Chapter 11

A Whirlwind Romance

‘ S tella, love. There’s a letter for you,’ Mrs Brown bellowed upstairs, her voice quavering into a falsetto. ‘I’ll leave it on the kitchen table, dear. I’m off out to my WI meeting.’

Stella swung open her bedroom door. ‘Thanks, Mrs B.’ She had a whole day off and nothing arranged. Vera was working. Her shifts had been changed at the last minute and she was fuming, yet she conceded, ‘There’s a bleeding war on, you know.’ The front door slammed shut just as Stella reached the foot of the stairs.

A rumbling outside drew her attention, and she peered out of the living room window. Seconds later, a convoy of military trucks roared past the cottage, tearing through the rural peace. She looked on as the last of khaki green slipped around the corner. The early morning frost had thawed beneath the sun, and the cloudless, milk-blue sky promised a beautiful day ahead.

With a sigh, she sauntered through to the kitchen. Two fresh eggs sat in a bowl on the table with a note: Help yourself, dear. Would you believe it? Matilda finally laid.

Stella giggled. ‘I can have an omelette with those,’ she muttered.

The letter lay upon the scrubbed farmhouse table, propped up against the small vase filled with late-blooming daffodils. Stella glanced at the handwriting and her heart sank. She sank down onto a chair and ripped it open.

My darling girl,

It was wonderful seeing you again last week. I hope you’ve forgiven me. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you now. Life here is just the same. One minute we’re flying, then we’re training. It’s relentless. Anyway, I have some leave next month, and you said you were free, so I thought we could nip down to Devon for a couple of days. Mother’s looking forward to it. I’ll meet you there. All you have to do is take the train to Exeter on Saturday morning, and I’ll pick you up at the station. I can’t wait to see you. You will be there, won’t you? I need you, Stella. Well, I must dash. We’re on ops tonight, so Jerry had best watch out. Write back as soon as.

Love,

Alex xxx

Stella dropped the letter onto the table, gazing down at the kisses after his name. Kisses he seemed to give more readily in ink. She sighed, remembering how safe she’d once felt in his arms, although she’d never felt sure about the depth of his feelings. Alex’s kisses were wet and clumsy on her lips whereas Mac’s left a sensual taste and set all her nerve endings ablaze. She recalled something Alex’s cousin, Peter, had said the last time they met. I’m afraid you’re simply a passing phase. His family will never allow it – a shop girl, you’ll never be good enough . His mocking voice echoed in her ears, now the voice of a dead man. Things between her and Alex had cooled afterwards.

She knew what forgiveness Alex was asking for, and it had nothing to do with punching Mac, only to do with not getting in touch and letting her know he was safe. Typical. Alex turning up out of the blue was a shock, but his jealousy was alarming. She’d never seen that side of him before, and after everything, all his little indiscretions. She stiffened, fighting the urge to scream and shout. And Mac had borne the brunt of it. Her lips trembled.

She wished she hadn’t told Alex about her leave next weekend. Since the Bassingbourn dance, Mac had become her friend, companion and far more. He occupied her mind when she awoke each morning and before she fell asleep each night. And at dawn, when the B-17s roared up into the first light, her heart lurched as she agonised over whether Mac was up there with them.

The flagstone floor was cold beneath her stocking feet as she padded across to the range to make a cup of tea. She hadn’t heard from Mac since the night of the fight. Vera had told her he was fine, a message passed on from Sam. It was a busy week for the Eighth Air Force and even Sam hadn’t been able to get away. She sighed. Alex was grieving, but even so, it didn’t excuse his behaviour. Stella knew he was in a dark place right now, though, and definitely not in the right frame of mind.

An inner turmoil brewed and gripped her gut. She couldn’t abandon him when he needed her most. Not after Peter. Alex’s words in the letter replayed in her head: I couldn’t bear it if I lost you now . The kettle whistled impatiently, and she lifted it from the hot plate. She fetched her cup from the dresser, stepping over the resident black cat who lay sprawled in a triangular sliver of sunlight flooding in through the rear window, his eyes half closed.

‘I suppose I’ll have to go, won’t I, cat?’

There was nothing for it. She would have to tell Mac next time she saw him.

Her mother was so thrilled about Alex. Money and class had always seemed important to her. Not for Stella, though. She would marry for love and wouldn’t settle for anything less. She sipped her tea as she watched the cat flick his tail to and fro, his slit-like turquoise eyes catching the glint of golden sun. The problem was how to avoid disappointing her mother, whose words now rang out: If your father were here, he’d be so proud . Stella swallowed, and tears pricked her eyes. She was trapped, slowly suffocating, unable to break free, and she wanted to yell and run. But where would she run? Her heart screeched one direction while her muzzy head floundered in the darkness.

