Jess flew into No. 2 Mess at the end of the long day and made straight for May, who was writing a letter at one of the tables in the anteroom. She grasped May by the wrists and despite the considerable difference in height, raised her from her seat and whirled her around. ‘You genius, May. It worked!’
She swung May in circles until they were both weak from laughter and forced to collapse in chairs to recover. The other women in the anteroom looked on, giggling.
‘Care to enlighten me?’ It was Evie who spoke. Jess peered up to see her standing over them, her lips twitching.
‘I think it means she managed to persuade the film director that WAAFs aren’t complete airheads who only exist to swoon over the pilots.’ May pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her streaming eyes. She looked at Jess. ‘Go on. Tell us how it happened.’
‘Yes, I want to hear this.’ Evie dropped into a neighbouring armchair and regarded Jess expectantly.
Jess pulled herself upright in her chair with a groan, putting a hand to her aching stomach muscles. ‘Well, I could have thought through my approach better. I nearly ended up getting the chop.’ She filled her friends in on her disastrous first attempt at acting the scene and the director’s grudging concession to let her play the scene once her way. ‘Over lunch, the director went into a huddle with the writer, and when they came back, he said he’d decided to play the character my way.’ She looked at May. ‘Your way. As I said – you’re a genius. Honestly, they should employ you as scriptwriter. Give you a credit, at least.’
‘No way.’ May clapped a hand to her chest. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything.’ She looked so horrified, Jess had to bite back a laugh. ‘Anyway, it’s more a matter of interpretation than writing.’
‘Keep your hair on. Your secret’s safe with me. Anyway, wait until you hear the best bit.’ It took all Jess’s self-control not to bounce in her chair. ‘The director said he wants to completely rewrite Fiona’s part, make her role bigger.’
‘That’s amazing,’ Evie said, then she frowned. ‘Wait. Won’t that take longer to film? I thought you’d only been released for a fortnight.’
‘Yeah.’ This was the part Jess wasn’t so thrilled about, remembering Laura Morgan’s reluctance to lose a Filterer Officer for even two weeks. ‘I told Allan – the director – that the WAAF won’t be happy, so he’s going to make the request personally.’ She grimaced. ‘I dread to think what the CO’s going to say.’
‘You want to do it, though, don’t you?’ May asked.
‘You bet. This is the chance of a lifetime. There is one thing, though.’ Jess glanced around the anteroom. By this time it was filling up, as it was only half an hour until dinner. She gave a little shake of the head. ‘Not here.’ She rose. ‘Come on. I need to do my hair before dinner.’
When they were up in the bedroom, Jess brushed out her hair and watched Evie and May in the mirror. ‘I know we’re not supposed to talk about what goes on in the Filter Room outside its walls but—’
Evie stopped her with a raised hand. ‘I know what you’re going to ask. I promise you, we’re keeping an eye out for your aunt. There’s nothing for you to worry about.’
Jess relaxed, assured that Evie would have said if any V2s or flying bombs had hit Poplar. ‘You’re both stars. I never thought I would worry so, being out of the Filter Room. Never realised I would miss knowing what’s going on.’ She put down her hairbrush and started to pin her hair into regulation off the collar rolls. ‘In a strange sort of way, when I’m there I feel like I’m watching out for them. Ridiculous, I know, when there’s nothing I can do, but that’s how I feel.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Evie said. ‘I must say I’m glad my mum is safe in Oxford.’
‘And my dad is safe in one of His Majesty’s prisons,’ May said with a grin.
‘So both me and May can watch out for your aunt and cousin while you’re away.’
Jess hastily wiped away a tear before it could smudge her mascara. ‘Did I ever tell you you’re the best friends a girl can have?’
‘Yes, but we don’t mind hearing it again,’ Evie said. ‘You can tell us about it over dinner.’
‘It’s a deal, although I’ve got to go out again afterwards. Leo invited me to join him for a drink.’
In the mirror, Jess saw Evie and May exchange glances. ‘You’ve been seeing a lot of Leo,’ Evie said, her tone a study of neutrality.
‘Honestly, I’d almost think Auntie Vera paid you two to keep an eye on me. It’s just a drink. Nothing more.’
