She ran across and threw her arms around his neck as he climbed out.
‘I’ve been so horribly worried about you! I thought you might be d—’ Her words were cut off by his kiss.
‘Very much alive, as you can tell,’ he said softly after almost a minute.
She laughed. ‘So will I be, if you let me breathe.’
He laughed too. ‘Sorry. Just making sure you were real.’
‘What do you want to do, James? Come inside, or . . .’
He shook his head. ‘No. I want you to myself for a while. Come on, it’s a beautiful day – let’s go out for lunch.’
‘That’s a wonderful idea. Let me get my hat. You can say hello to everyone when we get back later.’
He watched her as she ran inside the house. Christ, she was lovely. She was wearing a short-sleeved emerald-green silk dress that matched her eyes, and summer espadrilles. When she reappeared
moments later, she was busily setting a red beret to the side of her head. She looked, he thought, enchanting.
‘There. Will I do?’
‘You’ll more than do,’ he said. ‘Come here.’
A while later she pulled away. ‘That’s only our third kiss, James,’ she said a little unsteadily, ‘and each one’s been longer than the last. I think we may need to
start making appointments.’
‘Nonsense. I’m at your disposal round the clock, now and forever more. Well, as long as my leave lasts, anyway. Come on, let’s go. I’m absolutely ravenous, and not just
for you.’
They found a pretty pub-cum-restaurant tucked under the Weald, and took a table in the apple orchard at the back.
‘I’ve been here before,’ Diana told James as he came out of the thatched, half-timbered building with their drinks. ‘Daddy brought us all here when he was made a senior
partner. I was about twelve and John would have been fourteen, I think.’
She looked around her at the fruit trees, now wearing their freshest green of June. ‘That seems like another world now. Sometimes I still can’t quite believe that we really are at
war, and that it’s all gone so horribly wrong, so quickly. Do you think we’re going to lose? I suppose I shouldn’t ask you that, not after what you’ve just been
through.’ She reached out and put her hand on his arm. ‘John has told us a bit about what it’s been like for you all. He said you very nearly . . . that you almost . .
.’
‘Got killed? Yes, I did. It’s all right, I don’t mind talking about it. I was jumped by one of their fighters over France and very badly shot up. I never even saw the other
plane. Actually, I think there were probably two of them. It was the most terrifying experience of my whole life, Diana. God knows how I managed not to have my head blown off. My Spit got me home
somehow but it was like flying scrap metal. I think they’ve broken it up for parts. I have a new one now, anyway.’
She stared at him. ‘I don’t know what to say, James. I can’t even imagine being in a situation like that.’
‘Neither could I, until it happened. And to think that until a short while ago I actually decided that I was impervious to fear. I truly did, Diana. Impervious to imagination, more
like.’ He lit a cigarette.
‘As to whether we’re going to lose – we might. In fact, we probably will. The Belgians have gone under already and the French are obviously getting ready to throw in the towel.
The Dutch are out and Norway’s clearly had it, so it’ll be just us left. Not exactly a reassuring prospect, is it?’
A waitress came to take their order. When she’d gone, Diana got up and went round to James’s side of the table. She sat next to him on the wooden bench and kissed his cheek.
‘Listen . . . there’s something I want to tell you right away. I’ve been thinking a lot about this while you’ve been away and I’ve come to a decision. What you just
told me makes me even more certain it’s the right one.’
Bloody hell, if this is what I think it is, thought James, she’s moved a lot further and faster than I could have dreamed.
‘It’s what we talked about that night at The Eagle – about how the war changes our perspective; how we can’t take things for granted any more. Especially time. How we
might find ourselves wanting to . . . speed things up.’
She twisted the ring her parents had given her for her twentieth birthday earlier that year. ‘I mean, what if you
had
been shot down that day? Even if you’d survived, you
might have ended up in a prison camp, and God knows when I’d see you again. What I’m trying to say is . . . is . . . if we want to – and I do want to – we should . .
.’
He took her face in his hands. ‘It’s all right, Diana, I know what you’re saying. I feel exactly the same, you’ve known that since April. And yes, I want to as
well.’
She kissed him lightly, then sat back and considered him for a few moments. ‘So – you’ll come to me tonight, then?’
‘My goodness.’ He stared at her. ‘You really have made your mind up, haven’t you?’
