WHEN ELSPETH HAD returned to work after her holiday, the swelling on her cheek where Duncan had punched her had developed into a splendid bruise – purple at the centre turning to brown then yellow round the edges. There had been jokes and comments, but she stuck with her story. She’d fallen off her bike. She had enjoyed elaborating on her mishap. She had, she said, been cycling in the dark, hadn’t seen a pothole in the road, hit it and had been sent sailing over her handlebars. ‘A beautiful short flight through the gloaming’, before landing on her face.
On her first morning back Duncan had given her a small nod. He assumed that having given Elspeth money for her fare home and a ride to the bus stop, he’d been forgiven for his outburst. Elspeth had ignored him. She hadn’t forgiven him. She wanted revenge, dreamed of it. But so far hadn’t worked out what form her vengeance would take. Nothing as awful as causing him pain – just a little humiliation, she decided. Making him blush publicly would be very satisfying.
‘You’ve gone all quiet,’ Lorna said. ‘You’re not the same.’
Elspeth said, ‘I’m just a bit down. I shouldn’t have gone home. I got a taste of normal life. I forgot what living here was like. Now I’m back and I’ve remembered. It’s been a shock.’ She was sitting on her bed replying to the letter from Izzy that she’d read at her cottage. In it Izzy had confessed to a new fear of flying after the accident that killed Diane.
Lorna said, ‘I don’t think it’s that. You’ve gone into yourself. Not speaking much. You’re all stiff and wary. You’ve been like that since you fell off your bike.’
‘Have I?’ said Elspeth.
‘I know getting back in the air after such a dreadful accident must be hard,’ Elspeth wrote, ‘but you must try not to be wary.’
‘You know what you have to do,’ said Lorna. ‘You have to get back on your bike and peddle like mad till you’re not scared any more. That’s what they do with people who have almost drowned. They throw them back into the water.’
Elspeth said she didn’t think that was true. ‘You must fly through your fear,’ she wrote to Izzy. ‘You know how it was when you fell off your bike when you were little. You had to get right back on it again and peddle like mad till you weren’t scared any more.’
Ten days later Izzy’s reply arrived. ‘You were right. The more I fly, the less afraid I am. But now, my life is in another turmoil. Firstly, Jimmy’s gone to France. I miss him and I worry about him. He said he would come back, but I don’t know if he will. He’ll probably go back to America from there. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. And, I’ve had a dreadful row with my father. He found out that I was flying . . .’
Izzy described the fight with Hamish. ‘Thing is, how did he find out about me? Who could have told him? Whoever it was, I hate them. Also, I’m feeling really queasy these days.’
Elspeth told her to take Milk of Magnesia to settle her stomach. ‘It’s just stress,’ she wrote. ‘Jimmy will come back to you, I’m sure of it. As for who told your father about your job, well, it could have been anybody. It’s a small world.’
She was awash with guilt as she wrote this, so quickly went on to describe the weather. ‘Autumn now, I can smell cold days coming. It’s funny how during summer, I forget about winter. Now I remember how it is – blinding rain in my face, snow trickling down the back of my neck and oozing over the top of my boots, cold winds slicing through me – and I’m dreading it.’ She didn’t mention her own troubles.
The first hard frosts came in November, and with them, mist – thick, freezing mist. A shroud that clung to trees, made moving about the forest difficult. Disembodied voices called, ‘Timber.’ Trees crashed through the swirl of white and landed on the hard ground. Sudden figures, black shapes, loomed out of the weather, only becoming familiar when they were feet away.
Working with the horse had its advantages. Elspeth could warm her hands on the horse’s belly, press her frozen fingers on the soft flesh where her legs met her body. And, running back and forth meant she didn’t get as cold as she had when she was standing still snedding. Back then, there had been that moment when, stepping into the warmth of the hut, her blood had started to thaw and to move more freely through her veins, feeling returned to her numbed fingers and toes. The pain, when that happened, had been excruciating.
