Inherit the Skies Page 27

‘It’s not a question of there being anyone else,’ she said, avoiding the direct lie. ‘ It’s me – the way I feel. It’s just not right, Eric’

  ‘But I thought we could be happy together. We are happy together, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, we are. But I’m not sure it’s a strong enough basis for marriage. I thought it was but … oh Eric, I’m sorry. Please don’t look like that!’

  He turned away but not before she had seen what looked like tears glittering in his eyes. His back was very straight, his shoulders presenting her with a hard line. ‘Well,’ he said without looking at her, ‘whatever you decide, Sarah, I suppose I shall have to accept it. But I’d like you to know that nothing has changed as far as I am concerned. I still love you, idiot that I am, and I think I always will. If you change your mind I shall be waiting. No matter how long it takes, just say the word.’

  If he had been angry it would have been easier, Sarah thought now as the balloon rose higher. At least she would have felt less guilty for hurting him. But paradoxically the very niceness of him seemed to support her decision. Eric deserved far more than she could give him. However painful, she had done the right thing … hadn’t she …?

  ‘For pity’s sake concentrate – or you will be killed!’

  Though she was all alone high in the sky the words suddenly echoed through her mind with the clarity of a voice speaking directly in her ear, catapulting her back to reality with a start and making her shudder as she realised just how little attention she had been paying to what she was doing. Usually she was so careful. Before each ascent she made a point of checking her equipment thoroughly and thinking through every aspect of what could go wrong, and although she knew that despite every care luck still played its part, yet she prided herself on never having had an accident in the air. Today, however, totally preoccupied with her interview with Eric she had given her parachute only the most cursory of glances before stepping into the sling and now, drifting high above the crowds, she wished heartily she had not taken for granted something upon which her life depended.

  Here, high up, the swirling gusts were less noticeable but the movement of the trees and bushes surrounding the gala field reminded Sarah of their strength and she found herself remembering how Violet Kavanagh had been killed, blown onto a roof and off again, and Auguste Gaudron himself seriously injured – again as a result of high winds. Putting the uncomfortable thoughts out of her mind Sarah checked her aneroid – 3000 feet – and pulled sharply on the ripping cord. To her dismay nothing happened. She pulled again, harder. Still nothing.

  The cotter pin must be jammed. It was the only explanation. Sarah had heard of this happening before though she had never experienced it herself. She glanced at the aneroid and was alarmed to see that she was now at 6000 feet and rising. If she did not free herself soon goodness knows where she would end up – she could even be carried out to sea before the balloon deflated and ditched with her still attached to it.

  With all her strength she yanked on the ripping cord and to her relief she felt it give. The first exhilarating free fall sucked all the breath out of her body, then as the parachute billowed open she felt the tug on her arms and the headlong plunge became a more sedate drift. But because of the delay in freeing the pin the balloon was no longer over the gala field where she had planned to land. The ground beneath her now was rough moorland – steep slopes strewn with boulders and bisected by a small gushing stream. It would be so ignominious to arrive back with her natty pantaloon suit hanging around her like limp wet rags.

  A few feet above the ground the first gust of wind took her, filling her parachute and lifting her like a toy. She gasped as breath blew back in her throat. Her feet kicked into the rough turf but before she could roll over backwards another gust filled the collapsing parachute like a sail on a racing yacht. It bowled across the uneven ground and, unable to release herself from her safety harness, Sarah was dragged helplessly along in its wake, grazing herself on sharp stones and boulders and feeling brambles scag at her hair and clothing. Suddenly to her horror she caught a blurred glimpse of a low stone wall beyond the billowing silk of the parachute and realised she was going to crash head first into it. Desperately she grabbed at the tussocks of grass, twisting herself round, and then her shoulder and hip hit the wall. The parachute bowled on and Sarah was lifted bodily up the rough stone face before the jagged coping frayed the cords of the parachute. One moment she was suspended two feet above the ground, the next she crashed back onto the rough turf.