She started laughing.
‘What is it?’
‘I’ve just thought of something I said to you back at the house this morning. Remember?’
‘Um . . . no, I’m not sure I do.’
‘I said we’d need to make an appointment. And so we just have!’
They got back to the Dower House in time for tea. It was another fine afternoon and Lucy, helped by Gwen, had set out sandwiches and cakes on the garden table near the French
windows. Gwen woke her son soon after James and Diana returned.
‘Darling?’ She gently shook his shoulder. ‘Diana and James are back. You’ve been asleep for nearly seven hours. Wouldn’t you like some tea on the lawn with the rest
of us?’
He was near-catatonic. ‘Mmm, thanks. I’ll be down in a minute.’ His head flopped back on his pillow and by the time Gwen had quietly closed the bedroom door, soft snores
drifted from the bed again.
Even though it was now late afternoon, the day seemed to be getting even hotter. Diana had gone upstairs to change into a cooler dress while Mr Arnold joined their guest on the lawn. James was
drinking tea from a cup balanced on his chest just below his chin, long legs sprawled out from the deckchair he’d sunk into.
‘Evening, Flight Commander. No, no, don’t get up,’ Mr Arnold said as the younger man struggled for purchase against his canvas seat. ‘As you were, as you were.’
James sank back. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Oh good God. Call me Oliver.’ He sat down in a deckchair of his own. ‘Well, how are you, James? Our boy seems utterly drained.’
‘We all are, sir. I mean, Oliver. You’ll know what it’s like. As long as you’re in action you have inexhaustible reserves of energy. When you stop . . .’ he made a
pantomime of a puppet whose strings have been comprehensively cut. ‘You flop to the floor.’
‘Yes, I certainly remember that,’ Oliver said.
Lucy emerged from the French windows and poured them both more tea. ‘Madam says we’ll not be joined by Mr John until dinner,’ she informed them. ‘He’s still
catching up on his shut-eye, she says.’
‘Thank you, Lucy.’
James and Oliver sipped their tea.
‘Why aren’t you sleeping too, James? You must be as exhausted as John is.’
James put his cup down. ‘For two reasons. I slept like the dead all day yesterday, while John was coming down here, and . . . well, I wanted to see Diana today, as soon as I woke up. More
than anything.’
Mr Arnold nodded slowly. ‘I see. And, if I may be allowed to sound somewhat old-fashioned, what are your intentions towards my daughter?’ He gave an embarrassed laugh.
‘I’m sorry, that sounded terribly Victorian and pompous, didn’t it? But really, James – what are your plans?’
The question caught James completely off-balance. He realised with a slight shock that, for the first time since he’d met the Arnold family, he was no longer calculating his every move
concerning Diana. Even on the drive down to the Dower House that morning, there had been no plots or strategies turning over in his mind. His only emotion had been one of genuine excitement that he
was going to see her again.
The admission just now about how much that meant to him had been no careful stratagem to impress her father. It was the simple truth. He
had
woken that morning desperate to see Diana,
and for no other reason than . . . than what?
Perhaps it was something to do with his desperate encounters in the air above France. Maybe brushes with death did this to a man – everything was greatly simplified.
Mr Arnold coughed. ‘Well, James?’
He looked at Diana’s father. James Blackwell was nothing if not an opportunist, and this was a golden opportunity. It didn’t matter that, for once, he hadn’t manipulated it
precisely into being.
He stood up.
‘My intentions are to marry Diana, sir. Do I have your permission to ask her?’
John was drowsy at dinner, and after only half a glass of wine his head was nodding.
‘I’m sorry, good people, I have more serious sleeping to do,’ he announced apologetically, rising from the table before dessert was served. ‘I’m off. Tomorrow let
badminton, tennis, and all other vigorous pastimes be unconfined. I shall be re-invog . . . re-onvig . . .
damn!
. . . Re-invigorated.’
‘Diana,’ he turned to his sister, ‘you may, if you so wish, undertake a game of skittles with me on the lawn after breakfast. It will atone for my selfish past behaviour on
this matter. It is time. The sins of my youth shall be washed away – and yours too, scourge of the family crystal.’ He gave an enormous yawn, and bowed to his friend.
