Beauty Chorus, The (34 page)

One of the stewards ran towards them with a boat hook. ‘I’ve got you, Miss!’ he called out as Evie surfaced, hair and pond weed plastered to her face. Evie spluttered, caught
her breath as a crowd gathered on the riverbank. As a duck flapped away quacking with annoyance, she burst out laughing, and soon everyone joined in.

‘Darling, you do look a fright!’ Joy giggled as they hauled her out. Evie’s thin summer dress clung to her. ‘Someone get some towels!’ She leant in to Evie and
whispered, ‘I saw her, Olivia pushed you deliberately.’

‘Olivia? I’m bally well going to chuck her in too,’ Evie murmured.

‘Let’s not make a scene, it’s exactly what she wants. Be a good sport,’ Joy said. ‘She’s clearly jealous of you.’ She eyed Evie’s dress.
‘Heavens, do cover up, dear heart. You might as well be in your birthday suit!’

Evie glanced down, and modestly covered her chest. Soon she, and the crowd, were helpless with laughter.

‘Well, Miss Chase.’ Beau draped a soft white towel over her shoulders. ‘It’s normally the cox that gets a dunking.’

‘Thank you.’ She dried her face, looked up at him as he picked a strand of weed from her hair. ‘Actually I was pu—’

‘Oh!’ Olivia held her hand to her forehead and swayed on her feet. Beau turned to her, and caught her just as she collapsed into his arms.

‘Are you alright?’

‘No. It’s the heat, and this crowd …’ Her eyes flickered. ‘Take me home, Alex.’

‘Can’t your parents?’

Olivia opened her eyes. ‘I’m not well. Don’t be a beast.’

Beau shot an apologetic look at the girls and led Olivia away.

‘Come on.’ Joy put her arm around Evie. ‘Let’s get you a stiff drink and some dry clothes.’

‘Hateful girl.’ Evie pulled the towel around her. ‘What on earth has she got to be jealous about?’

‘You mean you don’t know? Oh Evie, you can be awfully dense sometimes.’ When she saw the blank look on Evie’s face, Joy laughed. ‘It’s Beau, darling. Olivia
is jealous of you and Beau.’

35

Leaving the wide, elegant street, Beau and Olivia turned down a narrow alleyway and stopped in front of a run-down mansion block. Olivia collected her mail and flicked through
the letters as they walked along a dark, umber-painted corridor that smelt of cabbage and cat’s piss. ‘Bills, bills, bills,’ she sighed, unlocking her door.

‘I can’t stay,’ Beau said as he looked with distaste around Olivia’s flat. ‘What happened to the place you were sharing in Kensington?’

‘Oh, it was a silly little argument. You know how girls can be. I’m quite happy on my tod.’ She walked past the tiny, cluttered bedroom to the living room, and knocked a
sleeping white Persian cat from the only chair. It glared malevolently at her and paced towards the kitchenette, twitching its tail. Weak sun filtered through the grimy barred windows with crosses
of tape on the panes as she tossed the letters into an overflowing wastepaper basket.

‘How on earth can you live like this?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This … mess.’ He picked up an abandoned stocking and draped it over the chair.

‘Darling, you know how it is. I can barely afford the rent let alone a maid.’

‘You could get a job.’

‘You are funny.’

‘It wasn’t a joke,’ he said under his breath as she walked to the bedroom.

‘At least stay for a glass of wine,’ she called. ‘For me? I get so lonely here by myself.’

Beau glanced impatiently at his watch. ‘Alright, just one.’

‘There’s a bottle of red in the kitchen.’

Her unwashed coffee cup from the morning lay beside the sink, a congealed film of grease floating below the lipstick mark. Beau pushed aside the dirty plates and pulled out a bottle from behind
the tea caddy. He took down a couple of glasses and looked dubiously at them before rinsing them under the gurgling, spurting tap. ‘Where’s the corkscrew?’

‘It’s in the drawer.’ He looked around and, spotting the drawer by the telephone, reached over and pulled it open.

Olivia padded into the room wearing only a sheer, white dressing gown. ‘That feels better,’ she said. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back.
‘It was so lovely spending the afternoon with you, and Mummy and Daddy … Just like the old times, like a proper family again.’ Her fingers pushed aside his tie, snaked between
the buttons of his shirt.

‘Like this you mean?’ Beau put the bottle down.

‘Oh yes, darling, just like this …’ She reached for his belt.

‘No.’ He was shaking.

