Starlight (14 page)

Twenty-Four

Addie was delighted to find her girls waiting for her when she came home from the factory, especially Marguerite who, of course, only came back from the airfield at rare intervals.

‘Oh, it's so grand to see you!' she cried, throwing her arms round her elder daughter. ‘I do miss you, eh? And you too, Jess . . .'

‘No need to say you miss me, Ma,' Jess said with good humour. ‘I know you don't see Marguerite as often as you see me.'

‘Still, things are different now, with both of you gone.' Addie sighed deeply. ‘But there it is – bairns grow up. You'd have left, anyway, war or no war, and if there's nobody to play cards with, well, that's how it's got to be.' Dabbing at her eyes, she began to set out cups. ‘How's Mr Daniel, then, Marguerite? Poor man, he's in the same boat as me, eh? All on his own.'

‘He's OK, Ma, but don't worry about tea,' Marguerite told her. ‘We had a cup in Jess's office, and I'll have to cook for Ben's dad when I get back.'

‘What a piece of nonsense! Of course you'll have to have your tea here. Jess and me'll want something anyway.' Addie shook her head despondently. ‘Ah, if only I was still at the club, eh? Could always rustle up a nice meal then, but there's no' much good food around the camouflage nets, eh? Och, I canna tell you how tired I get of pulling that netting around and sticking leaves in, or whatever else they want us to do!'

‘Let's set the table and see what we can find,' Jess said, taking a tablecloth from a drawer. ‘There's always the fish and chip shop, anyway.'

‘Are you joking?' her mother asked. ‘There's queues a mile long there these days, and then you're lucky if they've any decent fish. Tell you what, though, Alf Rowe the fishmonger's still open. He might have a bit of finnan haddie, eh? That'll no' take long to cook. Jess, here's my purse – see what you can find, eh?'

‘I'll take my jacket off,' Marguerite said at once. ‘Don't want it smelling of fish.'

Jess was in luck. Alf Rowe did have some smoked haddock and Addie was soon able to produce an acceptable meal, of fish poached in milk, potatoes recklessly mashed with the butter ration, and fresh vegetables, courtesy of Derry downstairs.

‘Aye, he's keeping going somehow, poor Derry,' Addie murmured. ‘He can get the vegetables, but fruit – forget it! I mean, when'll we see a Canadian apple again?'

‘How's Moyra?' Jess asked. ‘Has the doctor decided what's wrong?'

‘Did I no' tell you?' Addie's lovely eyes were bleak. ‘It's the TB. No' in the lungs, but inside, seemingly. Aye, that's why they thought it was something else to start with. Anyway, she's in the Jubilee Hospital and Derry's in such a state. Oh, he's a broken man. What he'll do, if she goes, I canna say.'

‘I'm very sorry to hear that,' Jess said, her eyes fixed on her mother. ‘Moyra's such a lovely person.'

‘Awful thing to get,' Marguerite murmured with a shudder. ‘I think I'd rather be blown up than have something like that.'

‘Marguerite, what a thing to say!' Addie had turned pale. ‘Listen, you've no' heard if there are raids likely, eh?'

‘No, never heard.' Marguerite stood up to collect their plates. ‘But they will be coming, Ma, we'll just have to brace ourselves.'

‘Maybe no' here,' Jess said quickly. ‘I mean, we've no shipyards or anything.'

‘We've the docks,' Addie said quietly. ‘Right here in Leith. But how can you be so sure that Hitler will want to bomb us? He's done nothing so far.'

Marguerite, exchanging looks with Jess, shrugged.

‘Well, I suppose I could be wrong.'

‘Of course you could,' Jess agreed. ‘Don't worry, Ma, none of us is going to be blown up. And listen, I think we should go and visit Moyra, eh? If we're allowed?'

‘Oh, no, no!' Marguerite cried. ‘Better not. TB's infectious!'

‘I'm sure you don't get it from visiting. Anyway, you needn't go, you'll be at Drem.'

‘That's right.' Marguerite's brow had cleared. ‘But you take care, eh? See what the doctors say, before you go to a TB hospital. Look, Ma, if you don't mind, I'll have to go back home now, but it's Saturday tomorrow, so we can meet then. Let's have a coffee at Logie's, say ten o'clock? My treat.'