  The fall knocked what little breath she had left out of her lungs. For a moment she lay gasping helplessly, the whole of her body numb and her head spinning. Automatically she tried to stagger to her feet but a wave of excruciating pain shot through her shoulder and she fell back again. The sky, it seemed, had turned black, studded with a million flashing stars, and a roar like the sea filled her ears, drowning the sound of her own scream. Briefly the black world swam around her, then Sarah knew no more.

  Gilbert was in his study when he saw the telegraph boy pass the window. Immediately he stiffened. Marconigrams were not unusual but they did tend to mean bad news. He set down the papers he had been working on and drummed his fingers on the desk top, waiting. The doorbell jangled and moments later there was a tap at the study door. It was Evans, the butler.

  ‘Marconigram, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Evans.’ He took the envelope from the silver salver on which it lay, ripping it open and anxiously extracting the message sheet which was tucked inside.

  ‘Is there any reply, sir?’ Evans enquired.

  ‘No. No reply.’

  When the butler had left Gilbert re-read the Marconigram, his face grave. He thought for a few moments, then left the study and crossed the hall to the drawing-room where Blanche was taking tea. She glanced up from her plate of buttered teacake, smiling faintly.

  ‘Why Gilbert, what a pleasant surprise!’

  ‘I have just received a wire from Sarah’s fiancé, the ballooning fellow,’ he told her. ‘It seems Sarah has been involved in an accident at a display in Yorkshire.’

  Blanche smirked. ‘I can’t say I am surprised. If she must engage in such an unladylike activity she must expect catastrophe. Is she badly hurt?’

  ‘It is serious according to the wire but of course I have no further details. I shall ask Evans to find out about trains for me and leave for Yorkshire immediately.’

  ‘Really? What can you do?’

  Gilbert suppressed his irritation with difficulty.

  ‘I want to see her for myself. And I think I should warn you, Blanche, that as soon as she is fit I intend to bring her here to Chewton Leigh to convalesce.’

  ‘Here?’ Blanche echoed faintly.

  ‘Of course. She will need looking after and where else would she go? You must remember, Blanche, that this is her home.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Blanche replied drily. ‘How foolish of me!’ And silently, but with bitterness, added: as if I could forget!

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sarah lay on the elegant velvet chaise in the drawing-room at Chewton Leigh wriggling fretfully against the cushion which had been placed behind her head in an effort to make herself more comfortable and balancing a well thumbed copy of Tess of the d’ Urbervilles against the back of the chaise with her good hand. But although occasionally she summoned up the energy to turn a page Sarah was not really giving the book much attention. Tess was such a sad story it depressed her and besides she was bored with reading. Since her accident she had done little else and what had once seemed a luxury to her now made her skin crawl with frustration.

  She should be glad to be at Chewton Leigh, she knew. It was a great improvement on the bleak loneliness of the private room Gilbert had arranged for her in the hospital in Bradford. There, when she had emerged from the semiconscious trance of the first days, there had been nothing but the pristine white ceiling and walls to gaze at and no company except for that of the briskly cheerful nurses who bustled in from ti
me to time to check her temperature and pulse rate and change the dressings on her badly gashed leg, and the slightest movement had caused her so much pain that she had lain as still as possible, hardly daring even to draw breath. Here at least she was in the hub of the house and Gilbert had thoughtfully arranged for the chaise to be turned towards the window so that she could look out at the garden. But the enforced inactivity was anathema to her for Sarah had always loathed wasting a single moment.

