Chapter 29
Chapter 29
As luck would have it, both Marjorie and Elsie had the following day off work. Fitz had spoken to Marjorie on the phone the previous evening and amid squeals of joy, especially so from Elsie in the background, they had arranged to meet at ten o’clock the next morning.
Barbara had taken Fitz to the train station, and after promising Yvette it was only for the day, Fitz had boarded the train to Southampton.
She had been met with more squeals and hugging from her friends.
‘Golly, Fitz, what’s wrong with your eye?’ asked Elsie, standing back and looking at her friend.
Fitz had attempted to hide the bruising with make-up. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Now tell me about what you’ve been up to the last couple of months.’
‘Erm, don’t change the subject,’ said Elsie. She was looking even closer at Fitz now. ‘What have you been up to?’
Marjorie came to the rescue. ‘I think whatever our darling Fitz has been up to, as you put it, it’s something she probably can’t tell us.’
Fitz offered her a grateful smile. ‘Pretty much that.’
Elsie’s eyes widened. ‘Geraldine Fitz-Herbert, have you been spying in France?’
‘Shh, keep your voice down,’ scolded Marjorie. ‘Even if she had, she can’t tell us.’ She looked at Fitz. ‘I’m assuming I’m saying all the right things.’
‘I can neither confirm nor deny,’ said Fitz.
‘Oh my goodness,’ gasped Elsie, this time in a whisper. ‘You have, haven’t you?’
‘Whatever you think I’ve been doing,’ replied Fitz. ‘It won’t be anywhere as glamorous or exciting as you think it is.’ She couldn’t help the reproachful tone in her voice.
‘No, I’m sure it’s not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound frivolous about it,’ said Elsie.
‘So, tell me what you’ve been up to?’ said Fitz.
They walked arm in arm out of the station and along the road to a nearby tea room. It was such a pleasure to see her friends again. Fitz hadn’t realised just how much she had missed them. Listening to them talking about the aircraft they had been flying and some of the high jinks they’d been up to, was like a warm blanket around her.
‘And Joyce Rigby was sitting on the tail of the Spit,’ Elsie was saying, ‘you know, how the pilots got us to sit on the tail while they taxied.’
‘Of course I remember, I’ve only been away a few months, not years,’ laughed Fitz.
‘Well, the pilot only bloody forgot about her and took off!’ Elsie swept her hand in an upward motion.
‘Oh, my goodness! He never?’ gasped Fitz. ‘What happened?’
‘Well, he soon realised when the rudder wasn’t responding. Landed straight away,’ said Elsie. ‘Joyce held on for dear life. They both got in awful trouble for it.’
‘Oh, poor old Joyce. I’m glad she’s all right, though,’ said Fitz.
‘Don’t you miss flying?’ asked Elsie.
‘Of course I do,’ replied Fitz.
‘Then why don’t you come back?’ Elsie asked.
Fitz dropped her gaze. ‘I can’t.’
‘What do you mean you can’t?’ Elsie continued.
‘I don’t think we can ask,’ said Marjorie after a moment. ‘I don’t think Fitz is allowed to say.’ She looked at Fitz. ‘Am I right?’
Fitz nodded. ‘Sorry.’ She wished she could tell them about Mr White’s suggestion. She hated keeping secrets, but she knew they understood. ‘It will do me good to do something different.’
‘As opposed to flying?’ Elsie again.
‘Yes. Don’t get me wrong, I love flying. Always will, but I’ve been asked to do something else.’ She stirred her spoon around in her tea. ‘And it will mean I don’t have to think about Sam so much.’
‘Oh, yes. Poor Sam,’ said Elsie. ‘That was awful what happened.’
‘Honestly, I don’t even want to think about it,’ said Fitz. ‘It’s simply too upsetting. I think it’s the not knowing that’s the worst.’
She looked up at her friends who both had a puzzled expression on their faces.
‘Not knowing?’ repeated Elsie.
Fitz tamped down the little feeling of irritation. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Not knowing exactly what happened to him.’