‘Wish I could join you,' Jess said, ‘but I work Saturday mornings now.'

‘Well, we'll all have Sunday dinner here,' Addie declared grandly. ‘You bring Mr Daniel, Marguerite, and I'll sweetheart the butcher into getting me a joint.'

And I'll bet she'll do just that, Jess thought, as fond farewells were made and Marguerite departed. Sometimes it could be a distinct advantage to have a good-looking mother. Why, just think of all the fruit poor Derry used to let her have at reduced prices! Now he had someone else to think about and that was his own dear wife. Was he a broken man, as Addie had said? Probably, but might not, of course, stay that way. Would Marguerite and Jess have a stepfather one day? Perhaps not. Addie still went regularly to put flowers on her husband's grave.

‘When are you seeing your Rusty then?' Addie asked Jess later, when Jess, too, was preparing to go home. ‘Can he get one of these weekend passes?'

‘He's got a week's leave in May,' Jess answered, smiling. ‘I'm counting the days.'

‘That's nice.' As she had no one to play cards with, Addie was laying out a game of Patience. ‘You've made a good choice of man there, Jess. You'll never have any trouble with Rusty, I'm sure of that.'

‘He's good natured, all right.'

‘He is. No' like Ben.'

‘Why, Ben's nice enough, Ma.'

‘But moody. Very handsome, but sees the dark side. Now Marguerite's never been one for putting up with anything, I think you'd say?'

‘I'd say,' Jess agreed, laughing.

‘It's just the way she is. Likes everything smooth and easy, and if Ben ever tries to make things hard – well, it'd be better if he didn't, eh?'

‘I wouldn't worry, Ma, they're so much in love, they'd never hurt each other.'

Addie, placing a red queen on a black king, smiled. Whether over her cards, or for some other reason, Jess couldn't be sure.

Twenty-Five

Bliss arrived with Rusty, home on leave, and relief that he was all right. Looking very well, in fact, if a little strange, with the obligatory short haircut, but lean and tanned and with a new confidence in his manner. He was having a grand time, he told her, there was absolutely no need for her to worry about him, unless she wanted to worry about his failing the course, which was all that worried him. But then all the guys worried about that. Nobody wanted to give up the chance of being aircrew.

‘But when you're on these ops,' she murmured, after they'd made wonderful love on his first day back. ‘It'll be different, then.'

‘You know the slogan,' he told her, pulling her close. ‘It may never happen. Might never be in action.'

‘You want to be, though.'

‘Sure, I do. It's what I'm training for. But why think of it now? We've got better ways to spend my leave.'

Lying against him, kissing his lips, Jess agreed that thoughts of anything weren't at that moment necessary.

Luckily, for that week of Rusty's leave, Jess had managed to persuade George to let her take holiday. Though when she'd first proposed it, he'd only lit another cigarette and groaned.

‘You want to go on holiday, Jess? For God's sake, why?'

‘Well, I haven't had any time off since last November. And Rusty's coming back on leave.'

‘Oh, well, then, I suppose I can't say no.' George took out a handkerchief and wiped his face, which, now she came to study it, seemed to Jess to be too pale and too damp. ‘Don't take more than a week, though, will you?'

‘I won't, that's all Rusty's got.' Jess hesitated. ‘Are you all right, George? You look a bit under the weather.'

‘I'm fine. It's just this warm weather – never suits me, you know.'

‘It's not all that warm. Nice, but still chilly.'

‘Think so?' He began to sort in his desk drawer. ‘Maybe I should take my tablets. Keep forgetting, that's my trouble.'

‘You're on tablets?' Jess tried to see the label on the bottle, but he was holding it away. ‘I didn't know. What are they for?'

‘Oh, this and that. Would you be a dear and get me a glass of water, Jess?'

When he'd taken his pill with the water she fetched, he grinned and told her not to look at him as though she were Sally. ‘Or my Daisy, come to that. Fusspots, the lot of you, eh? You take your holiday, then, Jess, and give my best to Rusty.'

‘Why, he'll be sure to look in to see you.'

Again, George grinned. ‘Better not. I might give you both jobs if I see you here!'

Even so, they did look in at the Princes and George seemed much better, shaking Rusty's hand, and saying he was coping, they'd no need to worry, should just have a good time. Which, obviously, they were, he'd added, his eyes travelling over their happy faces – he'd never seen them looking so well.