  She sighed deeply, let the book fall shut and tried to channel her thoughts towards what she would do when she had recovered sufficiently for Dr Haley to allow her to get up and about but even marshalling thoughts was too great an effort for her. Each and every possibility which occurred to her was nebulous, slipping away the moment she tried to grasp and pursue it and the stultifying conviction that she no longer belonged anywhere plunged her into depression. Perhaps this mental morass was another legacy of the accident, she thought, but it was of no comfort to her. One thing only was she certain of – that she had finished with ballooning forever. She had known it, she believed, from the moment that mysterious voice had spoken inside her high in the air and what had followed had only served to convince her of her own mortality and the chances she took with it each time she jumped. Too many display team members were dead or maimed and she had come close to being one of them. Once she might have dismissed the risk. She had enjoyed ballooning too much to care about the dangers. But now she realised that the intensity of the thrill had long since palled; parachuting had become as much a part of her life as falling out of bed each morning and brushing her hair each night – only a million times more dangerous. With the thrill removed the risk was no longer acceptable. She was young – her whole life lay before her and she wanted to live it, whole, fit and ready for whatever adventure might come her way, not die before her time or perhaps survive, a helpless cripple. Suppose she had broken her back out there on the Yorkshire moors instead of merely dislocating her shoulder and fracturing her collar bone? She could have found herself confined to a couch, not just for a few weeks but for the rest of her life! The thought made Sarah shudder.

  Voices impinged on the periphery of her trance. It sounded like Gilbert, she thought, surprised, but he had looked in to bid her goodbye before he left for the office a few hours earlier with Leo, who was home for the vacation and filling in time at Morse Motors before going up to University in the autumn. Footsteps crossed the polished stone floor of the hall and she wriggled up so as to be able to see over the high back of the chaise.

  ‘I’ve brought you a visitor, Sarah.’ It was indeed Gilbert – but he was not alone. Behind him stood a tall figure, fair and handsome – Adam! a small tremor shivered over her skin and the colour of confusion rushed to her cheeks. She had not seen him since that night he had waylaid her outside Alexandra Palace but how often she had thought of him – thoughts that had made her blush even when she had been alone. Now he was here, no dream, but only too real. She tried to raise herself, pain shot through her shoulder and she subsided again. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably, breath caught somewhere beneath her bruised ribs.

  He came around the end of the chaise, immaculate in well cut light trousers and a white shirt.

  ‘Well, Sarah, so you came to Chewton Leigh after all!’ he said.

  The amusement in his voice annoyed her.

  ‘So it seems,’ she said icily.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I expect I’ll live.’ She was aware of Gilbert’s puzzled expression and she guessed he was wondering what had precipitated her rudeness. ‘I must be getting better,’ she said more civilly. ‘I’m bored out of my brain.’

  A corner of his mouth quirked. ‘I expect you are. You were always a do-er, Sarah. I’ve never seen you as one to sit quietly with a piece of needlepoint.’

  ‘I couldn’t do needlepoint even if I wanted to,’ she returned. ‘My shoulder wouldn’t let me. All I can do is read and I must confess at this moment I wouldn’t care if I never saw another book again.’

  Gilbert crossed to the window where he stood, hands folded behind his back, regarding her thoughtfully.

  ‘Perhaps it is just fiction you are tired of, Sarah,’ he said. ‘ Perhaps what you need is something you can really get your teeth into.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why don’t you use this time to learn something about business? I don’t know what you plan to do when you are recovered but you have always been quick and clever and I have long thought you are wasting your talents – and your education. I know it is unusual to suggest such a thing for a girl but I believe that things are beginning to change. We have a lady typewriter at the office now and very good she is too.’

  Sarah smiled wryly. ‘ I could hardly learn to use a typewriter lying here on the chaise.’

  ‘True. But there are other things. Accounts, for instance, and business law.’

  ‘You have a book keeper,’ Sarah pointed out.

  ‘But we haven’t,’ Adam said unexpectedly. ‘Max and I have no-one to look after the business side of our enterprise at all. Why don’t you take it on for us, Sarah?’

  ‘Me?’ She stared at him in blank amazement. ‘But you are only building an aeroplane, not running a business. Why should you need help?’

