A Song At Twilight (28 page)

‘Have you asked him what’s wrong?’

May lifted her shoulders. She was sewing a nightdress for the new baby, smocking it across the front with tiny stitches. ‘I tried but he just sort of turned me aside. Changed the subject. And that’s what worries me most,’ she said, laying her work down and gazing at Alison with anxious brown eyes. ‘Us’ve always been straight with each other. That’s one of the things I’ve always liked about him. Now, there’s something he don’t want to tell me, and that can’t be good, now can it?’

‘No, it can’t.’ Alison looked at her thoughtfully. ‘But it doesn’t mean he wants to finish with you. I’m sure if that were the case he’d have said so.’

‘I don’t know,’ May said. ‘It’s just that this is only since he went home. And I’ve been thinking …’ Her voice faded and stopped.

‘Thinking what?’ Alison prompted gently.

‘Well, there’s this other girl, that lives with his parents. Jeanie, she’s called. Got a little girl – he’s her godfather. You can see what I’m worrying about, can’t you? Suppose when he went back he realised it was this Jeanie he really wants? I mean, you know what Ben’s like, he wouldn’t want to hurt nobody. I know there’s something upsetting him, something he don’t want to tell me, and it don’t need much of a brain to work out what it is, do it?’

‘Oh, May, surely not! After all, he must have known her for years – she went to live with them before the little girl was born, didn’t she? I’m sure there can’t be anything between them. He’d never have started to go out with you if there had been.’

‘Well, if it’s not that,’ May said miserably, ‘what is it?’

Alison could find no answer. They looked at each other for a moment, then she swung her legs off the sofa and heaved herself to her feet.

‘I’m going to make a cup of tea,’ she said firmly, ‘and you’re going to stop worrying about it. And the next time you see Ben, you’re going to ask him straight out what’s the matter. It’s the only thing to do, May.’

‘Yes,’ May said, picking up her work again. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ll talk to him the very first chance I get.’

But her heart thudded uncomfortably at the thought. Suppose it really was all over between them ….

Ben thought about Stefan’s words as he went through the next few days. They were now escorting the bombers over the new targets, attacking French and Belgian railways, and as he stared down at the long lines of track, glittering in the moonlight, he wondered how it had come to this – wiping out the vital links of a friendly country already suffering under German occupation. What sort of world were they creating – or, rather, destroying – and how could it ever be rebuilt once the war was over? The devastation he had seen, and taken part in, was almost too vast to imagine, and yet he knew that was only a small part of it. And all because of one man’s evil ambition.

Yet if it hadn’t happened, he wouldn’t have met May. His love for her shone so brightly in his heart that it seemed impossible that it had come about through such evil. It was beyond understanding.

He thought about his mother and her pain. Somehow, she had been knocked off balance, and although his father was sure that she would slowly regain her health, he also believed that Ben’s marriage could destroy it completely. Another thing that was beyond understanding, Ben thought hopelessly. It wasn’t even a matter of waiting for his twenty-first birthday – she would still feel the same, still be as distressed. He might wait years before she could accept it. He might wait for ever.

And I
can’t
wait for ever, he thought, driving his aircraft fiercely through the night sky. I
won’t
wait for ever!

Yet he could not bear the thought of hurting the mother he had always adored. He could not face the possibility that he might drive her into a complete breakdown – a breakdown from which she might never recover.

He knew that Stefan was right in saying that his problems would affect his flying. But he didn’t think they were making it more dangerous. Instead, he felt driven by a new anger, a frustration that he could take out on the German fighters. It was his duty to protect the Allied bombers, to drive off the enemy, to shoot down as many of their planes as he could. He took a ferocious pleasure in chasing the interceptors through the sky, in firing his guns and seeing his target suddenly burst into flames or spiral out of control into the ground far below. He thrust out of his mind the knowledge that there were men in these planes, young men like himself who were defending their country; to pilots in the sky, humanity took a back seat. The enemy was made of metal and wood, Perspex and fabric; skin, bone, muscle and blood could be forgotten –
had
to be forgotten.

That was what war did to you.

When he landed safely, he gave no thought to the dangers he had faced, merely felt joy as he claimed another ‘kill’, maybe two or three. All he wanted was a pint in his hand, a meal inside him and then to see May.

May. May. May …

As soon as he was on the ground, she filled his thoughts once more, and the problem of his mother began to circle yet again in his head. Round and round and round, with no solution.

