His Diamond Bride

CHAPTER EIGHT

DUNKIRK: May 1940, a name and a date that were to become inscribed in history, but in fact few details came out at the time. It was only in hindsight that it was possible to see the story as a whole, how British and French soldiers had been driven back through France until they reached the harbour of Dunkirk, where, over nine days, more than three hundred thousand of them were rescued by a fleet of ships that had crossed the channel from England. Some were Royal Navy destroyers, but many were small vessels, merchant ships, fishing boats, lifeboats, and these were the ones that passed into legend.

Enemy planes bombarded the evacuation, and were fought off by the Royal Air Force.

‘They saved thousands of lives,’ Mr Royce told her, ‘but their own losses were terrible, over four hundred planes. Do you have any news of Mark?’

‘Yes, he called me several times to say he was all right. I’m glad I knew that before I heard about those losses. Thank goodness it’s over now.’

‘Dee, it’s not over, it hasn’t begun. Who do you think will be attacked next?’

‘Us,’ she said slowly. ‘In this country.’

A few days later she, like many others, sat by the radio, listening to Churchill confirming their worst fears: ‘The battle of France is over. I expect that the Battle of Britain is about to begin… The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us.’

And the front line of defence would be the Air Force.

By day she threw herself into her work, seeing Mark in every patient, finding her only solace in devoting herself to their care. At night she lay in the darkness, whispering, ‘Come back to me,’ and holding the little bear he’d won for her at the fair.

Now their contact was almost nil. When he could manage to telephone, the call would come when she was at work. She would arrive home to hear Helen say, ‘He called. Says everything’s fine and he sends his love.’

‘Sends his love.’ It was a neutral phrase that anyone might have used, but she treasured it nonetheless.

Mr Royce had been right in his prediction. Three weeks after Dunkirk, the Channel Islands were invaded. Two weeks later, the enemy bombers arrived over England and the Air Force was in action against them, fighting them back so ferociously that Churchill paid a public tribute that went down in history.

‘Never in the field of human conflict,’ he said to a packed House of Commons, ‘was so much owed by so many to so few.’

The pilots were the heroes of the hour. Pictures appeared in the press showing young men, leaning casually against their planes, laughing as though danger was just something they took in their stride.

Mostly the pictures were groups, but occasionally one pilot was shown alone. That was how Dee first saw the photograph of Mark, perched on the wing of his Spitfire, relaxed and clearly exhilarated by the life he led.

‘You’d think they hadn’t a care in the world,’ Matron observed as they studied the papers during a hurried tea break.

‘Why are they all holding up their hands like that?’ Dee wondered, looking at a group picture.

‘That’s to tell you how many enemy aircraft they’ve just shot down. Look at him.’ She pointed to Mark, who had four fingers on display. ‘You can see he’s proud of himself.’

Then she gave a laugh. ‘I wonder if there are any plain middle-aged pilots. If you believe the press, they’re all young, handsome and dashing.’

‘Some of them are,’ Dee murmured.

Part of her was bursting with pride, although it was undermined by terror for his life. But she knew that this simply made her one of many, and so she was shy of speaking about it.

Even with Mr Royce she was reticent, although he’d now become a trusted confidant. If she’d had thoughts to spare for him, she might have wondered at how often they chanced to meet in the canteen, but she had no thoughts for anyone but Mark.

‘How long is it since you saw him?’ Mr. Royce asked one day.

‘Weeks, but of course he can’t get leave now.’

‘But didn’t you say he was at-?’ He named the airfield. ‘Surely there’s a café nearby where you could wait for him to get a few minutes off. Let him know you’re there, and that you’ll wait all day if necessary.’

‘But I have to be here-’ she gasped.

‘Leave that to me. You haven’t had a day off for too long.’

By good luck, Mark chanced to call that night and she outlined the plan to him.

‘That’s wonderful!’ he said. ‘There’s a little café called The Warren just outside the airfield. Wait for me there.’

Mr Royce was true to his word and for one day she was free to hurry to the airfield and settle down in the café as soon as it was open. She bought sparingly, knowing that it might be a long wait.

After a while the place began to fill up and the woman behind the counter regarded her with suspicion, even hostility. At last she approached her, glaring.

‘I’ve got a business to run. I can’t afford to have people taking up the chairs and not buying anything. You all seem to think you can use this place as a collection point.’

‘All?’

‘You know what I mean, and don’t pretend that you don’t.’

Dee did know and was half amused, half angry. ‘Actually, I’m a nurse,’ she said, ‘and I’m waiting for my fiancé.’