The workers had moved to a new part of the forest. They were felling trees on the other side of the road several miles beyond Duncan’s cottage. She and the horse turned left at the end of the track instead of right. It had taken the horse over a week to get used to this.
Lorna was not the only person to notice the change in Elspeth. Tyler also thought her distant, but didn’t think it had anything to do with falling off a bike. He’d known women who’d become strangely hardened overnight. One day they’d been laughing and flirting. Next, they’d be removed, withdrawn, buttoned up to the neck. Not a glimpse of tit, he thought. Well, Elspeth wasn’t as bad as that. But she’d definitely changed.
He’d seen Elspeth’s bruises and thought them familiar. They hadn’t been caused by any beautiful flight through the gloaming. He knew the after-effects of a punch when he saw them. The bruising on her arms and breasts had been caused by some man mauling at her, he’d seen that sort of thing before. He also noticed the scratches on Duncan’s cheeks. Well, he’d been scratched like that in his life. Long deep red scars like that were the work of a furious woman. He put two and two together, and decided Duncan had raped Elspeth. His lovely Elspeth violated by an ancient, moody, foul bastard. Tyler resolved to get even.
He would wait until the war was over. The night before he took the train south to board the ship home, he’d strike.
Meantime, he kept watch over his woman, as he liked to call Elspeth. Though not to her face – he’d a notion she wouldn’t like that. He rose early every morning, followed her as she walked to the stables holding her tilley lamp aloft to light her way. He thought he was being discreet, was sure she didn’t know he was behind her. But she called out, ‘I know you’re there, Bute. Why are you following me?’
‘Just out for a morning stroll.’ As soon as he’d seen her arrive safely, he’d go back to his hut. On Fridays, dung nights, he trundled her barrow to Duncan’s cottage, dumped the load at the foot of the garden, and wheeled Elspeth back to the stables.
Every night he did a tour of Elspeth’s hut, walking round it, making sure nobody was lurking in the dark. He often came across Duncan, who’d be standing in the darkness at the side of the hut, hoping to hear Elspeth play.
Tyler would lean against the hut, hands in pockets and stare. Duncan would stare back, but he always lost the battle. He’d sigh, toss his cigarette to the ground, stamp on it and start walking to his cottage. Tyler would follow. Once, Duncan had turned. ‘Are you threatening me?’ he asked.
Tyler said, ‘Why would I be threatening you? Have you done anything that would make me do that?’
When Duncan didn’t reply, Tyler said, ‘I guess you must be guilty about something.’
By now, Elspeth had resumed her winter routine. She wore her long johns, a woolly hat and socks in bed, and, in the evenings, sat by the stove in the hut, joking with the girls and playing her accordion. Girls put off going to the loo, trips across the duckboards meant stepping out into the chill. They’d sit cross-legged, jiggling till nature’s demands had to be answered. Then, cursing, they’d shove on their coats and hurtle into the night.
The weather got worse. Hail, sleet, gales beat down on them as they worked. ‘We’ll soon be out of all this,’ Elspeth told Lorna. She’d been following the news on her Saturday trips to the cinema. Paris had been liberated in August, Brussels a month later. ‘Soon it will be over and we can all go home.’
‘Can’t wait,’ said Lorna. ‘Imagine sleeping in a room on your own. No lying awake listening to people snoring and dreaming. No stumping across to a hut to get your breakfast. A bath to yourself alone. Luxury.’
On the last Friday of the month, Elspeth gave a recital in the village hall. ‘You won’t get paid,’ Duncan told her. ‘Lady McKenzie is holding it to raise money for the village Spitfire fund.’
Elspeth shrugged and said she could hardly refuse. ‘I suppose there will be tea and cakes, though.’
‘There’s always tea and cakes,’ said Duncan.