‘What does Milan think? Has he seen that newspaper article?’
A cold hand seemed to squeeze her heart; the feeling she got every time she thought of Milan seeing the photos of her and Leo together. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for a while.’
‘He’s a lovely man, Jess. I’d hate to see him hurt.’
‘I won’t ’urt ’im,’ Jess said, sticking pins into her hair with such a savage motion that she jabbed her scalp. ‘There’s nothing going on with me and Leo. You don’t know ’ow it is in this business. The pressure to mix with the right people, to be seen to be successful so you’re in the running when they’re casting the next picture.’ And although Jess wouldn’t admit it, the glamour of the past few days had been a powerful lure. Wartime Britain was such a dark, dreary place. Was it so wrong to grab hold of a night or two of sparkle and resplendence when offered?
‘Jess.’ Evie stood behind Jess and put her hands on her shoulders in a conciliatory gesture. ‘No one’s accusing you of anything. We don’t blame you for enjoying yourself while you can.’
Jess released a breath. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so touchy.’
She rolled another strand of hair and was about to pin it above her temple when she remembered her decision to be more honest with her friends. She dropped her hands to her sides, leaving the lock to unravel against her cheek. ‘All right, maybe I do. I suppose you struck a nerve. Truth be told, I feel guilty about seeing so much of Leo.’ Before Evie could ask why she continued to see him, Jess hurried on. ‘I’d much rather be with Milan.’
She faltered when she took in Evie’s expression. It was a look she had come to know. It meant Evie was piecing together everything Jess had said and mentally applying logic to each statement. Jess braced herself.
‘I understand why you want to mix with the film people,’ Evie said. ‘But why go everywhere with Leo? You’re a cast member. You don’t have to go as his date.’
Jess flung the last of the hair pins on the table and spun around. ‘You don’t understand. I—’
May held up a hand, her expression of hurt bewilderment enough to silence Jess. ‘Why so defensive? We’re on your side.’
Yes, and she wanted to keep it that way. While the sensible part of her trusted them not to reject her, the part of her that had locked away the secret for so long held back. It wasn’t easy to let go when she had been on her guard for so long. Still, Evie and May were her friends. Surely she could tell them some of the truth, even if not the whole of it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I’m not being fair to you. If you must know…’ She fiddled with a button on her jacket as she tried to decide how much to reveal. ‘Well, I knew Leo before the war. We went out for a while.’
If she had told them she’d once been a lion tamer she didn’t think they could have looked more stunned.
‘Wait. Leonard Steele?’ May’s voice was several tones higher than usual. ‘You went out with Leonard Steele?’
‘And never told us?’ Evie stared at Jess as though seeing her for the first time.
‘Look, I’m ashamed of the way I behaved back then. That’s why I kept quiet about it. When I first met Leo, I’d just landed my first good part, and he was playing the lead in the same play. He took me under his wing.’ Jess swallowed, hating having to relive her stupidity. ‘I was flattered by his attention.’ She snorted. ‘More than flattered. I let the excitement go to my head and let go of what little sense I had. He mixed with a really wild crowd, and I went everywhere with him.’
It was why she had decided not to tell him when she got pregnant. At the time, Leo had been involved with a group of socialites who drank, gambled for high stakes and, Jess suspected, even took cocaine. She didn’t know if he still led that lifestyle, but it wasn’t one she wanted Hannah mixed up in. Jess had never been offered cocaine herself but a few times she had seen Leo accept a twist of paper from a friend then disappear for a short while. When he reappeared, he’d displayed a strange energy bordering on aggression that had made Jess uncomfortable.
‘I… well, I drank far more than I should have, and when I… woke up to what I was doing, was so ashamed.’
‘The main thing,’ said Evie, ‘is that you stopped. It’s in the past. I know the person you are now, and that’s who I’m friends with.’ There was nothing but concern and acceptance in her eyes – no condemnation. Some of the weight of dread on Jess’s heart eased.
May nodded. ‘We all make mistakes.’
Jess’s mistake had been bigger than they knew. Nevertheless, it was a relief to have shared something of her past and receive only love and understanding in return.
She slipped in between Evie and May and took their arms, her vision blurred from tears. ‘You’re the most wonderful people in the world. Do you know that?’