A weekend away was daunting, although perhaps she ought to go. Staying loyal to Alex as a friend was the right thing to do, and yet her heart protested. A loud knock at the front door broke her reverie. She paused as her hand hovered over the handle before wrenching it open. Mac stood with the sunshine behind him, his cap in his hand and the warmest smile on his face and her heart leapt. The evidence of his scuffle with Alex remained, a fading yellowish-brown bruise on his chin.

‘Hi there, beautiful.’ He stepped forward and kissed her on the mouth.

‘Oh, Mac.’ She reached out to trail her finger across his cheek when he took her hand in his, drawing it away. His tunic jacket brushed against her bare arm, sending a frisson of desire coursing through her. ‘I’m so sorry you got hurt.’

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s just my pride. I’ll get over it.’ His blue eyes twinkled.

She stepped back. ‘You’d best come in. How did you know I’d be home today?’

‘I figured I’d take a chance and here you are.’ The corners of his eyes crinkled as his face creased into a crooked half-smile.

He closed the door behind him, and Stella caught his clean, fresh scent on the slight breeze that flowed, and she longed to be in his arms. Her beating heart whooshed in her ears, but a pang of guilt sliced through her as she remembered the letter. As she led the way through the hall, he pulled her back towards him, wrapping his strong arms around her.

‘Hey, not so fast.’ He nuzzled the top of her head as she buried her face in his chest, breathing in the clean, comforting scent of his skin, tinged with the faint spice of shaving soap. Here, she felt safe and cherished. Here, a sense of belonging wrapped around her like a familiar friend. She couldn’t look up because then she would be tempted. She’d already gone too far, and now his hands had lowered to her waist and were slipping further still, resting on her hips. Tingles sparked up her spine, and she lifted her chin to intense blue.

‘Jeez, Stella, you’re so beautiful.’ He kissed her, softly at first and then with more passion, his lips on hers, asking, wanting, his tongue urgent. His right hand caressed her hip before moving upwards to cup her breast. She gasped, and he drew her closer, their bodies moulded as she tasted shaving soap on his lips.

‘Mac, we can’t . . .’

He stepped back, releasing her. ‘I know.’ He sighed and flashed an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, it’s just you’re so darn irresistible, and I’ve missed you.’

Stella took his hand. ‘Come on. I’ll make some tea.’ She had to do something to distract him. For a moment there, she almost lost control.

‘I take it Alex went back to Lincoln?’ He followed her into the kitchen, placing his crush cap on the table.

‘Yes.’ She placed the kettle on the stove, aware of his eyes following her every move. Once she’d filled the teapot, she set it on the pine table and sat opposite him. It was probably best to put a little distance between them. ‘I’ll be mother.’ She placed a china cup on the saucer, poured a little milk out, and then reached for the teapot.

‘What?’ His mouth stretched into a wide grin.

‘Mother. That’s what we say when we decide who’s pouring the tea.’

Mac laughed as he poked the dark brown vortex of liquid with a spoon.

She noticed his eyes, tinged with dark circles, and when he yawned, he seemed even more tired. ‘Did you fly yesterday?’

‘Yeah. One hell of a trip.’ He glanced down at the swirling vortex of tea. ‘Can’t say I’d recommend it.’ His gaze lifted to hers. ‘I sure am glad to be here with you, though.’ He took out his cigarette case and offered it to her, but she shook her head. He plucked one and lit up, taking a long drag.

Stella sensed it must have been a rough mission. Sometimes there were things you just couldn’t talk about. Afterwards, they stepped out into the garden to sit in the spring sunshine. Mac slouched on the wooden bench beneath the trees and yawned, his long legs outstretched. Weathered boughs swayed overhead as leaves rustled in the light breeze.

His thigh pressed against hers, firm and warm. ‘Have you heard from your family?’

‘Yeah. A letter came the other day. They’re all fine. My folks asked when I might be coming home.’ He blew a cloud of smoke into the air. ‘It’s funny, but it seems as if I left years ago, and yet it’s only been five months. I tick off the missions each time we come back, always counting.’ He gazed at Stella. ‘Hey, don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to me. In fact, I was thinking of maybe signing on for a second tour.’ He placed his arm around her.

‘No, don’t do that.’

‘What, can’t I hold you now?’ He sat upright, flashing that half-smile.

‘No, I mean don’t do another tour, please, Mac.’

His smile faded, and his eyes grew intense. He bent his head to kiss her; a soft, unhurried yet passionate embrace that filled her with a desire she could no longer fight. Stella slipped her arms around him, revelling in the firmness of his body. When he finally lifted his lips from hers, he held her close. If anything happened to him, she didn’t know what she’d do. Oh, God. She couldn’t go on like this. It was tearing her in two. The Americans had to fly twenty-five missions before they were sent back home unless they signed on again. She didn’t want him to go anywhere and the realisation of losing him, whether it was to his own country or worse, suddenly dawned on her and a hard lump knotted in her stomach.

‘It’s mighty peaceful here, and beautiful,’ Mac said.

