He stared calmly back at her, holding her eyes with his own until she looked away.
‘Yes, I’m all right,’ he said quietly. Sally had to lean forward to hear him. ‘And I agree, Diana is . . . bloody special. Which is why I’m here. OK?’
She relaxed a little, and raised her eyes to his again. ‘OK. But be warned, Flight Commander. You’re at Girton. Mess around with one of us at your peril. Here, we’ve been
fighting for over half a century to get women up to the same level that men casually occupy as of right. We’re sick of inequality and intellectual snobbery and being looked down upon. We want
our due.’
He raised gloved hands in mock defensiveness.
‘My dear Sally . . . You have absolutely no
idea
how much you and I have in common.’
Diana was expecting James to stop at the gate-house and send a porter to let her know he’d arrived. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would talk his way in, so when
she heard a knock at her door she assumed it was one of the college servants.
‘I’m coming,’ she called, pulling on her coat, hat and gloves and dropping a pack of cigarettes into her handbag. She switched out the light and opened the door.
‘Miss Arnold, I presume? It’s been so long I’m not sure I’d recognise her.’
‘Oh my goodness!’ Diana stepped back into her room. ‘James! How on earth did you get into college?’
‘Everyone keeps asking me that,’ he grumbled. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’
Diana giggled. ‘Of course I am. You took me by surprise, that’s all. I was expecting an elderly porter with hair sprouting out of his ears, not a conquering hero.’
‘I’m hardly that,’ he replied as she put the light back on and motioned him inside. ‘None of us are. If it wasn’t for the newspapers to remind us, you
wouldn’t know we were at war at all. Perhaps Mr Hitler’s forgotten all about us.’
Diana closed the door and they stared at each other for a moment.
James’s cap and shoulders, Diana saw, were white with snow. It was far too chilly in the college corridors for the flakes to have even begun to melt yet. His blue eyes glittered out at her
from under the cap’s peak, and his cheeks glowed with the cold of outside. He was grinning at her with something like triumph. Diana felt her heart miss a beat.
To James, Diana looked sensational in her belted, French-style raincoat and bright red leather gloves. She was wearing fur-trimmed bootees, and a red cloche hat to match the gloves. Her green
eyes were fixed on his and for a long moment, neither of them seemed able to speak.
It was Diana who broke the silence.
‘Well,’ she said at last. ‘This feels rather peculiar, doesn’t it? We’ve only actually met that one time, and here you are in Cambridge, and in my room.’
He looked around him. ‘And a very cosy room it is too, if I may say so. Did you bring the furniture and paintings from home?’
‘Sort of. Daddy sent a man with a van.’
‘Hmm, well, it knocks my Officers’ Mess into a cocked hat, I can tell you. And yes, all right, it
does
seem a bit strange to be here at last, I’ll admit. Although if
I’d been able to get up to Cambridge last autumn I’m sure neither of us would be feeling the least bit peculiar.’
They sat down a little awkwardly at either end of a pretty chintz sofa. Diana cocked her head. ‘Why
were
you so keen to come? I don’t think we spoke two words alone together
when you came down to the house with John, and the next thing I knew you were ringing me up asking me out to dinner.’
He reached into one of the deep side-pockets of his coat. ‘I’ll keep this on, if you don’t mind. I’m bloody freezing from the car.’ He found the cigarettes he was
fishing for. ‘Want one?’
She nodded. He lit two, and passed hers across.
‘OK, well, let’s see. Why did I ask to see you again? You know, for a Girton girl you’re a bit slow, I must say. I thought you had to be brainy to get in here.’
‘Hey!’
‘The answer’s rather obvious, isn’t it? We may have spent only – what was it, three or four hours in total in each other’s company? But I thought you were the most
interesting, attractive girl I’d ever met. Still do. Simple as that; it isn’t complicated. You’re funny and clever and absurdly beautiful. There, I wasn’t going to say any
of that for ages, but you did ask. And now you’re blushing.’
‘Well, you’ve made me! What do you expect? Oh God . . . I’m completely lost for words, I’m afraid. No one’s ever said anything remotely like that to me
before.’