‘As are you,’ Evie said in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘Now come on, or we’ll miss supper.’
Jess hastily finished arranging her hair, her heart pounding. Dare she tell them the rest? Would Evie and May be so accepting if they knew the whole truth? She was slowly coming round to the belief that they would. Yet fear still kept her silent. Maybe they wouldn’t reject her – she couldn’t believe such true friends would ever cast her off for a mistake made in the past – but would they ever look at her in the same way again? What if they stopped teasing her for being a flirt and instead tried to change her behaviour? She couldn’t bear to lose their wholehearted regard.
As for Leo, was she making the same mistakes again? Not that she wanted to resume their relationship, but was she getting carried away by the lure of show business? When she had first got the film role, it had seemed the perfect way to help her acting career after the war. Now she wondered if she wanted to act. If she did, socialising with Leo would bring her into contact with influential people in the business, yet it was a dangerous path to tread. She had stumbled before. Could she walk it safely this time, or would she fall?
Jess turned up her collar at the chill wind as she waited for Milan. She paced up and down in front of the gates to Bentley Manor, wondering if she should wait inside. Earlier in the month it had been unseasonably warm for October. Now, however, there was a distinct nip to the air. Still, it would help her stay awake. It had been a hectic few weeks, and she was finding the life of a film actress to be every bit as exhausting as working in the Filter Room.
To her relief, Laura Morgan had granted her extra leave from the Filter Room to finish filming. Although, true to Jess’s prediction, she had not been pleased at first, she had unbent when Jess had explained the extended role would portray the WAAFs in a better light. ‘Make us proud,’ she had said with a smile before dismissing Jess.
Now Jess wondered if she would have felt so light-hearted at being allowed to carry on filming if she’d known how busy she would be. Long hours in the studio meant few free evenings, none of which had coincided with any of Milan’s. Tonight would be the first time she had seen him since those ghastly photos had appeared in the paper. Milan hadn’t mentioned it in any of his phone calls, so she could only hope he hadn’t seen.
She rolled her shoulders and yawned. Despite her good intentions, she had stayed out late the previous night. Leo had taken her to a nightclub, where he had introduced her to several well-known people in the film industry and also his agent.
His agent had given her an approving nod then turned to Leo. ‘Glad to see you’re paying heed to advice for a change.’
Jess briefly wondered what advice Leo’s agent meant. The next moment it flew from her mind when Leo introduced Jess to an actress so famous it had taken all her self-control not to squeal with excitement. When the woman turned away with a gracious smile and a wish for Jess’s success in the film, Jess looked for Leo, bursting to thank him for the introduction to one of her heroines. It took a moment to see him, huddled in a shadowy corner, deep in earnest conversation with his agent. Guessing he had important business he wanted to discuss, Jess hung back. However, Leo must have noticed she was alone and murmured something to his agent, obviously to end the conversation. His agent clapped Leo on the shoulder, and Jess overheard him say something like, ‘Trust me, it’s in the bag.’
After that, Leo had spent the whole evening in her company. She had been so flattered by his attention, she had agreed to stay on far later than her good sense would have allowed.
Now, however, she wished she’d had an earlier night. Her eyes felt heavy as she looked down the road, seeking Milan by the golden glow of the setting sun. She wished her brain was less fuzzy from lack of sleep. Should she bring up the subject of the photographs herself? She couldn’t make up her mind.
Then Jess’s heart gave a little flutter when she saw him walking up the road from Stanmore. It felt good to slip her arm through his. There was none of the giddy excitement of seeing heads turn as she walked through London on Leo’s arm, but there was a sense of homecoming, nonetheless. This feeling of contentment made her reluctant to bring up the subject of the photograph. She wouldn’t mention it. Milan probably hadn’t seen it, so why tell him about something that might upset him?
Then she noticed he was carrying the violin case. ‘You don’t want to return it, do you?’ she asked, squeezing his arm.
‘I have been practising,’ he replied. ‘To play for you. If you wish to hear, of course.’
‘I’d love to.’ Jess put more enthusiasm in her reply than she felt. She would have preferred to go somewhere where they could dance. She had never forgotten dancing with Milan at Amberton and longed to relive the experience. ‘Where can we go?’