The sun blazed and rays danced between the branches, dappling the lawn gold as she clung to his arms, the swell of his biceps prominent beneath her hand.

‘Stella, what happened last week was unfortunate, and I didn’t fight back because I didn’t want to hurt you.’ He took her hand in his and gazed into her eyes. ‘Truth is, I fell for you the moment I saw you at that dance in Meldreth, and then when we met again at the base, well, I couldn’t believe my luck. Now I’d say that was fate, and I just knew we were meant to be. I love you, Stella.’

The breath caught in her throat. Should she say it back? Words she longed to whisper formed on her lips, only to be repressed by thoughts of Alex. She was a hypocrite, and inside everything shrivelled. ‘Mac, you hardly know me. It’s madness.’

‘It feels right. Besides, the whole world is upside down right now.’ He smiled, and his dark blue eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘And just so we’re clear’ – he pulled her firmly towards him – ‘it’s not madness, honey, it’s love.’ He kissed the arch of her brow and held her close.

He loved her. Her entire body glowed, and desire flowed through her veins, but the memory of divided loyalties halted the rush in its tracks. ‘Alex.’

‘Yeah, what about him?’ Mac’s body stiffened next to hers.

She swallowed. ‘He’s written asking me to visit him at home next weekend while I’m on leave.’

Mac sighed. ‘I thought that maybe you might have told him about us.’ His voice had a crisp edge, chilling the air between them.

‘No, I just haven’t found the right time.’

‘Are you going?’

She couldn’t lie, and she hated the thought of hurting him. ‘I think so.’

He stood up, dropped his cigarette, and ground it into the grass. ‘Gee, Stella. We never did get to talk about him, but after everything that’s happened, I can’t believe you’re going.’ Mac gazed at her, his eyes flashed, and his brow furrowed. ‘The guy doesn’t deserve you, that’s for sure.’

‘Mac, I’m sorry, but I can’t let him down. I don’t want to hurt him.’ She glanced down at a mound of wet, decaying leaves, as barren boughs swayed overhead.

‘Why not? Hasn’t he hurt you enough times?’

What did he know about it? Unless Vera had said something. She saw the pain in his eyes and her stomach tightened. ‘He’s not in a good place right now. He’s just lost his best friend and now his cousin. He’s changed, and he’s, well, he’s…’

‘He’s what? He’s suddenly decided that he wants you. Is that it?’ His eyes were cold and dark.

She looked away, aware of the heat stinging her neck and cheeks, as tears misted her eyes. She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, knowing she had no right to expect any understanding.

‘What’s really going on here? Do you just feel sorry for the guy or are you obligated in some way? Do you even love him?’

Bang! Like a gunshot, his words stung and shook her to her core. Love and Alex. She loved him, but as a friend. When Alex touched her, there was no spark, no afterthought. She peered up at Mac, biting her lower lip, shaking her head.

He threw his hands up in the air and began pacing the lawn. ‘No to what? You’re not obligated, or you don’t love him?’

‘I’m not in love with him, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care.’

He stopped pacing and shot her a confused look.

‘My mother is expecting me to marry him. She wants this, she’s always saying how my dad would be so proud.’ A single tear slipped down Stella’s cheek. She wiped it away and met Mac’s gaze, only his eyes now flashed with disappointment. Another tear hovered on the crest of her upper lip, and she tasted salt. ‘Mac, I’m sorry. I can’t abandon him yet while he’s so low. You don’t let your friends down.’

‘No, and you don’t lead them on either.’

He was angry, but that hurt all the same. She closed her eyes briefly. She had to fix it the only way she knew how. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go next weekend, and if you can’t accept that then perhaps you should leave.’ She heard her own voice, cold, almost detached, and her heart squeezed when she saw the crestfallen look on his face.

He stormed off without even a backwards glance. Tears pricked her eyes, and a wretchedness gripped her chest tight as she sobbed. He’d just professed his love for her, yet it seemed hopeless. No matter what she’d done, she would have been hurting someone. She choked back the tears, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. And now she’d pushed him away, the kindest, gentlest man she had ever known. She puffed out a breath, telling herself it would never have worked, so why did she feel so hurt? The late daffodils wilted in the flood of warm sunlight beneath the tree. She cast her gaze over the vegetables, where a relentless army of weeds weaved a route through the neat rows.

She had to go to Devon to see Alex, if only to make sure he was all right. She was bereft, and a part of her felt let down. Why hadn’t Mac understood? She was trying to do the right thing, and at least she’d been honest about it. She sighed. He’d looked exhausted; his face was so pale, and his eyes dark and bloodshot. That look claimed so many men, eventually. Ice flowed into her stomach, and seeped into her soul, and she shivered. A shadow flicked over her, and she raised her chin and squinted up into the blue. A raven soared overhead, its sleek sooty wings fanned out as it croaked a raspy, deep, gurgling call. ‘Oh, Lord, please keep Mac safe next time he flies.’