He grinned at her. ‘Then it was about time. Anyway, I was wondering how we were going to break the ice, and you just went and gave me the perfect opportunity. We can both relax from here;
I’ve been outrageously forward, you’ve blushed: now we can get on. Everything after this can be frivolous chit-chat and gossip. Come on, I’ve booked us a table at The Eagle in
town. Shall we leave? I’ve had nothing since breakfast and I’m starving.’
As they stood up, Diana began to laugh.
‘What? What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, pushing him from the room and locking the door behind them. ‘It’s just that of all the different ways I imagined this evening beginning, I never once
thought it would happen like this. You’re extraordinary.’
‘Good,’ he said as they linked arms and walked to his car. ‘I’ve always thought life should be full of surprises. As long as they’re nice ones.’ They entered
the quadrangle. ‘Bloody hell, look at this snow now. I’ll be lucky to get back to Essex tonight.’
As James and Diana were shown to their places in the old coaching inn’s busy restaurant, heads turned.
‘Blimey, look at them two,’ whispered one young waitress to another. ‘They look just like film stars, don’t you think?’
Diana slipped off her coat and handed it with her hat and gloves to the head waiter, who was all fussing attendance. Underneath she was wearing a pale blue jumper with a matching silk scarf tied
loosely at her throat. Her plaid skirt was a deeper blue and fell just below the knee. Her dark hair swung briefly across her face as she sat down, and as she absently pushed it back with one hand,
the man had to suppress a little gasp. This was the most beautiful young woman he could remember ever coming to his restaurant.
Bloody hell, thought James to himself as he watched Diana studying the menu, she’s even more incredible than I remembered. Those eyes . . . they’re like emeralds. She looks like a
fairy queen or a goddess. I must
not
mess this up.
And suddenly, to his surprise, he found himself considering a change of tactics, a rare thing for him. Not in the larger picture, of course, but in tonight’s opening manoeuvres.
After they had ordered, and Diana began to tell him about her life at Cambridge, confiding a little of her confusion about who she was and what she wanted out of life, James decided that he
should pull back; extend the timetable. This girl was shrewd and quick (she’s probably as clever as I am, he thought) and she’d become suspicious if he rushed things. With the war going
nowhere in a hurry, he probably had more time at his disposal than he’d first calculated.
Even so, there was no harm in unrolling a little of his strategy tonight.
The chance came when Diana suddenly put her hand to her cheek and exclaimed: ‘Oh, my goodness! Here I am clattering on and on about me, and I haven’t asked you anything about you!
And what you’re doing is
so
much more important. You said you thought Adolf’s forgotten about us. I know you were joking, but do you believe the war might just, well,
evaporate?’
That was the last thing he wanted her to think. It would remove all the required urgency from the equation. Diana needed to believe he was facing dangers that, if not imminent, were fast
approaching.
‘Well, don’t misunderstand my remark earlier. We
are
desperately bored and frustrated and longing to get stuck in. But I think things will start to hot up any day now, in
every sense. One of the reasons it’s been so quiet is because the winter was incredibly long and hard, and even worse over on the continent. But despite this lot,’ he gestured at the
snowflakes whirling past the window, ‘spring is pretty much here. I think he – Hitler, I mean – will make the first move. Then we’ll all be crying our eyes out for the
phoney war.’
Diana looked curiously at him. ‘Are you frightened? My brother seems extraordinarily sanguine about the whole thing.’
James sipped his wine. This part had to be exactly right; this was where he planted the seed.
‘I’m not sure if I’m frightened or not . . . It all seems so unreal. The other day in the mess, my squadron leader said: “When it starts, boys, it’s going to be
kill or be killed. Don’t forget that. Get the other bastard before he gets you.” And straight away the thought jumped into my head: some commanding officer somewhere in Germany right
now is probably saying exactly the same thing to
his
pilots. So no, I’m not quite as sanguine as your John is, I’m afraid. But that isn’t the same as being scared . . .
Oh, I don’t know, I’m blethering on a bit. But I do know one thing for certain.’
He waited for her to ask.
‘What’s that?’
James took another sip of wine.
Careful, careful
.
He reached across the table and placed his hand gently over hers.