The woman regarded her for a moment. ‘If you’re a nurse, come and take a look at my son. He’s ten and very naughty. He cut himself this morning and he won’t let anyone look at it.’

After that, things went well. The cut turned out to be minor and easily dressed. Her hostess visibly warmed.

‘My name’s Mrs Gorton. You stay here as long as you like, and I’ll bring you something.’

She served Dee a lunchtime snack, on the house, and began to chat with her as the café cleared.

‘Sorry about that, but you should see some of them that come in here. I suppose it can’t be helped. Get a lot of young men together and the “good time girls” are going to…well…offer them a good time, if you know what I mean.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Dee said.

‘And they do a lot of business, so I’m told. The newspapers don’t tell that kind of story. Oh, no, those lads are heroes so they’re all virtuous, but the two don’t go together, take my word. I could tell you things well, anyway, the girls who flaunt themselves aren’t the ones you have to worry about. It’s the ones that look respectable, like those two near the door. What time will your fiancé be here?’

‘I don’t know. When he can get away. Perhaps never. No-wait-I think that’s him.’

She could just see a figure in a leather jacket coming along the street. The next moment she’d leapt to her feet and hurried out to meet him. Laughing joyfully, Mark enfolded her in a bear hug and for a few minutes she forgot everything else.

‘We’ll have to go back inside,’ he said at last. ‘I can’t move far.’

‘I don’t care where it is,’ she said fervently.

As they entered she saw Mrs Gorton rise and move back to the counter. For a moment her eyes were fixed curiously on Mark and Dee realised she was conveying a warning about the two girls by the window who ‘looked respectable’ but clearly weren’t.

It was plain what she meant. The girls were regarding Mark, wide-eyed, and in all fairness Dee couldn’t blame them. In a short time he’d grown older, heavier, more adult, and a hundred times more attractive. Until now, the boy had lingered in his face, but the experience of confronting death time and again had changed him.

One of the girls seemed about to hail him, then her eyes flickered to Dee and she shrugged and turned away.

Forget it, Dee wanted to say. He’s mine.

A young man at a corner table rose and headed for the door, passing close by. Dee frowned.

‘Pete?’ she queried cautiously.

He stared, then grinned when he’d recovered. ‘Fancy seeing you here!’ he exclaimed.

‘You two know each other?’ Mark asked.

‘We were at school together,’ Dee explained, ‘although Pete was two forms above me. He saved me from bullies once.’

‘Then let me shake your hand,’ Mark said, doing so and giving Pete a good-natured grin.

‘What are you doing here?’ Dee asked him. ‘Are you an airman?’

‘No, I’m a mechanic,’ Pete said. ‘I wanted to fly, but I was useless at it. Not like him.’ He indicated Mark. ‘Regular mad devil, that’s what they say.’

Mark grinned again, not at all troubled by this assessment.

‘I’ll…er…leave you alone, then,’ Pete said, suddenly becoming self-conscious.

‘Yes, do, there’s a good chap,’ Mark agreed, shepherding Dee to a table.

He sat down facing her, his hands holding hers across the table, smiling as he did in her dreams.

‘I can’t stay long, so let’s make the most of it,’ he said. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Has it been very bad?’

He shrugged. ‘They haven’t caught me yet and they’re not going to.’

‘But there’s more to come, isn’t there?’

‘I’m afraid so. I worry about you, too. Are you sleeping in that Anderson shelter?’

She made a face. ‘We tried it but it’s so uncomfortable. Mum simply refuses to leave the house now, and we can hardly leave her there alone. To hell with Hitler!’

He touched her cheek. ‘That’s the spirit.’

Silence fell for a few moments and she had the strange impression that he was uneasy, which was rare with him. Then, as if coming to a sudden resolution, he said, ‘I’ve got something for you.’

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box which he opened to reveal a ring.

‘It’s about time I gave you an engagement ring. I hope it fits.’

It fitted perfectly. It was tiny and cheap, with a small piece of glass where a diamond should have been. She wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

‘Hey, don’t cry,’ he chided, brushing her cheek. ‘What happened to my sensible Dee?’

‘She doesn’t really exist,’ she choked. ‘She’s just a pretence.’

‘I hope not. I’ll rely on her to keep me straight when this is over.’

‘When it’s over,’ she said longingly. ‘One day-but when?’ To her surprise, he sighed and for a moment a bleak look came over his face. It was gone in an instant, but she knew she wasn’t mistaken.

‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘I thought you were loving it.’

‘Well, some of it.’

‘Being one of “the few”, having your picture in the paper. After that photo appeared in the national press, the local paper used it as well. Now there’s a copy hanging up in the church hall with “Our Hero” written underneath.’