  ‘Because building the aeroplane demands all our attention,’ Adam said. ‘We have a pile of bills unpaid for one thing because Max and I each think the other has dealt with it and correspondence to be answered. And although it may seem like a pipedream at present things are progressing fast. The engine is very nearly ready for testing and we hope to have the aeroplane in the air by the end of the summer. If we are successful who knows where it will lead us?’

  Sarah was silent.

  ‘We have to work flat out now,’ Adam continued. ‘You know Bleriot crossed the Channel last week? Another milestone in aviation. If we are not to be left hopelessly behind there is not a moment to lose. It’s a great adventure – if you would only do as Gilbert suggests and learn something about business affairs you could be a part of it.’

  For once there was not the slightest hint of teasing in his tone and quite suddenly she realised the truth. They had cooked this up between them – Gilbert because he wanted to keep her at Chewton Leigh, Adam for some small reason of his own. But knowing it made no difference. A small dart of excitement tugged at her stomach. It was a momentous time – the birth of a new age. And yes, she would like to be a part of it …

  Sarah lifted her chin and her features set into an expression of resolve.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, almost defiantly. ‘Tell me what I have to do.’

  As her strength returned and the waves of pain began to recede Sarah began to work as she had never worked before.

  The chaise was no longer a velvet prison to her, it had become her library and schoolroom. The books that Gilbert brought her were spread all around within her reach; she pored over them until her eyes ached and worked at the exercises that Gilbert set her, resting the papers on a board balanced on her knees.

  Sometimes Gilbert worked with her, explaining and tutoring, sometimes Joe Isaacs the accountant at Morse Motors came to take over her lessons. When she was well enough she could go to the office to gain some practical experience, Gilbert had said, and Sarah, filled with enthusiasm, could hardly wait.

  Adam came sometimes, bringing her letters to be answered and bills to be paid, and she looked forward to his visits. But always the conversation was strictly business and Sarah began to be convinced that any interest he had in her had existed only in her imagination, or alternatively that she had been successful in convincing him that she had no interest in him. Occasionally there was a flash of that biting humour that could make her face burn, especially since she was still so acutely aware of him as a man. She wondered if he had noticed she was no longer wearing her engagement ring but if he did he made no mention of it. He seemed totally preoccupied now with the progress of the aeroplane an
d she supposed that was scarcely to be wondered at. He and Max were spending every available minute working on it and it occupied all their thoughts as well as their time.

  When she was strong enough he took her to the converted cowshed at Long Meadow that was now the hub of their activity. There he introduced her to Max and Annie and she had her first sight of the framework of wooden struts and piano wire which went to make up the frame of the flying machine. To the uninitiated it might have appeared an unwieldy and unprepossessing structure but to Sarah, used to the trappings of the balloon factory, there was a comfortable familiarity in the way it lay there like the skeleton of a great wooden bird waiting for the power of the wind to give it flight. Her heart lifted with excitement and she picked her way around the framework of struts taking care not to damage any of them while Adam pointed out the features of their design.

  Max welcomed her warmly enough, shaking her hand with a grip that was pleasantly firm, but Sarah was disconcerted by the shrewd way he was appraising her when he thought she was not looking and by his shrivelled left arm. It was wrong to take notice of such a thing, she knew, yet it bothered her all the same for the more she tried to ignore it the more conscious of it she became, her eyes pointedly fixed at the level of his face. But Annie she liked instantly.

  Perhaps it was her face, sweet and friendly beneath her broad flower-trimmed hat which was so attractive, perhaps it was her voice, low and soft. But somehow Sarah did not think it was either of these things. Annie was not a beautiful girl – her features were too square and ordinary for conventional beauty – but she had great warmth and there was a kind of innate goodness about her which shone out of her wide set eyes and curved her full mouth. Annie thought the best of everyone, always managing to find some saving grace however obscure and wished only good to all, even those who wronged her. She had not an enemy in the world and Max and Adam in their different ways both adored her. Sarah, meeting her for the first time, knew only that she wanted to be her friend.