Moral Fibre

It was almost nine when they finished their meal, but Moran wanted desperately to see Georgina. He rang through to Mrs Radford’s.

Georgina answered the phone herself. “Hello?”

“Georgina—”

“Kit?” She interrupted enthusiastically, “That was an amazing fly past — or whatever you call it! Nora nearly jumped out of the window in excitement, and Miss Townsend was waving just as wildly as the rest of us.”

Kit had already forgotten about beating up Kirkby Grange in what he’d then believed was a last farewell. It seemed a lifetime ago. To Georgina he said only, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. May I come over tonight? Just to talk.”

“Of course! I’d love to see you!”

“I’m not very presentable, I’m afraid,” Kit realised looking down. He still wore battle dress, and he’d sweated badly at some points during the flight. If he took time to bathe and change, however, he’d have no time with Georgina.

“I don’t care about that. Just come.”

She stood waiting at the door and ushered him into the comfortable sitting room with the words, “What can I get you? Shall I make tea, or would you rather have a hot toddy or a gin and tonic? Whisky? Whatever you want.”

“I just want you to sit down beside me,” he answered, sinking onto the sofa and reaching for her hand. She did not resist but cuddled close beside him. He put his arm around her shoulders, and they kissed. Then he leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes without letting go of her hand.

Georgina gazed at him, noting how frail he looked. He seemed much more vulnerable in battle dress, she reflected; each glinting movement of the dangling whistle underlined the ever-present threat of ditching or crashing in fog. When she laid her head on his shoulder, she could smell cordite. It must have been a bad sortie, but she was afraid to ask anything. Then again, she felt she had to show understanding. “Did something go wrong today?”

“Forrester and Howard got the chop.” He paused then continued. “I watched both Lancasters become engulfed in flames. Both times I heard a choir singing in my head: ‘bring me my chariot of fire.’”

“I’m sorry, Kit. I’m so sorry.” She sounded as if she’d known and liked both men. Yet Kit knew she was only empathising with his own sorrow.

Kit squeezed her hand without opening his eyes. “I didn’t think we were going to make it.”

Georgina leaned forward and kissed the side of his chin lightly, clinging fiercely to his hand.

“I don’t know how — or why — we made it and Howard and Forrester didn’t,” he admitted.

Georgina supposed her father might say something about the Lord, but she couldn’t bring herself to issue a sound. She just held on to Kit, breathing in the smell of cordite and sweat as if it were the most expensive perfume in the world.

“The rudder cables snapped, and I went on into a balloon barrage. It was sheer madness. I don’t know how we got out of there, I honestly don’t. To get us back to base, Daddy jury-rigged rudder controls by tying the cables to an axe, but landing was another ordeal. It’s hard enough to keep a Lancaster straight on the runway even in normal conditions. We ended up weaving back and forth like a drunk. My crew chief thought we’d gone over the edge at least twice and told me each time he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch the crash.”

“But you made it,” Georgina whispered, clinging to his hand as if seeking reassurance that he was not a ghost.

“Yes, and now my crew thinks I can work miracles — that I can get them through anything.” Kit sounded exasperated, almost angry.

“What’s the harm in that?” Georgina asked gently.

“It’s not true!”

“It doesn’t hurt them to think it. It takes some of their fear away.”

Kit turned his head towards her without lifting it off the back of the sofa and considered what she’d said. After a moment, he seemed to decide her words were wise, “I suppose you’re right.” He drew a deep breath and sat up straight, but he looked down at his hands rather than at Georgina as he added, “Adrian froze again.”

“Oh, no!” Georgina felt badly not just for Kit but for Adrian, as well. She liked the gentle navigator.

“Terry covered for him,” Kit continued. “The others probably don’t know it happened. I could — maybe I should — kick him off the crew, but I kept thinking as I drove here that I don’t know who I’d get as a replacement. Some odd bod. Maybe a veteran of ninety ops, or maybe someone straight out of training. No matter who it is, he’ll be an alien body in a crew that has been forged into a unit. I can’t explain it exactly, but it would be disruptive. Yet, if I say nothing … bad navigating could kill us all.”

Georgina nodded, knowing that she could not give any advice on this.

After a moment, Kit roused himself. He smiled faintly at her. “I also met Barnes Wallis today. He was at the station to see how things went. He’s very pleasant, humble even. He said he’d like to help me get into aeronautical engineering after the war. If I want.”

“Oh, that’s marvellous! How generous of him!” Georgina agreed enthusiastically, and then thought to ask. “Is that what you want?”

“It sounds tempting. I’m just afraid to think about it — to think about ‘after the war.’”

“Then don’t,” Georgina advised with a smile. “Don’t think about anything that frightens you.” She leaned back on his chest again and murmured. “We don’t have to think about the future or plan for it. It will come no matter what we plan.”

“Thank you,” he answered and then held her closer for a moment. She lifted her face for a kiss.

When they finished, Kit admitted, “I have to get back to the mess.”

“I understand. I’m glad you came even if only for a few moments.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, feeling much better. Georgina saw him to the door. They kissed again in the hallway and then he was gone, leaving his fear behind with her.