Mal played chess no better than the average Cambridge mathematics professor, and while Mal was winning, he was winning narrowly. ‘You’ve been playing how long?’ he asked her over the board.
‘A couple of months’ she replied tearing her concentration away from the board briefly ‘there was a chaplain at the hospital, he loaned me a few books’
‘Ah that explains it…’ he said. Two months? Two months? No one gets this good in two months. ‘…and the Bible study too?’
‘I was in traction for six weeks’ she blushed ‘gives you a lot of time to think, especially when the beds are filling up around you… emptying too’ her voice became wistful for a moment, then rallied ‘and there’s bugger all else to read here either’. She smiled triumphantly as she put down the bishop ‘I think I’ve moved in mysterious ways’.
‘Don’t clear the pieces I want to see what you’ve done’ as he spoke Mal was reaching for a book on a shelf behind his desk. ‘How’s your French’ he asked passing her a well thumbed copy of ‘Therese Raquin’.
‘Surprisingly undreadful – do you think I have a guilty conscience?’ she laughed taking the book from him.
‘I haven’t unpacked my books yet, I was reading this on the train’ he said by way of explanation, adding quietly ‘and yes I think you have a conscience but nothing to feel guilty about’.
Anthea let that go she knew he was wrong on that subject. ‘You never really explained what we’re doing here. It’s obviously some sort of ruse de guerre but why do you need Polly, Jemima and I?’
Mal made a steeple of his fingers pressing them to his face wondering how much he should say. He had asked a lot of them and they had not let him down, they were owed an explanation.
‘We had an idea’ he started ‘to fool Jerry about how many pilots we have. A fighting women’s squadron would really give him pause for thought don’ you think?’
‘Well yes’ Anthea said ‘but you could have done that with women radio operators on the ground’
‘Yes we could’ Mal said ‘but then we couldn’t send women pilots into combat even in a quiet sector could we?’ He had placed his hands on the desktop as if drawing a line under the conversation. Anthea however thought she could push him further.
‘Of course not but why dress us up? We’re in the back of beyond here…’ her words trailed off in realisation ‘…you think they’re going to come looking for us’.
‘Clever girl’ Mal laughed ‘and when they do we’ll catch them!’
‘You’re not really in the RAF are you?’ Anthea asked but his attention had already switched back to the chessboard.
Polly returned the handkerchief back he had given her to blow her nose, straightened her uniform and turned to leave. It was only then she realised they were still holding each other’s hand. ‘Thank you Polly’ he said.
It had been a strange experience for both of them and necessary. Their kiss had been brief, very intense but entirely chaste. Neither could express why it happened their every instinct was to bottle up fear and emotion, to carry it like men. Yet Polly’s adopted role allowed them to chare feelings they could never have done otherwise, a kiss was merely a way of sealing the connection, his arm around her shoulder a shared comfort. The hour they spent quietly talking should by their old code have been embarrassing, and yet…
‘Could you pop in to see Mal on the way out’ Mike said as she reluctantly let go of his hand to leave ‘ask him to see me first thing in the morning’.
Finding Anthea there had been a surprise, the chess board between them drinking scotch and smoking. Polly was tempted to accept their invitation to join them and would have had not the clock been striking midnight.
‘I’d better shoot too’ said Anthea ‘tongues will wag if we both straggle back from the men’s billet alone at this hour’.
‘Have you been crying’ she asked Polly as they walked back to the Hall arm in arm.
‘A little’ Polly admitted ‘The old man gave me a bit of an ear bashing. Told me to buck up and look after you and Jess’. She gave Anthea a wan smile and told her the CO’s concerns over them not mixing with the women pilots.
‘That’s what I was having a chat with Mal about’ she said as they climbed the Hall’s main staircase. The three of them had for modesty’s sake the top floor to themselves, and to some consternation, single rooms.
‘Fancy a drink?’ Anthea asked as they stopped at her door.
Polly demurred. It’s off to bed for me’ she said ‘I’ll just check on Missy first’ nodding at Jemima’s door.