Marjorie reached across the table, resting her hand on Fitz’s. ‘But we do know what happened,’ she said softly.
Fitz’s breath caught in her throat. ‘You do?’
‘Yes, we do,’ said Marjorie.
Fitz closed her eyes. She braced herself. Word must have got back to England. She thought of the graves in Josselin that Margot had taken her to. She hadn’t wanted to believe it was Sam lying there, but a lot had happened since then and she was prepared for it now. She was ready to accept it. She opened her eyes. ‘What happened?’
‘His plane went down,’ said Marjorie. ‘The co-pilot didn’t make it. Neither did the passenger they were taking. Sam survived.’
‘He did?’ Fitz gulped.
‘Yes. He was found by the French resistance, thank God. He was badly injured. He was treated out there and then two days later he was flown home after a supply drop.’
Fitz was sitting upright now. ‘He made it back to England? He’s … he’s alive?’ She could barely believe she was saying the words out loud. Her hands shook as she covered her face, taking a moment to catch her breath.
‘Yes, my darling,’ said Marjorie, taking Fitz’s hands from her face. ‘He’s alive. Here in England.’
‘No one told you?’ asked Elsie.
Fitz shook her head. ‘No. I haven’t really seen anyone. I was taken straight to a safe house in the middle of the night. Debriefed yesterday. Here today.’
Her friends exchanged a look which Fitz couldn’t quite decipher. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ she said.
‘He’s at Goodwood House,’ said Elsie. ‘Just up the road from Tangmere. Westhampnett satellite airfield.’
‘Yes, I know where Goodwood House is,’ replied Fitz. It was a country house that had recently been requisitioned by the government and turned into a war hospital. The large rooms had been subdivided to make wards and the great ballroom had been converted into a surgical ward. ‘Why is he there?’
Again, Marjorie’s hand rested on hers. ‘He’s recovering. He needed surgery when he got back.’
‘Surgery?’ Fitz gulped. ‘Please, tell me.’
‘His leg was badly injured in the crash,’ said Marjorie. ‘The French did everything they could, but the treatment was rudimentary. He was in rather a state when he arrived back in England. Thank goodness it was only a matter of days, though. It could have been a lot worse.’
‘How bad is the injury?’ asked Fitz. Her heart, which had leapt with joy at the news Sam was alive, was now taking a slow descent to somewhere in the pit of her stomach.
‘They had to amputate above the knee,’ said Marjorie softly.
‘Oh, no,’ Fitz whispered. ‘Oh, Sam. Sam. Sam.’ She dropped her head into her hands and cried silently for a moment. And then remembering they were in a tea room, she sat up and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. She glanced around and saw the concerned look of a couple of women on a nearby table.
‘Shall we leave?’ suggested Elsie.
‘Good idea,’ said Marjorie. ‘Take Fitz outside. I’ll settle the bill.’
Fitz walked out of the tea room in something of a daze. She wasn’t heartbroken for herself, but for Sam. He would hate it. She knew he would.
‘At least he’s alive,’ comforted Elsie.
‘I know,’ said Fitz. ‘I’m not crying for me. I’m crying for him.’
‘He’ll probably go back to America,’ said Elsie.
‘Do you know that?’
‘Not exactly. I was just assuming.’
Fitz paced up and down the path as they waited for Marjorie. When their friend joined them, she had made up her mind what she was going to do.
‘Look, I’m really sorry, but I need to go. I need to see Sam,’ she said.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ asked Elsie.
‘I really don’t know,’ confessed Fitz. ‘But I need to see him before he makes some stupid decision to leave England.’
‘I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere soon,’ said Marjorie. ‘You don’t need to be hasty.’
‘I haven’t got much time,’ said Fitz. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Elsie.
‘Yes. Spill the beans,’ urged Marjorie.
‘You can’t ask any questions. You just have to accept what I say,’ said Fitz.
‘Dib-dib and all that,’ said Marjorie, making the Girl Guide promise sign.
‘I have a nine-year-old French girl I’m looking after,’ said Fitz carefully. ‘Only until the war is over but for now she’s here with me in England.’
