Authors: Lily Baxter
‘Thanks, but no. There’s nothing anyone can do now. I’d give anything to be able to turn the clock back and do things differently, but I can’t and I’ll just have to live with it for the rest of my life.’
She let her hands fall to her sides, feeling helpless in the face of such guilt-ridden grief. ‘Izzie wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.’
‘She was worth ten of me. I should have bought it, not her.’ He raised his head to look her in the
eye
. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with all this. I just wanted to see you, and make things right with you, while I’ve got the chance. It could be my turn next.’
She felt a chill run down her spine. ‘Don’t talk like that. I’m your friend and always will be.’
‘Thanks. That means a lot to me.’ He turned on his heel and strode away to retrieve his bicycle.
She hurried after him. ‘Raif, don’t go like this. Stay and talk to me. I can’t very well invite you inside as it’s a bit crowded, but we could go for a walk. You really shouldn’t be on your own.’
‘I’m on duty. I shouldn’t have come, but I had to see you. Call it unfinished business, but you mean a lot to me, Miranda.’ He mounted the bicycle and rode off before she had a chance to stop him. She ran into the lane but he had already been swallowed up by the encroaching night.
It was some time before she felt calm enough to join the others.
She found it hard to sleep and when she eventually drifted off she dreamed that Izzie was standing by her bedside and she was weeping. Tears trickled down her pale cheeks and fell on Miranda’s face. She brushed them away but they kept falling. She wanted to wake up but Izzie would not go away. She was shaking her and calling her name.
‘Miranda, wake up.’
She opened her eyes and saw Rita silhouetted
against
the gaping hole in the thatch. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s pouring with rain, you idiot. You’re soaked to the skin. Get up and we’ll move your bed.’
Joan raised herself on her elbow. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing, go back to sleep,’ Rita said, dragging Miranda to her feet. She hesitated, cocking her head on one side. ‘That’s all we need – a bloody air raid warning. Get up girls. We’d better go down to the cellar.’
Joan groaned and turned over. ‘I’d rather die in my bed than be buried alive.’
Vivienne struggled to her feet. ‘I need a pee now. Blast the bleeding Luftwaffe.’
‘Wrap this round you, Miranda,’ Rita said, pulling the blanket off her bed. ‘Go downstairs and I’ll put the kettle on. I’m not a fan of the cellar either, and they’ll be trying to bomb the airfield, not us.’
‘They’ll be scrambled,’ Miranda said through chattering teeth.
‘Of course they will.’ Rita steered her towards the stairs. ‘The glamour-boys will sort out the Jerries. Now go downstairs while I move your bed. Go and sit by the range and dry out or you’ll catch double pneumonia.’
Miranda stumbled down the rough wooden steps with Raif’s last words ringing in her ears.
Call it unfinished business
. She knew then what he meant, and what Izzie had been trying to tell her in the
dream
. Raif was intent on revenge and nothing and no one would be able to stop him. He had taken his Spitfire into the air with one thing in mind: to kill or be killed.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘I’VE GOT TO
stop him.’ Miranda came to a halt in the middle of the kitchen. The nightmare was receding but the resounding thuds of ack-ack fire shook the old building, and the drone of aircraft engines overhead brought the combat terrifyingly close to home. She shrugged off the blanket. ‘I must get dressed and go to the aerodrome.’
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Rita demanded, catching her by the wrist.
‘I’ve got to stop him taking off. Let me go, Rita. I have to do this.’
‘Calm down and stop talking like a mad woman.’
‘Raif told me that he had unfinished business. I know that he’s going to get himself killed. He’s on a suicide mission and I’ve got to stop him.’ Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she struggled to free herself, but a slap across the face made her gasp with shock. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘You had a nightmare. Come and sit by the fire. I’ll soon get it going again and you can have a nice hot cup of tea.’ Rita guided her towards the range and pulled up a chair, pressing her down on the seat. She retrieved the blanket and wrapped it
around
Miranda’s shoulders. ‘You’ll be all right. It was just a bad dream.’ She waited for a moment and when Miranda did not respond she turned her attention to the range, riddling the ashes and pulling out the damper.
A gust of wind and rain blew into the kitchen as Vivienne rushed in and slammed the door. ‘God, what an awful night. I’d give anything for an indoor lavvy.’ Shaking the rainwater from her hair, she stopped to stare at Miranda. ‘What’s up with her?’
