Cry to dream again, p.62
Cry to Dream Again, page 62
Alan, for his part, became more pensive since the mere fact of admitting to his chosen course of action as a fighter pilot had brought him face to face with the possible, even probable outcome of that choice, which until a few days ago he had disregarded. He possessed the presence of mind and strength of character never to permit himself to show the slightest regret, although from his reticence and subdued expression Shirley saw that he had been silently agonizing over that fateful decision since the encounter at Sadler’s Wells that had dramatically changed their lives, their outlook and their expectations. What had seemed the right thing for him to do for king and country before 4th July, at a time when his future held out little promise of fulfilment, suddenly appeared very wrong, but the stark truth was that he no longer had any say in the matter. Withdrawal from the RAF at this stage would be branded an act of despicable cowardice, an act that would bring down such shame on his head that even Shirley would not allow herself to contemplate it.
She remembered all too well how she and the rest of the country had witnessed the abdication of Edward VIII and had shared the national horror at his dereliction of duty. She loved Alan too much to consider taking away his self-respect and made up her mind, albeit with a leaden heart, to accept what could not be altered and to support her beloved throughout all the challenges facing him, even though that would be extremely hard, much harder than coping with infantile paralysis and its consequences, much harder than keeping the home going for her father and brother, much harder than trying to reconcile herself to her mother’s departure, much harder than anything she had ever had to do, because this situation demanded a superhuman strength of mind, character and endurance, even, perhaps, of faith. There was no option other than to believe that he would survive the war and would return alive. Turning her back on the black cloud, she resisted the tendency to weep, and in her imagination gazed wistfully only over the fields where the sun, though fitful, still shone.
Aida on the Saturday at Sadler’s Wells was as magnificent as Alan had predicted, yet for Shirley the fate of the lovers was immeasurably tragic. He queued for a packet of sandwiches in the interval and waited for her after the performance, just as he had for the past two nights, and although the pleasure at seeing each other and the longing to be with each other were still poignantly apparent in the looks they exchanged, there was none of the elation and excitement of those earlier occasions. “Is everything all right, Shirley dear?” Gladys, who had been watching them in the interval, asked with measured concern.
Shirley replied impassively, “It’s this war: he’ll have to go away soon.”
“Ah, yes,” Gladys responded sadly, “that’s hard; there are lots of other young couples in the same situation.” Then she walked off. Tom too sensed that all was not well when they met by the car outside his door.
“You two look as if you need cheering up,” he observed, quite accurately. “Why don’t you go dancing?”
“Shall we go dancing tonight?” Alan asked, taking his cue from Tom. “I don’t mean to the Dorchester,” he hurriedly specified, “but just to a local dance hall where no one will know us.” She agreed readily; she did not want to have to share him with anyone, let alone with his Oxford friends and those spiteful girls, although she might well have enjoyed dancing cheek to cheek with him in full view of all her rivals.
They danced far into the night, holding each other tight and kissing fervently. She was already familiar with the feel of his hand in hers, and the feel of his arm under his jacket was as reassuringly muscular as it had been that first night. He danced expertly, holding her close and leading her with a firm hand against her spine. There, in among the throng of dancers, they were alone and anonymous. Often they closed their eyes, willing the dance to last for eternity.
As the band played the last waltz, he whispered in her ear, “I love you and I can’t live without you, Shirley.”
“There’s no one else and there will never be anyone else in my life; I can’t live without you either because I love you so much,” she answered quickly. They walked arm in arm from the dance hall to the car. He unlocked it and then put his arm round her shoulder.
“When this war is over, will you marry me?” he asked.
She did not hesitate for a second. “Yes, yes! Most certainly I will!”
He laughed. “Well, now I know that I shall have to come back, because I have so much to look forward to!” The tears rolled down his cheeks in defiance of his stoical patriotism and his courageous commitment to the war effort.
She reached up, pulled his head down to her level and wiped his eyes and face, which she then covered with kisses. “You had better come back. I shall never forgive you if you don’t,” she said jokingly, but no sooner were the words out of her mouth than she regretted saying them. “No, no, that’s not what I mean,” she added clumsily. “I mean…” But words failed her, because she really did not know what she meant to say, except that now that she had found him life was unthinkable without him.
Aware of how brave she was trying to be, he changed the subject. “What would you like to do tomorrow? I would love to take you to meet my parents, but my sister is getting married in two weeks’ time so at present the vicarage is in chaos and my mother is running round like a mad thing, trying to find enough rations for the reception. So this is definitely not the best time for you to meet them. But soon, when that wedding is over and I have time off, I shall introduce you to them. I know they will love you and then there’ll be another wedding, ours!”
She smiled, hoping that his confidence was not misplaced. “Anyhow,” he went on, “I’ve met your father and your brother, so it’s time you met my parents.” He paused for a second or two. “Oh, by the way,” he went on, “I’m sorry not to have met your mother. Is she away? I hope she’s not in France.”