‘Please, Dee, you’re making me blush.’

‘Nonsense, I know how conceited you really are.’

‘Oh, you do!’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said, laughing as she spoke. ‘And you bask in the spotlight. Oh, Mark, what is it?’ The bleak look had appeared again. ‘Am I being clumsy? I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s just that…well…it’s not like the romantic picture they give you. When you take off, you never know what’s going to happen.’

‘Of course not, how stupid of me. It must be scary. Are you-?’

‘Am I scared? Yes, but not in the way you think. If you get shot down it’ll all be over soon. I can cope with that. It’s when I shoot one of them down that it gets hard.’

His fingers tightened on her hand and she clasped him back, waiting silently.

‘It’s all right when they’re at a distance,’ he went on. ‘But sometimes it happens close up and you can see them, even hear them scream over the engines as they go down to their deaths.’

‘But otherwise it would be you,’ she urged.

‘I know. You tell yourself it’s them or you but that doesn’t always help. If you see their faces they’ve become real, and you know you’ve killed a man.’

‘A man who was trying to kill you,’ she said firmly.

‘Yes. It’s just a bit of a shock at first. Ah, well, never mind.’

The last words were like a barrier set up suddenly, as though he’d seen where the conversation was leading and didn’t want to go there.

‘Mark, please talk to me if you want to-’

‘I talk too much,’ he said heartily. ‘I can remember when you used to say so.’

‘That was in another world. If you-’

‘Hey, who’s that?’

There was a movement from outside the window and another airman looked in, jerking his head when he saw Mark. ‘We have to get back now,’ he said tensely. ‘Take off in an hour.’

‘Goodbye,’ Mark said, rising and leaning forward to kiss her.

She had a thousand things to say. I love you. Take care. Call me when you get back. But she said none of them, just followed him to the door and stood watching as he walked away. The girls of easy virtue were still there and one of them tried to stop and talk to him, but he shook her off and hurried on.

Mrs Gorton came to stand beside her at the door. ‘Is he your fiancé?’ she asked.

‘That’s him,’ Dee replied, her eyes on Mark’s retreating figure.

She wasn’t really listening to Mrs Gorton, and so missed the slight curious note in her voice. Nor did she hear the way she said, ‘Hmm!’ or see the pitying look the older woman gave her.

In fact she saw and heard nothing in the outside world. Now her whole universe was taken up by the feel of the ring on her finger, and joy that he’d remembered it in the middle of so much else.

There was another happiness, too. She treasured the moment when he’d come so close to confiding in her about the horrors of his job. That was what she could give him, what would draw them closer. All she needed was time. But time might yet be denied them. As night descended and she pictured him high up, making life and death decisions, she knew a return of terror and fiercely clasped the ring on her left hand.

He had said they wouldn’t catch him and it seemed as if he was right. He survived that night’s sortie and many others to come. Now the bombers focused all their attention on London in what became known as the Blitz. Dee and her parents took refuge in the Anderson shelter in the garden while the noise thundered around them and far off they could hear the screams of the injured and the crash of collapsing buildings. By a miracle, the Parsons’ house was left standing, but when they emerged in the morning there was always devastation to be witnessed.

During that time she saw Mark once more, meeting him at the café. When he left she strolled with him as close to the airfield as possible and blew him a kiss as he vanished. The way back lay past the café. To her surprise, Mrs Gorton was waiting for her at the door.

‘You’ve been good to me, so I thought I’d warn you,’ she said. ‘Are you really planning to marry that one?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Well, don’t, that’s all I’ve got to say. I told you last time how some of them carry on, but I didn’t tell you he’s one of the worst.’

‘Nonsense!’

‘Is it? Look at him. A feller like that can have any girl he wants, and don’t kid yourself that he’s all faithful and perfect because he isn’t. He takes what’s offered, like they all do.’

‘Why are you trying to turn me against him?’ Dee asked desperately.

‘Because I like you and you deserve better. Look, my dear, I can understand that you want to grab him while you can. After all, he’s a catch and you’re no great beauty. No offence meant.’

‘None taken,’ Dee assured her quietly.

‘But give him a miss. He’ll break your heart.’

She could stand it no more, but fled blindly, at first not even noticing that she was heading back to the airfield. She stopped a few yards from the wire perimeter, breathing hard. In the distance she could see lights, young men coming and going, laughing. They were ready for anything but expected no call tonight. Some of the figures in shirts and trousers were actually female, taken into the Air Force to serve as mechanics. She remembered how she and Mark had shared a joke about that long ago.