‘Get some logs from the store,’ Rita said, frowning. ‘Miranda’s bed got soaked. We must do something about that bloody roof.’
Vivienne hesitated, staring at Miranda. ‘There’s no need to get in a state about it, love. If having a bad dream and getting soaked is the worst thing that’s happened to you since the war started, all I can say is that you’ve had it easy.’
‘Shut up, Viv, and get the logs.’ Rita flicked a cinder at her. ‘D’you want tea or cocoa?’
‘Cocoa. If I don’t drown on my way to the log store.’ Vivienne opened the door and went outside to brave the storm for the second time.
Miranda rose to her feet. ‘I’m okay now, Rita. Please don’t slap me again, but I’ve got to go to the aerodrome. If there’s the slightest chance that I can stop Raif taking off then I’ve got to do it.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish, Manda. They’ll have been scrambled before the siren went off and there’s nothing you can do about it.’ Rising to her feet, Rita
took
a small bottle from its hiding place behind the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Rum,’ she said, pulling out the cork. ‘A slug of this in your tea will make you feel a different woman.’ She put the bottle to her lips and sipped. ‘Blimey, that warms the cockles of your heart.’ She passed it to Miranda. ‘Take a swig now and we’ll share the rest with Viv and Joan. Us girls look after each other – all for one, et cetera et cetera.’
Miranda’s worst fears were realised when she arrived at the aerodrome next morning and discovered that not all the fighter planes had returned from last night’s sortie. Jack had managed to limp back to the airfield on one engine, and two Spitfires were confirmed as lost, but there was no information as to the fate of Raif’s Spitfire. Miranda received the news with little surprise, having already convinced herself that he had carried out his death wish. When Jack came to see her in the office later that day he seemed relieved that she was taking it so well. ‘I always thought you had a bit of a crush on him, Miranda.’
She shuffled the papers on the desk in front of her and laid them tidily in the filing basket. ‘I did, but that was a long time ago now. I was such a little idiot when all this started but I’ve had to grow up.’
He perched on the edge of the desk. ‘It ought to have been me who bought it last night. God alone knows how I managed to bring my kite home. I
thought
about ditching in the sea, but for some reason I couldn’t do it.’
Jolted out of her apathetic state, Miranda stared at him in dismay. ‘You mustn’t think like that, Jack. Izzie wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid. She loved you and she wouldn’t want you to waste your life.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine a future without her. I really don’t care what happens to me now.’
Miranda was about to protest when Rita stuck her head round the door. ‘Ready for off, Manda?’ Her smile faded when she saw Jack and she entered the room, closing the door behind her. She put her arms around him. ‘You were nearly a goner, you daft bugger. Don’t scare us like that again.’
Jack’s grim expression softened into a smile. ‘You really know how to make a chap feel good, Rita.’
She loosened her hold, staring at him with concern in her eyes. ‘If you think I’m going to let you wallow in misery, you’ve got another think coming, young man.’
Miranda held her breath. She would not have spoken to Jack in such a way, but to her astonishment he did not seem to mind. If anything he appeared to relax a little, and he held Rita at arm’s length, studying her grubby overalls with a wry expression. ‘You look a mess and you’ve got lubricating oil in your hair.’
‘Ta, ever so. It’s nice to know I’m appreciated.’
Rita
pulled away from him, grinning. ‘I’m going to have a shower and then you can buy me and Manda a drink in the pub, since we’re not allowed in the mess with the snobby officers.’
‘I’m not really in the mood,’ Jack said wearily. ‘I’ve only had a couple of hours’ sleep.’
‘All the more reason to have a couple of drinks and a meal and you’ll drop off as soon as your head hits the pillow and sleep like a baby. I’m not taking no for an answer, Flight Lieutenant Beddoes.’ She shot a meaningful look in Miranda’s direction. ‘Keep an eye on this bloke. Don’t let him out of your sight. He’s in the chair and you’re coming with us. I’m not having you moping about Raif Carstairs. If he’s bought it, he’s no great loss. That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.’ She winked and with a mock salute left the room.
‘She’s like a whirlwind when she gets going.’ Jack sighed and rubbed his hand across his eyes. ‘I’m not good company these days, and to be honest I’d much rather get my head down for a few hours.’