He drove fifteen of the forest workers to the village on the night. They all climbed into the back, nobody wanted to ride in the cab with him. Elspeth squeezed herself against Tyler, tucking her hands under her armpits. ‘Can’t play if they’re cold.’
He opened his coat, said, ‘Come in here. There’s room for two.’
Lorna said, ‘Take him up on it. Two in a coat’s cosy. Besides, it’s lovely to have someone watching over you. Makes you feel safe.’
Elspeth supposed it did. She hated to admit it, but she rather liked the way Tyler kept an eye on her. And, yes, it did make her feel safe.
They trundled and bumped along the road, wind biting their cheeks. At the door of the village hall, they bundled out, stood swinging their arms against their bodies trying to warm up. The poster by the door said, ‘Concert Recital by the Renowned Elspeth Moon in Aid of the Spitfire Fund. Entrance Sixpence.’
‘I don’t have sixpence,’ said Lorna. ‘I don’t have any money. I thought we’d get in free ’cos we came with the band.’ She pointed at Elspeth.
‘It’s all right,’ said Elspeth. ‘It’s my treat. Duncan will pay for you all from my share of the dung money. Won’t you, Duncan?’
There were four men in the group, some even bigger than Tyler. They stood, hands in pockets, waiting for Duncan to refuse. He didn’t dare. He reached into the back of his good trousers, saved for special occasions like this, brought out his wallet and gave the woman on the door a pound.
Elspeth took the change. Dropped it into Lorna’s hands. ‘That’s more of my treat, for tea and cakes at the end. Tea and cakes on me.’ She got a round of applause and a scowl from Duncan. It wasn’t quite the dire humiliation she wanted, but, Elspeth thought, it was a start.
The concert went well. Elspeth played her favourites – Brahms, Chopin, Beethoven and Mozart. At the end of each piece, her companions cheered and stamped. Tricia, as ever, surprised everyone by putting her fingers to her mouth and whistling. Lorna gazed at her in awe. She had a new heroine. ‘Teach me,’ she whispered.
The recital ended with a selection of popular tunes – ‘We’ll Meet Again’, ‘As Time Goes By’, ‘Red Sails in the Sunset’, ‘I’ll be Seeing You’, ‘The Very Thought of You’, and more. Everyone sang.
Then they stampeded to the buffet and ate fairy cakes, malt loaf, gingerbread and jam sponge. All of the foresters nodded their appreciation to one another. Their mouths were too full to speak.
Elspeth and Lorna stood to one side watching the display. ‘You can’t say us foresters let anyone down when it comes to bad manners,’ said Elspeth.
‘Yes,’ said Lorna, ‘I’m proud.’
‘You’re smiling,’ said Elspeth, touching Lorna’s cheek. ‘Haven’t seen you do that for a while.’
‘I know,’ said Lorna. ‘Most of the time I’m bloody freezin’ and bloody hungry and the only man I ever loved was killed by a falling tree. But I’m smiling. God knows why. But you’re smilin’ yourself. You haven’t done much of that recently, either.’
Elspeth said that a grand night out with free tea and cakes could sometimes do that.
‘Nah,’ said Lorna. ‘It was seeing you get one over on Duncan after what he did to you.’
‘What did he do to me?’
‘He attacked you. Come on, Elspeth, everybody knows what happened. You never fell of your bike. He jumped on you. He attacked you. We all saw him in the morning, covered in scratches. And you were bruised all over. I saw when you were getting undressed. Tyler thinks he raped you. But I don’t. Dungarees are awful hard to get into. He didn’t, did he?’
Elspeth shook her head. For a moment she contemplated disclosing Duncan’s failings, but didn’t. Blackmailer’s honour, she thought. He paid a fiver for my silence.
‘Now you’ve got him back. Hit him where he hurts – in the wallet. Got him to stump up a whole pound. Makes me smile,’ said Lorna
Elspeth smiled, too. But she thought that a pound and that earlier five pounds were not nearly enough.