Until that moment Shirley had studiously avoided any reference to her mother, and it came as a shock to have the matter of her absence brought up so unexpectedly. “No, she’s not in France. She worked for the French Embassy in London and has been transferred to Washington,” she replied bluntly and as dispassionately as she could manage. For a split second she wished that she could say that her mother was dead. All of a sudden the words came tumbling out: “She has left us!” she exclaimed, leaving Alan speechless. This revelation had taken him by surprise, leaving him in confusion.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” he mumbled, and fell silent. Then he put his arm round her and drew her to him in an all-enveloping embrace. “That is very sad news. Your poor father! How brave he is!”
“I don’t really think I should be talking about my own family at this moment,” he went on, “but what I was about to say was that next time I have leave I shall have to attend my sister’s wedding, but after that I will take you to the vicarage and you can meet my parents. Then maybe we could drive over to Shropshire. Granny died two years ago and Grandfather died last year, but the house hasn’t been sold yet, and I would love you to see it. I think you would like it.”
“Oh how nice!” Shirley exclaimed at this welcome distraction from the subject of her mother’s absence from her life. Her pleasure at Alan’s suggestion was nevertheless tempered with sadness that she did not have anything comparable to offer him, certainly not a visit to France at the present time. A visit to Aunt Winnie and Uncle Horace was not on the cards, not even in passing on the way to Shropshire, especially now that Granny Marlow was in residence and by all accounts was driving her daughter and son-in-law, and anyone else who crossed her path, crazy.
“Anyhow, what about tomorrow?” Alan asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“I’d love to go out into the country again, perhaps further if we can set out early and it doesn’t rain too much,” she answered eagerly. “I’ll try to conjure up a picnic, shall I?”
“No,” he said firmly, “it’s my turn tomorrow.”
“Oh, but you are paying for the petrol and using your rations!” she protested. “That’s nothing,” he insisted, “so let’s not argue about it. Anyhow, I’ll let you into a secret: I’ve inherited some money from my grandfather, which is how I can afford to come to Sadler’s Wells every night and take you out, even buying us lunch in a nice hotel if that would suit you?”
“At least let me bring a flask of tea,” she demanded.
Reggie was down in the shop instructing the paper boys when Alan arrived on the Sunday morning. “I expect they’re both asleep,” he said as he directed the visitor up the stairs. Ted, who had been out on ARP duties the previous night, was still in a deep sleep and Shirley was only just waking up when she heard the voice calling her gently from the staircase. She jumped out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and went down to the landing.
“Oh, my darling! You are early!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms and nearly knocking him down the staircase.
“It’s a lovely day, so I thought we should make the most of it,” he explained, “and maybe, if you like,” here he paused nervously, “we could stay a night in a hotel – in single rooms, of course? I’d have to bring you home very early tomorrow morning to be sure of getting to the base on time, but what do you think?”
“You had better go and ask Pa what he thinks, not what I think!” she replied mischievously. He ran down the stairs and into the shop, where there was only a handful of customers, while she grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. He came upstairs again a couple of minutes later.
“Your father wants to talk to you,” he said, standing outside the closed bathroom door.
“What does he want?” she called out.
“I don’t know – you’ll have to ask him,” Alan said.
The shop was empty both of customers and paper boys when Shirley went down to talk to her father. “Shirl, I wanted to have a word with you,” he began awkwardly.
“Yes, Pa, what is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know how to say this to you. Really your mother should be here – it’s her job and she could do it better than me, but as she’s not,” – there was a touch of bitterness in his tone when he referred to his absent wife – “there are a few things I should like to say to you before you go out.” Shirley waited for him to explain. “This may sound very unconventional,” he said, “but I am very pleased that you and Alan have found one another. You seem so right for each other. You could make each other so happy. Well, it seems to me that you do that already.” He stopped for breath in the middle of his long, serious speech. “Alan told me that he has trained to be a fighter pilot; you do know that, don’t you?”
Shirley nodded. “Yes, Pa, and I don’t like to think about it,” she responded with a heartfelt sigh.
“I understand,” he said, “because it is a very dangerous occupation and it may be that he will have to go into battle very soon. So the point of what I am trying to say is this: you have my blessing to go away together tonight, and if you want to share a room, that’s not a problem as far as I am concerned. I have seen too many lives destroyed by war in the course of my life to allow other people to dictate the moral standards that we should live by.” Hurriedly picking up a pile of newspapers, he went over to the shelves and began to arrange them. Shirley followed him and put her arms around his neck.
“Thank you, Pa,” she whispered.
They drove out to the grassland where they had picnicked the previous day. Shirley said little during the drive. “You’re very thoughtful, my love; what’s on your mind?” Alan enquired.
“It’s just that I would rather go somewhere further away from Biggin Hill, please,” she answered, giving voice to another perfectly valid reason for her reserve.
“Yes, of course, I understand. I should have thought of that earlier,” he said apologetically, “although I have to say I’m not stationed at Biggin Hill, but let’s not go into that now. Let’s go into Kent and see what we can find there.” He drove on until they came to a small town nestling in the foothills of the North Downs. “Do you like the look of this?” he asked. “Maybe we should stop for lunch and look for somewhere to stay before we head off into the Downs.”