This piece of information took even the unflappable Marjorie by surprise. ‘A nine-year-old French girl!’
‘Yep,’ said Fitz. She had to laugh at the stunned look on Elsie’s face. ‘I’ll explain when I can, but I’m taking her to my father’s tomorrow to see if she can stay there.’
Elsie suddenly found her voice. ‘You’ve been to France, haven’t you?’ And then her face was one of concern. ‘Oh, Fitz, your bruises …’
Fitz shook her head. ‘Please don’t ask.’
‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Marjorie. She gave Fitz a spontaneous hug. ‘Gosh, what a brave stick you are.’
‘I’m not sure I’m that,’ said Fitz. ‘Now, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to shoot off. I want to get to Goodwood House. I’ve got an American to find.’
‘Yes you bloody well have,’ said Marjorie. ‘Come on, no time to lose.’ She hooked Fitz’s arm one side and Elsie grabbed the other and they all ran along the path back towards the train station.
Fitz’s train arrived back in Barnham station nearly two hours later. She’d had to wait at Southampton for over thirty minutes for the next train and now she was standing at the bus stop, waiting to be taken to Tangmere. It was all she could do to stand still.
When she had landed back in Tangmere, two nights ago, she had totally forgotten about the letter from Sam she had left with Bob. She needed to know what it said before she hot-footed it up to Goodwood House. Although, she also knew that no matter what it said, whether Sam didn’t want to see her again or not, she was going to see him. She needed to see him. She needed to tell him she’d made a mistake. It had taken nearly losing him and losing her own life to realise this.
Eventually, the bus turned up and it was another thirty minutes before she reached Tangmere.
Flashing her ATA pass at the guard, she hurried through the gates and headed towards the hangars, where she hoped to find Bob.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted him. She called out to him and he turned. After a moment’s hesitation as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, he broke into a broad smile.
‘Well, Fitz, I didn’t expect to see you,’ he said, wiping his hands on a grubby looking cloth. ‘When did you get back?’
‘Hello, Bob,’ said Fitz with a smile, genuinely pleased to see the engineer. ‘Got back the night before last.’
Bob frowned. ‘That was you? I thought it was a woman and child. That’s what I heard anyway.’
‘You heard right. It was me. And a child.’
‘Righty-o.’ He took a longer look at her. ‘They said you were …’ He flicked his fingers to his face.
‘Bruised and battered?’ supplied Fitz. ‘Yes. I’m all right, though. Nothing serious.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ He wiped his hands again and Fitz could tell he was deciding what to say next.
She saved him the trouble. ‘I know about Sam.’
‘Ah, right.’ Bob shifted on his feet. ‘He’s not in a good way.’
‘I know about his leg.’
‘I meant in his head. Me and a couple of the lads went up to see him. He’s taking it badly.’
‘I can imagine,’ replied Fitz, thinking how devastated Sam would be, especially if it meant he was grounded. ‘I’ve actually come here to get that letter. You know, the one Sam wanted you to give to me?’
‘Oh, yes. Of course. Wait there. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Ten minutes later, Fitz was walking out of RAF Tangmere with Sam’s letter in her pocket. She didn’t want to stay at the airfield in case she got caught in a conversation with anyone. She walked down the road towards the duck pond and despite the coldness of the January day, she sat down on the bench, before opening the envelope.
Darling Fitz, my girl,
I don’t know when you’ll read this, but boy I hope it’s soon. I miss you more than I ever thought would be possible.
When I told you I loved you, I meant it. I hoped you would find a way to trust yourself to love me back and let me into your life fully. You don’t have to give up anything to be with me. You know I would never clip your wings. Hell, we could fly as high as we damn well like together. There would be no stopping us!
I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, Fitz. Never.
You’re one in a million. I don’t wanna lose you.
I know you’re scared but you gotta believe it when I say you can trust me.
Come talk to me. Please.
Always yours
Sam
Fitz didn’t need to read the letter again to know what she had to do. She jumped up from the bench and dashed back down to the airfield, where she found Bob.
