Kathy, taking a deep, steadying breath, started to read.
Dear Jane, Yes it would be grand to meet you again, you beautiful thing, you! I can get a forty-eight but I agree with you we shouldn’t meet anywhere near the station. We’ll rendezvous somewhere a bit of a way off, then everyone will assume I’ve gone back to my folks and you’ve gone back to yours. There’s a rather good hotel called the Feathers in a town not . . .
The words were like a dagger through Kathy’s heart. So it had all been pretence. He had been in love with Jane all the time and simply making use of Kathy.
‘Kathy, you must have read that letter a dozen times over.’ Jane’s voice was edged with impatience now. She got up and peered curiously at the page held so stiffly before her friend. ‘Ooh, you cheeky bugger! It’s addressed to
me!
Wharron earth d’you think you’re doin’, readin’ me letters?’ It was said half jokingly but, nevertheless, Kathy crumpled the letter in her hand, still not sure precisely what she was going to do.
‘Yes, it is your letter,’ she said slowly, rising to her feet. ‘But it’s not from Jimmy. It’s from – a friend of his.’ She was watching Jane’s face as she spoke and saw the expression of guilt and unease which flickered across it, though Jane only said airily: ‘And what’s wrong wi’ that, may I ask? I’ve as much right to exchange letters wi’ a feller as you have! Why, I remember you used to write to that Alec – d’you remember him? He come home wi’ Jimmy for one leave and we went out in a foursome – oh, Kathy, you must remember him.’
‘Yes, I remember him,’ Kathy said through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve been writing to him for over a year now. But just what have you been doing, Jane? This is from Alec . . .’ She waved the letter almost in Jane’s face, then snatched her hand back as Jane tried to grab it. ‘No you don’t, my lady. This is a letter from Alec to you, planning a meeting. You were going to some hotel together . . . and don’t try to tell me it was just for a friendly chat or you wouldn’t have minded meeting him in Lincoln, with your Jimmy along as well.’
‘Give me my letter,’ Jane said, the colour suddenly flooding her face. ‘I didn’t know you were still writing to him but that’s because I’ve not been in touch with him for ages and ages. C’mon, give me that letter!’
‘You slept with him, didn’t you?’ Kathy said baldly. ‘C’mon, admit it, because I know it’s the truth. When we first joined the WAAF, you went out wi’ all sorts and I suppose you slept with several of them, but . . . Alec and me . . . I thought we had a future together. I thought he were going to marry me. But if he thinks I’m taking your leavings, Jane O’Brien, he can think again. And if you think I won’t tell Jimmy what a nasty little slut you are, then you’re much mistaken.’
She turned on her heel and would have left the room but Jane grabbed her shoulder, pulling her round. ‘Kathy, do stop it! I didn’t mean . . . didn’t know . . . it were ages ago! I promise you on me mother’s life that it were only the once! Oh, I must have been mad . . . just let me explain . . .’
But Kathy was past explanations. She struck out blindly and in two seconds both girls were fighting in good earnest, Kathy trying to keep the letter and to punish Jane for the pain she had caused her and Jane trying to grab the letter and to make Kathy listen.
In the end, they stopped fighting because they were both exhausted. The letter, now in three pieces, lay disregarded on the floor. Kathy, panting heavily, made for the door. ‘Don’t bother to come round to my place this evening, Corporal,’ she said coldly. ‘Because you’ll have the door slammed in your face if you do. I’ve seen enough of you to last me a lifetime.’
Jane had slumped on to her bed but now she got to her feet. ‘Kathy, for God’s sake, listen!’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘You’re going to ruin your life and mine ’cos you found out I did a foolish thing – oh, ages ago. Please, Kathy . . .’
But the slam of the door was the only answer she got, as Kathy ran down the stairs. Feeling aghast at what had happened, she mounted her bicycle and cycled shakily away, not stopping until she reached the nearest telephone box. From there, she telephoned Waddington and managed to speak a few words to Alec, though her voice was so choked with tears that he must have been hard pressed to recognise it. ‘It’s over,’ she said thickly. ‘I . . . I know about you and Jane . . . I found a letter. You and she had an affair . . . she’s admitted it.’