And then she saw him, walking across the grass in the company of two other young men, their laughter carried on the evening air. Three young women, also in uniform, were with them, in a high state of excitement.

Suddenly Mark stopped, turned to one, took her face in his hands and delivered a smacking kiss. Then the next. Then the third, while his male companions cheered and clapped. While the girls giggled and mimed shyness.

At this distance Dee knew she couldn’t be seen, but she still began to move backwards, seeking the protection of the shadows, talking sensibly to herself.

What she had seen meant nothing. Nothing at all. He hadn’t kissed those girls romantically or passionately, but swiftly, one after another, in front of an audience, as if in fulfilment of a bet. Yes, that was it. A bet. Now they were all headed for the tent where the six of them would spend the evening together in innocent camaraderie.

But Mark was the last one to go into the tent, held back by a girl who grasped his hand and seemed to be pleading with him. He was arguing, laughing, refusing her something she wanted. Dee held her breath, knowing that the decision he took now was crucial.

But he made no decision. The others came out, seized him and hustled him in. The tent flap descended. Silence. Now she would never know what he would have done.

Be sensible. You’ve always known he was a flirt, and these are special conditions. Anything that happens now doesn’t count. He didn’t go with her, and he probably wouldn’t have done.

But now Sylvia was there in her head, saying, ‘If he wanted to flirt, he flirted. If I showed that I minded, I was “making a fuss about nothing”.’

Mrs Gorton seemed to be there as well, joining in the chorus of warning, but Dee refused to listen. She began to run in the direction of the bus stop, but when she reached it she raced on, faster and faster, as though in this way she could outrun the truth. She ran until she could run no more, then slowed to a walk and groped her way through the darkness for an hour, until she reached home.

It took a while to talk herself into calm, but she managed it. Mark was risking his life for his country, and if he was occasionally tempted to look away from his fiancée-a fiancée who he didn’t love, she reminded herself-who knew the strain he was under? What right did she have to judge him?

Bit by bit, she persuaded herself that she was in the wrong. It took much effort for her sensible side kept fighting back, saying that he was selfish and immature. After a while she managed to silence common sense and send it slinking off into banishment, but it cast a grim look at her, warning that it would be back.

It tried one assault in a conversation she had with Patsy, who lived in the next street, whose husband was known as a ‘bit of a lad’, unable to resist temptation, but always returning home in the end with a sheepish look and the plea of, ‘You know it’s you I really love.’

Recently she’d heard that he’d been captured and sent to a prisoner of war camp. After sighing about how much she missed him, Patsy added wryly, ‘But at least now I know where he is every night.’

Dee smiled and escaped as soon as she could, but she couldn’t escape the voice that said she’d just seen her own future.

There were small incidents that might mean nothing, like the weekend he was supposed to come and stay the night with the family, but cancelled at the last moment.

Be reasonable, she told herself. He’s a fighter doing his duty. He can’t put you first. The phrase even if he wanted to floated through her mind and was finally dismissed.

It was Pete who delivered the final blow. Granted a few days leave from the airfield, he sought to earn a little extra money at the garage. Joe was glad to see him. Since Mark’s departure he’d been working alone and needed help.

‘He’s a good mechanic,’ he told Dee when she came home that night. ‘And I’ve said he must have supper with us tonight, because I knew you’d want to talk to him about Mark.’

Delighted, she hurried out to find Pete just tidying in the garage.

‘Did he give you a letter for me?’ she asked, ‘or a message?’

He seemed embarrassed. ‘No, I don’t see much of him. We’d better hurry in. I promised your dad not to keep supper waiting.’

‘But you can talk to me about Mark first, can’t you?’

‘There’s nothing to say,’ he said desperately. ‘He’s the highest of the high and I’m the lowest of the low. We don’t talk.’

She waited for the desperate feeling to settle inside her, enough for her to speak calmly.

‘What is it you don’t want to tell me, Pete?’

‘Look, it’s nothing. Something and nothing.’

‘Go on.’

‘They all fool around-not much else to do-and Maisie’s just there for the taking-it didn’t mean anything, only he was a bit late getting back and the top brass got mad at him.’

‘Was this two weekends ago?’ she asked, referring to the time he’d been expected but didn’t come.

‘Yes.’

She smiled. ‘Thanks, Pete. Don’t worry about it, and don’t mention it to my parents.’

‘Look, honestly-’

‘I said it’s all right. The subject’s closed. Finished.’

He wasn’t an imaginative man, but the sight of her face alarmed him. A woman who’d aged five years in five seconds might have looked like that.

He shivered.