The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,67
window and headed towards Lanyon, where Ma and Pa had been told to watch out for me. I did not fly by the house sedately. No, this time, I – Juliet Caron, the celebrated star of the Caron Flying Circus – paid homage to my parents, and with the speed, aggression and fury of a fighter pilot with a Nazi on her tail, opened up the throttle and roared past Lanyon like a bat out of hell, darting over the cedar trees before turning the fighter on its wing and heading back towards the house, slower this time, waggling the wings as I passed the back terrace.
No one on the ground who saw the aircraft would have believed the pilot was a woman and as I turned away from Lanyon, glanced down and saw Angels Cove, I couldn’t help but smile remembering one particular day during Christmas week 1938, when I sat on the harbour wall with Edward, swinging my legs and telling him how – as God was my witness – one day I would find a way to fly for the RAF, and in a way, I had (and the fact that Edward may have looked up from Lanyon and seen me showing off, even if he didn’t know it was me at the time, was the icing on the cake).
After handing over the aircraft and signing the paperwork, I grabbed my overnight bag and headed across the airfield towards the Operations Room in the hope of finding a phone, which is when I noticed a man leaning against the passenger door of an open-topped Morgan.
It was Edward and he was smiling at me.
‘Hello, you,’ he said as I approached.
It was too familiar. Too intimate. I tried to change to hide my joy and excitement at seeing him again. But I was still buzzing from the flight. He nodded towards the Hurricane.
‘Still making a dramatic entrance. I saw you from the house. Is that kind of flying allowed in the ATA?’
I stopped by the car and put my bag and parachute on the ground.
‘I wrote to you,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t write back.’
‘No.’
He touched my cheek.
‘Oil on your face, again.’
I glanced around to see if anyone was watching us, took a deep breath, stepped away and picked up my things. Being near Edward – talking to Edward, seeing his face, his hands, his mouth – was magical. It was the most alive I ever felt with my feet on the ground. But I’d made my bed with Charles and now I had to lie in it – alone, seemingly.
‘How long have you got?’ he asked, picking up my parachute with a groan.
I looked him in the eye.
‘Don’t, Edward. Please. I should be heading straight to Lanyon. I promised …’
‘Just tell me. How long?’
‘Twenty-four hours.’
He placed the parachute in the boot of the car.
‘Now, I know you normally like to walk home from your aircraft, but I told the Lanyons I’d give you a lift. They aren’t expecting you until later. How about we drop by Angels Cove …’
‘Edward, stop and listen to me. I can’t.’
‘Just for afternoon tea? And it’s a lovely day, we could go out on the river afterwards.’
It all sounded so perfect and a million miles away from real life – from barrage balloons and rationing and bombs and bullets and the whole utter bloody nightmare of it, all of the time.
‘Afternoon tea?’ I repeated, standing in complete impotence, watching him load the car. ‘There’s no shortage of butter and cream in Cornwall, then?’
‘There is. But when old Pa Lanyon told me you were planning a visit, I saved my ration coupons and, well,’ he shrugged, ‘there are usually ways to get a little extra. And I managed to make some scones, too … and little sandwiches …’
‘You?’ I laughed. ‘You made scones?’
He nodded, brightly. ‘I sure did!’
He was so damn sexy. But I didn’t want my resolve crumble. I didn’t want to dishonour Charles. And above all else, I did not want to be a sure thing.
‘I’m sorry, Edward. But I really should go straight to Lanyon. Ma will be waiting for me. I haven’t seen her in such a long time, and what with her accident, and as I told you in Hamble …’
Edward opened the passenger door.
‘I told them not to expect you until dinner … you’re a busy woman. Log books to sign, chits to hand in, that kind of thing …’ He leant in and whispered in my ear. ‘Just one