Read Online A Song At Twilight by Lilian Harry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lilian Harry
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tell her what had happened today.
He closed his eyes, seeing it all again in his mind and trying to find the right words. He knew just what a shock it would be. Their cosy evening would evaporate into sadness; at the very least, she’d probably want to cancel the party. But Andrew knew they must go ahead with it. Nobody could be allowed to grieve for too long, or they would never take to the air again.
That afternoon, he and Tubby had been on patrol along the Channel and had been surprised by a pair of enemy Heinkels. In the ensuing fight, Tubby Marsh had shot one down into the sea. But even as his yell of exultation had sounded in Andrew’s ears, a third had dived on him, straight out of the sun.
His aircraft disintegrating in a ball of flame, Tubby had spiralled into the waves below.
‘Tubby?’ Alison said in a small, disbelieving voice. She stared at Andrew as if she suspected him of playing a cruel joke. ‘It can’t be true. Not Tubby.’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ Andrew said. She was back on his lap and he held her in his arms but she lay stiffly against him, not responding. ‘I saw him go down myself. There was no chance.’
‘But you’ve been together since you first started at Cranwell,’ she whispered. ‘He’s never even had any accidents. He’s a brilliant flyer, you’ve always said so.’
‘Not in his hearing!’ Andrew said, thinking of the insults and banter he and Tubby had shared over the years. He pulled his wife’s head gently down to his shoulder and stroked her hair. ‘Darling, I’m afraid it doesn’t make any difference how good a flyer you are, when someone comes out of the sun and shoots you down.’
He stopped, wondering if he had said too much. Alison knew the dangers he faced, but they seldom discussed them. Like the pilots, she ignored them and pretended to herself that they didn’t exist. But when something like this happened, pretence was impossible and sometimes it couldn’t be recovered. Andrew had known pilots – excellent flyers, too – who had broken down at that point and been unable to face it again. Some had finished up in hospital, some were now working at desks, and one had shot himself.
It was as bad for wives and families, and they had no control over it at all. They just had to endure.
‘You don’t have to worry about me, you know,’ he said. ‘I’ve had my crash.’
Alison was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘You know that doesn’t make any difference.’ She raised her eyes and gave him a steady look. ‘It’s all right, Andrew. I understand the risks. Every time I say goodbye to you, I wonder if it might be the last time. But there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ve just got to go on.’ She paused. ‘What about the party? We can’t possibly have it now.’ She looked at him accusingly. ‘You knew this, and you let me go on chattering about parties. Oh, Andrew!’
‘No,’ he said forcefully. ‘We must have it. Cancelling it would just make everyone even more miserable, and that’s dangerous. A miserable pilot isn’t taking the care he should, and if he’s upset over something like what happened to Tubby, he’s likely to be frightened as well. His reactions aren’t as good, he’s not in the right frame of mind, and he’s at even greater risk. A frightened pilot is a dangerous pilot – how often have you heard me say that?’
Alison stared at him, remembering how she had quoted those very words to Tubby. How she had tried in vain to persuade him to confess his fears, to tell Andrew or to go to the station doctor. But in the end, it hadn’t been fear that had killed him. As Andrew said, it didn’t matter how good a flyer you were, if someone came out of the sun and shot you down.
If Tubby had had time to know anything, he must have known that. He had known, in the end, that he hadn’t died a coward. She hoped that it had been some comfort to him, in those last terrible moments.
‘We’ve got to have the party,’
He closed his eyes, seeing it all again in his mind and trying to find the right words. He knew just what a shock it would be. Their cosy evening would evaporate into sadness; at the very least, she’d probably want to cancel the party. But Andrew knew they must go ahead with it. Nobody could be allowed to grieve for too long, or they would never take to the air again.
That afternoon, he and Tubby had been on patrol along the Channel and had been surprised by a pair of enemy Heinkels. In the ensuing fight, Tubby Marsh had shot one down into the sea. But even as his yell of exultation had sounded in Andrew’s ears, a third had dived on him, straight out of the sun.
His aircraft disintegrating in a ball of flame, Tubby had spiralled into the waves below.
‘Tubby?’ Alison said in a small, disbelieving voice. She stared at Andrew as if she suspected him of playing a cruel joke. ‘It can’t be true. Not Tubby.’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ Andrew said. She was back on his lap and he held her in his arms but she lay stiffly against him, not responding. ‘I saw him go down myself. There was no chance.’
‘But you’ve been together since you first started at Cranwell,’ she whispered. ‘He’s never even had any accidents. He’s a brilliant flyer, you’ve always said so.’
‘Not in his hearing!’ Andrew said, thinking of the insults and banter he and Tubby had shared over the years. He pulled his wife’s head gently down to his shoulder and stroked her hair. ‘Darling, I’m afraid it doesn’t make any difference how good a flyer you are, when someone comes out of the sun and shoots you down.’
He stopped, wondering if he had said too much. Alison knew the dangers he faced, but they seldom discussed them. Like the pilots, she ignored them and pretended to herself that they didn’t exist. But when something like this happened, pretence was impossible and sometimes it couldn’t be recovered. Andrew had known pilots – excellent flyers, too – who had broken down at that point and been unable to face it again. Some had finished up in hospital, some were now working at desks, and one had shot himself.
It was as bad for wives and families, and they had no control over it at all. They just had to endure.
‘You don’t have to worry about me, you know,’ he said. ‘I’ve had my crash.’
Alison was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘You know that doesn’t make any difference.’ She raised her eyes and gave him a steady look. ‘It’s all right, Andrew. I understand the risks. Every time I say goodbye to you, I wonder if it might be the last time. But there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ve just got to go on.’ She paused. ‘What about the party? We can’t possibly have it now.’ She looked at him accusingly. ‘You knew this, and you let me go on chattering about parties. Oh, Andrew!’
‘No,’ he said forcefully. ‘We must have it. Cancelling it would just make everyone even more miserable, and that’s dangerous. A miserable pilot isn’t taking the care he should, and if he’s upset over something like what happened to Tubby, he’s likely to be frightened as well. His reactions aren’t as good, he’s not in the right frame of mind, and he’s at even greater risk. A frightened pilot is a dangerous pilot – how often have you heard me say that?’
Alison stared at him, remembering how she had quoted those very words to Tubby. How she had tried in vain to persuade him to confess his fears, to tell Andrew or to go to the station doctor. But in the end, it hadn’t been fear that had killed him. As Andrew said, it didn’t matter how good a flyer you were, if someone came out of the sun and shot you down.
If Tubby had had time to know anything, he must have known that. He had known, in the end, that he hadn’t died a coward. She hoped that it had been some comfort to him, in those last terrible moments.
‘We’ve got to have the party,’
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