‘Back so soon,’ he said, not seeming the least bit surprised to see her.
‘I need a favour,’ said Fitz.
‘I’m just finishing my shift. Ask away.’
Ten minutes later, Fitz was on the back of Bob’s motorbike as they sped up towards Goodwood House.
Fitz practically launched herself off the motorbike before it had come to a halt outside the country mansion. Built in the 1600s, Goodwood House was an impressive building. The main footprint was set out like three sides of a pentagon. Two round towers with green lead-domed rooftops, shouldered each end of the building, with two more identical towers in between. The entrance consisted of six stone pillars on the ground floor and six more directly above on the balcony, which overlooked the front of the mansion. The symmetry of the building was perfection and established ivy covered the frontage, cut back around the twelve rectangular windows.
Fitz managed to stop herself from charging through the main entrance and curtailed her arrival to a brisk walk. ‘I’ve come to see Flying Officer Sam Carter,’ she said somewhat breathlessly in the reception hallway.
The nurse looked a little surprised to see Fitz. ‘It’s quite late in the day. There’s only ten minutes of visiting time left.’
‘Please, I need to see him,’ said Fitz. She smiled to hide the impatience and desperation that was bubbling just below the surface. Not to mention the dread. She had no idea how Sam would react to seeing her. Especially not after what she’d said to him the last time she saw him.
With obvious reluctance, the nurse rose from her seat. ‘What name is it? I’ll have to ask him first.’
‘Just say it’s Fitz.’
The nurse raised her eyebrows but made no comment and headed across the black and white tiled hallway, disappearing down a corridor. Fitz wanted to shout at her to hurry up, but again, managed to control her emotions.
Eventually, the nurse returned. ‘I’m sorry but he doesn’t want to see you.’
‘Pardon?’ That couldn’t be right. That’s not what was supposed to happen.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the nurse.
‘What exactly did he say?’ asked Fitz.
For the first time, the nurse looked sympathetic as she answered. ‘He said you should stay with the squadron leader, at least he could walk down the aisle with you.’
‘He’s a fool,’ said Fitz angrily, tears stinging her eyes.
‘We at least agree on that,’ replied the nurse. ‘Now, you really need to leave. Visiting times are over.’
‘No, you don’t understand. I need to see him,’ said Fitz, panic racing through her. ‘I have to see him.’
‘I can’t allow that.’
‘Please.’ She’d beg if she had to. ‘I only need five minutes.’
‘I’m afraid I’m going to insist that you leave,’ replied the nurse, any sympathy she’d exhibited before having now vanished.
A hand touched Fitz on the arm. She spun around. It was Bob. ‘Come on, Fitz,’ he said gently.
‘But I haven’t seen Sam. I need to speak to him.’ Fitz blinked hard as the tears gathered in her eyes. Surely Bob would understand. ‘Tell her, Bob. Tell her I need to see Sam.’
‘Fitz,’ said Bob. ‘Come on.’ He shepherded her out of the building where she reluctantly took the crash helmet from him and climbed onto the back of the bike.
‘Would you mind taking me up to Bignor, please?’ asked Fitz, trying to cling to the last piece of dignity she had left.
‘No problem.’
By the time they reached the Bertrams’ house, Fitz had pulled herself together, at least outwardly. Inwardly, she was a wreck and didn’t know how she was going to make it through the rest of the day without crumbling.
‘Thanks, Bob,’ she said as she dismounted from the Triumph.
Bob switched off the engine. ‘I hope you’re not going to let one little setback beat you.’
She gave a half-hearted smile. ‘Did you know he didn’t want to see me?’
‘No, but I’m not surprised,’ said the engineer. ‘Like I said, Sam’s pretty down. Don’t give up on him just yet.’
‘I’ll see,’ said Fitz, her gaze dropping to the ground.
‘Hey, that’s not like you. Where’s that gung-ho spirit you’re famous for?’
‘It seems to have deserted me. Goodnight, Bob.’