‘Poor old George,' Rusty remarked, as they'd left. ‘Always seems to carry the world on his shoulders. It's not that difficult, running a cinema, is it?'

‘Why, I'd say there was plenty to it,' Jess replied, a little nettled. ‘More than you might think.'

‘Well, you'd know, seeing as you're probably doing most of the work for George these days. I'm glad you're out of the box office, anyway.'

‘I didn't mind the box office!'

‘Ah, but you were always set to go places – according to Ben. Which reminds me, how's he doing? He doesn't keep in touch.'

‘I only hear from Marguerite occasionally,' Jess said carefully. ‘Latest news is that he didn't make aircrew. His eyesight's not quite good enough.'

‘Oh, no.' Rusty whistled. ‘If I know Ben, that'll upset him.'

‘Yes, he's disappointed. But he can do well as ground crew, can't he? There must be plenty of important jobs there.'

‘Of course there are. He'll be OK.'

But though he said no more, Jess could tell that Rusty was thanking his lucky stars he'd been selected to fly as navigator. The fact that he'd probably be safer not flying wouldn't matter to him, as it would matter to Jess. As Marguerite had put it, aircrew were the glory boys – and who wouldn't want a chance for glory? Of course, he might fail the course; apparently, it was particularly hard. But slipping her hand in his, Jess knew she didn't want him to be safe that way. To fail – that would be too much for him to face.

The lovely days went racing by, filled with visits to Addie and Ben's father . . . bus trips to the countryside . . . peeps over barbed wire at the Forth, or the sea at North Berwick . . . meals out when they could find cafes that had something to spare . . . or just long strolls round Edinburgh, arms entwined, at peace, in a world of war.

Only one tiny cloud disturbed Jess's horizon, and even then she wasn't sure it was really there. Perhaps it was just her imagination that Rusty seemed to want to visit pubs more than he used to, that he felt the need for a drink in a way that was new?

On his first evening back, he'd suggested going round to their ‘local' after supper.

‘What local?' Jess asked. ‘I don't even know which it is.'

‘Well, whichever's nearest, if that's easiest.'

‘But we don't usually go to pubs, do we? You know what I think – they're more for men than women.'

Rusty took her hand. ‘OK, let's go to one of the hotel bars. Much more suitable.'

‘Why do we need to go for a drink at all, though?'

‘We don't. It's just . . . you know . . . convivial.'

She studied him for a moment. ‘That's what you do with the chaps at Kenlin, is it?'

He grinned ruefully. ‘You've caught me out. Suppose it is.'

‘You've got me now, Rusty, you don't need to be convivial with other people.'

‘You're right!' he cried and swept her up into his arms. ‘Come on, let's just the two of us be convivial together, then.'

The following evening, though, he again suggested that they might as well try the nearest hotel, but this time for a meal. Why not? There'd be something to eat, even if it wasn't anything special, and would save Jess having to cook.

And first, we'll have a drink, Jess thought, which of course happened.

‘You must admit, this is pleasant,' Rusty said, sitting back with a whisky he said he'd been lucky to find, while Jess sipped at a sherry. ‘I mean, makes you feel better, doesn't it?'

‘Taking in some alcohol?' Jess asked.

‘No, the whole thing . . . the atmosphere . . . being able to relax. That's part of going to a pub, you know. It's not just the drink.'

‘I've nothing against drinking, Rusty. In moderation. You can't afford to depend on it.'

‘Well, of course, that goes without saying.'

‘Some of the people here, in the tenements and such, they drink to forget their troubles. Only brings more troubles.'

Rusty moved restively and drained his glass. ‘You're not exactly telling me something I don't already know. So, now I've had my drink in moderation, can we go and eat?'

‘I'm sorry,' Jess said earnestly. ‘Didn't mean to lecture.'

He smiled and took her arm. ‘I know, sweetheart, and I understand. But if you think I'm going to turn into an alcoholic on the strength of one drink, you're worrying about nothing.'

‘Why, I never said I thought any such thing!' she cried, but as they moved into the restaurant and studied the sparse menus, she couldn't help wondering how many drinks Rusty had when he was enjoying the atmosphere of the pubs around Kenlin.