Miranda rose from her seat and snatched her cap from the coat stand. She put it on, checking her appearance in a mirror placed strategically on top of the filing cabinet. ‘I understand how you feel, but I wouldn’t refuse if I were you. She’s quite capable of turning up at your digs and dragging you out of bed.’
‘I don’t think I’d have done if she hadn’t taken
me
in hand. She seems to sense when I’m feeling low and she pops up like the genie from Aladdin’s lamp. I think I’d have slit my throat after Izzie died if it hadn’t been for Rita.’
‘She’s got your best interests at heart. She might be an unlikely guardian angel, but you can rely on her to be there when you need a shoulder to cry on.’
His lips curved in a smile. ‘She’s certainly changed a lot since you first brought her to Highcliffe. You’d never think she was the same skinny little thing that Mother took in because old Mrs Proffitt was in hospital.’
‘Practically the first thing she told me was that she wanted to be a pin-up girl and have her photos in glossy magazines. Now she’s mending bicycles and wearing greasy overalls. She’s still a stunner, only now she doesn’t think about it.’
‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I suppose she is. It’s funny but I’ve never really thought about Rita as anything but a kid and a bit of a pest.’
‘Let’s go wait for her in the pub. We can raise a glass to Raif. There’s still a chance he might turn up, isn’t there?’ Her voice broke and Jack slipped his arm around her shoulders.
‘We’ll just have to hope he managed to bail out, even though there weren’t any reports of parachute sightings over the Channel.’
‘He might have managed to land somewhere. I’m not going to give up on him yet.’
‘That’s the ticket.’ Jack kissed her on the cheek and went to open the door. ‘Come on then. Let’s go to the pub.’
Miranda took her cap from its peg. ‘I miss being in the plotting room, Jack. At least we were in the thick of it and knew what was happening. Except that I wasn’t on duty when Gil was shot down, and I had the news second-hand. I’m not sure how I would have handled it if I’d been listening to his Mayday over the tannoy.’ She shot a sideways glance at Jack but he seemed lost in his own thoughts.
‘I can’t say I liked Raif, and we never saw eye to eye.’ He raised his head to look her in the eyes. ‘But we both loved Izzie.’
It was obvious that he had not heard a word she had said, but she knew that he was thinking of Izzie and she gave him an encouraging smile. ‘We’ll drink to them both, unless Rita’s got her own ideas about that as well as everything else.’
‘I’ve never met such a stubborn, hard-headed woman in my whole life, except perhaps my own mother.’ He ushered Miranda out of the office.
‘I don’t think either of them would be flattered by the comparison,’ she said, chuckling.
After several months when there was no news as to Raif’s fate everyone, except Miranda, seemed to have accepted the fact that he had been killed in action and that his Spitfire was at the bottom of the English Channel. It was yet another tragic loss but life at the
aerodrome
went on as usual. Casualties and deaths occurred with virtually every sortie, and the Luftwaffe was relentless in its attempts to bomb the RAF into submission and destroy the military airfields.
When she was not working Miranda kept herself busy cleaning the castle and attempting to make it more homely, or attempting to cook on the antiquated range and make tasty meals out of their sparse rations. She visited Gil as often as possible, although her days off were few and far between. His progress was slow, but eventually his plasters were removed and replaced by bandages and splints. He was determined to walk again and his hero was Douglas Bader. He had a photograph of him pinned on the wall in his room, together with one of his mother and Felicity. He hastened to reassure Miranda that he had her photo tucked away in his wallet.
‘It’s not that I don’t want Mother to know that we’re seeing more of each other,’ he explained during one of Miranda’s visits. ‘But I don’t want her to start interfering when you and I are just getting to know each other.’ He reached out to hold Miranda’s hand. ‘We’ll tell her when it suits both of us. I can stand up to her, but I’d rather do it when I’m on my feet than laid up in hospital. When Mother gets a bee in her bonnet she’s hard to convince otherwise.’
‘I know someone else like that,’ Miranda said,
smiling
. ‘I think your mother and my grandmother would make a good pair.’
Gil gazed down at their entwined fingers. ‘I don’t want to scare you off, Miranda. Seeing you has been the one thing that’s kept me from giving up entirely, but you don’t owe me anything. I wouldn’t want to tie you to a cripple, and I’m not made of glass. I won’t splinter into shards if you tell me you’ve had enough.’