‘Shh … Don’t say anything. I know you’re still cross with me, but I adore you, Alex, I always have, and I’ll do anything to show you.’ Her hand dropped below
his belt. ‘Anything.’

‘Olivia.’ His voice was low. ‘What the bloody hell is this?’ He pulled a heavy silver frame engraved with a swastika and laurel wreath from the drawer and turned on her,
his eyes blazing.

‘Alex, I …’ Her eyes flickered frantically.

Beau shook his head in disgust. ‘I know your parents’ politics … But this?’

‘It’s just a family picture!’

He looked at the happy smiling faces in the photograph, the two cousins so alike.
And so like me
, he thought, a sour taste in his throat. Beside them, his aunt was smiling adoringly at
the short, dark man with the clipped moustache standing next to her. She was arm in arm with Adolf Hitler. ‘It’s not just a picture!’ Beau yelled. ‘If I’d had any idea
…’ He flung it face down on the floor. ‘You’re bloody lucky I don’t report the whole lot of you. You’d be banged up along with all the other fascist
aristos.’ He glared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. ‘Why? How could you? You always told me you hated Nazism.’

‘I told you a lot of things to make you happy,’ she said calmly.

‘Olivia.’ He fought to control his anger. ‘I have tried to forgive you for walking out on me, I truly have.’

‘Alex, darling …’ she pleaded.

‘No! I shall always be grateful for how your family cared for me as a child, but this is too much.’

‘You can’t leave me.’ She shook her head, eyes wide, staring blankly. ‘You can’t leave me.’

‘The thought that you …’ His face contorted. ‘I trusted you. I believed you when you told me you had nothing to do with Mosley and the rest of them. It’s
over.’ She clung to his arm, but he pushed past her.

‘It’s never over!’ she screamed after him, a vein pulsing in her forehead as he flung the front door open. The cat seized its chance and raced after him, escaping into the dark
corridor. Olivia crumpled to the carpet, her gown floating around her in a cloud of white as she thumped her fists on the floor. ‘I’ll never let you go, Alex,’ she raged.
‘We are meant for one another.’ She heard the sound of his footsteps echoing down the corridor, the door banging open, the thrum of the traffic outside. Then as it slammed closed,
silence. She waited for him to return, to apologise, but the silence stretched on. As her breathing slowed, she reached over and picked up the photograph. She ran her fingers over the faces of her
parents. Olivia thought of the wedding dress that hung expectantly in the wardrobe of her childhood bedroom, imagined walking down the aisle on her father’s arm towards Beau. She pictured her
mother’s proud, triumphant face as she watched her daughter fulfil her destiny. ‘I promise you, I’ll never let him go,’ she said under her breath. ‘If
I
can’t have you, no one can.’

36

Michael had started visiting the airfield a couple of times a week. The vicar approved of the idea of going out into the community and encouraged him to go and talk to the
pilots and crew.

‘The daily dangers they face,’ he said reflectively to Michael as they took off their robes in the vestry after evensong. ‘These brave men and women face death every day for
us. The least we can do is offer a sympathetic ear, let them talk. If the sheep won’t come to us, then the shepherd shall go out into his flock!’ He laughed at his own joke.

For Michael, it was a chance to see Stella. She had been avoiding him since their trip to Cookham, and he longed to talk to her again. On his first few visits she had been out ferrying planes
and he had returned home to his cosy flat disappointed. Today, as he strode into the mess, he spotted her immediately. The air was thick with pipe and cigarette smoke, Jean and her girls fighting
to keep on top of the orders for tea and coffee. The weather was bad, and pilots were waiting impatiently for their chance to get airborne, playing darts and listening to the radio.

‘Oh look, it’s that dishy vicar…’ Margie nudged Stella.

‘Hello, Michael.’ Stella stood as he walked towards her, her cheeks flushed. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m well. How are you?’

‘Fine, I’m fine.’ The conversation foundered. Stella felt as if all eyes were on them. ‘Can I get you a tea?’

‘That would be lovely.’

At the counter as they waited in awkward silence, she eyed the Bible in his hand. ‘I heard you’d been visiting.’

‘This?’ He glanced at the book, so caught up in her that for a moment he had to think what it was he was carrying. ‘Oh, yes, it seemed like a good idea. The vicar suggested
…’ He saw she was smiling quietly to herself. ‘You always can see through me.’ Stella picked up their cups and chose a quiet table away from the crush. ‘I was hoping
to run into you,’ he said as they sat down. ‘You’ve stopped coming to church, and you haven’t answered any of my letters.’

‘I … I’ve been very busy.’