Since coming back from Hampshire, he had wanted desperately to talk to May about his mother and all that had happened at home, but he hadn’t been able to find the right words. None of it would matter anyway, if she didn’t want to marry him, and with all these problems in his mind he didn’t know how to ask her. He was aware that if she had even the faintest idea that their marriage might cause problems, she would refuse and he wouldn’t be able to persuade her.

In the end, he decided to take Stefan’s advice and talk to Alison.

He cycled round one morning after a fairly quiet duty, when he knew that May would be working at one of her other jobs. Alison was indoors with Hughie, making Cornish pasties, and came to the door wiping floury hands on her apron. She smiled a welcome at Ben and invited him in, leading the way back to the kitchen.

‘You’ll have to let me go first,’ she joked. ‘You can’t possibly squeeze past me now, I’m so huge. Sit down. I’ll just finish this and then I’ll make some coffee.’

‘Don’t hurry. I like watching. It reminds me of when I was a little boy, watching my mother make cakes and things.’ A slight shadow crossed his face.

Alison noticed it but said nothing. She turned back to her work, rolling out the pastry and cutting it into circles which she covered with a mixture of minced meat, turnip and potato already prepared in a bowl. She damped the edges of the circles with a pastry brush, then folded them over into half-moon shapes and crimped them with the back of a knife. Then she dipped the pastry brush into a saucer of milk and brushed it over the bulging pastry.

‘We always used to use egg to do this,’ she remarked. ‘It makes the pastry look lovely and golden. But we can’t afford to use eggs for that now, even in the country.’ She lifted the pasties on to a baking tray and slid them into the hot oven, then dusted the flour from her hands. ‘There, that’s done. You’ll stay and have one, won’t you? I’ve done plenty. Andrew loves them, and I never know who he might bring home with him.’

‘Well, if you’ve really got enough …’

‘Of course we’ve got enough. You needn’t worry about taking the rations – there’s hardly any meat in them anyway. As May’s mother would say, someone must have stood on top of Cox Tor to throw that in!’

Ben smiled, then said, ‘As a matter of fact, that’s why I’ve come to see you. To talk about May, I mean. I need some advice.’

‘Oh.’ Alison was at the stove, pouring hot water from the kettle into two cups with a spoonful each of Camp coffee at the bottom. She turned to look at him. ‘Just a minute, while I get the milk.’

Ben waited while she went out to the meat safe by the back door and came back with a bottle of milk. She poured some into each cup and some more into Hughie’s mug, then took the bottle back again. ‘We’ll take it into the front room. Carry it carefully, Hughie, and then you can come back for the biscuits. And you’re not to eat any on the way! He will, all the same,’ she added to Ben as they made their way to the living room. ‘He thinks I don’t know, but those crumbs don’t jump up round his mouth all by themselves!’

Ben grinned, remembering doing the same thing himself as a small boy. All the little mischiefs and passing disobediences that he now realised his parents had known all too well and allowed him to get away with, while still making sure he understood right from wrong. And he was never, ever, allowed to get away with lying!

They sat down with their coffee and Alison glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I mustn’t forget the pasties. Now – what is it you want to talk about, Ben?’

He looked down at his cup, uncertain how to start, and after a moment, she said gently, ‘May has talked to me a little, you know. She’s told me what she feels about you.’

‘Has she?’ He looked up with sudden hope, then let his head droop again. ‘That’s not really the problem, though. I know how she feels – at least, I think I do. We love each other.’ A flush crept up his cheeks. ‘I want to marry her, Alison. But—’

‘But it isn’t that easy, is it?’ She looked at him with sympathy, remembering the wait she and Andrew had been compelled to endure before they could announce their engagement. And then the long time before the wedding, with plans being made, parties held, the church and the reception to organise. ‘It’s not like it was before the war.’

‘No, it isn’t. And that’s what my parents don’t seem to understand. Well, Dad does – up to a point. But that’s the least of the problems.’ He shook his head slightly and fell silent again. ‘To tell you the truth, Alison, I just don’t know what to do.’

Alison waited a moment, then said, ‘I’m not sure I will either, Ben. But if talking about it helps – and if I can make any suggestion – well, here I am. And it
is
why you came, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is. I’ve got to talk to someone or I’ll go mad.’ He bit his lip and then said, ‘And that’s the real problem, you see. I think – I think that if I marry May, my mother,’ his voice shook but he took a deep breath and forced it under control, ‘my mother will go mad.’