‘The Rose and Crown. That is why I am late – I went there first. The landlord said there is a back room we can use.’
‘Where do you practise at Benson?’ Jess couldn’t imagine his fellow officers being keen on hearing endless scales.
‘In a hangar. The aeroplanes cannot complain.’ He chuckled softly. ‘Although I gave the station cat a nasty fright.’ He spent the rest of the short walk to the pub describing how his playing had sent the cat fleeing from its hiding place on a Spitfire’s wing, its fur standing on end.
Jess laughed along with him, relaxing, sure his good humour meant he hadn’t seen the photographs.
When they reached the Rose and Crown, Milan bought drinks and collected a key from the landlord which unlocked a room at the back of the pub. It was clearly used as a storeroom now, with several crates of bottled soft drinks stacked against one wall. Half-buried behind a jumble of battered tables and chairs was a small raised platform that must have served as a stage when this room had been used for functions. An old upright piano stood beside one wall, together with a couple of metal music stands, knotted in an angular embrace.
‘What do you think?’ Milan gestured around the room.
Jess brushed the dust from a chair and sat down. ‘It’s not exactly the Savoy.’
‘Wait until I start playing. My violin will transform the room into a glittering ballroom.’ He removed the violin from its case and plucked a string, which made a distinctly unmelodious twang. ‘Once it is tuned.’
Laughing, Jess watched him tighten the bow and apply a coating of rosin. Then he eased back the piano lid, dislodging an avalanche of dust that danced and glittered in the light from the bare light bulb dangling from the ceiling.
Milan played a note on the piano then bent over the violin, tuning the strings. Although he seemed absorbed in his task, every now and then he would glance up, catch Jess’s eye. Again Jess got the impression he wanted to say something; whatever it was, he couldn’t seem to find the words. Jess hoped it wasn’t about the photograph.
She had just reached the conclusion that she ought to broach the subject herself when Milan gave a satisfied nod. He rose, placed the violin under his chin and ran through a series of arpeggios, his fingers moving faster than her eyes could follow. Then he looked at her, eyebrows raised. ‘I will play you a Czech polka. It is called “Škoda lásky.”’
He began a jaunty tune that set her foot tapping. At first she let the tune wash over her; she found herself entranced by the nimble skip of his long fingers across the violin’s neck, the deft way they teased a vibrato tone from any note that was sustained for more than a beat. Then there was the way he held the bow. His fingers seemed to hover over the ebony grip, barely touching it. The bow didn’t saw the strings as much as float above them, sweeping across the violin, drawing out a tune that managed to be both jolly and plaintive.
Something nudged at her consciousness, though it took a while to work out that the tune was familiar. ‘I know this. It’s not Shkoda… thingy. It’s “Roll Out the Barrel.”’
‘Ah, but before it was “Roll Out the Barrel”, it was a Czech polka called “Škoda lásky.”’ He drew out the second word like a sigh.
‘I never knew that. What does it mean?’ She tried to copy the sounds of the name. ‘Shkoda lahsky?’
Milan placed the violin and bow onto the piano stool with great care. Then he looked directly at her, his intense blue eyes searching her face. ‘I don’t know exactly how to translate it.’ A pucker appeared between his brows, and Jess had to fight the urge to smooth it with her fingers. ‘It is something like the shame of love. No. Wasted love. Love that gives pain.’
Jess swallowed, wanting to look away. She couldn’t seem to move. She certainly couldn’t speak.
‘The song is about love that has no return.’
Jess found her voice, although the words came out as little more than a whisper. ‘Unrequited love?’ She cleared her throat and dragged her gaze from his, forcing a smile. ‘I think I prefer the English lyrics. Why don’t you play something else?’
‘I saw the photograph in the paper.’ Milan’s voice was gentle.
Maybe if he had shown anger, she would have hastened to excuse herself, tell him it meant nothing. As it was she was frozen, unable to drag her gaze from his face. Part of her knew she should reach out to him, reassure him. The other part feared to so much as blink in case it shattered the moment and destroyed them for ever.
‘I know photographs can lie,’ Milan went on in the same gentle voice, unaccusing. ‘If you tell me it is not true, I will believe you. In return, all I ask is that you tell me if I waste my time with you.’