‘Stella.’ He reached for her hand, hesitated, picked up a teaspoon and stirred his tea. ‘I wanted to apologise. Clearly I’ve offended you. I feel a complete fool. If
I’ve ruined our friendship …’

‘No.’ She looked quickly up at him, her eyes scanning his kind, handsome face. ‘Please don’t think that. You …’ She blinked quickly, raised her eyes to his.
‘You mean a great deal to me, Mike.’

‘Then don’t hide away from me.’ His eyes softened, lost their nervousness. ‘Surely we can start again? As friends if nothing else.’

‘Do you really think we could?’ Stella ran her hands through her hair. ‘I wish I could explain …’

‘You don’t have to explain anything to me.’ He took her hand, he didn’t care who saw now. ‘You’ve lost your husband, you’re separated from your child,
of course you don’t want to rush into anything.’

A voice came over the tannoy: ‘Hello, hello. Anson 9799. Will pilots Hughes, Moggridge, Ellis and Baxter-Jones please go to the waiting plane.’

The first group of pilots filed out of the mess, and Michael and Stella were alone in their corner now. He pulled out the chair next to hers, sat closer. ‘Stella, I don’t mean to
pry, but I’ve seen it before with some girls when they’ve had a baby. Everyone gets blue for a while, but for some it just goes on and gets worse.’

Tears pricked her eyes, and she screwed them shut, trying to compose herself. ‘I haven’t told anyone. How did you know?’

Michael exhaled. He was right. ‘I guessed.’ He took her hand. ‘I just want to help you get well. I’ll wait for you, Stella, and if it’s this,’ he pointed at
his collar, ‘I’d give up the Church for you.’

‘No, please, it’s not that …’

The loudspeaker crackled again. ‘Hello, hello. Will pilots Keith-Jopp, Francis, Curtis and Grainger make ready, the next Anson is on its way.’

‘I must go.’ She gathered up her maps and ferry notes. They were alone now, only Jean behind the counter, busy with the girls doing the washing up.

‘I do like that Tommy Handley,’ Jean said to one of them.

‘Go on Jean, do it!’ The girls giggled. ‘When you do that old-fashioned look and say—’

‘Can I do you now, sir?’ Jean mimicked.

‘I don’t mind if you do.’

Michael smiled as they roared with laughter. He turned Stella’s hand over in his. ‘Have you been to see a doctor?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I was afraid they might take David away from me, and then, once he was safe,’ she paused. ‘I thought they might not let me fly. I’m
fine.’ She smiled bravely. ‘All this fresh air, being so busy, it’s given me a new purpose.’

‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It breaks my heart to think you have been going through this alone.’ He leant closer to her. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Stella. Let
me help you,’ he murmured, resting his head against hers.

As the mess door swung open they flew apart.

‘Not interrupting anything am I?’ Teddy asked as he marched towards them. ‘Telegram from Singapore for you, Mrs Grainger.’ He thrust a piece of paper towards her.
‘As I imagine it’s important I brought it myself rather than send Mikki.’ He glared at the back of Michael’s head, putting two and two together, then turned on his heel.

‘Telegram?’ she said vaguely, her heart still racing. She unfolded it with trembling fingers. She scanned the lines, a look of horror growing on her face.

‘What is it? Not bad news I hope?’ Michael took the telegram from her, and read quickly. ‘Wait a minute.’ His brow furrowed in confusion. ‘This is from
Richard.’

Stella went very pale. ‘My husband.’

‘You said he was dead. I don’t understand.’ He looked down, read the telegram aloud. ‘I miss you. I need you. Come home.’ Michael twisted the piece of paper in his
fist. He threw it onto the table and gathered up his coat and Bible.

‘Michael, please,’ she begged him. ‘I never said he was dead, people just assumed. It was easier that way. No awkward questions.’

‘Easier?’ His voice shook with anger. ‘How can it be easier to lie to people who love and trust you?’

She reached out to him, tried to take his hand but he snatched it away. ‘Please, I can explain.’

‘Go on then.’ His eyes were cold now, his face set hard.

‘Not here. I know this is a dreadful shock.’ Stella was shaking, unable to look at him. ‘I wanted to tell you a hundred times. When I started to feel—’

‘No. Don’t say it,’ he said angrily. ‘It all makes perfect sense now. How could you? How could you let me fall in love with you when you are still married to another
man?’

‘Please, Mike, I can explain everything.’

‘No. I don’t think anything you say can make this right.’ He looked out towards the airfield, a stream of aircraft taking off. ‘Go on. They’re waiting for
you.’