was, ‘Of course I’ll look after her. But please, Lottie, try not to worry.’
Lottie calmed.
‘And when she’s older, read our poem to her …’
‘Our poem?’
‘The Christina Rosetti one, you know, the one I read to you to help you to feel better when your parents died. It’s called Remember…’
‘Better by far to forget and to smile, than to remember and be sad?’ I asked.
Lottie nodded. ‘Yes, exactly. I want her to be happy.’
‘But you aren’t going to die, Lottie.’ I said. ‘This is madness. Truly. You’re not in danger, so stop worrying, please.’
For the rest of the evening we played cards and rationed out a bottle of whiskey Aunt Pru had hidden in the back of the larder in 1938 and had been waiting for a special occasion to break out. Anna eventually persuaded Lottie to take to the piano and we sang Jo Stafford songs until the early hours of the morning, ending with a song that one day would mean more to me than any song had meant before or any song would ever mean again – Anna’s favourite and the song Marie sang with the naval officer’s head resting on her lap, Somewhere Over the Rainbow.
Back at Hamble the following day, we picked up our delivery programmes before heading into the mess to grab some late lunch. A letter with a Cornish postmark sat in my pigeon hole. It was from Edward and it was a proposition.
Darling, Juliet
Spend the weekend with me?
Let’s have two days just for each other – two days to last a lifetime, to remember each other by, whatever happens.
I’ll meet you anywhere.
London, Southampton, the moon?
Say the word and I’ll make it happen.
Yours, as ever,
The kindred coddiwompler.
E x
I read the letter twice before hurriedly pushing it into my jacket pocket. Marie noticed my flushed face.
‘I won’t ask you right now what’s in that letter,’ she whispered through the side of her mouth, having sidled up to me at the planning table. ‘But by the colour of you, I would guess that has something to do with a certain chap in Cornwall, am I right?’
I bit my lip. I couldn’t look her in the eye.
‘He wants to spend a whole weekend with me,’ I whispered.
Marie’s face lit up.
‘Where?’
‘Anywhere I like. He thinks we should have one weekend, just for us – two days to last a lifetime, he called it.’
Marie turned her back on the table and rested against it. ‘So …?’
‘So, what?’ I opened out a map of South Wales.
‘So … are you going to meet him? Because if you are …’ she whistled and another pilot glanced up and smiled from across the table. Marie lowered her voice. ‘… if you are, that means spending the night together. And you do know what that—’
I cut her short.
‘Yes, thank you. I know exactly what that means. But there’s no way I could get two or three days off work.’
Marie sniffed.
‘But if you could get away, if you could meet up with him, say in a hotel, or even better, at my flat in Chelsea, just for a night …’
‘It’s not possible …’
‘But if you could,’ she persisted. ‘Would you?’
I took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. My eyes must have shone.
‘Yes,’ I said before laughing out loud. ‘I do believe I would!’
Ten minutes later, as I was about to enter the Met Office for a brief, Marie put a note in my hand.
Spoken to Anna. We have a plan and it’s a hootie! See you tonight. Fly safely, my beautiful friend.
And I wondered at that moment, truly, what would I do without them?
Marie got her way.
It was arranged that Edward and I would meet in London at Waterloo Station on Friday evening. I had been given the Saturday off, but would need to catch the Milk Train back to Southampton on Sunday morning and from there the early morning district train to Hamble. I knew by now that there was no problem getting the Milk Train to be back in time to fly the following morning. Yes, you were a bit tired, but it was worth it, and anyhow, that’s how we all lived then, from one adventure to another, grabbing every moment, at least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I stood in front of my dressing table and turned a photograph of Charles away from me, before packing Marie’s lacy negligée into my overnight bag, a negligée so fine it could pull through a wedding ring.
But I needn’t