Now would be the perfect time for Jess the Flirt to make an appearance. That Jess would laugh off the photograph and make Milan feel like he was the only man in the world. That Jess would defuse the tension and she would be able to breathe again. That Jess was nowhere to be found.
‘I don’t know, I wish I did.’ Why wouldn’t he look away? Maybe then it would break this strange hold he had over her. Break the spell that meant she could only tell the truth. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m so confused.’
For some reason, her words seemed to cheer Milan. His lips curved in a faint smile. ‘That I can work with. You are being honest. That is all I ask. In time you will see you are too good for Leonard Steele.’
She nodded. If only she could tell him the whole truth, that Milan was too good for her.
Milan picked up his violin again, all the tension gone from his posture. ‘Now, I will play again, and you will tell me if I am ready to play for Mrs Swift.’
As the music washed over her – beautiful music that could wring tears from cold stone – Jess wondered yet again why Milan saw qualities in her she was sure didn’t exist. It made her wish she possessed them. It made her wish Milan had known her before she had thrown her life away over a tawdry affair.
Later, as Milan walked her back to No. 2 Mess, Jess reflected that yet again Milan had not given her what she would consider a proper date – dancing or fine dining. Yet there had been a magic to the evening, listening to Milan play music that one moment made her want to dance, the next cry. It was an evening she knew she would carry in her heart for the rest of her life.
They walked in silence, Jess still painfully aware of all that remained unsaid between them. Her head and heart were too full for speech, though, and maybe Milan felt the same way for he escorted her back to Bentley Manor without a word. A heavy dread fell on her. Maybe Milan would decide it was too much bother to pursue her, that he couldn’t face the pain of seeing her publicly linked with Leo. He had spoken of the pain of love, after all.
It hit her then with full force that she couldn’t bear to lose him. She didn’t feel anything for Leo any more.
They had reached the gates of Bentley Manor by this time. Suddenly afraid that he would leave without a word, that she would never see him again, she clutched his arm. ‘Those photographs… they make it look like there is more going on between me and Leo than there actually is.’
‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me.’
‘Yes I do. I want you to understand.’
‘Perhaps I understand better than you think.’
It was quite dark by this time. She could only see Milan as a dark shape against the sky where he blotted out the starlight, and the faint glimmer of reflected moonlight in his eyes.
‘Go on then. Explain.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she quailed. He did, after all, seem to have an uncanny ability to see into her soul. She braced herself.
‘I know that you see in Leonard Steele a life you thought was lost to you. Whether it is the man or the fame you are attracted to, only you can tell.’
‘I don’t love Leo.’
A brief silence. Then: ‘So it is the fame.’
She couldn’t bear his disapproval; nor could she say that she loved him. The words stuck in her throat, held back by the knowledge of her shame. She responded the only way she knew how. She gave a light laugh. ‘You’ve found me out. I can never resist a bit of sparkle. You can’t blame me for making the most of my moment of fame before I go back to being a boring old WAAF.’
‘You are never boring.’
‘Glad to hear it. Anyway,’ she went on before Milan could say anything that might make her uncomfortable, ‘it’s been a lovely evening. I’m sure Mrs Swift would like to hear you play. Shall I ask her?’
As soon as they’d agreed on a day, Jess fled inside. Neither Evie nor May were there, and Jess was glad for the chance to sit quietly and think things through without interruption. What was the name of the first tune Milan had played? He had said it was about unrequited love. At the time, she had thought it was a declaration of love. However, now it came to her that he hadn’t told her outright that he loved her. He had just been speaking of the song. She had been so busy trying to work out her own feelings from the jumble of attraction, guilt and unworthiness she felt when she was around him that she hadn’t noticed that Milan had never spoken of love, either.
He seemed to know a lot about her. Maybe he already sensed she wasn’t good enough for him.
Milan couldn’t get Jess’s worry from his mind as he flew over France the next day. Slowly the signs of the Allied advance gave way to areas where the Germans still clung on. His tension increased as it always did when flying over enemy territory. The Germans might be falling back, but he was well within range of the Luftwaffe should he be seen. He kept a constant watch for enemy aircraft and also looked behind him to ensure he wasn’t leaving a vapour trail.