Alec began to speak, trying to explain, trying to make her understand that it was not an affair, but Kathy cut across him. ‘Oh, Alec, how could you? She were me best friend and Jimmy were yours!’ And then, before he could speak another word, she had slammed the receiver back on to its rest and had gone out into the wild and windy afternoon.
Alec had not had a good day. He and the rest of the crew had shared the cost of an elderly motor car, an Austin 12, and had intended to spend the afternoon in Lincoln since they would not be flying that night. It was a big old car and, if necessary, all five of them could cram into it somehow, but when Jimmy went to start it, it made desperate groaning sounds and the engine refused to fire. The rest of the crew, secure in the knowledge that they actually had fuel and meant to spend a relaxing day in the city, were as disappointed as Alec himself when they realised that their doughty vehicle was about to let them down. However, they were all mechanically minded and never averse to getting their hands dirty so, in two minutes, the bonnet was up and various spare parts strewn around on the grass. But despite their best efforts, it was not until two in the afternoon that they discovered the fault – discovered too that they needed a new part and could not merely botch something together.
‘That’s our day in Lincoln,’ their skipper Frank said resignedly, trying to clean oil off his hands with a bunch of grass. He glanced at his watch. ‘Is there a gharry going into town, anyone know? If so, at least we could see a flick.’ But there had been no gharry available. The only one had left at noon. Sighing, Jimmy said that one of the bods had a motor bike and would probably lend it for a few bob, in which case he could at least try to buy the part they needed. The crew had agreed this seemed the only answer and, cheated of their day out, had returned to their mess to discuss the probable acquiring of the spare part and how they would, in future, try to get spares for ‘the old girl’ before the car actually broke down on them again.
Alec had been particularly sore because he had been saving up to buy Kathy a real little engagement ring, not a Woolworth’s one, such as she had worn on their week’s holiday, but a proper gold one with a ruby and two tiny diamonds. He had seen it in a jeweller’s shop in Lincoln which had a small section of the window set aside for second-hand goods. Alec had liked it and was sure it would suit Kathy, so he had been putting aside as much money as he could afford, every week, for its purchase. Today was to have been the great day and he had planned to take it to Liverpool the next time he got some leave and make their relationship official.
Still, life in the air force had taught him the impossibility of planning ahead so he tried to make the best of his disappointment. He was sitting with a group of young men, the crew of another Wellington, when his skipper shouted out to him. ‘Alec, are you busy? Reggie here was asking if I knew anyone who could lend him a navigator, just for one night. Only their chap’s got a bad case of the squits and he doesn’t fancy flying over Germany with some kid straight out of Navigation School. I told him you were the best and that we weren’t flying tonight, but if you’ve other plans . . .’
A nasty, superstitious fear curdled Alec’s guts. He did not want to fly tonight. One was supposed to have a break from operational flying after so many ops and Frank and his crew were nearing their limit. Yet it sounded bad to say no to a friend of the skip’s. He was opening his mouth to prevaricate, to ask a question or two, when he heard his name.
‘Hewitt? Is Flight Lieutenant Hewitt here? You’re wanted on the phone.’
Alec got to his feet, his heart lifting. His parents considered the telephone an instrument that should only be used in dire emergencies; they had only once rung him and then his mum had shouted so loudly that the telephone had seemed unnecessary. Now he approached the instrument sure that it would be Kathy on the other end of the line.
Nevertheless, it did not do to take too much for granted. ‘Flight Lieutenant Hewitt here,’ he said briskly, and then, his voice warming: ‘Kathy, my darling, is that you? Your voice sounds very small and distant. I hoped it was you when I was called to the phone, because I wanted to tell you—’
Her voice cut across his and he could tell she had been crying, probably still was. ‘It’s over,’ she said thickly. ‘I . . . I know about you and Jane . . . I found a letter. You and she had an affair . . . she’s admitted it.’