‘It seems to me that we can’t live the way we used to, people like you and me. There may not be the time. You asked why I was so keen to come up and see you last year and I told you
the truth, but I left something out.’ He paused. This part had to be exactly right.
‘It’s simply this,’ he continued slowly. ‘I didn’t want to waste any time. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic or vainglorious, but I am a realist and I know
it’s perfectly possible that I won’t come through what’s ahead. Before the war we’d have had all the time in the world to get to know each other, to see if we were suited.
Now we have to move along more quickly; put things to the test much earlier than we might once have. I think everyone our age does these days.’
Diana stared at him. ‘I’m not sure I—’ she began, but he gave her a quick smile and shook his head.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not making an improper suggestion. Far from it. And I’m not about to tell you I adore you and only want to be with you until the end of my days.
You’d think me mad, and you’d be right. I hardly know you. All I’m saying – and I’ve had the winter to think about this – is that if we decide to see each other,
especially when I start flying real operations, not training flights or boring patrols, we might find ourselves wanting to . . . well, speed things up.’
He sat back, drew a deep breath, and then exhaled loudly. ‘There. That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked him. ‘The second time you’ve done what?’
‘Told you something I had no intention of mentioning just yet. First in your room, about how I feel about you, and now this, about how our futures might play out. You’re pretty good
at getting a chap to reveal his inner thoughts, Diana, I’ll give you that.’
‘Well, it’s certainly not intentional, I can assure you,’ she said, half-laughing. ‘Mind if I smoke before pudding?’
He shook his head and, once again, lit cigarettes for them both and waited.
‘I think I see what you’re getting at,’ said Diana eventually. ‘The war has changed things. Or rather, it
will
, if you’re right and things start to happen
soon. And in any case, I haven’t been quite fair with you.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘In what way?’
‘Well . . .’ She took a long pull on her cigarette. ‘You’ve been very honest about what your first impressions of me were, and I’ve told you nothing of mine about
you. My turn, then.’
‘OK. Shoot. If it’s a bullet to the heart, I can take it.’
‘No, that’s not it.’ Diana was now turning rather pink. ‘You made a huge impression on me at the Dower House. I asked my brother heaps of questions about you after
dinner. He was –’ she hesitated – ‘well, to say “complimentary” would be an understatement. And he told me the truth about why you’d come to stay with
us.’
‘The truth?’
‘Yes. He said that story about your parents being in Canada was nonsense, and that in fact your mother used to be in service and your father was her employer and took advantage of her.
When he realised she was expecting you, he threw her out. Is that true, James?’
He took his time, drawing on his cigarette and staring out at the big, wet flakes driving against the window. Then he turned to her.
‘Well now, this was something else I hadn’t planned on discussing tonight. But yes, it’s true. And it doesn’t matter. In fact, it doesn’t signify at all. My mother
gave me a good upbringing and I’ve made my own way. It’s irrelevant who my father is. I’m sorry I deceived your parents – and you – but I’ve found that when I do
tell people the truth about my parentage, they usually give me strange looks. They think I’m a liar, or a self-deluding fool, or a bit touched. I find it better to ration the truth. But as I
say, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to start our . . . friendship . . . with a lie.’
In her own turn, Diana reached for James’s hand. ‘You haven’t,’ she told him firmly. ‘I asked you something and you told me the truth.’
She smiled at him. ‘I’d call this a very good start.’
Diana’s portable alarm clock went off just before eight o’clock the next morning, as it always did. The Arnold family habit of waking up to the radio news had been
transplanted to her Cambridge bedroom. Diana hadn’t missed the first BBC bulletin of the day since war began more than seven months earlier. Not that there was usually much to report, thus
far. But still, you never knew.
With a small jolt, she remembered she was not alone in her college bedsit. Over on the little chintz sofa lay James Blackwell, tangled in her spare blankets with his blue RAF greatcoat spread
across the top. His feet poked out from under the coat and covers and way over the sofa’s edge. He looked extremely uncomfortable. But he was sleeping.
Diana switched on her bedside radio, a battery-powered Roberts the size of a small loaf of bread. While it warmed up, she took her dressing-gown from the chair next to the bed, slipped it over
her shoulders and went across to the kitchenette and put the kettle on. Then she drew the curtains above the sink.