“No, let’s go on for a bit; it’s still early, it’s not raining, and I’ve brought a flask of coffee and a flask of tea, so we can stop for elevenses and for tea,” she said.
They followed a road that climbed up onto the Downs and eventually petered out. He parked the car on the grass and got out. “How about this for a coffee stop?” he asked, stretching out his arms and breathing in the fresh air. Although the ground was damp underfoot, he spread out the rug in the shelter of a low hedge. There was no sign of habitation for miles, only the peaceful green landscape blending into distant purple, with sheep grazing for miles all around them.
“Who would have thought there is a war on?” she mused, leaning on his shoulder. He lay down and she lay beside him. They drew closer together and kissed. “What about the coffee?” she said, jumping up.
“Oh, that can wait a minute or two, can’t it?” he said. “The thermos will keep it hot.” He pulled her towards him. Their eyes met and closed and their lips touched under the blue sky, caressed by the sun, obscured by only the occasional fluffy white cloud.
Wrapped in the cocoon of ecstasy, all thoughts of war forgotten, they failed to notice when the sky clouded over; droplets suspended in a fine mist wafting high over the Downs settled on their skin and cooled the air around them. Shirley shivered and opened her eyes. “Look! The sun has gone and it’s raining over there!” she exclaimed, pointing to a misty haze approaching them from the valley beneath. Slowly they sat up and began to collect their belongings. Scarcely knowing where she was or what she was doing, she moved in a daze, overwhelmed by the wonder of the physical reality of their love. Alan appeared to be in a similar state. He poured another cup of coffee from the flask for each of them, and then sat beside her in the car out of the rain, which was streaming down the windscreen.
“Shirley, my darling,” he said quietly after a long silence, during which they nestled up against each other, “I take you for my wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, for evermore, until death do us part.” Tears welled up in her eyes. Less familiar than a vicar’s son with the words of the marriage service, she stumbled in her attempt to repeat them correctly, though there was no doubting the sincerity and the fervour of her intention. “Shall I ask my father to marry us in a simple ceremony in his church as soon as these exercises are over? Would that suit you, my darling?”
“I would like that more than anything,” she replied.
“I’m sorry that I don’t have an engagement ring to give you,” he said. “There hasn’t been time since last Thursday to go out and buy one.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she reassured him. “You are more important to me than a ring.”
They found a hotel, where they had lunch, without noticing what they were eating, and booked in as a married couple for a one-night stay. As it was still raining hard, they repaired to their room after lunch and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, emerging only to come down for dinner, after which the skies cleared and Alan suggested taking a walk through the village. In the course of their leisurely stroll, arm in arm like an old married couple, they stopped to admire the profusion of summer blooms in the gardens, where yellow and red roses tumbled over pergolas and tall, deep-blue delphiniums stood sentinel over the smaller border plants and flowers. “I would love to live somewhere like this!” Shirley cried, marvelling at such rural perfection. “It’s so pretty and peaceful!”
“If you like it, then so do I,” said Alan, squeezing her arm. “Let’s keep an eye open for ‘For Sale’ signs and buy somewhere in this area. It should be quite possible. I suppose I shall have to find a job though; maybe the Foreign Office is not such a good idea if we’re going to settle down here. I’ll apply to take the civil-service exams anyhow and see what comes up.” He stopped to consider the possibilities. “But of course,” he added, “if you want to dance, you won’t want to live out here, miles away from central London, will you?”
“Dance?” she said. “I won’t want to dance if I’m married to you! I shall want to be here with our children or maybe away in foreign parts with you!” They both laughed and kissed and ambled back to the hotel.
They woke in each other’s arms much later than they had intended the next morning. “Goodness!” Alan exclaimed when he looked at his watch. He jumped out of bed, saying, “I shall be late at the base! I’m sorry about this, but we must leave in about ten minutes if I’m going to take you home and be there in time for manoeuvres.”
Shirley frowned at the intrusion of warfare into their idyll, but understood his urgency. “You don’t have to take me home!” she said, trying to be helpful. “I can catch a train. I saw a sign to the station last night when we were out on our walk; if you drop me there, I’m sure there’ll be trains to London. That will give us much more time.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t like to leave you like that.”
“Don’t worry,” Shirley said. “Come on, get back into bed for a bit longer.” He succumbed to her wheedling and took advantage of another half-hour in bed with her.
All too soon he was dropping her off at the station. “I’ll try to phone you as soon as I can,” he promised, “though how I shall survive without seeing you I don’t know.”
“It will be the same for me,” she said, suppressing the knot in her throat, “but so long as you take care of yourself and I can expect to see you when you have leave, then there will be something to look forward to.” They hugged and kissed until the train arrived. She climbed into a compartment and lowered the window. The guard was blowing his whistle, but she hung on to Alan’s hand until she had to let go; then she leant out of the window blowing tearful kisses. He ran along the platform trying to keep pace, waving and calling out to her until the train speeded up and he lost the battle.