Alec could not believe his ears. Whatever was the matter with his love? It was true that he had once slept with Jane – he was still deeply ashamed of the fact – but it had been long ago, before he had really known Kathy. He tried to tell her so, tried to explain. He began to say that it had meant nothing, that he was ashamed of his behaviour, but she cut across him ruthlessly, her voice cold even though it was still thickened by tears.
‘Oh, Alec, how could you? She were me best friend and Jimmy were yours!’ There was a crash as her receiver went down but Alec continued to stand where he was, unable to believe what had happened. Then the operator’s voice said briskly: ‘The other party has cut the connection, caller; would you please replace your receiver. I have another incoming call for your number.’
Slowly and carefully, like a man in a dream, Alec replaced the receiver. He walked back to the chair he had vacated and slumped into it, staring sightlessly ahead of him. His sweet and gentle Kathy seemed to have gone mad. He thought about ringing No. 7 Balloon Site but the girls were not supposed to take personal calls and he was pretty sure Kathy had rung him from a public call box. She would not have risked anyone overhearing what she had just said to him. After a few moments he shook himself and decided that he must write a letter immediately, trying to explain. Only . . . only a letter seemed so final, somehow; after all, what could he say that he had not already said? It had happened a long time ago; he sincerely regretted it. He knew that he had behaved badly but could not accept that he had hurt anyone. Of course, if Jimmy knew, their friendship would be over. But then Jimmy had not acted so very well himself. When they had first been posted to Watton he had behaved like a man with no ties. Alec knew his friend had slept with two or three of the Waafs on the station and had clearly not considered himself bound to be faithful to Jane. That had all changed, of course; Jimmy had matured, grown more serious, and now would not dream of so much as kissing another girl.
‘Hey, Alec! Are you going to oblige my old pal? Only they’ll be flying in an hour – it’s a long way to Germany!’
For a moment Alec simply stared up at Skip, unable to make sense of the words. Then he remembered and his brow cleared. Some people might not consider a bombing raid over Germany to be preferable to writing a letter but Alec thought, with grim humour, that in this particular case a bombing raid would be a piece of cake compared to writing to Kathy.
‘Oh, tell him I’m on,’ he said easily. ‘I’ll just go over to the cookhouse and get some char and a wad. Then I’ll be with him.’
On the other side of the room, Skip’s friend raised both thumbs in the air and gave a subdued crow of pleasure. ‘Tell them to pack you sandwiches while you’re in there,’ he called. ‘The briefing’s in an hour.’
By the time Kathy returned to the balloon site, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The wind had risen to gale force and the dark clouds massing overhead showed occasional flashes of lightning. Despite the wind, it was by no means cold and Kathy thought that there was probably a storm on the way. She pushed her bicycle into the shed and hesitated by it for a moment. She was still in her best blues and decided to go straight back to her room and get to bed, hoping against hope that Jane would not return to the site until late. Kathy had gone home, but had not stayed long and knew she had been poor company. Sarah Kelling had shot one shrewd glance at her daughter’s face and had not reproached her for being later than she had planned. Instead, she had got the food on the table and told Billy to run round to the O’Briens’ and tell Jane that her grub was ready.
‘Jane isn’t coming,’ Kathy had said shortly. ‘The inspection went well, Mam, but it’s left me with a deal of paperwork. I’ll just eat up and then get back.’
She had done just that, giving her mother an extra specially affectionate hug because she had asked no awkward questions, but now, climbing the stairs to her room, she wondered if she had been foolish. She would have to meet Jane before she was really ready to do so; if she had stayed in Daisy Street, she would have had a couple of hours to think things through, decide what she had best do. It was tempting to apply for a posting but she told herself that such a move would be a cowardly act. She and Jane had a problem and they must solve it, for better or worse.
She opened the bedroom door cautiously but there was no one in there, so she took off her uniform and put on her striped pyjamas. I have done the right thing, she comforted herself as she slid between the sheets. Now I can think things through sensibly and decide just what to do. Hopefully, there won’t be a raid tonight – I need all the sleep I can get after the shock of this afternoon.