It was depressing, seeing the lack of progress made by the Allies. As ever when he saw signs of enemy troops below, his thoughts returned to Eliška and Franta. He had dreamed of home again last night, and now the pangs of homesickness were sharper than ever. Would his dream of a happy reunion come true, or would he return to Roztoky to find his family gone? While he knew it was only a matter of time before Czechoslovakia was freed, would it be soon enough for his sister and nephew?
He tried to push his worries from his mind as he flew on. He had been sent to photograph a possible V2 launch site. When Jess had told him about her fears for her family, he knew it was a V2 strike she feared, even though she had been unable to speak about it. While he could do nothing for his own family, it was good to know the work he was doing would potentially help Jess’s.
He was approaching his target now. All he could see of the ground was woods and fields. Not that he would be able to spot launch sites from this height; all he could do was take the photographs and rely on the experts at RAF Medmenham to interpret them correctly. Once he arrived back at RAF Benson, the ground crew would remove the film magazines before he’d even climbed out of the cockpit. By the time he was in the briefing room for his mission debrief, the films would be well on their way to the developing and processing unit. Speed was of the essence if Intelligence was to get the information from his photographs in time to act on them, especially if they showed trucks carrying mobile launchers which could quickly be moved to a new location.
Another glance around the skies showed he was, thankfully, alone. Holding his breath, he banked and turned the cameras on, exhaling a sigh of relief when he completed his run with still no sign of enemy aircraft. As Jiří would say, this had been a milk run. All he had to do now was calculate his return course and head straight for RAF Benson. With luck, if the photographs revealed a launch site, the V2s could be destroyed before they were launched at London.
He thought again of Jess’s aunt and cousin. Somehow, having names and personalities made his mission more personal. Perhaps flying reconnaissance missions weren’t such a waste of time. While he had been furious at his transfer, he was starting to see how vital his missions were to the war effort, even if he wasn’t fighting Nazis himself any more.
He was over the Channel now, losing height the closer he came to the English coast. He let himself relax, knowing himself out of range of most enemy fighter patrols.
It took an explosion off his port wing to bring his attention back to sharp focus. He stared out, craning his neck to look this way and that. Had he made a navigational error? Had he somehow ended up flying over the wrong coast? But no – he could see the unmistakable towers of the Chain Home station at Rye below him. A sudden calm washed over him – it must be anti-aircraft fire. He banked sharply, checking that his IFF transmitter was on. He had switched it off while over enemy territory because many pilots believed the signal it emitted could now be intercepted by German radar. It was definitely on, so why were the idiots aiming at him? The signal should tell them he was a friendly fighter even if they couldn’t see the RAF roundels on his Spitfire.
Another explosion rocked his plane. What the hell was that? Fighting to regain control, he looked for the source. No anti-aircraft fire was that powerful.
That’s when he saw it: a small cigar-shaped aircraft with blunt wings that looked like they had had their tips chopped off. It flew at high speed inland. He had seen enough images to know this was a flying bomb. The explosion must have been another flying bomb being struck by ack-ack. This one, however, was now out of range of the bursts of anti-aircraft fire and was streaking right towards London. He, however, had the height and speed to catch it.
He didn’t even think, he just dived towards the bomb. He navigated an intercept course that would bring him below the bomb. Once in position, he glanced up, dry mouthed at the madness he was about to attempt. He’d heard other pilots describe how to knock a flying bomb off course, but he’d never tried it himself. One false step and the flying bomb would explode, taking him with it. The dark shape blotted the light from above. He had only one chance. With aching care, he eased the control column back, gaining just a tiny bit of height. The shape filling the canopy grew larger. Now he could pick out every rivet holding the sheets of grey metal together. With minute movements of his feet on the rudder, he positioned his plane so that his starboard wingtip was below the flying bomb’s port wing. Holding his breath, he banked to ‘nudge’ the bomb’s wing. He hit the wing tip then banked sharply to avoid a full collision. Craning his neck, he searched the sky for the bomb. He let out a ragged breath when he saw the bomb streaking out to sea. A moment later it plunged into the water, exploding in a column of mist.
Weak with relief, he checked his compass and resumed his course. Jess might never know, but he had done it for her.