Alison sat quite still, feeling the shock drain all colour from her face. ‘Going mad’ was an expression a lot of people used lightly, but Ben’s face and the tone of his voice told her that he was using it in its real sense. For a moment or two, she felt sick.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ben groaned. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. It sounds dreadful. I should have said she’d have a breakdown – the words Dad used. It doesn’t sound so bad, but it’s what he meant, I know. He really thinks she’s losing her mind, and if I go ahead with this there’ll be nothing anyone can do to help.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ Alison said at last. ‘Why should it upset her so much? She doesn’t even know May. Is it because she’s just an ordinary country girl?’

‘No, it’s nothing like that – I don’t think it can be, anyway. She’d be perfectly happy if it was Jeanie – that’s another problem, you see.’ He explained about Jeanie and Hope. ‘It never occurred to me that Jeanie might have any ideas like that, or that Ma might either. But apparently she’s got it into her head that Jeanie’s like a daughter to her now and the best way to keep her in the family would be for me to marry her. Hearing about May seemed to her like a betrayal, I suppose.’

‘Why is she like this?’ Alison asked. ‘Is it just because of your brother, or has she always suffered from nerves?’

‘No, she’s always been wonderfully calm and strong. She never seemed to lose her temper or get really angry about anything, and we could always go to her with our troubles. So did most of the village.’ He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw how she’s changed. I mean, when Peter died of course she was grief-stricken – we all were – but we expected her to get over it. As much as you ever do,’ he added, glancing at Hughie. ‘I mean, I know losing a child must be the worst thing that can happen to a mother, but so many people do these days and they do seem to get back to themselves after a while. But Ma – it’s as if she’s got stuck and she can’t get out. And when I told her about May, it made her worse, not better. Dad thinks it could tip her right over the edge.’

‘Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry.’ Alison thought for a few moments. ‘So what are you going to do? Are you going to wait?’

‘Well, I’ve got to, haven’t I? I’m not twenty-one yet, so I couldn’t get married anyway without their permission, and Dad won’t give it to me. I can’t really blame him. He’s got to think of Ma. But it’s my life too – and how long am I going to have to wait? How long have I
got
?’

‘Ben …’

‘Don’t tell me not to talk like that!’ he said savagely. ‘You know as well as I do that I’m only safe while I’m on the ground. I could get killed any night. And we both know there’s something big coming up – the Invasion. It’ll be all hell let loose then, and none of us—’ He caught her expression and stopped abruptly. ‘Oh, God. I shouldn’t be talking like this, should I, especially to you! I’m sorry. Maybe I’d better go.’ He began to get up.

‘No!’ Alison put out a hand to stop him. ‘No, Ben, don’t go. You’re absolutely right. We all know what can happen. We just have to live with it, put it out of our minds.’ At that moment, an aeroplane roared overhead as it came in to land at the airfield less than a quarter of a mile away. ‘As much as we can,’ she added wryly.

Ben gave a rather twisted grin. ‘As you say – as much as we can.’ He sat down again. ‘Sorry, Alison, I just get a bit het up over it all. I want to marry her
now
, you see – as soon as possible – because we don’t know what’s going to happen next. I tell you what, if I hadn’t needed my parents’ permission I’d have married her first and then told them. Though God knows what that would have done to my mother,’ he ended gloomily. ‘Oh, hell – sorry, Alison – I just don’t know what to do.’

‘What does May say about it?’ Alison asked. ‘I can’t believe she’d want your mother upset.’

‘No, she wouldn’t. And that’s the other problem. You see, I haven’t actually asked her yet. Oh, she
knows
– I’ve told her I want to spend the rest of my life with her, but I haven’t actually asked her to marry me. Not in so many words. I was going to do it when I came back, with the form filled in to say that I could. Then all I’d have had to do would be to persuade her and her parents. You see, I know they like me but I’m afraid they think that – that she’ll be marrying out of her station. Not that I care tuppence about that!’ he burst out. ‘May’s the best girl I’ve ever met. There’ll never be anyone else for me.’ His shoulders slumped again. ‘But how can I ask her now? I’d have to tell her about my mother. I can’t get married knowing that it would destroy her. And May might even say we’d better forget each other altogether. I couldn’t bear that, Alison. I really couldn’t bear it.’