‘James, you may . . . you may . . . I don’t know what you may do. I shall decide tomorrow. I’m drunk with tiredness. Night, all.’ He tottered from the room.
‘Good heavens, what did you say to him?’ Gwen asked her husband as he climbed into bed beside her.
‘I said yes, obviously! What would you have said? Haven’t you seen the way she looks at him? She’s head over heels in love with the chap.’
‘But why on earth didn’t you tell me earlier?’
‘This was the first chance. We haven’t been alone until now, that’s why I suggested coming to bed early, so we could talk. Anyway, come on. What d’you think?’
‘Oh, Oliver, they’re both so young! And he’s – well, he’s a fighter pilot. I can’t even begin to think about the awful dangers John faces, I simply
can’t. But I
can
bring myself to say that James Blackwell might well be . . .’
‘Wounded? Killed? Taken prisoner? Wasn’t that exactly the position I was in when you agreed to marry me in 1916?’
She stared at him. Then she slowly put her hand in his.
‘Oh my dear,’ she said, ‘we’ve come full circle, haven’t we? Nothing’s changed at all, has it? Nothing. Those poor creatures. How we’ve failed them. How
could we let such a terrible, terrible war happen again?’
Her husband pulled her to him. ‘I think it’s because we couldn’t face our fears,’ he said deliberately. ‘We were so horrified by memories of the last time that
we’d do or say anything to convince ourselves it couldn’t happen again. Even when reality was staring us in the face.’
He tilted his head back against the headboard. ‘And now it’s our children who’ve got to clear the mess up. Let’s hope they can. Let’s just pray it’s not too
late.’ He reached for her other hand. ‘And let’s allow them whatever happiness they can grab hold of, shall we? While they can?’
Gwen nodded. ‘Of course you’re right. And as for being too young . . .’ she considered for a moment. ‘Weren’t we the same age?’
‘To the year.’
They’d left the pair of them downstairs in the garden room. The night was warm and the French windows had been thrown open, chairs pushed to the threshold. Outside,
fireflies were hovering above the lawns.
As soon as her parents had said goodnight and closed the door into the hall, Diana jumped out of her armchair and went over to sit on James’s lap, arms thrown around his neck.
‘What was all that business between you and Daddy at dinner?’ she asked, after she had been thoroughly kissed.
‘What business?’
‘Oh, come on.’ She poked his ribs. ‘The pair of you looked fit to burst! What’s going on?’
He wished he entirely knew. Always the master of his affairs, James Blackwell felt strangely off-balance tonight. Events seemed to be controlling him, rather than the reverse. This was a new
sensation and, to his surprise, not necessarily an unpleasant one.
‘OK.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I had a conversation with your father, at tea, while you were upstairs.’
‘What about?’
‘You. Well, more to the point, us. He asked me what my intentions were towards you.’
Diana laughed. ‘Really? How funny! That doesn’t sound like him at all.’
James smiled. ‘To be fair, he thought it was pretty funny too, as soon as he’d said it – but anyway, he pressed the point.’
Diana’s own smile faded. ‘What did you say? Oh James, you didn’t say anything about our speeding things up, did you? You didn’t even hint at it, surely.’
‘Of course not! No, I went much further than that.’
‘
What?
I don’t understand.’
‘Me neither, as it happens. Well, not fully, yet. I asked your father to give me permission to do something. But let’s do this properly. Let me get up.’
She climbed off his lap and he stood up, motioning her to sit in the armchair. When she was settled, he snapped off his best salute before dropping on to one knee in front of her. Diana gave a
little gasp.
‘I’m sorry,’ he told her. ‘I don’t have a ring to put on your finger, but I do have a question for you.’
She stared down at him, one hand pressed to her mouth.
‘Diana Arnold, would you please marry me? As soon as possible?’
She sat absolutely still for so long he began to think he had somehow paralysed her. Finally, she took her hand away from her mouth, and spoke.
‘So
this
is what you meant by speeding things up. I had very different ideas, I have to say.’
‘Oh yes, all that too,’ he said. ‘Most definitely. But what’s your answer, Diana? Say it’s yes.’
She slid from the chair and sank down on her knees to face him, putting her hands on his shoulders.
‘How could it
possibly
be anything else?’ And in an unconscious echo of her mother during another war, a quarter of a century earlier, Diana added: ‘Yes. Yes, of
course.’